The orc's head had been bent over slightly as he made a face that was perhaps meant to be a smile at the maiden he held like a large rag doll in his arm. The orc's long, pointed ears seemed to twitch as the sharp tip of [color=DC381F]Brande[/color]'s sword touched him. The orc straightened up and the thick gray skin on the back of his neck pressed harmlessly into the sword's point for a moment before he turned his head. A pair of large, yellow eyes with black irises stared down at Brande-- more confused than angry.

"This yours?" The orc asked, turning to face Brande and effortlessly dragging the woman through the air as she yelped. A second, slightly smaller orc came into view then-- a more greenish tinge to his skin and a flat, smashed looking nose.

"Girl is rude. Wastes food," he said clucked gruffly. It then became apparent that the orc had what appeared to be a large, rotten tomato sliding down the front of his shiny metal armor. Once upon a time, it would have been laughable to consider the image of an orc in such fine suit-- especially with a food all over it. But the past 60 years had been good to their race-- so good that it would be more appropriate to gasp at the tomato rather than laugh.

The orc "smiled" back at the woman, stroking his chin with a large, meaty gray hand, "Want be Varfu's bed woman to say sorry?"

"No!" the woman's eyes filled with horror and her eyes, with tears, "I'm sorry, Varfu! It won't happen again!" She seemed to be in her late teens with long auburn hair and a pretty, pointed face. A sling shot lay at her dangling feet, making the painted picture of her red-handed guilt all the clearer. She screamed yet another foolhardy 'please' and the gap in the crowd seemed to widen. This was not a situation that many people were interested in being involved with. 

The second orc said something in their native language and Varfu nodded. "10 gold pieces or--" he reached his free arm behind his back and drew a large battle axe, "Zanna loses throwing arm. Varfu offers this deal for mercy. Up to you, human man."

[hr]

"Young lady!" a gray-haired old man in a somewhat tattered brown suit was stomping down the hallway towards [color=B8D945]Elspeth[/color], his wrinkly lips pursed with discontent, "You're making a damnable mess of the entrance hall, you ignorant child!" The mans voice carried through the spacious halls.

His finger trembled almost as badly as his toad croak of a voice as he pointed his finger down one of the hallways, "You march yourself right to the janitors closet and clean up this mess. And you can expect I'll be speaking to the Dean about this! Don't think I won't contact your parents either!" 

[hr]

"Move it!" 

"Watch where you're going!"

"[i]Hey![/i]"

The cries of discontent drew more and more near until it was too late for [color=aqua]Raine[/color] to realize she was standing directly in the escape path of a boy clutching a strange unmarked bag. The two tumbled to the marketplace floor-- everything happened very quickly then. 

The boy kneeling before her with one hand on his head and one hand still gripping the bag and supporting his weight had disheveled auburn hair and sharp features. He seemed to be not much older than Raine. His green eyes flashed with anger for a moment before filling with urgent fear. 

"Stop that kid! He's a [i]thief[/i]!" a man's voice yelled in the close distance.

"Quick!" he whispered sharply, "Under here![i] Please![/i]" He dove beneath a curtained market stall, motioning for her to follow. He held out his free hand with the intent of pulling her behind the curtain as quickly as possible. 

"Help! Thief!" the voice called, drawing dangerously near.

It was apparent that the slightest hesitation would result in it being to late. If she was going to move-- she had to do it fast and she had to do it now.