[b][color=#E8B7A9][h3][i]Adra Son Sauhl[/i][/h3][/color][/b][hr][indent]The summons had not been for Adra, they’d been for Garthan. Apparently, the Empire was not talented in discerning who among their people had already been cast into war, and who were sitting on their asses waiting for something like this. She didn’t like to think she was in the latter category, but here she was. The orc was also aware that she was late to this, but with Garthan having passed, and Adra tending to his missives afterward—she thought of no better fitting tribute than to stand in his place. That being said, she’d made good time, careful planning and abundant resources lent to that. Now she was making her way through the capitol. 

Adra realized she’d never been outside of Crepix. It was a creeping idea that she didn’t much care for. She viewed herself as intelligent and cultured—apparently, she was just the former. While Dramon was supposed to be a melting pot, there were more humans than anything. She took the last stint of the journey on foot. There was no need to shed more coinage on a journey that she needed more time between her destination and now. Not many people paid her that much mind. The world was in a strange place, and she was no more foreboding than a line of soldiers with carts filled with the stagnant stench of death hanging from it. 

Something hit her hard in the side. Adra went to her warhammer before her eyes settled on a boy standing before her. He was very much human, his clothing stated that his family made ends but only, and in his hands was a bent piece of silvered metal. It was oddly curved, even without the bend. It was apparent that he had found it or taken it from something. He looked up at her with large brown eyes, and the orc immediately felt uncomfortable at the gaze.

“They say that orcs are strong,” he said. Flattery was probably the best at getting Adra’s attention. “So, I hoped you could fix my sword.”

She eyed the weird piece of metal and narrowed her gaze. [color=#E8B7A9]“Boy, this is no—”[/color] she was cut off by a large human boy at the edge of the alley.

“Awe, you trying to get that green bitch to help you? By the look of it, she couldn’t even snap a dry twig.” He was a bit older than the boy before her, and he looked like he was far wealthier. 

No matter the trespasses of the boy before her, Adra would have bent the world back for him. There’d been plenty of naysayers in Crepix of her abilities because of her gender. Without thinking much about it, she straightened the piece of metal with ease. [color=#E8B7A9]“Here is your noble and glorious sword back, young sir.”[/color] The older, noble boy looked on, his jaw slack. [color=#E8B7A9]“Now would you want me to straighten the faces of your antagonists?”[/color] she asked, taking a step towards them. They scattered like crows disturbed over their dinner.

The boy’s eyes went wide. “Oh, thank you so much!”

Adra patted his shoulder. [color=#E8B7A9]“I need to leave, goodbye small human.”[/color] It had less to do with her deadline with the Emperor’s summons, and more to do with the parents that the children would report to. Mutilating young nobles was probably—definitely—very illegal.

A few steps forward and her hand was grabbed. She went to her weapon but exhaled when it was the young boy. She was about to lose her temper but was stopped by the fact that he had a flower in his hand—roots, dirt, and all. 

“Thank you,” he said again.

Adra eyed the flower, but she took it. It was a pale purple blossom. That color was full of precious memories. She took it from his hand, snapped the roots and dirt off, and inserted into her plaited hair. [color=#E8B7A9]“You are welcome,”[/color] she said. [color=#E8B7A9]“Now [i]shoo[/i].”[/color]

[color=#E8B7A9][center]—[/center][/color]

Upon reaching the castle, she flashed her summons. They weren’t scrutinized very heavily, instead, she got a brief chastising about her tardiness. Adra didn’t care. She was led towards the massive human building. The insides were heavily decorated but in a gaudy way. There was no way that their craftsmanship flowed. The arts around here were more period marks than commas marking further beauty.

She followed a young man through the building, and he paused before the door. He extended his hand and angled his head upwards. His fingers curled as if she failed to understand what he wanted. Adra hadn’t pocketed her summons, yet, and so rammed them into his hand. The other side of the threshold held silence and a better of chatter that obviously wasn’t the Emperor. She could make that out from the gaggle of people standing around in the room.

The young page cleared his throat, “introducing Lord Garthan Nel Ohman, strongest of the orcish… warriors.” He glanced at Adra, but she was already making her way into the chambers. She was obviously not Garthan. She was a head shorter than him, and her frame couldn’t swallow narrow human doorways. He’d probably enter now and laugh about how he’d been late and create some elaborate story about some damsel in distress. He’d wax poetic about his heroics before taking his massive sword off his back and showing exactly how he’d dealt with the creature that hard harmed the damsel. He’d then kneel in fealty and say something that would warm him to the others. Adra was not Garthan.

She approached the Emperor in her rose-colored armor, with a massive warharmmer on her back, large shield, and her black hair in mourning plaits with a flower tucked between them. Pausing before him, she kneeled, anchoring herself with her fist pressed hard into the ground. [color=#E8B7A9]“I’m Adra Son Sauhl. I am taking Garthan’s place. Apologies for the tardiness, I was unaware of the summons until shortly before now.”[/color] She kept her gaze on the floor. [color=#E8B7A9]“I am more than capable. I’m not only a battlemaster but a scholar, and I’m quite—strong.”[/color]

Adra hoped that her sudden arrival and outing herself as the “successor” to a role that didn’t seem to have one, wouldn’t disqualify her from this mission. She needed this.
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