Orc Women

The war on orc-kind was something Omen hadn't much thought about, personally. It was something that mostly happened in the background of his life. Sure, he heard things, or saw goods based on keeping up the fight in the market, but his day-to-day just wasn't about that.

Omen was a librarian for the Hall of Mages. It was a fairly demanding position. He spent all day fetching this or that for one of a dozen mages that might by in at any moment. Really, he was barely more than a Page, but he did get the privilege of studying magic in the library during his time off. He only really knew a couple cantrips, but they helped immensely with his chores and minutiae.

Of course, he didn't get to spend all his time in the library. The Hall of Mages kept strict rules for who could access it, and even though he worked there, Omen still had to follow them. The biggest rule was that any who wanted to read had to contribute to the library. Lost tomes, forgotten lore, exploration reports, census data, almost anything would do as long as it was formatted correctly and not plagarized.

For Omen, that meant he would spend long stretches of time composing botanical reports, since they were one of the easier things to collect. A few weeks ago, he ran out of unique flora in any area within a few day's walk. So, one day, he went a few days further out than usual. He was careful to pack well. Extra writing supplies, extra food, and a walking stick he'd been working hard to harden properly with his budding magic. It wasn't much, but it was the closest thing he had to a weapon.

He set out from Culveran, the city where the Hall of Mages sat, early in the morning. He waved to a guard at the south gate. "Hey, Lastin."

The guard recognized him and grinned. "Omen! Off on another trip to smell the roses?"

Omen rolled his eyes. "Come on, you know by now that botanical reports are more work than that. Heavens know I've told you often enough."

The guard chuckled. "I know, I know. Well, as long as you're not going further than usual, you should be fine. Just keep that stick of yours handy."

Omen hesitated. "Um. I am going to have to move a few days further out than usual. What's the issue?"

Lastin's face fell. "Oh. Ah. Well, a few days south of here, there was another orc culling recently. I heard it was a real mess. Not enough warriors killed, too many escaped. Be careful. Maybe hire a guard?"

Omen contemplated. "...I should be fine as long as I cover my tracks properly, right? It's a good chance to practice my magic."

Lastin grew still, then sighed. "Look, it's your hide. But an orc brute is a nasty opponent. And, not to put too fine a point on it, you're a bit more feminine than is maybe healthy for you if you run across one."

Omen looked down at himself. He did have a fairly feminine figure, though he liked to think of himself as androgynous. He didn't grow any facial or body hair, he let his soft brown hair grow long, and his hips and thighs were fairly large from frequent journeys. His upper body, meanwhile, was fairly slim by comparison due to mostly being interested in desk work. And, if he was honest with himself, he did fall into the category of 'pretty boy', though it felt odd to consider himself such.

He shuddered at Lastin's implication. "Noted. Do you have any guards you reccomend?"

Lastin scratched his chin. "Well, some of the city guards like to add to their wages by doing jobs like this. You could always try the garrison."

Omen nodded, then dug a small coin out of his pocket. "Thanks. Here, for your trouble."

Lastin pocketed the coin. "Never saying no to an extra meal. Much obliged.*

Omen left the gate and circled back round to visit the garrison. It was situated near the gate, on the inside of the wall. A small set of barracks for those who preffered to sleep closer to their shift rather than going all the way back home sat nearby. Omen knocked on the garrison door, a bit uncertain. A man with bloodshot eyes and a lackadaisical expression opened almost immediately. "Whaddya want?"

Omen hesitated, then forged ahead. "Hello. I'm looking for a guard to accompany me for a fortnight or so. I'll be headed south to do some botanical reports, and I'm told that I would be advised to hire extra protection."

The man grunted. "Whatcha offerin'?"

Omen put his hand in his coinpurse and felt around, counting. "Um. Eleven, twelve... how's fourteen copper? Wait, no, fifteen, so it's a bit more than just guard duty on the walls."

Rather than address Omen, the man turned and hollered into the garrison. "Oi! Some mage git is offerin' fifteen copper ta watch his back fer two weeks! Goin' south!"

A murmur of discussion that Omen couldn't quite make out followed. After a minute or two, the man turned back to him. "Looks like Rigel's gonna be yer extra hand."

The man left the doorway without another word, and another guard, presumably Rigel, filled it. Omen looked him up and down. Blonde hair, fair skin, blue eyes, and a towering physique. He wore just the standard tabbard with the city crest over plain clothes, suggesting he hadn't yet had the chance to buy proper armour. "You the one with the job?"

Omen nodded, secretly relieved as he stared up at the guard. "Rigel, right? I'm headed out now, if you're ready."

Rigel grunted. "Yeah, just let me get my spear."

Rigel disappeared for a minute or so and returned with an iron-tipped spear before silently waving Omen towards the gate. Omen set off, and Rigel followed. Omen waved at Lastin again as they passed, but he was distracted with some merchant. Shrugging, Omen headed south, down the road.