It was only when Brannor caught his balance amidst the tirade physically did he catch on to just what the half-blooded orc had been hiding, seemingly as inconspicuous as it could be in the bags of waste flesh. Perched upon one knee and rising again with the gifted burden, but not without plucking the point from its nest of grotesque camouflage, did he stand. Orchid carried on, bellowing, mocking, and crafting an elaborate scene that was truthfully his giving into the role; loud and hostile, just in a different vein than he had been before. The huntsman, hands still bound, wiped himself clean upon the still bloodied armor he wore, stashing the prize down into the waist where it fell down the leg and landed in the tucked portion of his leather leggings. The pressure of the boot against his leg prevented it from falling into the thing and risking injury from its potentially deadly point; all he needed to do to access it was pull the leg of the pant free and retrieve the adhoc weapon.

Clever, but he was not finished himself, not at all. Instead, as he disposed the rest of the refuse into the pit beside them both, he did so whilst providing the seeming orcish slaver a deathly glare. Dumping the contents in, his muscles did not strain or tire, his strength not entirely human after all, but the gesture was meant to be as much a part of the act as anything else. Those of this cult who likely recognized him, especially as the orc touted the recounting, would equally realize Orchid was not to be trifled with. After all, he and his bear, rather his druid, were able to take on a monster. If anything the deterrent went both ways, Brannor not so naive as to recognize the man was trying to cement his place in the scene, all while keeping his own.

Dealing with the barbarian was among the best options he had, someone he could at least trust in part, and if none of the other cultists would willingly do it, then the half-blood was the easiest candidate. Hopefully such a ruse would keep in play for as long as they needed it, that they would not send the halfling, the priestess, the old man, or the half-blood savage too far out of sight or mind. So when Orchid roared there was more work to do, Brannor only answered reasonably without a word; the wringing of his hands free of the blood from the slaughter, letting it spatter messily onto the muddy, sickly ground. It was a cold gesture, one that kept his mind trained rather than delving into the overwhelming scent of decay mingled with fresh blood.

[hider=Effects]
Brannor moves to hide the sharpened bone in a pant leg, letting it fall from the waist down and rest just above the boot on the inside, tucked and safely concealed. Assuming it requires a Sleight of Hand (Dexterity) check to do so successfully, he rolls a [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/5041]20[/url] to hide the deed. If he was granted advantage from the distraction by Orchid, the advantage rolled was a [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/5042]14[/url].
[/hider]
[@Hekazu][@Ryonara][@Lucius Cypher][@Gordian Nought]