Twin Cities: NE Peninsula Forest

It was the sound he noticed first. What a racket it was, the cracking of twigs and voices of a hunt: from the panicked cries of an animal to the bellows of a leader and her pack. The half-orc whipped around, silver hair smoothing over his shoulders like a cloud parting over mountains. His own spear was fastened from a hefty branch and whittled down, tipped with the tooth of some beast he found dead deep in the woods, picked clean by a horde of scaly birds. It was a shame he wasn't able to procure the hide, but there was hardly anything left when the flock left. At least he still had a sturdy shield, which was still holding up after being plucked from the waters within the mist. It would serve him well here, as something galloped in his direction. Was it headed for him, or was it simply running by? Without an answer, he held his ground and crouched onto one knee, spear pointed straight ahead, shield facing the same direction.

He'd barely had any time to react as the elk burst through the brush, running straight into the tip of the weapon and impaling itself. Kroe hollered in fear and surprise as the weight of the animal forced the butt of his spear into the ground, and without any space to move, hoisted the beast onto its hind legs from the angle. Its front hooves kicked at the orc's shield. It lashed its head back to cry out, but it gargled, choked in its own blood.

It was then that the next weapon spun through the brush and buried itself into the elk's skull, killing it. Kroe screamed again because the elk's massive body was now sliding down the length of his makeshift glaive. He scrambled to move out of the way, only to grunt as he hitched-

His cloak was stuck between the butt of his spear!

With the barking growing close, the rogue panicked, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Only if you were to swing first," said the half-orc, keeping his hands up. The elk continued to slide down the length of the makeshift spear, and Kroe eyed it warily. "I have no qualms with you. I will not attack any of you, on my word... if that means anything to you."

Kroe attempted to shuffle to the side of the corpse, and somehow successfully pulled the butt of the weapon at just the right angle to cause the beast to fall opposite of him. Scrambling to his feet, the man resumed his defeated stance. "I am Kroe. I'm an orc but-" He held out a hand, "-Not one of those! I'm not a monster."

Ah, he'd heard those words many times before. In a strange turn of events, it was safer now to reveal the most obvious part of his heritage than it was to the reason he had silver hair. He hoped she wouldn't ask questions about it. Instead of waiting, he pointed to her, then to her dogs. "And you? And them."

Kroe wrinkled his nose at the mention of being a troll. He may have been an abomination, but he was nowhere near that ugly! Still, she wasn't about to order her hounds to rip him to shreds, so that was a start. That she didn't know what an orc was helped, as well. Perhaps she also had no knowledge of elves and enchantresses, too! And maybe that meant he was truly safe from persecution. Oh, what a dream.

The half-orc dared not move as the dogs sniffed him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Though friendly, these were still hunting dogs with teeth that could ravage flesh in seconds.

"Good to meet you. All of you," he replied, trying to smile. It came off every bit as nervous as he felt. Slowly, he rose to his feet and pulled his cloak closer to himself. "Not hunting, just traveling, but I was getting hungry. In a world like this, is anyone ever full?"

Though he was small for an orc, Kroe still stood several heads taller than the woman, and was certainly many times stronger due to the green side of his heritage. With only a lick of thought, which was many less licks than the dogs gave to his hands, the man agreed. "I believe I can do that much. I can also help skin the animal, if you wish."

He took off his cloak, revealing a strong, but lithe frame. There was a gauntness to him here and there: a bit too many ribs showing, a hollowness to his cheeks. Still, the half-orc found the strength to tie the cloak around the animal's neck, back, and front legs in a makeshift sling, leaving two ends for him and Solveig to pull. "How far is your camp?" he asked. "And, if you will humor me, tell me about your world. My kind is plenty where I am from, so it is curious that you do not know of them."

Kroe, too, thought the Gods had fated his arrival, but for different reasons than Solveig. It was a secret he held close to his heart, terrified of what she would do if she found out. What anyone would do. For now, he would keep any information on himself low; speak about his tribe. She did not know about them, and from the sounds of it, they lived in very different places. Kroe hoped they were different enough.

"It sounds beautiful," he breathed. "Peaceful and lush, like the place of my childhood. I haven't seen such a place until-" He gestures out, at the forest around them, though he knew it wasn't the same. "Where I lived recently, it was sand and dust and mesas. My tribe stormed the horizon and snuffled out all they could, taking it for themselves. I was not receptive to their decisions, but... I had little choice, out in the middle of nowhere with no food, no water."