As I walk towards the kitchen, the familiar scents of honey glazed, mesquite-smoked meats comes my way, along with bay leaves with spices and something fishy. Following the delicious smells to the kitchen, I ask an orc seemingly standing guard what all those intoxicating aromas are, and Na’Tia translates both my words and his. 

“It’s a surprise for you.”
“F-for me!?”
“Well, yeah. You’re a Godsend, right? You are considered an honored guest here, and everyone wants to give you a warm welcome. We haven’t had a Godsend here since my great-great grandmother.”
“I’m… I’m flattered!”
“I honestly don’t see why they’re throwing the party in your honor. So you fell from the sky, big deal.” The angsty teen mumblingly angsts.

Taking place at the same time, a wagon starts to pull in just outside the village. As the driver stops and looks through his binoculars, surveying the village, he smirks. “Looks like the village is getting ready for a feast. Now, I don’t remember there being anything on the calendar for today… I absolutely must see what all this commotion is about!”

Clicking his tongue twice and flicking the reins in his hands, the wagon once again starts rolling forward, heading for the village.

“I wonder what they could possibly be making?” I ask excitedly.
“Probably some old recipes,” Na’Tia scoffs. “They wouldn't want to mess up your special day.”

Suddenly someone grabs my arm, pulling me away from the smaller orc.

“What the-!? Hey, what’s going on! Where are you taking me?”
“Probably want to show you something… I don’t know where or what...” Na’Tia’s voice is monotone as she plods along next to me. She sure is the life of the party…

Before long I find myself being gently pulled into an unfamiliar yurt and pushed into a four-legged chair by several orcs. Afterwards, they immediately descend upon me with brushes and powders… Makeup!?

"H-hey, stop-” I protest, but to no avail. Two more orcs hold me by the wrists and begin painting my nails.
“It’s best not to struggle, or it’ll just take longer…” Na’Tia drones from the doorway.
Everyone here - myself and Na’Tia aside - are giggling and chatting and happy. One even tilts my head back and begins brushing my hair!
“Why are they doing this?” I ask, begging an answer of anyone who would listen.
“You’re sent by the Gods, Lar’Ra… This is a special day.” Na’Tia sounds almost like she pities me. “On days like this, they pull out all the stops. You’ve got to be absolutely stunning.” She scoffs again.

After a while they finally let go of me, standing back to admire their handiwork as they coo and giggle. Personally, I feel like a prize show horse just before a contest.

“Wow! They did an excellent job on you!” Na’Tia comments in her usual sarcastic tone.
“I… I kind of want to see-” I say, starting to get up, but before I make it far I have a hand mirror thrust at me. Staring back at me from the gently glittering crystal mirror is…
I can only stare. She’s so beautiful. “Th-that’s… Is that me?”
“Nooo! It’s your evil twin! Oooooh!” Na’Tia said in a tone absolutely dripping with sarcasm.
An androgynous orc asks me something; “They ask if you like their handiwork.” Na’Tia translates.
I just keep staring; I can’t help it! It’s my face, my old face, but unmistakably feminine!

I admire a job well done. The gentle application of blush that compliments my new skin tone; the light addition of eyeshadow to make my amber eyes more noticeable; the dark winged eyeliner that draws further attention to my eyes; and cherry-red lipstick that makes my lips absolutely pop. Not to mention they braided my hair! Silky brunette hair… Tearing my gaze away from the mirror and down to my hands, I see a striking coat of red paint covering each nail. I cannot help but feel a sense of… Fulfilment? Like I always should have been beautiful like this.

I sit transfixed at my reflection for a short while, but it feels so much longer…
It really is me… “I… I love it…”
Na’Tia translates my words to them, but I can only guess what she actually said. I’m sure it’s something like “She thinks it’s okay.” I mean, knowing her…
“Well, come on. Your dinner should be ready soon, and I still need to take you to a few places. And, be careful not to ruin the nail paint; it still needs to dry.” Ah, Na’Tia; never change.

As we exit the yurt, I notice a commotion near one of the village entrances. Walking towards all the noise, I can see a wagon pulled by two horses closing in, and as it rolls to a stop an older human hops off… The first human I’ve seen since coming here.
“Greetings, my orc friends! Harroka, me boga orc zumar!” He shouts, ensuring to greet us in both languages. Something about him is strange to me…

I gently push through the crowd to reach him. As soon as I come close enough, he greets me personally. “I don’t remember- ah, you must be the one we’re celebrating! O ba wurrimar bek?”
“Uh, yeah, I am… they say I was sent by the Gods, and-”
“A Godsend?! Do you not speak the Orcish language, then? Mosh’Gwyr, O mukka orc-omlarn?” he queries, again in both languages.
“Uh, no, I do not… Sadly…”
“Ahh, that is a shame, my newfound friend! Allow me to take care of business first, and then I will make time to speak with you.” At this he turns his attention to the orcs surrounding his wagon, eager with questions and pointing at objects hanging off it. I can only assume he is some kind of salesman, and the questions are things like ‘how much for this item?’ or ‘would you take a trade?’

With a few Orcish words and hand gestures to each person, they all scatter and return with various items; and in turn, they trade orcish goods for what seems to be out-of-town human ones. I was most surprised to see a hanging wall clock, complete with a pendulum!

A select few stay to talk with him, and in response he writes something down on a notepad. After filling out a few pages he pockets the notepad, says a few words in Orcish, and turns his attention back to me. “Ahh, with all that taken care of, we should have a while to chat, my friend.” He says, smiling as he loads his new acquisitions onto his wagon. “Though, perhaps… Could you lend me a hand with the pots of dye? My back isn’t what it used to be, and I can’t quite handle those anymore.”

“Oh, uh, sure?” I reach for one of the indicated pots and lift it up, surprised at how little it seems to weigh to me. “So, what was all that?”

“That? It was commerce!” He laughs jovially. “This village and I have a trade agreement. I bring requested items, items they want, and they give me things I ask for at a reasonable rate of trade. If I don’t have what they need, I write down what I missed and try to bring them next time.”

“Well, that seems beneficial to everyone… What kinds of things do they ask for?” I ask as I load up another dye pot.
“Oh, you know, food they can’t get, spices they don’t have, cookware they can’t make… If it’s something they can’t get their hands on, or they can but I can get it made of something else? They ask me for it. The requests can be for anything, really.”
“And what about these dyes?” I ask as I heft a third pot up onto the wagon.
“Your kin make some of the best dyes in the world. There’s a high demand for woad especially.”

“Wait, WOAD?!”

“You really must be fresh here, by now you’d know all about the dye press right over-”
“I know what woad is! I’m just surprised the stuff grows here!” I peek under the lid of the pot I’m currently lifting, and sure enough, it’s woad blue dye!
“Careful with that stuff! It’s the most expensive one!”
I gently slide the lid back into place before I finish hefting the pot of dye up onto his wagon, making sure to use a ginger touch. “So these dyes…”

“Woad, weld, madder, and wyrd.” He says reverently. The last one I don’t recognize… must be that emerald green dye. “Each of those dyes commands a hefty price in Ortesha… Right, you’re new here. Ortesha’s a nearby human city, so tuck that away in your memory.” He dusts his hands off for a moment before continuing to tuck away various goods.

“So, I come here and pay a solid price for them here; then I bring them back to the towns along the way to Ortesha and pick up what the Orcs so deeply desire, saving them the trouble. Afterwards, I come back. Works out for all of us.” He explains, closing and latching the back of his wagon so that nothing will fall out on the road.

“I see. A regular wandering trader, then!”
“Well, now, I wouldn’t say regular...” He glances down at my bare feet and hums. “You wouldn’t happen to need boots, would you?”
“I suppose I could do with some…”
He clicks his tongue as he opens his wagon back up, pulling out a couple of stools and a piece of thick paper. “Let’s measure your feet and we can discuss payment for next time I visit.”

Na’Tia finally storms in, clearly upset. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you! Wh- What are you doing!?”
“Apparently, getting my feet measured so I can get some boots.” I say, the wandering trader tracing the shape of them on the paper.
“Well it’s almost time for the feast in your honor! In just a few minutes they’re going to plate up all the food, and the clothiers want to see you RIGHT NOW!” She turns to the trader with a much calmer attitude. “Hello, Billy. This better not be your fault.”
“This’ll be done when it’s done, and we’ll be over when it’s over.” Billy says placidly, now measuring my feet sideways.

After a few minutes of careful measurements - with Na’Tia huffing in frustration the entire time - Billy announces he has what he needs, and he sends me on my way. With an angry “Finally!”, Na’Tia grabs my arm and half-leads, half-drags me to where I’ll be getting dressed.