The creak of the bridge's wooden planks and the noise of a pig-like nose sniffing loudly breaks the swordsman's trance. Angry with himself at being caught completely off-guard, Kayne tenses and hears a nasally voice behind him speak, "Youz don't smell like pinkskin."
The large warrior narrows his eyes and turns to address the owner of the voice and mutters, "Is that a problem?"
"No, be better that way," a gray orc replies as he hefts a large crossbow on his shoulder. He stands roughly shoulder height to the towering earthsoul, has a bloodsoaked bandage on his head, and a flaking handprint painted on his face. The orc asks in broken common, "What you be?"
The muscular earthsoul crosses his arms across his chest, the leather bindings in his armor creaking in loud protest with the effort of containing his hulking body. In a dull tone Kayne remarks, "I am called a rock man by those that think they're ruddy brilliant."
"Why you be different?" the injured orc asks, giving him an appraising and then curious look. "Why you no kill me when you see me ugly mug?"
"Why did you not shoot me with that when my back was turned?" the earthsoul warrior retorts, pointing to the orc's crossbow. A sly smirk creeps across the edges of his lips.
The orc pounds his chest and states proudly, "Honor."
The swordsman shrugs and motions to Henk's face with his heavily gauntleted left hand, canting his head slightly to the side. "What's with the sodding paint?"
"Paint?" The gray orc puts his hand to his face and runs his grubby calloused hands along the 'paint' with a confused look forming on his greusome orken features. "Blood... blood of hunt."
A large cloaked man, resembling the build of the orc in front of Kayne, catches the swordsman's eye as he traverses north towards the pair on the main road. In his arms is an oddly shaped object wrapped in linen cloth. The genasi's swordarm tenses, the fingers twitching with apprehension as the cloaked figure approaches them.
The cloaked man holds out the concealed object to the orc and proclaims in a similar nasaly articulation, "Gift from... a friend..." The injured orc turns his head to face the newcomer and grabs the cloth-covered object, giving the mysterious newcomer a cocked-brow look as he turns and abruptly jumps off of the bridge and into the river. The gray orc unwraps his gift and displays a new crossbow whilst looking up at Kayne with a toothy grin.
"Right then..." the earthsoul mutters, narrowing his obsidian-like eyes slightly. The muscles in his swordarm relax and he waves off the unusual exchange that just occured with a shake of his head. "Why in the nine hells would you put blood on your face?"
"Why you wear black thing on head?" he now gives an even wider grin as he counters Kayne's comment.
"Right then..." the swordsman says with a resigned sigh and grunts.
"Why you alone instead of with other pinklings?" the bandaged orc asks curiously before walking up beside Kayne and looking down at the water flowing beneath the bridge.
"Most 'pinkskins' as you call them can pike off and go sod themselves..." the genasi rumbles in a low grinding tone, the harsh words dripping from his tongue like a caustic acid. "I don't care much for company."
"Such lonely life... No kin?" the orc asks, persistent with his questioning of the genasi beside him.
"What do you ruddy care?" Kayne remarks in a scathing tone.
"Why not? You bored, me bored, me want know what land holds. Me want know if me ever see you on other side of bow what me chasing." The orc grunts and adds thoughtfully, "Me no think you be on other side... me think you be on Kogan side." Pulling out a fishing rod, the orc looks down and begins fiddling with it.
The genasi's eyes narrow and a suspicious look of confusion contorts the warrior's stone-like features. His tone remains flat and he remarks matter-of-factly, "You know, there is a lot of talk about the Kogan Orcs murdering and pillaging along the tradeway. I suppose it is all poxy drivel, driven by prejudice and hatred..." he says, waving his swordhand dismissively. As an afterthought, Kayne states, "I mean, with just a release of a bolt you could have murdered me easily with my back turned to you."
"We not pillage," the Kogan insists. "If we pillage no one round survive." The orcish hunter casts his line over the bridge and states in a tone akin to that of a victim, "We just want fish... we just wants food. Da boyz and galz no care bout pinkskins... but elf-king-jester confront boss... say he want waaagh..." The orc grunts and snorts angrily as he recalls events past. "He ask for waaagh... we give him waaagh. Now he angry that we take knife-ears' ears... he ask for it. We just give it."
The genasi hums briefly in thought and reaches up to scratch his chin, a small amount of dust and dirt coming loose from his skin and showering the chest plate of his armor. "By whatever in the nine you just said, you mean war?"
The orc hunter grunts with a nod, reeling in the empty fishing line with a frown. He recasts his line and begins reeling it back slowly against the current.
"Well, orc-blood. I came here for business and I'll be arsed if it doesn't get finished." Without any formal farewell, the genasi turns on his heel and follows the trail towards Beregost. After a few steps he calls back to the orc, "Don't get killed out there..."
The injured Kogan resumes fishing and calls back, "Teeth at neck..."
A slight smile of amusement forms along the typically stoic and emotionless features of the swordsman as he hears the comment. He walks the trade route towards town, hauling a small shipment of goods from Baldur's Gate.
((Taken from the chat logs of Kagger911 and Marauxus.))