#orcs tournament

[rpgchoices]

This round sees Skyrim librarian Urag gro-Shub vs ex-slave boisterious magus half-orc Regongar from Pathfinder: Kingmaker!

All round 2 voting polls are here

[dungeon-meshi-tournament]

Masterpost

[monsterfuckabilitytournament]

submit more fuckable monsters here:

[our-favourite-orcs]

Submissions are now closed and voting will soon begin!

Time to see what orcs we like best here on Tumblr! Your pick whether that means the most badass, the most iconic, the most unique or just the ones you wish would come cuddle you!

SUBMISSION RULES:

- All kinds of media are fair play.

- You can choose one particular character or a group of orcs as a whole! If you choose a character, they will be presented as "X character representing Y orcs".

- The orcs must be referred to as orcs in the media! So no goblins, trolls, beast-men or the like. I will allow variations on spelling. Half-orcs are okay and The Uruk-Hai are also fair game.

(In case they use the terms interchangeably, just let me know and I'll decide on a case-to-case basis)

- If you have an artist that has done several orc drawings you enjoy but no overarching/published story to refer to, then that is fine! Just submit their name or username as the media and link to examples of their art.

- If your media has no art, I will allow fan art if it is your own or if you have permission from the artist!

I'm honestly not sure what other tournaments to tag and not sure what the etiquette regarding this is, but @obscurecharactershowdown @fave-fight @sharp-teeth-swag

[wlw-cryptid]

U need someone to paint minis with? 👀👀

yes oh my god 😭 I don't think I'll ever be really playing with them but I love wh40k minis. I want to get some age of sigmar things too

[stinky-fuck-swag]

Stinky Fuck Swag Bracket A Side A: Round 1, Match 11

Dob the Half Orc Bard (Oxventure Dungeons and Dragons) VS Caleb Widogast (Critical Role campaign 2)

Propaganda under the cut!

Dob the Half Orc Bard:

He cannonicaly rarely bathes and it is mentioned many times he carries an odor with him. Also he has to spend a lot of time around lakes to dump gold in them.

Caleb Widogast:

In one of the first episodes (the first? It’s been a while) another character points out that he smells really bad. Full out just says “you should take a bath.” They don’t know each other. Also, he’s covered in grime as a defense mechanism because he’s a big criminal. So people think he’s just a homeless dude but actually he’s on the run.

Deliberately smelly king, to help him in hiding from the government.

It started out as a "Why did you mention a shower, something modern which I wouldn't know, in a medieval fantasy world?" joke, but him not bathing and being filthy became a running joke. He even carries around bat guano in his pockets! Sure, he needs it to cast spells, but still, it does not help your case, Caleb. Also he once smeared said bat guano all over his face to prove a point.

Lived on the streets for years after running away from the prestigious academy he was attending. Never bathed and another member of the party brings up how bad he smells a lot.

literally wore the world's nastiest coat filled with bat shit & sulphur. canon stinky man

[lucretiaadventurezone]

TAZ Dashboard Simulator 2 (Part 1)

🔥 lup-da-lup Follow

be back soon 💋 im gonna go fight this guy for my relic

🔥 lup-da-lup Follow

Ubmrella

#girl help #im trapped

(7 notes)

In your orbit!

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

↻ woe-is-johann

🤼 best-fantasy-prowrestler-tournament Follow

Round 4: Semi-Finals

Jeff Angel Propaganda:

from @.ango-mcdango: I <3 JEFF ANGEL HE’S SO COOL AND HE ALWAYS CALLS HIS DAD

Jess the Beheader Propaganda:

from @.bagnus-murnsides: jess literally has a dope ass axe

#jess sweep

(379 notes)

🚀 cap-n-port

↻ you-know-from-tv Follow

┌───────────────────┐

😎 Anonymous asked:

Your captain looks gnc as fuck

└───────────────────┘

👖 lactosewarrior5000

YOU'RE INSANE

#Thank you very much!

(29,399 notes)

🐱 Sponsored by Fantasy Costco

You Don’t Need All of Your Blood; Here’s Why

The Director doesn’t want you to know this…

🎻 woe-is-johann

↻ avi-the-ball-guy

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

cannonball system liveblog

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

ball

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

ball

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

other. ball

#babe we gotta get you a fidget toy or something #clearly you're getting bored at work

(23 notes)

📔 sheesh-creesh

↻ lup-da-lup Follow

💋 lesbian-orc-lover Follow

lucretia was 18 when the ipre mission left??!? she should've been at the club!!

✨ you-know-from-tv Follow

oh trust me one of the planes we went to was a giant disco and lucy was freakin it sensitive style day and night

🔥 lup-da-lup Follow

real footage of lucretia at the club ↑↑

#I'm actually going to kill both of you #mutuals #queue never know what you'll find #reblogs

(35,095 notes)

❄️ neverwinter-heritage-posts

↻ magic-brian-with-an-i Follow

┌───────────────────┐

🚂 jerreeeeee asked:

is magnus burnsides gay??

└───────────────────┘

📖 dailycalebcleveland

why would you ask us, a caleb cleveland blog, this

#neverwinter heritage posts

(109,837,936 notes)

🧣 weaver-of-fate

↻ raven-queen-official

🐦‍⬛ raven-queen-official

i loev my beaugifyl wife so muchnohmygod

🐦‍⬛ raven-queen-official

where is smy wife i wanst to see herh

🐦‍⬛ raven-queen-official

hiiiiiiiidjiiii omg shge. is here :D

#apologies guys we hung out with pan and she got FUCKED up #you know how poker nights get #wife tag

(74 notes)

🐦 7-bird-watcher

↻ not-a-shitty-wizard Follow

🪄 mage-guy-19274637 Follow

people who actually like bugs are absolute freaks

🕷️ magic-brian-with-an-i Follow

wrong! spider attack

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️���️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

#sent to me

(6,074 notes)

🌈 lucretiaadventurezone

hi

[medievalandfantasymelee]

The Near Misses Tourney

In 400+ submissions many worthy and noble (also some dastardly and evil) men (and orcs and elves and hobbits and the like) were admitted to our fair Tourney.

These are... not them.

No indeed, 20 men (and one... unit?) of those submitted failed to qualify for the tournament, for diverse reasons. They were therefore turned away and tossed on the Near Misses Pile. But the spirit of competition still burns within them, and they have erected a makeshift tilt on the outskirts of the Tourney Grounds.

In the first round, our 21 competitors faced off, in two polls of 10 and 11 respectively. The four highest voted contenders from each side have advanced and will also face off in two polls of 4 and 4.

The semi-finals saw the remaining four competitors face off to determine our finalists.

And here they are:

Kuwabatake Sanjuro [Mifune Toshiro], Yojimbo (1961)

VS.

Kala Bhairava [Ram Charan], Magadheera (2009)

We wish them the best of luck in their fruitless endeavour!!!

[ameliathornromance]

Once a year, the Clan held a fun rough-housing tournament. It’s nothing serious, just something fun for all the Orcs to do during the Summer. Injuries were normal, but it was always done in good faith and there was never any bad blood by the end of it.

And for some reason, completely beyond your Orc Boyfriends mind, you decided that you wanted to join in for this year.

“No.” He had said, the moment you expressed interest in the tournament. “You’ll be turned into a blueberry pancake.”

“No I won’t.” You had replied. You gave a few playful jabs at his toned stomach. He barely felt them, “see? I can land a few good hits. There are humans who fight Orcs all the time.”

Your Orcs’ arms crossed his chest, scowling down at you. “I’m serious Love. Those humans you speak of are trained for years to hunt down Orcs.” He scoffed, “they use dirty tricks and have no honour.”

You sighed, frowning. “It looks like fun.”

“Your idea of fun is strange.”

“Says the Orc who participates in a yearly fighting contest.”

Your Orc held this information from you, but in his opinion, if you were given the proper training, you could easily body several of his others without breaking a sweat. You have the determination to do it, it’s just the physical strength you would have to make up for.

But the thought of you getting hurt in the process – which you would, Orcs do not hold back, even when rough-housing – made his stomach churn with anxiety.

A few days go by, there’s nothing particularly abnormal about them. The only exception being that, you came to bed, later and later.

Your Orc would always hear the sound of the tent flaps opening and closing, the pressure of your weight on the side of the bed. He didn’t know what you were up to, and when he questioned you about it after the third night, you brushed it off: “Ah, some of the cooks needed help with prep for next weeks meals. Y’know, with the tournament coming up and all that.”

Soon, the night before the start of the tournament came and he was alone. He was waiting for you to come to bed. He always fell asleep faster when you were with him and given what was going to happen the next day, he needed to be at his best.

A couple of minutes past from your usual arrival time, causing your boyfriend to sit up and watch the tent flaps. And then, as he yawned, the tent flaps opened and in you walked.

All tiredness vanished from your Orc in an instant. Your face was bruised, your nose a river of blood. You panted hard as you locked eyes with your Orc Boyfriend.

He froze, unable to believe what he was seeing.

You raised a hand as he shot up, “what happened?” He asked, immediately. Rage began to burn bright and hot in his chest.

“Baby I know what this looks like-”

“Who did this to you?” He cut you off. He took your head in his hand and turned your head side to side, examining the injuries in the low candle light, “why didn’t you shout for me? Did you leave the camp? You know you shouldn’t at this time of-”

“No!” You snapped. Your outburst caused your Orc to retract his hands away from you. “There’s a perfectly good explanation for this.”

His scowl didn’t move. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I know you said that I shouldn’t be training for the tournament… But I asked Grok to show me how to fight.”

“Grok!?” Your Orc snapped. “Grok the Bonebreaker?!”

Grok the ‘Bonebreaker’ as humans called him, known for leaving human hunting parties with their bones shattered, but alive enough to be heard screaming for help. Grok was the strongest of all the Orcs in the camp.

He knew his own strength, why would he beat you so badly for training?

“He’s been running me through fighting drills for the past few nights… Tonight he told me to come at him with every thing I had.”

Your Orc Boyfriend had heard enough. He went to move past you, to find Grok and beat the hell out of him. You were just a human being and a woman on top of that, how could he have been so harsh on you?!

“Baby, stop!” You threw your hands out in front of him, “let me finish!”

Your Orc stopped, “no, someone has to teach him a lesson for being so dishonourable-”

“There’s a small problem with that…” You spoke, quickly.

The Orc stopped, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

He stared at you, waiting for his answer. What he didn’t expect, was a large grin to spread over your face, eyes glinting with triumph. “Grok is already in the medical tent being seen by the old man because I beat the shit out of him.”

Your Orc’s jaw dropped. He stared at you. "What... How..."

You weren’t strong or tall by any means, you didn't even really have any muscle. Your Orc wanted to be angry, be upset with Grok that he hadn’t held back with you… But all that was overcome by sheer pride.

Your Orc Boyfriend stumbled back, clutching onto his head as if a headache had attacked him. A small chuckle arose in his throat, that then turned into a burst of laughter.

He swept you up in his arms. You gave a yelp of surprise, throwing your arms around your boyfriends neck.

“I can’t-” He pressed his forehead against yours, his laughter dying down, “I can’t believe that I thought you wouldn’t be able to fend for yourself in a fight! Yet here you are, alive and breathing after taking on Grok the Bonebreaker!”

Squeezing you in his arms, he lowered his voice, “this,” he says, “this is why I chose you as my partner, my love.” As he planted a kiss on your cheek, he set you down on your shared bed and sighed.

He took your hands in his, looking down at them settled in your lap. "I'm sorry I didn't think you would..."

"Baby, it's fine." You smiled, making him look up at you. "I understand what you mean now and I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I was doing," wincing, you grazed your nose with your finger. "I think I'll stick to just watching the tournaments from now on."

Relief washed over your Orc, earning another chuckle from him. He sighed, contentedly. “I’m going to kill that Bonebreaker bastard tomorrow.”

He’ll be bragging about this ‘til the end of time – his girlfriend, the human woman, was able to land Grok the Bonebreaker in the medical tent.

Patreon

[ttrpg-smash-pass-vs]

Hey I was just gathering pictures for the eventual "All-Book Player Species Tournament". And I saw this for the first time in a very long time. Why the half orc looking at us like that. Like I definitely don't mind, but this is the character select screen where we're deciding which one we want to play. She looks like she's the one who's picking. She and the gnome are giving me "Hey my girlfriend and I saw you from across the bar" vibes. And you better say yes quick, because that Half-elf is eyeing them up on the side.

[monstersandmaw]

Male orc x gender neutral reader (light nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Commission number two folks!

Content: Gender and body neutral reader who’s autistic deals with sensory overload while at a funfair, stimming includes rocking and pressure on the hands. Male orc offers a way out so the reader can catch their breath. Very brief mention of the orc losing a close friend in the past year, and of deciding to live more in the moment because of it. Light-ish nsfw at the end with a bit of a fade to black. 

Wordcount: 7562

Three hours ago, you’d been sure you could handle this. How could you not? It was a day out with your friends for Lily’s birthday, but of course, the orc had chosen the modern equivalent of a jousting tournament to show off her skills to her girlfriend. Still, you and Luke and Ellis had met up and made your way through town, collecting Lily and Maggie outside a gelateria, where naturally you all paused to buy the most amazing ice cream in town. With a start like that, how could things possibly go wrong?

After a leisurely walk to the fairground on the outskirts of town, you’d watched Luke win a fluffy white rabbit toy that was almost as big as he was on the coconut shy, despite the way the game was obviously rigged, but the werewolf had wagged his shaggy grey tail and howled his victory to the sky and clutched his new friend to his chest like it was his own goddamn child, and you’d clapped and cheered along with everyone else at the soppy wolf.

You hadn’t noticed the way you'd started to grip one hand with the other, squeezing tightly with finger and thumb just to give a little release to the steady buildup of pressure inside you as the atmosphere of the fanfare closed in around you. You also didn’t notice that you were gently rocking from side to side on the spot while you waited for Ellis to decide if he was going to go and say hi to the girl he’d been crushing on for a while, so when you found a teenager staring openly at you from the queue for the paintball stand, you assumed their attention was on Ellis.

Ellis usually attracted looks, not only because he was a goblin — a species that was relatively rare in your part of the world — but because his storm-grey skin was mottled all over with pale patches from vitiligo. He wasn’t bothered by the attention for the most part, but when you saw exactly where their gaze was directed instead — at your twisting hands — you felt an ugly stab of something bitter go through you. Carnivals may not offer the outdated and heartless ‘freak show’ elements anymore, but boy were you made to feel like one sometimes by other people.

“Hey, look!” Ellis exclaimed, his scratchy, reedy voice cutting through the maelstrom of noise and crush of people easily enough. “There she is! I’m gonna go see if she’s up for a ferris wheel ride. You think she’ll say yes?”

Your nod came out jerky and a bit stilted, but you mustered a smile of encouragement for your friend and he grinned back at you, all his sharp teeth glinting in the sunshine. Then something shifted in his expression and he frowned. “You ok?” he asked as his completely black eyes went a little wider with concern.

Again, you nodded and tried to look a little more convincing. After weeks of dancing around each other, he was finally going to shoot his shot, and there was no way you wanted him to miss because of you. “Fine,” you croaked. The word came out like a cat hocking up a hairball, but at least you got it out.

“Ok. Text me, alright?” he said. “Text me if you wanna go.”

You nodded. No way were you going to be the reason everyone left. If things got bad, you’d just… bail. Somehow. If you could find your way out of the crush of people without imploding first.

Glancing right, you saw Lily raise the hammer on the high striker and watched her muscles bunch and flex in her arms, shoulders and back. She was wearing a black tank top that said, ‘If lost, return Butch to Femme Fatale’ and beside her stood pint-sized Maggie in her denim hot pants and white t-shirt that read ‘Femme Fatale’. It was adorable, honestly, but as you stood there alone in the stream of people coursing and jostling down the avenue of grass between the smaller stands and side-shows, over-stimulation swamped you completely and you found yourself drowning silently.

Flashing lights, blaring funfair music, screaming, children running this way and that, rides rumbling and rattling on all sides, electronic bleeps and jingles mingling into a cacophonous mixtape in the air and reverberating in your head, cartoon pistol noises on the laser gun range sounding over and over and over, more screaming as the pendulum ride swung overhead once again…

The sensory overload raked its claws across your skin and left you with white noise in your head and cotton wool in your mouth.

The scent of candy floss grew chokingly thick in the air as you just stood there, paralysed.

Out of nowhere, a small and extremely solid lizardfolk kid barrelled into you, nearly knocking you flying. His horned head collided with your thigh and it hurt, but you didn’t cry out. His father scooped him up by the hand and apologised to you, but when he saw you rocking from side to side, he snatched his kid away and shot you another look, as if you were contagious or dangerous and not just struggling to kick start your brain again so you could get yourself the heck out of there and find somewhere safe to process everything.

Struggling to catch your breath, you gripped one hand with the other, squeezing as hard as you could but it wasn’t enough. There was just too much, inside and out, and you had nowhere to put it — nowhere to park it all until you could deal with it.

Someone ducked in front of you, their huge form blotting out the searing light of the afternoon sun.

Blinking, you looked up, still rocking, and tried to focus on their face.

He was an orc, you realised when you saw the huge, jutting tusks in his lower jaw and the expanse of sage green skin. A long, thick plait of black hair hung forward over his left shoulder, and through it ran a streak dyed a dark, vibrant red that was really attractive; it complemented the green tone of his freckled skin beautifully. Wearing a white, sleeveless tank top that had the logo of the fairground company on it, he wasn’t built like he spent every spare minute in the gym, but he looked like he could have lifted the ferris wheel right off its supports with no trouble at all.

Someone snickered nearby and you flinched, but you didn’t break the steady rocking motion of your body while mentally you tried to fend off all the unending stimuli around you. The orc’s expression darkened when he caught the sound of  laughter, and he stepped pointedly a little to the left. The movement served to block you from their sight and to refocus your attention on something that was quiet and solid and steady in front of you.

Yeah, he was solid alright. You blinked and watched the corners of his mouth twitch upwards just a little behind his colossal tusks, both of which bore silver caps over the tips to indicate that he had reached full maturity in the eyes of his culture. It probably meant that his tusks were filed to sharp points beneath the caps too. It was rare for orcs who lived in the city to stick to the older ways, but as you continued to stare up at him and move side to side while you ran your hands over your forearms, you noticed the beads in his braid of different materials: wood, copper, steel, glass, stone, and even bone. He’d lost someone close to him then at some point. Gods, now was not the time to be fishing everything you knew about orcs out of the depths of your brain.

For another few seconds, he continued to shield you from the staring judgement of the people in the queue for the nearest booth, but when you didn't seem to be able to settle, he jutted his chin to the side of the grassy avenue between the stalls.

“My name is Rhokann. You wanna step this way for a second? Catch your breath where it’s a bit quieter?” he said.

When no words came to your lips, he tilted his head just a little and then beckoned you with a big hand. “There’s a quieter spot over by that oak tree and the river. You want to come with me for a minute?”

You did. You also wanted to say thank you, but the words got glued up on their way from your brain to your mouth, so you just nodded.

He stuck out his arm and halted the flow of people for a moment to usher you between the candy floss stall and something else that was painted a thousand lurid colours so you didn’t look too long at it. Only when you saw the bole of a huge, old oak and a wide patch of un-trampled grass around it did you let out a shaky breath and turn to see him standing a little way off. A couple of people peered after you down the gap between the stalls, and he looked back at them with a very articulate and animalistic growl. That done, he stepped a little to his right, obscuring the view of you down the small alley with his body.

“Forget about them and look out over the river for a minute,” he suggested.

His dark brown eyes slid from you to the railings behind you, and you turned to see the river gushing in a white foam over the weir that controlled its flow through the city beyond. The sounds of the funfair behind you faded slowly, dissolving into the steady stream of white noise from the river, and you took a deeper breath and gradually released the death-grip you’d had on your own hands.

You let your gaze unfocus a little, but your body kept on moving as it tried to help you dissipate all the tension that had been building in your muscles and your mind ever since you’d first arrived at the fair.

A shadow moved in the corner of your vision, and you found Rhokann approaching slowly. He cast a pointed look at the metal railing to your left and said, “You mind if I join you for a moment?”

You shook your head. The word ‘no’ didn’t want to come, but he didn’t seem to take it as rudeness.

“Cheers,” he said. “Carnival gets intense, huh?”

This time, you nodded and he smiled when he saw it. You liked the way it hitched his mouth up around his tusk on the right, and it brought a twinkle to his coffee-brown eyes.

“Take your time,” he said. “You here with your friends?”

You nodded.

“They know where you were?”

You shook your head, but reached into your pocket and drew out your phone. Shaking it a little, you hoped he’d get the idea that they could contact you if they wanted to find you, or the other way around, and he smiled again in understanding. Your heart skipped a beat. He may have been seven and a half feet tall, but he had a gentle demeanour that you hadn’t really realised was possible in someone that big. He had a paunch too, which he clearly wasn’t trying to hide with his close-fitting, sleeveless top, and you could see from the scoop of the neckline that he had an attractive swirl of dark hair across his pecs that made you wonder what the rest of him looked like without clothes on; a fact that was startling enough in that moment to make you flush hot and look away.

“You want me to keep you company for a bit, or do you want some space?” he asked after another couple of minutes floated past.

You shook your head and then struggled to find the words to make him stay just a bit longer. When he saw you floundering, he smiled and asked, “Stay?”

You nodded, exhaling in relief, even as you fought off a rush of disappointment in not being able to form the words.

“You’re good,” he said with a wave of a huge hand. “Don’t stress talking.”

He took a deep, luxuriant inhale and leaned his massive forearms on the metal railing, easing his weight forward and gazing out at the river. His braid went all the way to the small of his back and it made you want to wrap it around your hand and tug just to see what kind of sound he’d make, and again, you had to look away before he caught you lusting after him. Just because you’d been rescued by a heroic stranger, didn’t mean you had to go falling in love with him in the following five minutes. It didn’t hurt that he hadn’t batted an eyelid at your stimming, or that he didn’t seem bothered by the fact that you’d been rendered almost completely non-verbal by the whole experience.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket a while later and you drew it out again to see that Lily was looking for you.

‘Where are you, Titch?’ she’d texted and you smiled when you saw the nickname. The massive orc had given it to you back in college, and it had stuck ever since. Even Ellis called you ‘Titch’ sometimes, despite the fact that he was nearly a foot and a half shorter than you. ‘We turned around and you’d gone!’

Rhokann was watching you from the corners of his kind eyes, and you waggled the phone again before typing out a message to Lily. ‘Needed to step away for a second. Got rescued by a super hot orc guy. More at ten.’

Lily texted back immediately. ‘Super hot orc guy, huh? I’ll be the judge of that. Where are you?’

‘Big oak tree on the edge of the park near the river. Don’t embarrass me please.’

‘As if I’d ever…’

‘You spend every spare minute you’re not kissing Maggie trying to embarrass me and El and Luke.’

‘Fair play. We’re nearby. I can see the tree’

You locked your phone and swallowed thickly, feeling a bit more able to talk. “Friend’s coming…” you faltered. Wow. Nice and articulate, you sneered at yourself with your usual sarcasm.

“That’s good,” Rhokann smiled back. He made no move to push himself back upright from the railings though, and shifted his gaze back out to the city that sprawled over the other side of the river. He gave another sigh.

You stepped a little closer and looked up at him. “You… ok?” you asked.

“Mm,” he hummed. When he looked back down at you, his dark eyes were strangely sad. “Just… thinking,” he said with a gesture of his hand near his temple. “I’ve been working here all summer, and it’s been amazing, but I’m starting a full time job in a week. I’m just thinking about what’s coming next.”

“Doing what?” Words were starting to come back a little quicker now, but it wasn’t great.

He turned his head over his shoulder to look at you, but before he could answer your question, you heard Lily’s voice coming from behind you.

“Hey Titch!” she called, and then she eyed the other orc ostentatiously up and down.

She raised an eyebrow when she saw the beads in his braid and the cuffs around his thick tusks, and you watched Rhokann deflate a little. Lily was not a traditional orc. For one, she was dating a human, which wasn’t exactly frowned upon but humans weren’t normally seen as suitable partners for her kind, and for another, she had cut her black hair short in a style shaved close to her skull above her pointed ears and left a little longer on top. She wore no cuffs on her tusks, and she’d filed them to softly-rounded points. “As much for Maggie’s pleasure as my own damned convenience,” she’d once told you.

Lily disdained orcs who stuck to the old ways, thinking them brutish thugs stuck in the past, and she folded her arms as she stared Rhokann down. “You wanna head home?” she asked in a low growl.

You turned your attention to Rhokann and he offered you a tiny, sad smile and a shrug of his shoulder. You wanted to stay and get to know him, but you also desperately wanted to be away from the fairground now. Your body felt drained of life, like you were running on fumes, and all you wanted was the quiet of your apartment, a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, and a good book.

In the end, Rhokann decided for you. He offered you a broader smile, and said, “It was nice meeting you. Take care.”

You’d never regretted your tendency to go non-verbal more than watching him walk away and not being able to say thank you.

With Lily on one side, you were joined by Luke a few minutes later, still hauling around the giant fluffy bunny he’d won, its ears flopping comically with each of his bounding steps, but you kept scanning every face for Rhokann. You saw an ogre with green skin that was a similar shade to Rhokann’s, but disappointment bit deep when you realised it wasn’t him, and when a flash of red hair up ahead drew your attention, you barely contained a sob when you saw it was a troll with multiple streaks of red in their black hair.

The walk back home passed in a daze, and you spent the rest of the day buzzing in the worst way possible.

A week later, Luke texted and asked if you wanted to grab breakfast on your way to work, and since you only had stale cereal in your cupboard, you practically leapt at the chance. ‘You mind if we drop my car off at the garage on the way?’ he asked with a subsequent text. ‘There’s an amazing little cafe just around the corner and we can get the metro from there afterwards.’

When his sputtering old deathtrap wheezed onto the garage forecourt though, your heart practically sputtered out as well. There, in oil-stained overalls, was Rhokann.

He didn’t spot you to start with, but when you climbed out of the passenger side and closed the door, his eyes flickered to you and then away again. Then back in a huge, obvious double-take, and his face split into a hearty grin. “Hey,” he chuckled once he’d taken the keys from Luke. “I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you again.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, and Luke shot you a look. He was in his human form this time, but he was no less intimidating than he looked as a shifted werewolf. For all that he was happy to haul a fluffy, cartoon rabbit around a funfair all day without a lick of self-consciousness, he was a dedicated gym-rat and had the body to match, but while his commitment was certainly admirable, he wasn’t your type. Rhokann, on the other hand, with his strongman physique and solid layer of fat to soften the strength that lay beneath… unfff… It was hard to look at him for long without feeling your skin start to prickle with heat.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Luke asked you and you nodded.

“He came to my rescue at the fairground last weekend while you were showing that white rabbit the time of its life,” you grinned.

At that, Luke flushed. You weren’t the only one who liked Rhokann’s build, but the orc wasn’t looking at Luke’s incredibly toned arms, which were currently being deliberately shown off to amazing advantage by his tight, black t-shirt. No, Rhokann was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing he’d seen in a year, and it was enough to make a cloud of butterflies erupt in your chest.

“Damn,” Luke hissed down at you, smirking. “You weren’t kidding about the ‘super hot orc guy’ thing.”

At that, your eyes went wide with horror and you smacked him in the chest with a wild flail of your hand. “I can’t believe Lily told you I said that, but you didn’t have to fucking repeat it!” you hissed around a strangled yelp. “In front of him,” you added through gritted teeth.

Rhokann chuckled quietly from a few feet away, and you turned quickly back to look at him. He raised one thick, black eyebrow and you rolled your eyes.

Turning to Luke in desperation as a mild panic seeped across your brain, you blurted, “Didn’t you say they were super busy at breakfast? Come on, we’d better go…”

And with that, you bolted from the garage without waiting for Luke to follow.

You weren’t proud, and you were sorely disappointed in yourself for chickening out, but in your defence, your friend had just embarrassed the hell out of you in front of your hero of the day. What if Rhokann just thought you were some human with a crush now?

Luke caught up with you, looking back over his shoulder at Rhokann for a second, and then trotted down the road at your side. “Hey, wait, I’m… I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It’s ok,” you groaned. “I know how it feels when there’s a gorgeous guy standing there looking like… that… In your case, stupid stuff falls out of your mouth. In my case, I clam up.”

“Fair, but still,” Luke groused, holding the door of the cafe open for you and letting you step in ahead of him. “I’m sorry.”

The scent of coffee and sweet icing sugar wafted around you and you forgot your embarrassment for a bit, but the way you’d scuppered your chances haunted you for the rest of the morning at work.

By the time you got home, you were fractious and stimming and in need of some space to slough off the day on your own terms. When your phone chimed a little while later, you assumed it would be one of your friends, but it was an unknown number, and your heart skipped a beat.

‘Hey, it’s Rhokann. I hope this isn’t presumptuous of me. Your friend Luke gave me your number and said it was an apology, but he didn’t say what for. Anyway, if you’re not interested, just ignore this and block my number, but I’d love to see you again. Let me know if you’re up for that, and maybe we can figure something out soon. If not, I’m glad I met you all the same and I won’t contact you again.’

No one had ever said anything like that to you, and you stared at the text for a full five minutes.

The first person you texted though was Luke to yell at him affectionately in all caps. He called you back, and you accepted the call with a little huff that made him laugh with quiet fondness. “I’m sorry, Titch,” he said. “But I fucked up, and I figured he’d been about to ask for your number before you bolted…”

“Yeah, but I would have had the chance to say no…” you said.

“True, and I’m sorry I interfered again,” he sighed, and then after barely a beat had passed, “So are you gonna meet up?”

You rolled your eyes and flopped down onto the sofa. “I haven’t texted back. But probably.”

“Yes! He’s stunning. You saw those caps on his tusks though, right? He’s old school… He’s probably gonna go all-out to impress you…”

“So long as he doesn’t literally hunt and catch dinner for me, I don’t mind. Lily told me about orc courtship, and I am not interested in a whole fucking elk on my doorstep or something…”

“Nah, but he might challenge the chef to a death match for the honour of feeding you…”

“Oh please don’t even joke about it,” you groaned, and Luke did laugh, long and loud. “I’m hanging up now, you bastard.”

“Love you too, Titch,” he said, and hung up for you.

It took a while to figure out how to reply to Rhokann, but eventually you came up with something that you hoped didn’t sound super desperate and strange. ‘Sorry I bailed earlier like that. Luke has no shame, I swear, but I’ve told him off for going behind my back and we’re friends again now. You free this Friday evening?’

Before you could chicken out, you sent the message and sat back on the sofa, wringing your hands quietly in your lap and breathing steadily.

His reply came five minutes later. ‘If it helps, he was really awkward about broaching the topic with me when he came to collect his car. And yes I am free this Friday. What were you thinking?’

‘All on me then?’

‘I have suggestions but I wondered what you wanted. Cocktails at ‘IceCube and Henbane’? Catching that new movie they’re advertising all over town? Dinner somewhere? A walk along the river and takeaway from one of the food trucks? Any combination of those?’

Realising he was probably letting you decide on something that wouldn’t be as overstimulating as the funfair had been, you decided to keep being playful first. ‘You know henbane is poisonous to humans?’

‘They serve human-safe cocktails too, and non-alcoholic ones too that are just as good. Steer well clear of the naga-specific menu though because that shit could clean out a drain. Or strip the rust off your buddy’s car.’

You barked a laugh that echoed off the walls of your apartment. ‘I’ll tell him you said that.’

‘Go ahead, I said as much to him already.’

His texts had a cocky kind of confidence that he’d not really exuded on the day you’d met him at the fair, but then you remembered how he’d drawn himself up to his full height to shield you from those artless onlookers and flexed his shoulders just a fraction to make them back off, and you figured the two sides of him could probably sit well on his bulky frame after all.

‘Oof, I bet his ego took a hit with that. Let’s do cocktails and then maybe walk them off along the river afterwards?’

‘Sounds perfect. Shall I meet you somewhere first or meet there?’

You looked the place up online, which you probably should have done first in case it was out of your price range, and hit the map on the website to see where it was. Having arranged to meet him there, you signed off for the night and tried to get your mind to stop spinning. Somehow, despite two missed chances, the universe had thrown you a gift and a third chance in the form of Luke’s meddling.

That Friday, dressed in what you hoped would be an appropriate outfit for a cocktail bar in a swankier part of the city, you headed out with your heart in your throat.

Rhokann was impossible to miss, standing under the soft, orange light of the lamp outside the cocktail bar, and wow did he look good in black dress pants and a white shirt. His twin silver tusk-caps caught the light, and you noted that this time he had his hair tied back off his face in twin braids that melted into a single rope that hung down his spine.

He spotted you and turned to watch you walk towards him, but he didn’t make any kind of move towards you until you came to a stop in front of him and looked up into his softly smiling face.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly.

“Hi. You look gorgeous,” he added, eyeing you up and down in a way that made his gaze feel like a physical presence against your skin, and it was all you could do to repress a shiver.

You swallowed thickly. “Likewise.”

“Shall we head in?”

“Lead the way,” you said, not really wanting to walk into the unfamiliar space first. Rhokann just nodded and pushed the door open, holding it for you to enter behind him before heading into the softly-lit, wood-panelled bar.

It had the cosy, secretive air of a speakeasy, and as you wove through the tables behind the server who had looked Rhokann up and down and licked her lips in a very unsubtle display of interest, you spotted someone playing an upright piano in a far corner. Rhokann thanked the server politely and let his eyes drift back to you a moment later, the woman apparently forgotten. Something warmed in your chest and you took your seat opposite him.

He was one of those people that had real presence, and it wasn’t just his size that conjured it around him like a tangible aura. There was something about him that made people look at him, but his eyes never left you. After two menus had been set down before you, he said, “Tonight’s on me, if that’s alright?”

“You’re sure?”

Rhokann inclined his head and you caught sight of an earring dangling from his right ear. It looked like a piece of jet shaped like a small fang, polished and set in silver and dangling by a single link to a ball stud in his earlobe. He had silver rings up the line of cartilage to the pointed tips of his ears, and in the lobe of his left he had a simple silver stud. At the artfully-open neck of his white shirt, you could see the hint of an orcish tattoo and a whisper of dark hair that made something thrum through you again.

In contrast to your habit of moving around, he seemed still and calm as a monolith, and you found yourself drawn to that; drawn to his steadiness in a way you’d never experienced with anyone. Over the course of the next two hours, the two of you also talked in a way you’d never found easy with anyone. He listened, and in a measured, easy, back and forth of conversational give and take, you got to know each other.

His family was wealthy and lived in the country for the most part, and yes, they were very traditional by modern orcish standards. “You might think I’m pretty formal when it comes to orcish ways,” he said, looking self-conscious for the first time all evening, “But you should see my parents and my two older brothers…” He took a deep draw of his smoky, whisky cocktail and blew out a breath. The tip of his tongue caressed his lower lip just a little as he savoured the lingering taste, and your eyes tracked the movement hungrily.

To distract yourself, you eyed his silver tusk-caps and said, “I was going to ask about…” and tapped the side of your mouth awkwardly, not sure if you should really be asking about his orcish jewellery and personal tastes so soon.

To your relief, Rhokann smiled and brought his finger and thumb up to the right hand tusk. He lifted the cap off and turned it over in his hand for a second before handing it to you to look at. The tusk beneath gleamed beautifully in the low light, and you had been correct in guessing that his tusks were tipped with wickedly sharp points beneath them.

In your fingers, the cap was practically the size of a tiny shot glass, and you could see the orcish patterns engraved into its surface all the way around. “It’s beautiful,” you said. “My friend Lily told me a bit about orcish culture, but she doesn’t really keep to traditions, so I don’t know all that much. Just the things she personally doesn’t like. Which, to be fair, seems like a lot when you get her started on a rant.”

He laughed and delicately took the silver cap back from you when you held it out to him. He slid it easily back into place and said, “You can ask me anything you like. I figured your friend didn’t like me much when she gave me the once-over at the fairground.”

“She’s protective of the people she cares for,” you said. “It’s the one orcish trait she hasn’t abandoned. That, and showing off her muscles for her girlfriend.” The heady atmosphere and the slight rush of adrenaline that was coursing through you from being so close to him at last was making you bold, and you spoke before you’d realised you might actually be insulting him, but Rhokann only laughed.

“Ahh, those traits are etched into our DNA,” he said. “You’re gonna have to go a long way to find an orc who isn’t protective, and who doesn’t like to show off just a little bit.”

You stared pointedly at his muscles beneath the white shirt and then looked him in the eye. “If you’ve got it, why not show it off a bit.”

“Only if it works…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Can’t you tell?”

He leaned just a fraction closer and your heart skipped a beat or two as his big, brown eyes seemed to glow softly. “I’m getting some hints,” he purred. “You slipped through my fingers twice now,” he went on, bringing his hand up onto the table and laying it knuckle-down on the wooden surface between your empty glasses. “I’m not going to let a third time pass me by without a proper answer from you.”

“What’s the question?” you asked faintly.

He smiled. “Can I see you again after tonight?”

You nodded.

“You want to get out of here yet?”

Again, you nodded.

His smile returned, and you sat back in your seat while he hailed the server and paid for your drinks. He gave her a tip generous enough to make her blush, and then stood and looked down at you. “Ready?”

A third nod was all the answer you could muster, but he didn’t seem to think you rude.

He walked behind you this time as you led the way out, and when you stepped out into the balmy, end-of-summer evening, you heard him heave a huge sigh. Glancing back over your shoulder, you found him looking at you, and you flushed. “What?”

“I’m just glad I got the chance to see you again. I thought… I thought that was it when your friend bustled you away from me.”

“Why were you working there?” you asked bluntly. You wanted to know why he was working as a mechanic at a tiny garage on the edge of town too, if his family was so well-off, but you didn’t know him well enough to ask something so direct. “At the fair, I mean.”

He smiled. “I wanted to?” he shrugged. “I’ve always been the dutiful son — I went to a good university and got a respectable degree and got a sensible job, but I felt… choked.”

Rhokann sighed again and checked the street for traffic before gesturing with his hand for you to start crossing. You walked by his side as the pair of you headed towards the river, where a long, flat promenade stretched, and you listened to him talk. His beautiful, rumbling bass carried easily on the still evening, and it made you feel steady again amid the noise of the city behind you.

“I’m not on bad terms with my family or anything, but… after a close friend of mine passed last year, I decided that I was going to live my life on my terms, and not anyone else’s. My heritage is very important to me, but it’s not everything I am. My family doesn’t understand why I quit my career and got a summer job working at the fair of all places, or why I turned my love of cars and fixing things into a job as a mechanic.”

“If you’re happier now, that’s all that matters, right?” you said.

He grinned. “I’m happy tonight, that’s for sure.”

“You’re such a charmer.”

“If it works, right?” he chuckled. You got the impression there were depths to him that would slowly unravel to you over time, and you found yourself looking forward to it already.

“Yeah, it works,” you mumbled.

You walked along the embankment together for a while until his footsteps faltered and he asked, “Would you let me hold your hand?”

“Sure,” you smiled, hoping you didn't have sweaty palms.

His hands were rough and huge, but you made it work, and it was wonderful to have a physical connection with him after clicking over chat and drinks already.

In the lea of the oldest bridge that spanned the wide river, the two of you slowed and came to a natural halt to lean against the wall in easy silence, staring out at the water as it slid past in an inky, glittering ribbon.

Rhokann turned away from the view and the movement caught your attention, drawing your gaze up to his handsome face.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked in a hoarse murmur.

“Yes.”

Leaning down, Rhokann placed his palms on your jaw and angled your head gently upwards, but he didn’t kiss you right away. He bit his lower lip and although his eyes narrowed, you saw the way his pupils widened hungrily. “You’re stunning,” he exhaled. “I… I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

“Stop talking about it then, and do it,” you teased.

His eyes flashed and he closed the distance between you, hunching over and pressing his mouth against yours. His tusks framed your mouth beautifully, the silver caps nudging into your cheeks a little as he kissed you senseless. You’d never been kissed like that. His hands left your face and wandered down to your waist, where he tightened his grip and picked you up, setting you down on the wide, stone wall that bordered the river. At that height, it was much easier for him to reach you, and he stepped closer, parting your knees to stand even nearer to you. You hooked your lower legs around his hips and let him kiss you over and over until your body felt like it was on fire.

Your fingers found the intricate plait of the braids on the side of his head and he moaned when you ran your fingertips over the pattern. “I want you,” he said. “Not tonight if you don’t want it, but I need you to know I want you. However you’d like…”

“I want you too,” you breathed back in the scant space between you, foreheads touching. It felt more intimate than any words you’d ever spoken, but it also felt true.

Your hands moved to grip his huge, rounded shoulders and you squeezed before running your palms across his pecs. His chest heaved and he sounded out of breath when he said, “My place isn’t far from here. You want to come back to mine?”

You nodded.

He lifted you down and took a moment with his eyes closed to breathe carefully. In the light of a nearby street lamp, you could see the impressive tent in his trousers, and you bit back a smile.

“Told you I want you,” he said when he caught you looking. “Come on.”

Flattered and a little intimidated, you walked with him back to his apartment. It wasn’t anything showy like a penthouse overlooking the city, but it was in a nice part of town, and it felt secure and homely as you followed him into the lift. In a small rush of bravery, you placed your hand at the small of his back and you felt as much as heard the groan of pleasure he let out in the small confines of the elevator. His skin radiated heat through the fabric, and you splayed your fingers, feeling the solid muscle and the slight softness there too that made you ache inside and out for him.

By the time you got to his front door, he was taking deliberately steady breaths, but the moment you were inside, he lost a little of that composure. “I’d offer you a drink, or —” You silenced him by reaching up and pressing your thumb along his lip before drawing him down to kiss you again. Part of you wanted him to take you right there in the hallway, but you had hoped for something a little more comfortable.

Rhokann undressed you carefully but insistently, and between the front door and his stylish, modern bedroom you left a trail of your clothes and his, until you were both in only your underwear by the time you were standing beside his massive bed.

Dark sheets stretched neatly across its huge expanse, and he let you push him down to sit on the edge of the mattress, gazing up at you with his hands resting at your hips, thumbs drawing idle lines across the fabric of your underwear. The evidence of his arousal was obvious, and a darker wet patch had started to seep into the material at the tip of his cock.

His body was soft but strong in the kind of way that you’d always adored. His paunch was evident, but his arms were like anchor cables, and while he might not have had the lean look of a social media gym-junkie, he could outlast any of them in a show of strength.

“I never thanked you,” you said, reaching around to the back of his head for the plait that you’d wanted to feel in your hands since the first time you’d seen him.

“For what?” he asked breathlessly. His pupils were huge and the light reflected in his warm eyes like a cat’s in the dark. Desire swept through you in a heady rush.

Slowly, taking your time about it, you straddled his lap and sank yourself down to grind your hips decadently against his, and when his hard cock moved against your body, he let out a long, broken moan.

You tightened your hold on his braid and the sound he made would stay with you forever. The deep, guttural groan rumbled from his chest and his eyes rolled back behind fluttering eyelids. Beneath you, you felt his cock twitch.

“Please,” he gasped. His grip tightened on your hips and he shuddered like he was losing control of all his strength, fighting to keep from having his way with you. The jet earring dangling from his right ear glinted softly as it swayed like a tiny pendulum in the void between his earlobe and his shoulder.

“I never thanked you for taking such good care of me,” you said.

The orc responded exactly as you’d expected he would, and gave a throaty hum of pleasure.

“When I needed you, you protected me… got me out of there…”

You’d chosen your words very carefully, and Rhokann arched his spine, jutting his hips up and practically begging to fuck you without uttering a word.

You twisted his braid around your hand one more time and he tipped his head back, following the direction of the force you put on his head. The lick of red in his forelock looked perfect in the warm light of his bedroom, and you had been right about the orcish tattoos that covered his chest, right down to his hips. He also had the most delicious chest hair and the dark trail that ran down from his navel to the waistband of his tight boxer-briefs was gradually making you lose your mind.

“You were patient and understanding, and you didn’t mind that I didn’t have my words then,” you went on. “But I have them now, don’t I?”

“You do,” he choked. “You do. Please… Please…”

“Let me thank you properly then,” you said, and climbed carefully off his lap. You looked pointedly at his underwear and said, “Off.”

“Only if you do to,” he said, and you knew you’d met your counterpart in him.

He gave and took in equal measure, and as the two of you lost yourselves tangled in his sheets that night, you knew he was going to be the best thing that could have happened to you. The two of you moved in perfect synchrony, and you came apart within a heartbeat of each other. Rhokann made a mess of the sheets and you made more noise than you’d ever made coming in your life, and when the two of you lay back, sweaty and satiated at last, he wrapped his arm around you and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered.

“Thank the gods for third chances,” you smiled and he laughed quietly. “And meddling werewolves.”

“Indeed. Come here.” He tugged you against his body so that you were lying half-propped against him, with one arm draped over his soft middle, and you trailed your fingers up the centre of his chest. “You staying the night?”

You nodded, and hoped it would be the first of many.

__

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Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[rpgchoices]

Here we are to the very final battle of rpg favorite orcs!!

After 32 (33 technically) contenders, we have the two final orcs!

On one side: Dorn il Khan. He is a companion and romance option added for the Enhanced Edition of Baldur's Gate 1&2 (and siege of dragonspear). He is evil aligned, can be romanced by any gender, and he is also quite an intense character. I absolutely adored his romance!

On the other side we have Irabeth! Irabeth is one of the main secondary characters and advisors in Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous! She is also a paladin, on the side of good and law. You will encounter her pretty early in the game and you will be able to influence her story and outcome (and her insecurities). She is also a wlw character, and married with her wife Anevia.

May the best paladin win!

[dungeon-meshi-tournament]

Masterpost

[la-pheacienne]

After the avalanche of bad takes inspired by got and hotd I would just like to say that the point of asoiaf is not "feudal power corrupts" and it is not "no one can save Westeros because feudalism bad". I would like to remind you what the function of feudalism in the story actually is, as stated by GRRM:

The medieval setting has been the traditional background for epic Fantasy, even before Tolkien, and there are good reasons for that tradition. The sword has a romance to it that pistols and cannon lack, a powerful symbolic value that touches us on some primal level. Also, the contrasts so apparent in the Middle Ages are very striking -- the ideal of chivalry existed cheek by jowl with the awful brutality of war, great castles loomed over miserable hovels, serfs and princes rode the same roads, and the colorful pageantry of tournaments rose out of a brown and grey world of dung, dirt, and plague. The dramatic possibilities are so rich. ( Source)

Now his notorious statement about Aragorn's tax policy (as much as I vehemently dislike that statement concerning Tolkien, it is still very insightful for GRRM's work) :

Ruling is hard. This was maybe my answer to Tolkien, whom, as much as I admire him, I do quibble with. Lord of the Rings had a very medieval philosophy: that if the king was a good man, the land would prosper. We look at real history and it’s not that simple. Tolkien can say that Aragorn became king and reigned for a hundred years, and he was wise and good. But Tolkien doesn’t ask the question: What was Aragorn’s tax policy? Did he maintain a standing army? What did he do in times of flood and famine? And what about all these orcs? By the end of the war, Sauron is gone but all of the orcs aren’t gone – they’re in the mountains. Did Aragorn pursue a policy of systematic genocide and kill them? Even the little baby orcs, in their little orc cradles? (Source)

Moral relativism right? Nihilism, pessimism, every symbol is doomed to fail, every effort for a better future is doomed to fail because the feudalist structure is inherently rotten. Should we even try then? What is the point in showing a ruler genuinely try? If every leader is doomed to fall victim to external opposing forces and/or corruption or other moral flaw, what is the point in trying? Let's see another statement by GRRM where he explains what asoiaf is actually about:

"In a very basic level winter is coming for all of us. I think that’s one of the things that art is concerned with: the awareness of our own mortality. “Valar morghulis” – “All men must die”. That shadow lies over our world and will until medical science gives us all immortality… but I don’t think it makes it necessarily a pessimistic world (...) the important thing is that love, compassion and empathy with other human beings is still possible. Laughter is still possible! Even laughter in the face of death… The struggle to make the world a better place… We have things like war, murder and rape… horrible things that still exist, but we don’t have to accept them, we can fight the good fight. The fight to eliminate those things.There is darkness in the world, but I don’t think we necessarily need to give way to despair". (Source)

The combination of these statements speaks for itself to someone who has read GRRM's work: the sword has a romance that pistols lack, the dramatic possibilities of the medieval setting are rich, ruling is hard, we can fight the good fight, we should not give way to despair. From that to "No one can save Westeros" the distance is huge and the endpoint is extremely deceptive and also deeply reactionary. If no one can save Westeros, then there is no point in trying to save Westeros. Characters that try to save Westeros, or Essos, or the Wildlings, or anything bigger than their own ass, are not morally superior to others that just benefit from the current status quo or passively tolerate/enable it, since no one can actually do shit and every effort is doomed to fail. Yet this goes directly against the point of asoiaf that can be summed up in the phrase: "ruling is hard". It is hard alright, but the thing is, someone has to do it. Whether that someone has been chosen by the people, or by the gods, or by destiny, or by circumstances, and regardless of the political system that allowed them to yield that power, the point is that someone has power ad hoc at any given time, and power equals responsibility. What do you do with it? How do you govern? How do you choose between two equally grievous alternatives? Who do you listen to? Who do you trust? How can you learn? What if everything you've been told was a lie? How do you move on from there? What if the promises you made contradict each other? What if you fail? How do you live with the guilt, how do you go on? How do you instigate a structural change? What if you try to do that and people die? What if you try to do that and it kills you? Was it worth it? How do you use the power you have? How do you fight the good fight? What makes a fight good?

"Feudalism bad" and "no one can save Westeros" are not just incredibly uninspired catchphrases, they are something much worse: a very nice way of avoiding to answer the real, hard, uncomfortable questions that are the driving force of asoiaf, and a very neat way to justify those who tolerate, enable or reinforce the status quo. Coincidentally, these questions remain the same in every single political system. They are universal. That's why this is a good, relevant, applicable story, that's why we give a fuck even if the context is foreign to us. So spare us the moralizing bullshit please, and thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[our-favourite-orcs]

SET-UP AND ROUND 1 BRACKET

Alright, so I had to do a fair bit of math to get this to work, bear with me!

We had a total number of 24 submissions! This means that we needed 8 "bye rounds", meaning 8 competitors that don't have to participate in the first round. After discussing this with a friend, we agreed that the fairest way was to let the competitors with the most submissions move on directly to round 2!

We had five competitors that got to move on automatically. To select the remaining three we'll need, we decided to let all the losers of the first round compete against each other in a revival round. The three that get the most votes get to move on to round 2. After that, everything runs on as usual.

So without further ado, this is the bracket for round 1!

As you can see, three rounds will have three competitors.

Hopefully this makes sense! Unless I get lots of negative feedback on this method and lineup, the voting will begin in a few days!

I also split up the two general submissions I got from the character-specific submissions, partly to make the math a little simpler and partly because the vibes of them felt a bit too different to combine into one.

[aylen-san]

A Dance Under the Moon

When Maedhros came to Elwing for the Silmaril, he expected a battle, arguments, and threats. But the offer he received surprised him. With a mischievous smile, Elwing said: "I will give you the Silmaril if you win it the way Luthien did - through song and dance."

Maedhros was stunned. "You want me to... dance?" - His voice trembled with a mixture of confusion and slight panic.

Elwing nodded, her eyes shining. "That's exactly right. If you can enchant me as Luthien enchanted Morgoth, the stone is yours."

Maedhros was about to refuse, but Maglor, seeing a chance to avoid bloodshed, immediately agreed. The twins, always ready to support a merry venture, agreed as well.

"Well then, brother, you have been offered the bargain of the century! If Luthien could defeat Morgoth in a dance, so can you."

Maedhros sighed heavily. "Lúthien was a great dancer. And me? The last time I danced was at Turucano's wedding," he muttered frustratedly.

But Maglor was determined. "Don't worry, I'll help you remember the lessons of our childhood. We practiced for days and nights, and I'm sure you'll still remember how to move."

The next days passed in a training that sometimes resembled a play rather than a serious lesson. Maglor picked up the most difficult melodies with enthusiasm, and as he strummed the strings he never missed an opportunity to tease his brother, "More grace, brother, you're not in a tournament with orcs in Angband!"

Maedhros, hurt but trying not to show it, would turn sharply and remind him, "I am trying to dance, not play peacock. But as soon as he started moving again, Maglor didn't give up: "And don't forget to smile! No magic works without charm!" - he said with such seriousness that Maedhros could barely contain his laughter.

When his attempts to smile and not get tangled up in complicated steps failed, Maedhros snorted in annoyance, "This is a dance, not a carnival act!" But even he couldn't resist his brother's infectious laughter as he exaggerated "grace" and whirled around like a whirlwind, eyes wide open and a fake smile on his face. "This is it, Maedhros! All of Middle-earth will give you a standing ovation!"

The night of the test had come. The moon rose high in the sky, its light silvery on the shore and the calm waters. Elwing stood on a high rock, holding the Silmaril, which shone like a star. Maedhros took a deep breath and took the first step, hoping not to step on his cloak.

Elwing watched with interest, barely containing her laughter as Maedhros, performing another complicated pas, nearly tripped over an invisible rock. His attempt to regain his balance looked more like trying to jump an entire chasm. "Impressive," Elwing remarked with a mischievous smile, tilting her head slightly, "almost like Luthien... if she were a very tired and irritable elf."

Maedhros blinked at the comparison and whispered, covering his mouth with his hand, "Try that again!" The attempt to remain serious failed, and he almost laughed, feeling the tension of the dance turn into ridiculous fun.

Toward the end of the dance, Maedhros moved more carefully, as if afraid he might stumble again and lose the last vestiges of his dignity. Eventually, the music faded, and he straightened and made a deep bow, both weary and relieved.

Elwing, shaking her head slightly at his stubbornness and persistence, slowly descended from the podium. Respect glowed in her eyes, despite the hidden irony. Holding out the Silmaril with a slight smile, she acknowledged, "You have earned it, though not as gracefully as Luthien, but with no less tenacity.

Maedhros accepted the gem and nodded briefly, but could not resist adding: "If my dancing were as good as my fighting, the Silmaril would have been mine long ago."

Turning back to his brother, Maedhros leaned closer and lowered his voice to a threatening whisper, "If any of our people find out that I won the Silmaril by dancing, I will be your greatest nightmare. His gaze was serious, but the shadow of a smile lurked at the corners of his lips.

Maglor, his eyes bright with glee, could barely contain his laughter as he watched his brother struggle to keep his pride intact. He leaned closer as if to share the action, "Oh, don't worry," he replied with a smile, emphasizing the light and good-natured tone, "I promise to tell this story to anyone who will listen, especially those who worship legends of heroism and bravery. Maglor waved his hand theatrically, as if already imagining stories around the campfire where Maedhros' dance would become a new epic.

Maedhros frowned, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "Don't you dare turn this into a ballad," he added grimly, but there was no real threat in his voice.

Maglor bowed his head innocently, as if pondering his words. "A ballad? No, of course not. Perhaps an epic saga in five parts... Or at least a musical play. I think the chorus about 'the hero who entered battle through dance' would be a real hit."

Maedhros just shook his head, amazed at how quickly his brother had turned his threat into a joke.

The story had been passed down among the elves ever since, each retelling adding more jokes and exaggerations. It was said that the stars shone brighter that night, and that the sky itself smiled upon the stern Maedhros, who, for the sake of his goal, swallowed his pride and danced before Elwing.

With each retelling, the details became more incredible: some claimed that his steps were like dancing on a bonfire, others assured that Elving had deliberately offered the most difficult moves to watch, hoping that Maedhros would retreat and leave them alone. But most of all, they liked to add that the stars winked at each other at that moment, marveling that the fearsome son of Theanor, who had terrified armies with his strategies, was now fighting not enemies but complicated pas.

In time, humorous poems appeared in which Maedhros danced "like a wild boar who has forgotten the way of the forest," but with respect for his willingness to undertake this ridiculous feat for the sake of peace. There were even jokes in the elven halls that if Maedhros were offered another dance in exchange for all the Silmarilli, he would demand that the story not be told.

But behind all the ridicule there was a note of admiration: for even the most stubborn and proud of Feanor's sons had shown flexibility - not only in movement, but in spirit - to achieve his goal.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58668676