The portrait had disgusted him, initially. Elven women were far too soft and delicate for Orcish sensibilities. Orc women were stoic, muscular, and hard. Elven women were waifish, dainty, and round. And this Elf was certainly typical for her kind. Gentle face, unblemished pale skin, brilliant sapphire eyes, platinum blonde hair, and two perfectly rounded breasts hanging beneath her sheer dress. She was utterly revolting.
Dumag sat astride his war pig, glowering at the back of the Chieftain’s head as they rode toward the Elvish city. In his hand he clenched the small round portrait of his hideous bride-to-be, occasionally glancing down at it to remind himself to stay angry about this whole business. The many articles of the peace treaty signed last year had already begun to come into effect- this was simply the latest one. As signs of mutual good faith, one of the Chieftain’s sons was to marry the princess of this Elf kingdom- and Dumag was the only choice. He was too smart, too soft to be taken seriously by any woman of his own kind. So of course he would be the perfect groom to be given.