[b]Edon Wolf Orc Camp Sabamin, Ethora[/b] Embers rose steadily into the air from burning huts and tents as the sound of sporadic battle and butchery surrounded him. The main part of the actual 'fighting' had ended some time ago after Varian's assault. Now it was simply cleaning up the stragglers. A brute of an orc yelled his savage fury over the just work that Varian's crew had carried out. He hefted a long axe that he no doubt had lifted from the corpse of one of his raiding victims and charged toward Edon. His swing could have split the noble man's head down to his sternum for all the might behind it. [i]These beasts have no disclipline[/i], Edon thought as he stepped to the side and retreated. The axe bit the ground and cost the orc precious seconds to reset. [i]All fury and strength with no finesse or subtlety.[/i] "Is that all you are," he spoke in a soft, disappointed tone. The orc was clearly strong enough to crush his head with his bare hands. To Edon, he saw a creature who had grown accustomed to solving its problems only through force. When the next attack came, it was just as clearly telegraphed as the last. Edon moved in to meet it with the metal-covered shaft of his halberd. His arms flexed under the sudden impact of the sideways swing but he managed to stop it cold, sending the axe rebounding. He followed it up by stepping back and striking the orc in the side of its head with the metal-capped 'butt' of his polearm. It wasn't an especially hard strike but the lights visibly dimmed in its eyes from having his brain rattled. The orc was huge and fierce but Edon was not a small man either. He stood just over six foot tall and had the fit, full build of a person who had steady and easy access to food and fitness for his whole life. He was a fighting man and took pride in his physical fitness and skill. Being from Raelus, speed and quick footwork was essential, even if he tended to go for half plate instead of the lighter armor favored by his noble brethren. Butchering scavengers was so far beneath him that it felt like an insult. He waited for the orc to shake away the dizziness and ready himself for another assault. This time Edon assumed a defensive posture with his knees bent and the halberd aimed straight for the orc. He almost didn't even have to aim. When the beast charged him, it swiped at his polearm to try and knock it away. Edon simply dipped his weapon then brought it back up into the creature's stomach. The orc howled in pain and rage and pressed on, but Edon dropped the butt of his polearm into the ground and held fast to it, bracing it against the attempt to push him back. For a short time, the orc swung at him without success. Then he beat at the shaft but struck only the metal strip that reinforced the wood. When its strength began to wane, Edon pushed back, eventually forcing the beast to the ground. He extracted his halberd and stood away from the orc. For some time, he stood there and watched the creature as it bled out in the dirt. Its breathing slowed and fire dwindled to just a spark in its eyes but it did not show any of the pain it must have been in. "Very well," Edon whispered. "You have earned this much." He dropped his halberd and drew his bastard sword then moved to stand by the orc's head. "A clean death." As he made ready to end its suffering, the orc suddenly reached for him with both hands. Edon swung out of reflex to cut down one of the hands but failed to stop the beast's attempt. His sword was knocked to the side and he found himself flat on his back after his feet were pulled out from under him. Quickly, he pushed himself away from the wounded animal and lashed out at it with kicks. Adrenaline surged through his system and, before he knew it, he was free of the struggling, dying creature. The orc's grab had been its last attempt at revenge rather than some masterful trap. As he watched, the thing breathed its last breath and began to grow cold. Edon climbed back to his feet and gathered his sword. He checked his surroundings but the fighting was over with. His eyes soon came back to the dead orc. Its lack of dignity in defeat offended his sense of propriety. But its defiance even in death was something he respected. After a minute of silent contemplation, he cleaned off his sword and retrieved his halberd then moved to rejoin the rest of the company. [b]Edon Wolf Broken Keg Tavern Dalenham, Ethora[/b] Edon walked through the streets of Dalenham with clear contempt in his eyes. These people lived like animals and he hated them for it. He made no attempt to converse with anybody and continued straight toward the tavern where Varian had insisted they meet. He had cleaned his halberd and his armor and left it at the camp for this. Instead, he wore his trusty mantled riding coat (the finest thick, black treated leather) over a deep red button up piece of formal wear. His bastard sword hung from his left hip, often with his left hand perched comfortably atop its pommel. His resentful scowl remained even after he reached the tavern. The idea that people could adapt to this level of filth appalled him. Drostan and Varian were easy to spot in the crowd. Edon worked his jaw for a moment and considered his next action. He didn't know either of these men, despite the previous mission they had carried out. He had only recently been hired on and even then it was through another person. This would be his first true meeting with the man. Edon shook away his doubts and marched over to the table. The other two were already seated, but he came to a stop at their side, well in easy view of them. Again, the noble from Raelus seemed to search for the right words before saying, stiffly, "Commander Varian."