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</div><br/><br/>Mercy stood on the keep's battlements and looked down into the courtyard.  The chill wind whipped her cloak and tangled the tresses of her long, black hair, but she was momentarily oblivious to any discomfort as she stared down at the mercenaries who were currently sparring on the practice grounds, honing their skills for the next raid.<br/><i><br/>
Korbuk-Krual.</i><br/><br/>The term was one that she had come across in one of the forgotten tomes of General Gregorski's library.  The pages of the book had been stuck together, the leather cover water-stained and blackened in places with a mold that had been toxic back before it had succumbed to dry and dust.  General Gregorski could read, cumbersomely, and like most things that he did not do well, he did not much value either the skill nor the things that were produced by others who had it.  Mercy doubted whether he had ever so much as touched the tomes that weren't in easy reach of his fingers, and certainly he had not had them catalogued or appraised.<br/><br/>Nor would he, she suspected, notice that one of the uppermost volumes for the darkest corner had been removed, and the rest rearranged to hide the theft, though perhaps theft was too strong a word.  After all, he was Phaenix's chosen, and she Phaenix's priestess, and they both served the same call -- a fact that he often chose to forget when it did not suit his purpose.<br/><br/>Aside from the others in the keep, there were others who spoke the Orcish tongue, including herself.  Most orcs valued written words little more than Phaenix's 'Chosen', however, beyond the odd sign of warning or insult meant to warn off others from the lands of a clan, or increase the reputation of an individual or clan in the taking of credit for some attack or slaughter.  Orcish books were almost unheard of, and this was no exception.  It was written in Elvish, though the relative clumsiness of the script suggested it had not been written by any Elf save one who had had a few fingers chopped off.  Mercy suspected that it was a relic from before  the last 'Conflagration', the term given to that period when Phaenix rose up from the corruption of the world and set it ablaze, to be born anew.<br/><br/>She was convinced that the prophecy of which it spoke, the coming of the<i>Korbuk-Krua</i>l, the Raven Chief that would unite the orcs under a single banner and march upon the towers of the south, pertained to the coming Conflagration ... and even if it did not, it could certainly be of use to her, and to the purpose of her god.<br/><br/>It would not, she knew, be welcome by General Gregorski.  He did not like sharing the limelight, and having the Orcs scattered and fighting amongst themselves suited his purpose just fine.  They did not figure into his plans, save as mercenaries such as the<i>Deaavh Ukmile</i>below.<br/><br/>She had seen them in battle.  They were fierce fighters, skilled and savage, and many possessed a cunning that was near the equal of Phaenix's Chosen.  There was one among them, however, who seemed to possess both intelligence and wisdom -- something that would be required for a<i>Korbuk-Krual</i>who would suit her purposes.   There was human blood in his veins, which meant that the Orcish clans would never look at him as a leader no matter what his accomplishments on his own ... but with magic beyond that of any Orcish shaman at his back ... besides, to set up a half-blood as the implement of the Conflagration suited Mercy's sense of justice quite beautifully.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><b>~ ~.. + ..~ ~.. + ..~ ~.. + ..~ ~.. + ..~ ~.. + ..~ ~</b>​</div><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FkmYFYpz.jpg&amp;hash=258b583ab780c27e9e01af77b2c279d8" title="kmYFYpz.jpg">
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</div></div>Mercy made her way to the practice field to watch the final bouts, and called out her cheers for the landed blows as the half-orc who had captured her interest handily defeated his opponent, a full-blood who was taller and bulkier ... but also slower of both body and wit.   Many would have outmatched him by a display of dexterity alone, dodging the slow but powerful blows that would have hammered them into the ground, but Mercy noted that the half-blood often stood his ground, deflecting but not dodging, as if he took pride in displaying his strength.<br/><br/>The priestess liked that as well.  Intelligence and wisdom were traits she admired and possessed, but still she was drawn to strength and all that it represented, and the half-orc's exotic visage was, to her, stirring in its savagery rather than beastial, as some would claim, secure in smug superiority.<br/><br/>Though nothing about the Priestess' appearance gave ready clue to it, she was a half-blood as well, though her mother had not been an Orc.  Her blood had given Mercy her magic, as well as other enhancements, even as it had robbed her of other strengths -- though a priestess, she could channel certain of the divine magics only painfully -- and those things that were bane to her mother were also bane to her, to a lesser degree.  Like the half-orc, to those who knew her parentage, she was an abomination ... even to those who claimed to follow a goddess whose tenants included judgement based upon actions rather than birth.<br/><br/>In the eyes of humans, she was considered beautiful, though to an Orc, she might well be judged 'puny' or 'delicate', even if her frame was sturdy and the armor she wore was carried easily, as was the blade at her hip.  Certainly there were those among the mercenaries who stared, and those who made comments among themselves, some loud enough for her to hear.  For the moment, she ignored them, focusing only upon the half-blood as he stopped to drink after his battle, ignoring the glares of his defeated opponent even as she ignored the stares.<br/><br/>As he relinquished the practice ground to the next set of fighters, she strode forward, hands upon her hips, bold and fearless in the company of the mercenaries as if none would think to offer her harm or disrespect.<br/><br/><i>"Dregu Taalrosh, I am Mercy d'Angers.  I commend you upon your victory.  You are skilled, certainly one of the strongest of your fellows.  General Gregorski has tasked me with an errand, and I am to pick a guard from your number to serve as escort.  I would have you.  Can you be ready to depart within the hour?"</i>