Grand Survaek Empire / Firetooth Clan

"We are not soft southerners incapable of marching long distances or holding our own in war." Garlog grumbled, a sardonic tine of veiled mockery in his voice. "Would you deny our young Orcs the opportunity for glory in battle?"

"What the chief means to say." Elder Urag interrupted, eager to be more diplomatic than their mouthpiece. "Is that the the issue of the wastelanders is entirely a Local Matter, fully in hand as it is. Surely there is more urgent need for the security of a fortress elsewhere. The Sultinate of Beg Gurihm is in chaos and was recently raided by giants, and the Commonwealth of Cerdigon and Sefti has been devastated by war."

"Forgive me of being skeptical of the decision made by the Emperor-beyond-the-sea, who lives in a grand palace hundreds of miles from the wastes, has never seen a wastelander orc in his life, and makes his decision based on the reports-of-reports of men in fancy robes." Garlog met Reyid's eyes with a fierce, cunning glare. One fist clenched tightly around the arm of his throne.

"We of the Firetooth have lived in these lands for generations. It was my grandfather's father who shot Rugmit the Black during the Bloody Horde with this ancestral gun. It was Elder Urag's House-father who stood alone on the seventh hill and fired the cannon that broke Torkat the Giant in half. For Centuries it has been our blood which has stained these lands and held back the wastes. I have killed more orcs of the wasteland than you have ever laid eyes upon. I have ventured their lands, hunted their camps and watched their rituals. Now you come here and tell us that the land we bled upon is no longer ours, and that we must cower behind your walls for protection and look to your men to protect us. We are no sniveling cowards to take your insult and grovel at your feet." 

Several orcs thumped upon their tables, and the murmur of agreement could be heard in the hall. Every Firetooth there had heard the songs of their heroes and learned the stories of their houses. They had walked among the barrow-mounds where the heroes rested and fought with their own guns. Garlog's speech boiled their blood and stirred their pride.

Elder Urag took this reply before Garlog could. The Chief's speech had riled up the crowds enough, and Reyid's reply had stirred many proud hearts. To have their own customs and heroes cast aside like so much trash was more than some would tolerate. Had the admiral not been a Survaekom representative he might already have been facing martial challenge. Urag was eager to cool things off before some young hothead decided to get himself killed.

"You do challenge our ownership of the land, admiral. By your own laws imperial fortresses are the property of the Emperor and State, not of the local kingdom. Allowing the construction of your fortress is tantamount to forswearing sovereignty over the surrounding area."

"Outside our lands on Survaekom maps, drawn by Survaekom scribes without consulting us or our bards." Garlog pointed out, sweeping aside Reyid's point with a swing of his hand.

Garlog could sense a trap when he saw one, especially one as obvious as Reyid's. The heat and tension of the longhouse only sharpened his perception. "We agreed to the Northern Contract under the stipulation that we would not be harassed by Survaekom officials, nor have the Surv-Akur breathing down our necks from their castle-forts. We have abided by our end of the agreement, but it seams Survaek is not interested in respecting its end. If we are forced to choose between war or slavery we will fight."

"You speak like a fool who has never made an agreement before men." Garlog chided, his calm viciousness in start contrast to Reyid's smug, almost nonchalant behavior. "You put no stock in the words of your countrymen, and blow aside promises like so much smoke. Your councilors promised us independence, your generals assured us that your soldiers would not set foot in our lands, your scribes accepted our traditions, your Vizier recognized us as the Guardians of the West. For years we trusted them. We welcomed them into our halls and allowed them to march across our lands to fight their foes."

"Now you come with demands that violate their assurances and make dishonorable liars out of your compatriots, and spit on the trust and hospitality we have offered."

"Yes." Garlog snarled. "We understand each other. Our assistance is denied." The air of hostility and temper in the room was unmistakable. Had Reyid been anyone else he would have been drowned out by angry shouts. Instead the Firetooth watched him angrily, muttering about dishonorable Survaekom. He had rejected their traditions, threatened them, and now stated that he intended to ignore their objections. Some of the cooler heads might have objected to Garlog's hostile stance towards the Empire, but even they disliked Reyid's blatant disregard. He would find few friends among the Firetooth now.