[h3][color=00a651][b][center]Malkus[/center][/b][/color][/h3]
[Center][color=00a651][b]Location:[/b][/color] Near the camp, hidden in the bushes
[color=00a651][b]Interacting With:[/b][/color] Sir Slashy and his merry band of Stabbers. But no one else in particular.[/center]

Malkus crept closer and closer, quieter than a mice. Yet he never really got close to the camp; he kept moving through the bushes, trying to find the one bush or tree that was close enough for him to just dash out of, grab a bit to eat, and then split. This shouldn't be that hard; Malkus had done this plenty of times before, with even less cover. Hell, he has swiped a man's dinner right from underneath his nose once, in broad daylight, and escaped because of his speed and certainty. So what was it that was making a job like this so hard? That was a foolish question of course.

Because he didn't want to steal their food. Of all the things in this camp he wanted, he just wanted to be with Sona. A vision of fantasy flashed in his mind. It was a simple one: Malkus and Sona, playing their songs in the woods, on the open road, at the setting sun. They would break bread together, share a drink, and occasionally even got into trouble. It was a simple and innocent fantasy to be sure, but the reality was that Malkus was just a dirty thief looking for an easy meal and an easy life. Why work and suffer for meager gains when you could just take from those who've already done the hard work? That's how Malkus had survived for this long. He didn't know a thing about foraging for food or surviving in the wilds like this. He barely knew how to make fire, and he only stomached bugs not for any nutritional value, but out of desperation. Malkus wanted to live it easy, but he also wanted the luxury of companionship and, dare he ask, love. But alas, those weren't things he could steal with quick hands or a knife held to a throat.

The longer he lingered, the more he could also smell the food the campers had. He could smell salted meats, preserved fruits, bread and even some alcohol. But the more he smelled, the more he noticed something putrid. The scent of piss and dirt, of rusted metal and dried blood. Of death and war. That's when Malkus's eyes widen and he realized something very horrific. [color=00a651][i]"Orcs!"[/i][/color]

Malkus berated himself for his foolishness. He found orcish tracks near the camp, but they weren't merely wandering. He should have known that they didn't go closer to the camp because they didn't need to. They were scouting and found them, that's why the prints where so fresh and why they didn't come immediately. After all, why attack with five men when you can attack with twenty? Malkus could smell their ilk even from where he was at, but he couldn't tell from scent alone how many or where they were coming from. Only that they were coming, and were probably downwind. 

Gritting his teeth, Malkus grabbed his Kukri. While he feared crowds, he hated orcs. If they were coming here, he didn't need to imagine what they'd do if they managed to overpower the group. If they were lucky, they'd just be killed. Otherwise... He didn't want to think about it. But what could he really do? Malkus knew he could kill maybe two or three. Five if he was lucky. But he can't take on a hold band himself, not without preparation. And he couldn't really rely on the others in the camp [i]not[/i] to kill him, incidentally or not. He was a half-orc after all, and from a distance he probably didn't look too different from a regular orc. He should just leave. If anything, he could pick the bones afterwords for food, money, and literally anything else. But of course... There was Sona too. That damned elf, always on Malkus's mind, turning him stupid and making him act strange. He cursed his own lust and desires for making him act outside of his own self-interest.

So to quell these treacherous thoughts from confusing him further, Malkus made up his mind. Sona was going to be his. If he was going to suffer through the angst of losing her or being made to confront his own fears, then he intends to use her as his motivation. If he could have Sona, then he would have nothing to worry about. If he had to suffer the idea of being with her "friends", then he'll make sure she makes it worth his while. Malkus had enough of this uncertainty and confusion. Gripping his big blade and ready to draw his fighting knives, Malkus continued to stalk the camp in the bush, waiting for the orcs to arrive. Then, he'll strike.