Elandris knelt and, with considerable effort, rolled his target over onto its back. Wiping the green slick of blood from his twin blades with a scrap of the Orc's rough fur sash, he began to search through the creature's pockets. "Orcs make unsatisfactory prisoners; they do not possess the capacity to comprehend fear."<br/>The Warden gestured to the two crumpled bodies that lay staring blankly at the darkening sky, a grim reminder that night was falling in the unfamiliar forest rife with unseen danger. "Search them. Orcs invariably belong to clans and carry the symbol of their allegiance somewhere on their person," he directed. "It may be an insignia scratched on a stone or a facial tattoo."<br/>One asset available to Wardens that others might have found rather difficult to obtain was the extensive information present and contained in the secret libraries of Draggenden intelligence services. The Empire was one of primarily military strategy, but what few were entirely aware of was the amount of faith and resources its military leaders invested in its program of information warfare. There were several organizations known to Elandris whose sole task in service of their Empire was to gather information, information about everyone and everything. He had in the past heard it bragged that there was not a person in either the Dales or the Empire that lived or died without being the subject of a file as long as they were tall. He had neither confirmed nor disproved the existence of such an archive but had often wondered whether it were a tangible repository or a simple rumor spun to keep the myth of Draggenden infallibility alive.<br/>That was, Elandris reflected, the primary goal of the Empire - to maintain a veneer of control and power though in truth if there were any kind of popular uprising the infrastructure of the government would immediately collapse at the seams. The truth was that the deception and the propaganda was<span style="font-style: italic">necessary</span>; it was what maintained order an an otherwise-chaotic world. No one argued that the people should have been allowed to govern themselves; the conflict was that they could not. Without the safety of the Empire's regime, the land would have long ago fallen to the swords and spears of barbarians, Orcs, and the foul things that sleep within the dark corners of the world. It was an evil. A necessary evil.<br/>In any case, knowledge garnered over the years concerning Orcish customs and habits was now firmly ingrained in the Warden's head, including the symbols and war signs of over sixty varying clans. As his hands ran over the fallen foe's body, he peered closely for signs of tribal markings or amulets. Finally, his search reaching the Orc's face, he discovered a slate-blue swirl-within-a-triangle etched into the cords of the beast's neck. It was not familiar. There was something unusual about the nature of the marking that Elandris could not quite pinpoint, yet it was significant enough to cause a slight nagging in the back of his mind, a sensation he had long learned never to ignore.<br/>"Odd."