<b>The Evermoor Way - 5 hours east of Yartar</b><br/><br/>Hearing the tension in the drivers voice, Lydia's heart jumps a little truth be told, but she remains outwardly calm, glancing through one of the little windows. out of the carriage.<br/><br/><i>Oh, bother, they've already surrounded it.</i><br/><br/>By the positions of the two she could see, there were at least four, and probably more if they were making sure there were multiple people on the driver. And why wouldn't they do so? She had told those moron elders their carriages needed to be fitted with hatches and underside smuggling holds, but they were rarely reasonable about such things. As it was, Lydia was sure their habit of overmarking the carriages with signs of wealth increased the family's bribe, tarriff and "fee" expenses. But House Arramont had a bit of a chip on its shoulder and displays of wealth were the elders' preferred methody of therapy.<br/><br/>Well, obviously she would not be fighting off four. Even two was more a theoretical exercise than serious possibilty. Freeze one, use Mage Hand to loosen the yokes on one of the horses, fire a distraction the other way, slip out the side, onto the horse and take off before the first could come out of magical stupor. It would have a *chance* anyhow. Not a particularly good one, not if they had anyone with ranged weaponry. And why wouldn't they have at least one? Two more likely, given the numbers. Neither flight nor triumph seemed to rise to the level of 10% odds. So they were out. And if flight was out, and victory was out, what was left?<br/><br/>Diplomacy, of course. Or more precisely negotiations. And any real negotiation would begin with an honest assessment of her position. All the movable goods on the carriage were effectively already theirs. So openly acknowledging that ... well it may not help matters, but it certainly had no cost and could at least cause some pause. While one of them is moving to the door, Lydia unties her coinpurse. As she hears the door splintering, she holds up the bag up, fat with gains from Sundabar.<br/><br/>The first thing almost anyone notices about Lydia di'Arramont is her rich red hair, the color of an especially fruitful wine, like those of the elves. And that was fitting as the fourth thing, for a typical observer, were the pair of delicately pointed ears emerging from said hair. The third - at least with male observers - was of course her tapered hourglass waist, no one doing an honest day's work had a waist like that, not unless they were short, and Lydia was not all that far from six feet. But her height typically hadn't been noticed yet, unless the observer was female. Because the second thing any male noticed tended to be the ample swell of her chest. Lydia didn't mind, far from it, they made negotiations so much easier, and she dressed for attention.<br/><br/>Speaking of dress, a cloak with tufts of white fur at the collar helped define her status - even more thoroughly and a lot more cheaply than the carriage, as she would have explained to her foolish elders if they ever bothered actually speaking with her. Underneath that, a mint green vest was deployed, adding color and matching the similarly hued silken skirt below, yes, but that wasn't the real purpose. The real purpose was to provide an air of demure conservatism, offsetting the sensuality of the tight, body-hugging floral top with exotic - but very deep - neckline that peeked through the opening of the vest. She was wearing travelling boots, at least. The Evermore Way was a poor place for high heels if anything went amiss.<br/><br/>As the latch is pulled asunder and the door springs open, she peers at the momentarily adjusting raider, taking the initiative to<a class="link link--external" href="https://i.postimg.cc/JzTTFV3c/Lydia-di-Arramont-02.png" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">hand the ample coin purse to him</a>.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(0, 168, 133)">"Finest plunder to you, strong boss."</span>Orcish didn't really have a lot of words like sir, or frippery like 'good day' - orcish respect was around physical skill (strong obviously) and position of authority (boss, what his raiders likely called him). Most people didn't take the time to understand the culture behind a language, just translating the words they would use.<br/><br/>Lydia had practiced her orcish with captives in Silverymoon, working to improve her accent from 'moron child' to 'exotic and intriguing'. They assured her the efforts were fruitful, and rare occasions she had an opportunity to work with orcs since, they'd been suitably surprised that one of the arrogant races had bothered.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(0, 168, 133)">"As I have been captured, I am pleased to find it is by so powerful, skilled and large-cocked a warrior as yourself. Your ambush was well planned." </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(204, 204, 204)">Her language would have been a lot more flowery were she speaking in Common, with extra clauses, and novel word order to put on an air of sophistication. But this was no noble she was addressing, and she wasn't speaking Common. She wasn't absolutely sure she had been 'captured' per se, that depended on the orc's intentions. They might well just be after the loot. And if so, phrasing her statement that way would make it likely the orc would in fact reveal that kernel of truth in response.<br/>
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Of course, the alternative was that Lydia was, very much, captured. In which case his response was still likely to reveal her position to her, so that she could properly choose her next words. </span>