Orcs and Humans

[Paul Atreides]

As the woman spoke her words of hate, Paul simply regarded her with his unwavering blue in blue eyes. It wasn’t a feral stare- it was the keen analytic eyes of a fremen warrior examining a potentially dangerous enemy. He, however, did remain silent until she had left.

Paul did not dismiss the woman’s warning about knives and backs. He had been raised in a silent, legal, house war known as a “war of assassins” and had been betrayed many times himself. In the Corrino lead imperium- it was just par for the course.

Paul had earlier come to the understanding that one’s outward appearance meant nothing here. Orcs, fairies, goblins, animal people, cartoons- they were all the same as he was, created by Omni, and what mask they wore served little function. The notion of “race” would matter little here. Disposition however... that was possible. Grimm, this orc spoke the truth.

Paul had stayed one hand, but he would not thrust himself in the midsts of what was obviously a war. He had come seeking wisdom and, inadvertently, had learned much. Old grudges were perpetuated here on this stage- like a repeat performance for Omni’s pleasure. How did these creatures know that they had not already resolved this issue (violently or not) and this was just Omni’s favorite sort of tragedy? It didn’t matter- ultimately such questions were impossible to answer. He was a toy and could likely only think as Omni intended. This was his world after all and Paul, these orcs, and the lady knight were as a part of Omni as a passing thought in Paul’s own mind.

There was more blood to come from these two and quite possibly not only towards each other. This orcs had set up a military base and he doubted they would stop at only killing those of their own world. Still, blood was a necessity. It forged harder men and harder men made a better world in the long run. He’d seen it himself. Foppish nobles fell to hardened rebels, sardaukar born on their death world conquered the softer planetary defense forces of rebellious worlds, and the cycle continued. Paul’s play was not of days or weeks but of years and generations.

Paul seemed to regard Doomtusk spoke Paul regarded him with the same intensity he had scrutinized Aeris with. It was clear the orc was not fooling anyone but Paul nodded.

“You have a long path ahead of you orc... and it is not one that you shall see the end of without tragedy.”

His words were almost apologetic were it not for the steely, biting, hardness in them that made them come off as a threat.

Gurney fell in behind him as he moved onward, soft as a mouse in his stride, offering only a nod as he went. Orc would kill human. Human would kill orc. It would be a cycle where attrition would claim the day and madness would claim their hearts.