[center][b]Ulgahk[/b]
The Mustering Room[/center]

The child was the first one to truly address Ulgahk.

“Ulgahk?” She spoke in some, thick, otherworldly accent. “The Lonely Blade, you mean, The Lonely Blade?”

There was a look of bewilderment on the girls face as Ulgahk raised an eyebrow. Even this young one had heard of him?

“I have never heard of you.” Atalee mumbled, to a snort of annoyance from the Orc. Of course the young one wouldn’t know who he was. From the looks of things, this girl was still wet behind the ears. Hell, there may as well have been an ocean behind them for all the wonder she displayed at that fool minstrel’s appearance. This woman would learn the ways of this world soon enough, so Ulgahk left his own tale untold for now. Best not to frighten the little one. Now is not the time for fear. For her, that will come later. 
While Ulgahk had been lost in thought, it seemed he had started a trend, as the strangers began introducing themselves, the scarred woman speaking next.

“It´s hardly a suitable time to be elaborating on who we do or don´t know, I think. We might as well become familiar with one another while we´re here…“ she paused for a moment to think. “I´m called by Puafria Aupa, and just so there´s no bad blood later, I am indeed attuned to the Chasm of decay.“

Ulgahk rolled his eyes under cover of his helmet. Another soul worshipping a false God. How sad. However, what Ulgahk didn’t expect was the response given by the Dwarves, who’d remained silent until now.

"I'll not be workin' with somethin' like that." a Brashiron had said. The other two grunted in approval. The Goldmars remained speechless, though the stern looks on their faces told a tale all their own. It made Ulgahk sick to his stomach.

"The Brashirons do nothin' but defend our home from your kind, we'll not see that changed today. You'll find little welcome in Underdeep, witch." The three of the Krigare caste left the mustering hall, not giving the young woman another glance. They were soon followed by the drunk Goldmars, who each gave the scarred woman one last hateful look before exiting. Or at least they would have, if they’re attention had not been diverted by Ulgahk’s mace hitting the stone floor. The woman may be foolish in her choice to worship a false God, but anyone hated by Dwarves was someone to defend.

“Just like Dwarves to run and hide.” the Orc growled, standing at his full height, “If you want aid, do not insult the ones who come freely. If Regna had not willed me here himself you lot would be little more than a stain against my blade. Now get. OUT.” Ulgahk hissed, and the Dwarves did as he said. With the weak gone, Ulgahk sat on the floor once again, and said nothing more. The Bard, having heard everyone, save for the half-giant speak, addressed Ulgahk.

“Ay, adventurers we are. And pleased to be joined by the legendary Lonely Blade. Indeed, people sing praises of your prowess throughout the land. A survivalist and warrior, peerless on each front. I am pleased to see you.”

A small grumble of acknowledgement was all the response the Orc could think to muster, festering in his own hate as the elf spoke to the others.