Marion Mordis


The Alteraci kept her composure as the orc revealed his age and experience by declaring his familiarity with her accent. That was quite a feat. She wasn't even sure most humans could discern such a thing, indicating that this orc had had a long and dubious history that featured her home kingdom. This fact became even more pronounced when he slid forward a piece of cloth for her to take - a piece of cloth that was once part of a banner that displayed her national colors: orange.

The heraldry of her nation was not the most extravagant or striking imagery, but it was warming nonetheless to her. A simple orange background with an eagle in the corner. But to her it carried a long history that met a fork in the road that would decide the destiny of thousands, and her former king had chosen wrong. What the orc said was true, the weakest of the Alliance nations chose survival over a honor-driven death, or at least, what had seemed at such at the time. But outside of trying to butter her up, so to speak, but to Marion it was an incorrect assessment. Alterac made the wrong choice because it trusted the orcs not to go back on their word. The savage greenskins were a threat that Perinholde severely misjudged. Marion knew that had if the Horde had of won the second war, her nation would have been destroyed and enslaved all the same anyway. All Perinholde had done, in his fear, is opt for the snake to eat them last.

With their knowledge of the mountains they could have held the orcs back for all the time the Alliance needed to reform its military. And even if they had of ultimately lost, those same mountains would have been the protection they would need to flee into and from which they could bleed the Horde dry.

But, what was past was past.

Reaching out with her right hand, Marion held the cloth and drew it towards her for consideration. If permitted, she would keep it. A souvenir, almost. Or a reminder, perhaps. Marion wasn't foolish enough not to realise that her studies of fel-magic saw her trafficking with sinister figures, and so perhaps a daily reminder that there are some deals for which the price to pay was too high, was a valuable keepsake. Deals with the devil earned their proverb.

"I seek restoration, elevation and continuation," she answered, her voice softer and more feminine in contrast to the raspy rumblings of the aged greenskin.

"I have given a lot so far: I know not what else fate intends to have me sacrifice."