[center][h2][color=slategray]Ordric[/color][/h2][sub]
Interacting with: No one.[/sub][/center]

The night was young yet the moon shone bright and full, the sky an ink black backdrop, the silvery glow it emanated washed over the sand dunes accentuating their smooth waves and ridges.[color=slategray][i] Still as stone. I'm still as stone.[/i][/color] The thought rattled off in his head as he knelt motionless among the sands, his right hand buried up to his forearm as he used the affinity with his element to feel out for the beast that stalked them.[color=slategray][i] Still as stone. I'm still as stone.[/i][/color]

Slowly his eyes parted open as they gently began scanning the area for his companion. Some way off to his right he lay, prone on his belly, so still he may as well of been dead. So good at its craft was the Blackridge fox, that Ordric would have looked right past it were it not for the reflection of light that came from the bone protrusions that stuck out from its body. A series of interlocking bone plates that covered the spine of the critter from head to tail, acting as a natural armor from the razor sharp talons of owls and other creatures that shared its habitat. Some plates ran down its side too, tracing the ribs, but where there was no such protection, long, black, sleek fur took its place.

Ordric wondered if the creature had some mantra of its own to aid in its stealth, or whether the skill came from the inherited mastery of his species, an invisible instinct that guided it along. Suddenly there was a shift in the sands, a twitch from Rippers ear let him know that the fox was aware of it too. Carefully Ordric craned his neck to the left. There, about a stones throw away, the earth moved and sent the shadows to dancing. The sand cascaded in large, silvery sheets as the great worm moved beneath them, snaking its way in their direction. A few tense moments passed as the sands shifted ominously around them. [color=slategray][i] I'll be damned if I let Krenta gnaw on my bones for dying to some worthless worm.[/i][/color] His face slowly twisted into a grimace as he reached for the knife on his hip. His left hand gripped the hilt as the worm came so close that the sands washed over his boots. He could feel it there, just beneath the surface, it was certain to surface, he was sure of it. [color=slategray][i] And then one of us shall live and the other returned to their creator in shame.[/i][/color] His body was now wound tight like a crossbow, ready to let loose his fury upon the beast, his heart beat faster and faster til he feared it might rip free from his chest. The worm moved with haste and Ordric went to pull free his blade, but something made him hesitate. [color=slategray][i]The beast has turned away![/i][/color] Sure enough the worm had fled in a hurry, either having grown tired of this pursuit or sensing new prey nearby. It mattered not to Ordric. He was alive. He was whole.

Although the night was cool and pleasant, a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin as he steadily rose to his feet. Ripper got up to, stretching out his fore paws before trotting over to his master.

[color=slategray]"Seems Norric himself watches over us little one."[/color] Ordric chuckled, squatting down to give the fox a scratch around the ears. His eyes turned hard as he scanned the horizon, in their time waiting for the worm to pass he had long forgotten their bearings. Luckily for him the stars had come out, shining bright and clearly he was able to make out several constellations. He traced the Traitors blade with a finger, following down its edge to another collection of stars that vaguely resembled a fang, Jorrins fang. Named for some old Drakkan hero, whom in the stories had wrestled a dragon from the sky on a drunken bet. He fought long and hard til the dragons tail caught him in the mouth, knocking loose a tooth in the process. He was eventually able to drag it back down to the ground, but his tooth remained high in the heavens, and now served as a guide south. [color=slategray][i] One need only find the fangs point like the old man showed me, all those years ago.[/i][/color]

The rest of the journey proved mostly uneventful and Ordric found himself walking through the gates of Železna Kri with the other waylaid parties and stragglers that had pulled themselves in to celebrate the Reaping. A lot of the younger Drakkan wore smiles and chattered about what things they looked forward to most on the morrow, or how they'd find some lord to challenge so that they may steal away his prized Gems. Like they wouldn't piss themselves if faced with a real lord worthy of the title, born and bred of Drakka and not just born into a name. He gave them little notice beyond this, tearing his eyes away from their direction lest they betray the disdain he felt.[color=slategray][i] How can these fools celebrate the slow killing of our people, our way of life. This diluting of our blood by taking on these Gems as wives. These beings who are weak of body and spirit will prove our downfall.[/i][/color] The thought that his people would be brought low by such a race as theirs filled him with shame, and the hypocrisy of his thoughts left a bitter taste in his mouth, for had he not been sent here to claim a bride of his own? He spat on the ground in hatred and moved on into the streets of the lower district. His eyes seething with anger.

The walk served to calm him as he winded through the busy streets, bustling and alive with all kinds, even at this hour. He wove his way through the alleys, all still as familiar to him as when he ran them as a boy with the other orphans. He had been quite the monster then, wild and free, he and his gang terrorizing the locals. Lying, stealing and killing to survive. Had the old man not found him and brought him up under the Order he would of most likely wound up face down in one of these gutters, or strung up in the main square with the other criminals.

He rounded the corner and came upon an alehouse, a quiet establishment on the edge of town that had offered cheap accommodation and tolerable drink to him in the past. The wooden signpost that hung over its entrance had begun to warp with age and the paint was peeling at the edges, but one could still make out the faded lettering.[i] 'The Headless Ogre'.[/i] A picture of the large, oafish creature was displayed above, its body chasing down the severed head that rolled away from it. Ordric pushed into the entrance with his shoulder, his fox scampering in behind him.

"By Sorraks balls! Ordric, is that you?" Asked the older Drakka behind the bar.
[color=slategray]"Aye, and weary from my travels."[/color] Ordric replied, gazing about the alehouse, few patrons filled its seats, none of which paid him any mind. His eyes came to rest on the barkeep, a slender Drakka that stood a head or so taller than himself, he had twisted black horns that pointed skyward and had a habit of making him seem even taller. Ordric allowed himself a smile as he extended hand in greeting.

[color=slategray]"It's been too long Laz."[/color] He said as they took each other by the forearm in a firm embrace.
"That it has lad, that it has. I take it you'll be wanting a room?" Laz inquired with a scratch of his chin.
Ordric answered with a fistful of coins upon the counter. [color=slategray]" That, and a tankard of ale. I have quite the thirst."[/color]
The older Drakka shuffled to a barrel behind him and poured his ale. It was a dark amber color, with a strong smell, but smooth on the tongue. He gave his thanks and found himself a seat in the back, Ripper curling up at his feet. Pulling free some strips of hard, salted beef from his pack, he begun chewing away at his meager fare, washing it down with drink as he mulled over his thoughts. He chewed angrily as he recalled the elders decision that he'd be the one to take upon this burden for the Order. The royal family were once again meddling in their affairs, assimilating them more and more into this twisted path that the Drakkan were walking. He doubted they'd go through the all the trouble if the Order weren't such good surgeons and healers, no one rivaled them in their skills with fire and knife, nor their knowledge of herb lore.

Ordric took a final swig from his tankard, drinking long and deep.[color=slategray][i] Damn them all.[/i][/color] He thought bitterly as he took one last gulp, slamming it back down with dissatisfaction. Ripper jumped up from around Ordrics feet, he had been so caught up in his musings, he hadn't noticed the fox there.

[color=slategray]"Sorry little fella, I'd quite forgotten about you."[/color] He said apologetically, leaning down beneath the table to pull free another strip of salt beef for the fox to worry away at. Ripper took the meat with an eagerness only hunger could inspire, holding the strip to the floor with his front paws as he tore at it with his teeth, growling contently as he did so. Giving the fox a quick scratch behind the ears, Ordric lifted his head up to look about the empty room once again, his heart was heavy with the dread of unknowing.[color=slategray] "Lets see what the morrow brings, hey?"[/color]

[hider=Summary] Ordric has some fun in the desert before grabbing a drink in town.[/hider]