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[sub][h3][color=0071C8][i]The Camp[/i][/color] - [color=Silver][i]Interacting with [@Polaris North][/i][/color][/h3][/sub]
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[color=Silver]	Oh, but everything had happened so fast - comparable to the gusts of the bleakest typhoon - and the transformation to silence had come and gone like a boat downstream. A bustling locale, Saint Reginald, was torn from its roots and the seeds of its activity were scattered. Hjadana had been on scene in a manner of chance, circumstance and intent. Sure, he'd been in search for a good adventure, something that would finally help him pursue his goals of conquering his illegitimacies, but the plunge of chaos that had arisen was far beyond what he'd expected. He began to have his doubts when he saw the camp, the lack of smiles and about as much happiness as a funeral session.

	And now, he found himself incredibly discomforted. In a time like this, he wanted something to do. Not out of excitement, but the need to feel [i]useful[/i] to someone or something. Everything had gone down the drain and yet he was sat there, twirling a stick he'd found on the floor and looking to the sky with a colourful garb on his body. That idea of fitting in had never settled once. An outsider, first and foremost, then the additions of a bastardised race and lack of understanding on the situation left him most uncomfortable. It was all so [i]muddy[/i], he thought, and the temper of the evening was much to be desired. Who could blame any of them? Families were dead, homes were burned down, careers were ransacked and blood was spilled. It wasn't the typical festival, he could tell that for sure. No, festivities were for times of greatness. And the only good thing that had come out of the horror was opportunity; and by the oath of his intention he felt all the more gutted by the desire to seek employment and self-fulfilment from it.

	Yet, assuring that he would not swallow himself in guilt that early on, he rose to his feet and began to walk around the camp. There were few talking heads and most were locked in heartfelt discouragement. Hjadana knew it was unwise to disturb their moment of peace. And so, he looked around for a [i]task[/i], something to introduce him to the rabble he'd thrown himself into. Everyone around him was, to him, far superior than he was. They were surrounded by people they knew, or they donned armour, weapons, businesses, true personalities...All of it was hard to grasp and he only yearned to fit right in.

	He saw an Orc assisting with a clothier, selfless in his endeavours. The lean Hjadana swept himself onto the scene, drifting in with a manner of foreign confusion and awkwardness. Looking into the crate, he found himself admiring the material before him. A smile came on his face and he was quick to strike up conversation to ease the silence.[/color]

[color=0071C8][b]"These are fine cloths,"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]he proclaimed with a little murmur, doing everything to keep it a quiet conversation,[/color] [color=0071C8][b]"I'd say you put your heart in the right place to give out such things to those in need. Admirable, comes to mind. Mind if I lend a hand on these last few?"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	The merchant, still half-in-conversation with the prowess of the Orc, waved a hand in acknowledgement and nodded to him. It could've gone worse, but the lack of a reception had taken him down a notch. Breaking that ice had always been such a stinger. He'd seen those monsters, those [i]things[/i] that had ruptured all that these people knew true, and it made him feel all the more uncomfortable when no one could keep their words flowing. Perhaps he was just confused on the world, or perhaps he was yet to experience the full force of the shock.

	When granted passage, Hjadana walked over to the cart and grabbed the first box he found. It was a lot heavier than he thought it was and the wind was quite nearly taken out of his sails. He recomposed himself and made a second attempt, getting the casket of clothes out into the fray. He left it aside the other near-empty crates and sighed, feeling a sense of artificiality to his assistance. Nothing felt purposeful. There was an aura of sadness to every sorrowful act he did. And it was greater than the initial grime that plagued his hidden mask. The shame was exasperated tenfold. And when things had died down within the camp, he'd convinced himself that he'd taken a step too far into an occupation not suited for his kind of person. He was weak, even if capable, and the experienced dresses and armours of the other camp-members put him to shame. A second sigh left his lips, before the commotion to a new arrival, caked in ember, arrived. Several approached her, but the push of guardsmen retrieving her stopped the inconsequential from investigating her presence. He didn't get a good look at her, but the softness of her voice had definitely introduced a new emotional place in the camp. If it didn't worry people, it surely livened a few souls up.

	And without realising it, he was stood next to the orc, both staring at the event that took place. Hjadana glanced at him, looked away, and then stared right back at him. His presence hadn't really been noted, and what looked like the sternness of his gaze gave him all the aura of power he'd expected. Taller, broader and littered with small scars and scratches - he'd stumbled upon a truly experienced individual. Hjadana wasn't exactly inexperienced himself, but the display almost proved him to be but a pipsqueak in comparison.[/color]

[color=0071C8][b]"Run of the mill chaos, huh?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Bugger! He'd let slip his voice first, disrupting the thoughtful silence that could have comforted the adventurer. He cleared his throat and tried to clear up his awkwardness.[/color] [color=0071C8][b]"Just the regular afternoon for us, aye? Well, maybe not to this scale but...you know we get around, in more ways than one."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	The more he talked, the more casual it seemed. He found his voice, that comfortable and laid back individual who tried to cheer people up, even in small talk. It wasn't much, but it went to lengths that he hadn't registered. A sort of encouraged personality shift with added benefits, if he were to describe it himself. He looked around and smiled kindly up to the orc, unaware of them sharing similar native roots.[/color]

[color=0071C8][b]"Colour me impressed, it looks like we'll be in deep agony for the next months and years. A toast, even, to the worst of the worst. Thank the bloody stars above."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]His chuckle was pained, agonised even, by the reality around them. They were sat in excrement and left to rot in the filth. It was any miracle that the King had made it out on such haste, intact nonetheless, and he nudged the orc with another faint smile.[/color] [color=0071C8][b]"Don't know what she was on about, but do you think there'll be any sort of great reaction afoot? A counter to the great collapse?"[/b][/color]