Nimble looked over the railing. "Have you ever seen orcs dressed like that before?" he whispered back.
Rathgar creeped forward and peered over. The orcs below were dressed in spidersilk, with elaborate hats bedecked with strange feathers and glinting gems. They sat about the room below in upholstered chairs looking at illusionary artwork that morphed on the walls. While a few seemed entranced by it, most looked mournful, and a few were openly shedding tears.
"Orcs can cry?" Rathgar gasped in amazement, before slapping his hand over his mouth. Yet for the volume of his outburst, it seemed to draw no attention from below. His companions, on the other hand, glared at him. Removing his hand, he mouthed "sorry" and slunk away from the railing with Nimble.
"What makes an orc cry?" Feris asked.
His companions shrugged. "They're people too, even if they lack a level of... maturity. Probably not helped by the fact that their gods are.. less than encouraging of development toward a more civilized attitude."
"So what happened to these orcs?"
"The only time I've seen orcs going against their nature as a group like this is when someone else makes them." Rathgar said grimly.
"Which means that there's someone or something that's capable of cowing an entire tribe of orcs." Allianora said, gripping her mace a little tighter.