The hunter shared a tenuous stare with the orc-blood who had him by the head. He was not much an actor himself, having neither the natural talent for it nor the performing troupe, but he was cunning enough to go with it, especially when it was expected. Orchid was both simple and not simple minded, enough so that one could never really be sure if he were serious or not, but that assumed the enemy in the cult had even known much of who they were; nearly all of them they met that night died in some fashion, some more violently than others, especially where the raging warrior was concerned. At least it created an air of much needed ambiguity, further accented by the fact that orcs were not known to be particularly kind captors - their brutish, nasty, and cruel demeanors of the worst of them being examples.

When released, he shrugged back, spitting at the ground beside him and only giving a slight rise to his lip and clenched jaw in restrained menace. "We will see." He said upon receiving the order to begin mucking the informal stable, to which several men on what could only be described as not-guard-duty, questioned Orchid. Brannor in the meanwhile, simply began about his work, only willing to stop should the guards have gone to intervene. After all, a slave, even a defiant one, does what it is told, do they not? To obey was not something the wild heart had in his interest, but this endeavor was another trial put before him, to temper and test that it seemed. Everywhere the outlander went he was trapped, unarmed at that, and with only his guile and natural talents to guide him through it, though the crude wood shovel at the "stable" was a welcome weapon, if only a primitive cudgel.

It was not his sword of course, neither was it his hunting bow or the associated knife, but it was something, and it was work to learn with by observation of the world around him. Being sure not to intrude on his captors' apparent argument, he went about his work, at least for the moment, being rewarded with seeing that the old man, the apparent druid as it were, was still very much alive. Though, as Orchid put it, the man was "playing in the mud".

Despite himself being tied to nature's will in irresistible ways, those which at times overcame and consumed him, the young, albeit powerfully built man had not the faintest of what the druid was up to. The man had always been cryptic, bizarre even, weaving strange stories, possessed of some old spirit, taken by words and language from a far away place. It all made it far more confounding, but whatever it was that took place with him, it seemed Brannor was not the only one who thought it slightly worrisome; the half-blood, in his own unique way, went about acknowledging the strangeness.

[@Hekazu][@Ryonara][@Lucius Cypher][@Gordian Nought]