LF Friends, Will Travel

The sounds of fighting bellowed across the field as tens of people fought each other with various combat forms. The clash of weapons, as screams of exertion and pain were roared out into a grey cloudy sky. Victors and losers were made as multiple duels were being held, some by surrender, others by death. Corpses were scattered as far as the eye could see, over a field long since churned to mud during generations of fighting. Some of the bodies were centuries old, nothing more than fragile bones that shattered under Zantari’s footsteps as they approached the meeting place. Others were freshly slain, laying where they had fallen mere hours or days before. The smell of death and decay hung rife in the air while various scavengers came to eat their fill of the morbid landscape.

Zantari finally reached the top of the hill rose from the centre of the field, taking a moment to look at the chaos below him, while the Litorian diplomat they had come to meet slowly approached his location. This was where disputes were settled, and the Litorian Horde tested their strength against each other. This was also a location where deals were done and diplomacy was to be had. It followed a well-known rule amongst the Litorian Horde: All diplomatic talks had to be done on the battlefield.

Zantari had been the most interested in speaking to this species. The Litorians were a giant mammalian race, although their dusty orange natural armour often gave them an insectoid appearance, their intersecting plates of chitin protecting them from head to toe with a barrier as tough as steel. Large sharp claws stood at the ends of powerful limbs, teeth set within a jaw that could break bone.

Zantari watched two fighters in particular while they waited, the two combatants throwing themselves at each other with bladed weapons as they fought under a giant gnarled tree buried in the mud. One of the pair struck a final blow, slipping the tip of his sword in between his opponent's plates of chitinous armour, shoving the weapon through the other’s chest with a final moment of exertion. The loser gave a shocked silent gurgle, black blood pouring from the wound and their vicious bestial mouth, before collapsing dead to the ground.

The victor didn’t seem to care that much, leaving the defeated Litorian to lay in the mud with the thousands of other corpses that had been left to rot and decay over the centuries. What had their conflict been about? Territory? Ideology? Power? A mate? Whatever it was, to the loser it no longer mattered, because in Litorian society, whoever was right was whoever was strongest. As their saying went, ‘Strength leads Strength’.

“Welcome, powerful Ghirlinn representative. How can we serve ones of such strength? Are you here to finally take your place as our rightful leaders?”

The Litorian diplomat stood facing Zantari upon the hill, dressed with a single bright blue ceremonial sash denoting them as an ambassador, holding a corresponding diplomatic mace in one hand. Not that she would ever dream of using it against the Ghirlinn, who had changed their appearance to dwarf the 8 foot tall Litorian: 11 feet of muscle, teeth, claws and spikes, purposefully put together to be the ultimate apex predator. Zantari knew how to deal with the weird quirks of the Litorian society, and making themselves physically intimidating was one way to deal with it.

The Litorian Horde were a standard ‘might makes right’ warrior race, with a strange twist of not being hypocritical about it, looking honestly at their own power. Upon contact with the Ghirlinn, they had immediately realized the power disparity between the two races, and offered their own subjugation to the other as the weaker species. Which the Ghirlinn had politely but firmly declined.

“No, not that. I’m interested in the Terran Alliance. I would not have seen your species as one to join such endeavours, and we are interested in how this came to be.”

Zantari had talked with 4 species so far, all of which had stated the same things about the cute little Terrans: their friendship and desire to help all. The Litorian Horde didn’t fit in with this view, an aggressive species who had once subjected and conquered several worlds. Had being the important word: Since joining the Terran Alliance, the Litorian Horde hadn’t started a war for the last 40 years, instead returning all of their previously conquered planets. This was not what Zantari had expected to find.

“Our joining under the Terrans is simple: Strength leads Strength.”

The Litorian said it simply, as if this explained everything, her words said with a conviction that left Zantari confused and checking the functionality of their translator. They waited a few more moments hoping that the diplomat would continue to speak, an awkward silence between the pair only being punctuated by the cry of someone below losing their claim of strength. Eventually, Zantari realized the diplomat wasn’t going to provide any more information.

“That… doesn’t help. Maybe start at the beginning of your interactions with the Terrans.”

“Initially in our ignorance, we believed them weak. They had befriended and allied with a species within our initial claim of conquest. They disagreed with our right to their lands. We did not believe them worthy of such a claim, but gave them the opportunity to prove us wrong. And so they sent a diplomat, not a snivelling weak willed man of only words like most species would, but one who showed a strength of their own. One called Mr. Ket.”

The name was spoken with reverence, as if talking about a great man, and Zantari couldn’t help but wonder what the adorable little primate had done to convince this warrior race to change so drastically. A message of friendship and freedom so moving it changed these people? Zantari didn’t have to wait long as the Litorian ambassador pulled out a small soft-light holographic emitter, continuing to talk as she turned it on.

“Mr Ket initially tried to convince us otherwise with words, like any other pathetic diplomat might. When we would not listen to mere words, he challenged our then leader, Head Warrior Kuln, to a claim of strength. We did not decline of course, as any and all may make such a claim, although most would not survive the process.”

The hologram showed a smaller view of the same hill the pair were currently standing on, the recording of a meeting between Mr. Ket and Head Warrior Kuln, both armed with a mace and staring at the other. Even this rougher, tougher looking Terran was adorable, his bulky muscular form squeezed into the smart black suit he wore. His body language took on a motion of… boredom, glancing at Kuln with an air of irritation.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Mr Ket spoke with an annoyed tone. “This is all very silly.”

The only response from the Litorian was a snarling growl, before launching themselves at the Terran.

Zantari wondered how the precious little primate was going to deal with this. Perhaps they’d tire the larger beast out, staying out of range before convincing them with a speech of friendship? Or some other clever ruse to get the warrior race to see the error of their ways?

Much to the Ghirlinn’s horror, Mr Ket did neither of those things. Instead, the Terran used their more agile nature to beat the ever living shit out of their opponent. With a level of alarm and disturbing ferocity, Mr Ket danced around their foe, dodging every swing by their opponent all the while dealing destructive blows to joints and limbs, focusing on the body and head as soon as Kuln’s own mobility had been compromised and he buckled. It was like watching a puppy tear apart a nest of rats, a morbid contradiction of the Terrans’ outward appearance as they slowly wore down the Litorian with cruel precise blows.

How could something that cute also be this vicious?

Eventually Mr. Ket stood victorious over a nearly dead Kuln, breathing heavily, mace dripping with black blood, a few cuts and scratches from errant claw swipes covering his now muddied suit. Mr Ket took a moment to spit out a mouthful of crimson blood, before turning to look at someone not in view of the recording.

“OK, I’ve done your stupid ritual thing. Now can we talk?”

The recording ended, leaving Zantari a little bit shaken, as the Litorian diplomat spoke once more.

“After proven their claim of strength against our strongest warrior, Mr Ket declined the offer to kill and eat Kuln and his offspring. The Terrans also refused to take their rightful place as masters of the Litorian Horde.”

There was a twinge in her voice that suggested she was exceptionally offended at the idea of a species this strong refusing to lead them.

“So we did the only acceptable move. We let them subjugate us with their rules. We gave up our conquests, changed our laws, and joined their Alliance. The Terrans showed their strength, so we let them lead us as much as they were willing, which is glaringly not as much as their strength deserves.”

That was… something. It explained the changes to the Litorian Horde that Zantari had seen, but at the same time to give up what they’d been fighting over for the last twenty thousand years, all in the blink of an eye and over only one battle. Zantari had never truly understood the mentality of the Litorian Horde, and even now they felt confused.

“That must have been quite a change. Stopping your aggressive tendencies for over forty years. Has there been any regret to joining the Terran Alliance?”

“Oh, we didn’t stop. We just adapted to the Terran way of doing things. Strength leads Strength. While the Terran Alliance does not officially get involved in war, the Terrans are warriors at heart. Private military organizations have aided in the rebellion of many aggressive governments who refuse to diplomatically deal with the Terran Alliance. Aid convoys and charities need protection, and the Terrans’ hatred for slavers is well known. As long as you follow Terran sensibilities around war and allow them to create the strange concept of ‘democracy’ where they are victorious, the Terrans are very happy to let you fight for the ‘right thing’. Unofficially, of course.”

There was a joy in the Litorian’s voice, as if relishing in the memory of previous battles under such circumstances, the body language of the diplomat becoming more energetic as she spoke.

“If anything, joining the Alliance has increased the frequency of such tests of strength. To be led by ones of strength is to be strong yourself. This is seen with the Estorian war. It was inevitable, the Terran drive for power requires them to ‘fix’ the universe where they see it. The Estorians are diametrically opposed to the Terran ideology, so the war was always going to happen, a great battle, a glorious test of strength. Alone the Litorian Horde could never go up against such a grouping, but under the ferocity of the Terrans we are made stronger.”

Zantari felt a little shaken, his mental image of the Terrans shifting wildly as the diplomat sung their praises. The Ghirlinn looked out upon the battlefield below them, at the sights of battle: of victories, of surrenders, of death. They had wondered how the Litorian Horde had been changed in such a manner to allow them to join this Terran Alliance of supposed peace. But this species hadn’t been changed at all, merely slightly moulded into something slightly less destructive, somehow finding a spot amongst this group of species who allied with the primates.

“Terrans hide their strength behind honeyed words of weakness, but strength they have and strength they are. They hide their history of warfare and violence, as if it is a great shame, but deep down they are a species of warriors. Proud, willing to fight for what they believe in, with a determination to change the universe until it yields to their view. This is why the Litorian Horde joined the Terran Alliance. Strength leads Strength.”

The way this diplomat spoke of the admittedly still adorable Terrans made them sound like a stubborn unstoppable force of nature. Zantari could still see visions of one of their diplomats beating a Litorian half to death with nothing more than a mace. This wasn’t the cute, friendly primates the other species were describing. This was a species whose first reaction to seeing a heavily armoured apex predator larger than they were, was to hit it with a mace. Sure, they would never be a threat to the Ghirlinn due to the technological disadvantage, but Zantari didn’t want the Terrans to hate them and aggressively try the same strategy once members of their species started trafficking Terrans.

These Terrans are stranger than I thought. This situation might be more complicated than it seems.