Mutual Admiration

-Three Days Prior-

Kalena watched Gularzob studying the armour and idly remembered her very first impression of orcs: grotesque, utterly brutish creatures, possessed of terrific physical power and ferocity. Beast-like savages perfectly capable of slaughtering every man, woman and child lying in their path, and not only known to eat the unfortunate prisoners that fell into their hands, but at times even eat each other. To her mind, orcs had to be the most barbarous, irredeemable, gods-awful things to ever walk the earth. Eventually throughout her extensive travels she learned not all were like that. Far from it, in fact. Facing Gularzob, and seeing the warmth and intelligence shining in his blood red eyes, he looked and acted anything but uncivilized. He was charming, and had all the good manners of a royal courtier.

"If I may?" Taking hold of the gauntlet, he moved his hands over the blade mechanism, testing it out and locating the trigger. Next, he moved his finger to the poison needle and turned his eyes back to her before asking, "What are the effects of this poison?"

"Mithricide shuts down a body's heart and nervous system, rapidly destroying both," Kalena explained offhandedly. "A full vial load will kill a person, whether they be human, elf, or orc, within a few seconds. A single tiny drop will cause severe dizziness and lethargy in a human, but any little more than that will bring about irreparable damage, and likely induce respiratory or heart failure. Mithricide is highly deadly to all races, except the purer-bred types of demons. It was developed by the Order of Assassins more than a thousand years ago." She smiled with some pride in her eyes. "I actually have the distinct privilege of being one of the few living souls entrusted with the chemical formula, which I was sworn to keep secret."

She picked up her drink and took a sip of it as Gularzob next intensely examined the steel corset. A faint flush coloured her face as she remembered it had been molded from her own body to exactly fit her form. She had been pleased enough by its comfort and the added protection it offered, but she noticed that the orc looked far from impressed at the workmanship, professional disdain written on his face. She hoped he would have the good manners not to ask how much she'd paid for it.

Setting the armour back down, he turned back to face her, and in the process nearly knocked the tray of drinks out of the slave's hands. Clumsy, stupid wench! Kalena thought angrily. As Gularzob took the tray in his large hands and set it on the table, she shot the serving girl a severe look that spoke clearly of whippings to come. Then her face softened as she turned back attentively to the blacksmith as he said: "I would be very pleased if you allowed me to craft you a new set of armor."

Kalena slowly grinned, her lovely, sculpted features lighting up with pleasure. She was quite taken with the earnest gravity in Gularzob's tone. And the way he worded it too, as if it would be a genuine honour for him to do this for her. He was like an artist, she thought, driven by his craft and the high standards of the profession he held himself to. She always admired integrity in others, along with passion and brilliance, and in these capacities the orc seemed short of none.

"There is no one I would rather have do so," she replied sincerely. "And I won't insult you by haggling over the price. I will pay whatever you ask for, fully confident it will be worth it."

She anticipated he would do a very good job, but had no idea just how good of one. She had never much liked wearing armour, and only did so when the prospect of danger was extreme. Even then she only wore the bare rudiments, always keeping herself light enough not to have her range of movement and any of her trained stealth impeded by the bothersome protective accoutrements.