A Simple Misunderstanding

[Civilized Savagery]

A patchwork of farms were painted across the hills, granting the countryside simple, domestic air. To the south a wall of pines marked the edge of the farmland. On the surface it seemed nearly untouched by the harsh times of recent months. It was a homey sort of place, the kind that made Kirthi smile to think on it, so similar it was to another farmland she used to know. She relished the peace of the morning, the freedom of the outdoors, and the feel of the dirt under her boots. Those feelings wouldn't last the morning.

It was approaching noon when Kirthi reached the town of something or other. She assumed it had a name, as most towns do, but she didn't know it. It was perched on the top of a hill, and all made up of little pine and plaster buildings with pointy roofs specially designed for the cold Salvaran winters. There were probably towns near as twins to this one found in any kingdom anywhere in the world.

It was as plain a place as could be, but the moment she arrived she knew something was wrong. The air was charged with tension, but she had no idea why. Her curiosity was piqued, but she ruthlessly kicked it in the shins and told it to mind its business. Then she entered the town square and was confronted with one of her least favorite sights. Standing before her was a mob, perhaps a score of people complete with pitchforks, scythes, and other improvised tools of destruction.

Kirthi was suddenly very interested in being anywhere else. Dinner gave her a placid look she decided was agreement. Then, before she could make her retreat, someone from the crowd noticed her presence and a great cry went up. The mob's attention focused in on her, which was not where she wanted to be.

“Oh dear”, she said. Dinner seemed entirely unperturbed by her situation, and she spared him a hateful glance. Stupid animal.

The mob surged toward her to cries of “It's one of them!” and “We're under attack!”

She took a step back and held out her hands, trying to look as harmless and reassuring as possible. She didn't smile. Orc smiles are not reassuring. “Wait! Wait. I'm just a traveler, here all by myself! I'm not a bandit, or a raider, or... whatever.”

The mob paused, for which she thanked almost every god she had heard of. They weren't really in a killing frenzy, but she had by no means convinced them.

“It's lying! See how its armed?”
“It's an orcish spy!”

Time to run? She hesitated. If she ran they would likely chase her, and she'd have to leave Dinner. The mule looked up at her with wide, reproachful eyes.

Crap.

[Logan]

It had been a week long journey just to approach the outskirts of the farmlands of the twin towns. Logan was mentally exhausted after long discussions with the most prominent Bazaar merchants back in Corone. The travel did not help his exhaustion, and the horse he'd purchased for the trip wasn't exactly comfortable.

The old mare shook it's head as he approached the farmlands. She hadn't liked the cold of Salvar, and less liked the chill in the air. The wintry breeze was enough to knock a normal man off his horse, and it had required all of Logan's focus just to avoid that very thing. As his eyes scanned the horizon, the houses came into view and he sighed with relief.

Lance's house was the third one on the right of the main intersection running north and south through the village. At least, if the psion remembered correctly. Last time he was in this town the farmers had formed a lynch mob and demanded he depart their lands. According to the farmers of the village the psion's telepathy was "ruining their crops".

Shaking his head, Logan wondered to himself why he was even returning to the village, but as always it was a matter of business. That business happened to be Vice business, which meant he was the one to deal with it. Soon, that would be changing, but for now he found himself kicking the old mare and guiding her toward the town.

As the hours passed the psion found rest and comfort as a large rock face had begun protecting the area from the gusts of cold air. Closing his eyes momentarily, he thought back to the last time he was in Salvar. It had been a long, long time.

His memories of the place came flooding back, and it was all he could do not to turn the mare back around and leave. The horse noticed his reaction, or perhaps he subconsciously sent her the thought, and she began to shake her head and strain against his directions. Opening his eyes, the psion calmed her, and then noticed why she was shaking.

Up ahead were about twenty to thirty farmers and villagers, and they all seemed to be focused on one spot or thing. From his distance, he was uncertain. Being the ever-inquisitive one, Logan kicked his mare once more, speeding her to the mob and it's point of interest.

The mare took haste and soon the psion found the mob's focal point. A deep sigh, and he was off the horse tying her to a tree on the side of the road. Scanning the locals, he gathered a few thoughts and suddenly knew what all the commotion was really about. Logan moved toward the crowd and pushed his way to the front where the special creature was standing.

She, or was it he, looked ready to bolt, but the psion lowered his head to her and then turned to the crowd. Both hands lowered to the hilts of the Silence Blades, and moments later they were unsheathed and at the ready to defend the poor soul who just so happened to be an orc.

Turning his head to the side, he questioned her as calmly as he could.

"In need of assistance, are we? Any reason these people think you're a monster?"

The psion had seen a few orcish creatures in his days traveling Althanas, though most went by other racial names. The majority wanted little to do with the orc stereotypes, and so they chose other races to protect their identities. Logan always knew, though. Just a gift he supposed.

[Civilized Savagery]

Kirthi took a moment from her careful gauging of the assembled mob to ponder her apparent rescuer. Well. Rescuer might be a tad optimistic, but hell, he wasn't killing her out of hand, which she strongly suspected he could given the silvery blue of the swords in his hands. She had no idea what he wanted, but strange, well armed, men who were willing to throw themselves into trouble for no apparent reason were exactly her sort of people. If you can't be positive moments before painful death, when can you be?

She set her back to the road she came from and faced both her potential ally and her potential murderers. “I think that's an excellent question,” she said, looking toward the mob. “What is it you think I've done?”

It was then a man pushed his way forward from the crowd. Like the others, he was dressed in simple peasant garb, and in his hand he carried an old footman's sword. His eyes were sunken, and pain had chiseled lines into his face. “What have you done? What have you done?” He looked around at everyone present. “Last month a merchant was attacked only miles from here. Last week Otis' pigs were stolen and slaughtered. And last night, these creatures burned my home to the ground!”

At each proclamation the crowd shouted their agreement, shaking their weapons and glaring at Kirthi. After that final cry, the silence lasted for an instant, and also for an eon. There was nothing Kirthi could say to him, because she knew the man's pain. The words 'I'm sorry' died on her lips unspoken; he wanted her blood, not her sympathy. Still, she looked out across at the many farmers and townsfolk and said the only thing she could. “I didn't do any of those things. A month ago I was in Alerar. I only just arrived in the area. I'm not a bandit. Please don't do this.”

Some of them hesitated, unsure. These ones saw the truth in her eyes. Or perhaps they saw the anger that blinded their fellows, or once knew an orc who was more than just a murdering beast. But certainly not all were easily swayed. The man who had spoken up before merely spat in her direction.

“Your grunts are nothing but lies, beast.” He stepped forward again, and addressed Logan. “We have no business with you stranger. Leave here in peace, and let justice be served.”