writing prompt: orcs developing a soft spot for some manner of animal?
“Well, anyhow,” Shrimp said officiously, “‘s mine now.”
It was hard to argue with that except by outright taking it, and no one in the band was sure they wanted the thing. They’d never had the sheer luck to find a warg before, not on the run as they were, and they weren’t sure they’d had the luck now.
“Sure that ain’t a dog?” Urugol asked.
Lagduf grunted. “If that’s a warg pup, I’ll eat my foot.”
“Well start chewin’!” Shrimp retorted. “Just ‘cause he’s small don’t mean he ain’t a warg! He’ll get bigger!”
The pup, whatever it was, whistle-whined at all the yelling. Its black muzzle was on Shrimp’s lap, and the rest of its lanky body was sprawled off to one side. Shrimp scratched behind his ears and it whuffed happily.
Slowly, the band turned to Shagrat. He was bigger than the rest and so prone to being turned to. He shrugged. “Could be a runty warg.” He scowled. “Could be a big dog.”
“Big enough for Shrimp, then,” Snaga called, and they laughed.
Shrimp bared his teeth. “Fine by me,” he shot back. “He’s mine anyhow.”
Not a one of the orcs is romantically interested in Essie, but in some way she’s theirs and everyone else can bugger off.
They shout a lot when they run into orcs that are still aligned with Sauron, and terrible things are said all around, but at the end of the day that’s a lot less dangerous than running into humans or elves.
They never do like Faramir. But they’ll keep him from dying and then hound him and his soldiers about it for ages.
At the time of the trilogy, the band stands at about two dozen. They pick up a couple along the way. At the end of the trilogy, when you’ve suddenly got a lot of orcs and no Big Boss... it becomes a lot of logistical work.
Eventually, there are two or three good orc nations that are just run by orcs. Mostly they just go back home. Essie still runs with a few that have less to go back to, and she visits her boys as often as she can. It’s a much easier life without a war.
Full Name: Gort (aka Shrimp)Gender and Sexuality: male, ???Pronouns: he/himEthnicity/Species: orc, plain ol’Birthplace and Birthdate: Mordor, seventeen years agoGuilty Pleasures: Eating things that aren’t meat and bread.Phobias: Fire. Campfires are fine, house fires are not.What They Would Be Famous For: Someday, for winning fights despite his size. I’m looking to Mokosh for that.What They Would Get Arrested For: He’s in an orc deserter band. Literally anyone outside his friend circle might arrest him.OC You Ship Them With: No one.OC Most Likely To Murder Them: I’m sure all the boys of the Misfit Band have tried murdering each other at one time or another, and Gort is an easy target.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Some romance.Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Most romance.Talents and/or Powers: Being overlooked, whining, biting.Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s a scrawny whelp who ran away from an army of evil.Why Someone Might Hate Them: I guess if you hate orcs, it’s possible.How They Change: Hopefully he’ll grow a bit.Why You Love Them: Smol and needs backup
how would interactions between our D&D characters go??
You mean Shrimp!! I understand.
Mokosh is probably the only person who calls him Gort instead of Shrimp. Bless her.
Shrimp has so much to learn from her! The art of being intimidating, the art of flirting with girls, the art of drinking more than one round of strong liquor. They learn to be great wingmen for each other.
When he gets in trouble, he has a habit of pointing over his shoulder and going, “Yeah, but see, my friend ‘ere---”
Mokosh has a habit of giving him noogies and putting him into friendly arm locks.
I just realized that in all my orcboss AU writings, I've only ever written from the perspective of other parties. It makes the realizations fun, but the orcs don't get much to say. I'm here to fix that.
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Faramir's rangers accepted their captain's decision, and they made little enough trouble with their orc guests. All the same, they did not welcome the creatures. The orcs, for their part, kept together at a safe distance; they seemed to feel the same way about the rangers.
So over the weeks, the two forces circled each other about the shared space, never getting too near or speaking with each other outside necessity. But they did watch each other, and closely.
This night, the rangers were gathered at a table eating. Faramir and the woman captain of the orcs were speaking just outside but well in view. Meanwhile, the orcs huddled similarly across the hall, talking amongst themselves and looking to the conversation outside with toothy sneers. The rangers kept an eye on the orcs. For who knew what dark schemes these monsters spoke of?
*
"Lookit him," Bargol spat. Beside him, Wargha barked out a mirthless laugh around a mouthful of cheese. "What's that tark think he's playing at, huh?"
There were grunts and snarls of agreement. None of the two dozen orcs took their eyes off the boss and the fancy captain outside. The boss knew what she was doing, but that didn't mean they had to trust their host.
"Pretty-boy prince or summat," Yagul muttered.
"Come on," Shrimp whined. He was the smallest, gangly in a way that meant he was almost fully grown, and his name was Gort. But it was Shrimp they called him. He scrunched up his nose at Faramir. "Look at that on his face. Is he tryna grow a beard or in't he?"
"Who bloody cares?" Lagduf swatted Muzgash's hand away from his plate. "Even if he did he'd just look like a dwarf."
They narrowed their eyes at the man, at the way he was staring at the boss and leaning in to speak earnestly to her. It wasn't right. He was up to something.
"Ooh, lookit me," simpered Urugol in a parody of Faramir's soft voice, "I'm the pansy prince of a buncha meadow tarks, come be my princess."
"Shut the hell up, Urugol."
But it was too late. The terrible idea was out there. It was somehow worse than the suspicion that the humans were just waiting for the orcs to drop their guard to kill them all. The band was made of fighters all, and a sneak attack they could have dealt with. It might've even been fun. But the thought of some tark trying to sweep Esselyn away was out of the question.
Unfortunately, it was getting easier and easier to believe the longer they watched him talk to her.
Shagrat smacked a couple of them across the backs of their heads. "Chin up, lads, the boss ain't gonna fall for that."
"Yeah," Muzgash rallied, "she's more like to run him through."
For the first time that evening, the laughter rippling through the group came easily.
"That ain't how you get a woman anyway," Snaga announced.
Shrimp looked over, baffled. "It ain't?"
"Nah." Snaga gestured vaguely. "It's way different, trust me."
Three of the orcs hooted, and someone threw a hunk of bread at him. "Trust you on the women, eh? That's a laugh."
Snaga puffed up. "Shut it, you lot don't know nothing."
Orcish courtship was a mystery to all outsiders. It was also a mystery to most of this particular band of orcs.
"It don't matter whether that's the way or not," Shagrat insisted. "It's the boss."
And that was that, and not just because Shagrat was big and got to be second-in-command so often. This wasn't the first time "It's the boss" had been used to end an argument. To a pack of warriors always on the move, on neither one side or the other, having to watch their backs at every turn, the boss was the constant. She was the one solid fact they had, so just bringing her up could shut down a full-on fight.
"Oi." Muzgash beat the arm of the unfortunate Lagduf to get his attention. "See? They're already comin' inside."
And they were. Esselyn strode into the hall with Faramir behind her. The orcs shuffled ineffectually among themselves to make room for her and only succeeded in almost knocking Maug out of his seat.
Esselyn slowed down when she reached them. "We need to look over the maps. I'll be back before sunset." She shoved Shagrat's head lightly. "You lads behave."
And then she kept walking, deeper into the rangers' sanctuary. Faramir, after a brief conversation with his men, followed her.
Shagrat stared after her, deeply offended. An indignant silence covered the band.
"Damn tark," Urugol muttered, and the orcs started right back up again.
3, 14, and 17 for mob!AU Essie; 10, 11, and 18 for orcboss.
Mob!AU Esselyn -
Name one or more of their bad habits.
She has a tendency to fidget. She doesn't like sitting still for very long. That, and she cracks her knuckles constantly.
Is there anything they are too optimistic about?
Essie is a more jaded character in this AU, simply because of what she's been through. However, she's always optimistic that she'll win any contest that the dwarves challenge her too. Just because she's arrogant.
When would they be too judgmental of someone or something?
When someone doesn't have the proper motivation to do something; she doesn't understand the purpose of doing something for the sake of doing it--because of past experiences, she knows that there is always a price for something.
Orc Boss Esselyn -
Some of their emotional shortcomings?
Essie has a tendency to let her anger get the best of her, simply because of the company she keeps. She is intolerant of those quick to judge based on things others have led them to believe.
What are their intellectual shortcomings?
While Essie is a brilliant strategist, her intellectual shortcomings belong in the realm of social interaction--beyond her own group of mercenaries. She is strong with leadership, but lacks the social skills and, well, general know-how in terms of interacting with those beyond her own party.
Are they ever a pushover about something? If so, how?
It's very rare, but yes. Essie will occasionally indulge the requests of her orcs and allow them to roam--within reason. She understands their need for space, and will not begrudge them too much.
