[b][center][color=#17c311][h3][i]Cyneburg[/i][/h3][/color]
[color=#17c311]Location: [/color]The campsite, 8 o' clock
[color=#17c311]Interacting with: [/color]Orc pinned under a horse. I think he was 5 o' Clock but it might be 5:30[/center][/b]

Cyneburg pulled her walking stick/axe from the neck of the mage and looked up to find all the other orcs had more or less been dealt with except for one sap unarmed stuck under his deceased horse. Wiping the blood off of her axe head on the ground, the druid walked over to the downed man and planted the tip of her staff into the ground, putting her weight down on the axe head/handle. Truth be told, she wasn't feeling very great, being covered in burns of varying severity and the pain of being stabbed and blasted with lightning still fresh despite having it processed through 3 different shapechanges in rapid succession. She wasn't mad, however. Fed up and irritable? Yeah, but there was no real malice against these orcs who probably thought themselves as protecting their homeland as misguided a thought like that is. The lancer looked up at her face and scowled.

"Balaaklat," he spit out in the orcish tongue. "Bashuga Ogh-hai. Brogbogh amub Uruk-hailatub?" It was more of an accusation than a question, but Cyneburg didn't really react much in any visible fashion.

"Dorozg. Zughishklatubûk matûrzu. Ulu-ogh azat hursarz uruk-lat." She replied, her accent noticeably much different from the cavalryman she was addressing. The orc looked around at the carnage and after a few moments nodded raising his hands up in defeat. Cyneburg turned around to the rest of the camp.

"This one surrendered. I believe that resolves the bloodshed, right?" Cyneburg scratched her cheek after this announcement and then realized she had stopped covering her face with her hand. The veil had been burned up in the fireball, which wasn't much of an issue. She carried many spares, but in a fight like this, she didn't have the time to do this replacing. So now everyone could plainly see he tusks and squashed nose, proof that she was indeed a Half-Orc. This could end badly.
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OOC Translation for that conversation.

It roughly comes out to him saying "Half-breed! You side with the human. Do you prefer them over Orcs your own kind?"

To which Cyneburg says "Surrender. All your friends are dead. Maybe they (the humans) won't kill you."