It started when Kort was called over by a man—Hengest Harhold. He was sitting at the bar, ordering a drink, when he heard a voice behind him. He slowly turned to face the one calling for him before taking a small step back as he realized who it was—Human royalty quite enjoyed their colors.
"You, greenskin." He demanded. Kort slowly walked over, nervous at being beckoned by someone of such obvious stature, his mind immediately going back to when he was banished from his tribe.
"Y-yes?" He asked of Harhold.
"How's your fighting?" Harhold asked him, a slight smile tilting the edges of his mouth upwards as he asked this question.
"I... Am good." Kort replied slowly, using his very limited knowledge of Common to respond, hoping it would be satisfactory. "Why... Do you... Ask?" He looked around, adjusting his bandanna nervously.
"Would any of you like to test this orc in battle?" He asked of the people around him, being met with uncertain mumbles.
"I fancy myself a boxer, but I'd rather not test myself against orcish might..." One said nervously, another replying with a simple "Hell no!"
"Oh, come on, any of you pansies actually going to—" Harhold was interrupted by Claude at his side, who stood.
"I'll gladly do battle with the orc." He smiled in anticipation.
"Do we have.. An arena?" Kort asked, not wanting to just break out into battle, he'd given up those ways long ago.
"Yeah, this floor!" Claude laughed, but Harhold stopped him. "The square outside will do nicely."
Kort nodded at this, more c omfortable at that prospect.
"Come on!" Claude lead the way to the square, Kort following. Soon, they had amassed quite the crowd, including some protestors, the biggest one of which being Eric the apothecary.
"You're causing a public disturbance!" Eric sighed.
"Shut up, my warrior is fighting this greenskin." Hengest replied.
"You should take this to the arena! Come on, it's not far off! I'll report you!" Eric blustered.
"Please, do. I'll have my guards on you." Hengest growled. Meanwhile, Kort watched the growing crowd with uncertainty, the large space growing shorter by the second. He reoriented himself on his opponent, listening to those around him placing bets and using words he didn't quite understand with his limited understanding of the language--Raised on "Smash, bash, and take what you want", he was not gifted in the art of diplomacy, even though he was working to get better.
Claude removed his shirt, looking to the orc and passing it to someone nearby, Kort did not know who.
"Wouldn't want this to get ruined." He smiled. Kort stripped off his own shirt, revealing his scarred and muscular torso, grinning as he cracked his knuckles, unable to wait for an actual battle for once. He threw a punch at Claude, laughing delightedly at the chance to finally put this muscle to use. The man dodged it, landing his own punch on Kort's torso. Kort twisted to mitigate the impact, grabbing onto Claude's arm to throw him, swinging his legs to try and knock Claude down. He hurriedly backstepped, while Kort gave him a shove to get him going down. Claude wrapped his other arm around Kort's neck, taking him down with him as Kort hurriedly tried to regain his balance, catching himself with his arms rather than doing what he would have done in a death battle—In a fight to the death, he would have body slammed him. Claude flipped them around, pinning Kort's arms under his torso and beginning to rain down hits on the helpless orc's face as Kort pushed upwards desperately, to no avail. He growled, freeing an arm and attempting to shove Claude off of him, but due to poor leverage he had nothing he could do. He remembered a trick he'd learned last time he'd fought a human, and bit at Claude's shoulder.
Claude reared back, at which point Kort released his grasp to avoid tearing the flesh and causing permanent damage—That was not his goal here. He again tried to shove him off while he was vulnerable, hoping to get a better standpoint as he snarled, blood pouring from an injury above his eye.
"Split the orc's head open!" Came a shout from one man in the sidelines, though Kort could not figure out who it was.
"Greenskin, rip him in 'alf like an elf!" Came another shout, before Hengest stepped in. "No, I need the greenskin alive." He said to the two. Kort laughed happily, enjoying the adrenaline and blood on his face, and tried once more to gain the advantage, before finally submitting. "You win..." He panted. Claude smiled slightly, extending a hand to help him up, which he took gratefully.
"An odd... Fighting style." He said, watching the disappointed crowd, who had been betting largely on him, disperse.
"What's your name, greenskin?" Hengest asked him.
"I am... Kort." Kort said simply, not remembering how one addresses someone in charge.
"Kort. Short and sweet. I like it." Hengest said, offering him a smile. "You've certainly impressed me. Would you like to join the Hightowers?"
"That... Would be..." He struggled to find the right word, before settling on "Good."
"I'll brief you tomorrow, for now I must go and rest." He nodded, before walking away.
"You, greenskin." He demanded. Kort slowly walked over, nervous at being beckoned by someone of such obvious stature, his mind immediately going back to when he was banished from his tribe.
"Y-yes?" He asked of Harhold.
"How's your fighting?" Harhold asked him, a slight smile tilting the edges of his mouth upwards as he asked this question.
"I... Am good." Kort replied slowly, using his very limited knowledge of Common to respond, hoping it would be satisfactory. "Why... Do you... Ask?" He looked around, adjusting his bandanna nervously.
"Would any of you like to test this orc in battle?" He asked of the people around him, being met with uncertain mumbles.
"I fancy myself a boxer, but I'd rather not test myself against orcish might..." One said nervously, another replying with a simple "Hell no!"
"Oh, come on, any of you pansies actually going to—" Harhold was interrupted by Claude at his side, who stood.
"I'll gladly do battle with the orc." He smiled in anticipation.
"Do we have.. An arena?" Kort asked, not wanting to just break out into battle, he'd given up those ways long ago.
"Yeah, this floor!" Claude laughed, but Harhold stopped him. "The square outside will do nicely."
Kort nodded at this, more c omfortable at that prospect.
"Come on!" Claude lead the way to the square, Kort following. Soon, they had amassed quite the crowd, including some protestors, the biggest one of which being Eric the apothecary.
"You're causing a public disturbance!" Eric sighed.
"Shut up, my warrior is fighting this greenskin." Hengest replied.
"You should take this to the arena! Come on, it's not far off! I'll report you!" Eric blustered.
"Please, do. I'll have my guards on you." Hengest growled. Meanwhile, Kort watched the growing crowd with uncertainty, the large space growing shorter by the second. He reoriented himself on his opponent, listening to those around him placing bets and using words he didn't quite understand with his limited understanding of the language--Raised on "Smash, bash, and take what you want", he was not gifted in the art of diplomacy, even though he was working to get better.
Claude removed his shirt, looking to the orc and passing it to someone nearby, Kort did not know who.
"Wouldn't want this to get ruined." He smiled. Kort stripped off his own shirt, revealing his scarred and muscular torso, grinning as he cracked his knuckles, unable to wait for an actual battle for once. He threw a punch at Claude, laughing delightedly at the chance to finally put this muscle to use. The man dodged it, landing his own punch on Kort's torso. Kort twisted to mitigate the impact, grabbing onto Claude's arm to throw him, swinging his legs to try and knock Claude down. He hurriedly backstepped, while Kort gave him a shove to get him going down. Claude wrapped his other arm around Kort's neck, taking him down with him as Kort hurriedly tried to regain his balance, catching himself with his arms rather than doing what he would have done in a death battle—In a fight to the death, he would have body slammed him. Claude flipped them around, pinning Kort's arms under his torso and beginning to rain down hits on the helpless orc's face as Kort pushed upwards desperately, to no avail. He growled, freeing an arm and attempting to shove Claude off of him, but due to poor leverage he had nothing he could do. He remembered a trick he'd learned last time he'd fought a human, and bit at Claude's shoulder.
Claude reared back, at which point Kort released his grasp to avoid tearing the flesh and causing permanent damage—That was not his goal here. He again tried to shove him off while he was vulnerable, hoping to get a better standpoint as he snarled, blood pouring from an injury above his eye.
"Split the orc's head open!" Came a shout from one man in the sidelines, though Kort could not figure out who it was.
"Greenskin, rip him in 'alf like an elf!" Came another shout, before Hengest stepped in. "No, I need the greenskin alive." He said to the two. Kort laughed happily, enjoying the adrenaline and blood on his face, and tried once more to gain the advantage, before finally submitting. "You win..." He panted. Claude smiled slightly, extending a hand to help him up, which he took gratefully.
"An odd... Fighting style." He said, watching the disappointed crowd, who had been betting largely on him, disperse.
"What's your name, greenskin?" Hengest asked him.
"I am... Kort." Kort said simply, not remembering how one addresses someone in charge.
"Kort. Short and sweet. I like it." Hengest said, offering him a smile. "You've certainly impressed me. Would you like to join the Hightowers?"
"That... Would be..." He struggled to find the right word, before settling on "Good."
"I'll brief you tomorrow, for now I must go and rest." He nodded, before walking away.
