Ravasha had come to a small Orc habitation. She was journeying outside of Orgrimmar and had gotten lost. So she approached the small hamlet with trepidation. She had cast a spell to hide her fel green eyes and reddened skin, hoping that the Orcs wouldn’t shun her from interaction if she looked normal.
A scout at the perimeter found her first. She called out to halt. Ravasha stood anxiously still.
“Greetings traveler. What is your business here?” The scout asked. Keeping her bow down at the moment.
“I’ve come to stay at the inn. And I do make some things that I sell, if that is not illegal in your town?” Ravasha queried anxiously. A quiver to her voice.
“You may enter our village as long as you don’t cause trouble. Do you understand?” The tall Orc woman looked down on the much shorter Blood Elf.
“I understand. I won’t be a bother to your village.” She said.
The scout let her pass.
Ravasha entered the hamlet riding her Swift Pink Hawkstrider. She rode slowly, watching everything she could see. She had met Orcs in Orgrimmar, but that was a big city. Small towns tended to have different attitudes to girls who grew up in cities. The people didn’t pay much attention as she rode down the streets at a walk. Her Swift Pink Hawkstrider cooed to itself and looked straight ahead.
She reached the inn, a small building with a stables for animals. She got her mount into the stables and then entered the inn.
It was dark inside and smoky. There was a desk behind which a female Orc sat, smoking tobacco out of a pipe. Ravasha moved to the front desk and waited to be helped.
“Write your name in the guest log. It will be 50 Gold a night for you.” The female Orc said. Brushing some of her long black hair away from her face.
“For me?” Ravasha queried. Something about her tone just didn’t sound right.
“I can smell the fel on you. You’re lucky I let you in my inn at all. I used to be a Warlock like you, you know.” She said with a devious smile, extinguishing her pipe with her clawed fingernail.
“I don’t use fel magic. I’ll pay your fee, but please don’t spread rumors that aren’t true.” Ravasha lied. She wrote her name in the guest log in a fancy cursive script, a fake name, “Iridessa Blackdawn.” And set down 50 Gold on the counter.
She heard the innkeeper say to the next couple, two Orcs, that they only had to pay 20 Gold. She scoffed and went to her room.
When she was done in her room she walked outside again. Somebody had ‘smelled the fel on her?’ She shivered and went to the Tavern, the Lush Wolf.
At the tavern she saw several Orcs seated around a bonfire outside. They had blocked it off with rocks and dug a pit to put the wood inside. They were talking about the elemental spirits.
“I feel a disruption in nature lately. The spirits must be angry.” The first Orc said.
“Yes, with every new war between our Horde and the Alliance, the elemental spirits are angered.” The second Orc nodded.
“And before that, they were fighting demons! I’ve had enough of demons. We have come far since then.” The third Orc said.
Ravasha started to walk past them. They didn’t pay her any mind. Apparently her illusion was not so easily seen through by everybody in town. She went into the bar. It was very sparse in design and she could smell strong alcohol. She walked up to the counter.
“I’d like a Junglevine Wine, please.” Ravasha said.
A lithe Orc woman sat down next to her. She was covered in scars and wore metal plates on her shoulders and legs, a two-handed sword on her back.
“What is a Blood Elf doing here? We don’t often get visitors.” She asked.
“I’m exiled from my home.” Ravasha replied.
“Exile? A fate worse than death. You may as well have been drowned.” She laughed.
“I don’t think it’s funny.” Ravasha smirked.
“But I’m glad you do. What do you do for fun around here?” Ravasha continued.
“I protect one of the honored elders here. I am what your people may call, ‘a bodyguard?’” She fumbled with the words.
“I see. I’m a traveling businesswoman. Tell me: Do you ever wonder what your ideal perfume scent is?” Ravasha fluttered her long eyelashes and her eyes got wide, a pleasant smile on her face.
“I don’t use perfume. Why would you? A woman’s natural smell is so much more appealing to my mates.” The scarred Orc bodyguard laughed again.
Ravasha pouted. This wasn’t going so well.
“What’s your name? I’m Iridessa.” She offered.
“My name is Azarrah.” Azarrah responded.
“I admit I’m a little bewildered. When I came into town the innkeeper was quite mean to me.” Ravasha whined.
“We aren’t kind to outsiders. Especially those that use fel magic.” She grinned evilly.
How does everybody know I’m a warlock? Ravasha thought, frowning, but then schooled her expression into a smile.
“Yes, warlocks are terrible. Demon spawn, all of them.” She lied.
“In any case, I’m fine with outsiders. Just don’t make anyone here angry at you and you’ll be left alone.” Azarrah explained.
“Good to know.” Her alcoholic drink came and the bartender set it down in front of her.
“Oh, and if you want to be on good terms with our town, participate in the hunt with us tomorrow.” Azarrah grinned again mischievously.
“Hunt?” Ravasha was taken aback.
“Yes, every morning the combat capable Orcs go on a hunting trip for the village’s food supplies.” Azarrah explained.
“Great. I’ll… be there.” Ravasha said a little hesitantly.
What’s a little blood on my robes? I can even help them cook the meat. Ravasha thought.
The two women drank and talked for a while longer before Ravasha returned to her room at the inn.