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So Raglar Commands
Raichek listened, unamused to "Claws" talk, question, nitpick, hem and haw, and basically whine about her reasons to not want to take the job that she had already taken the clinkies for which was pretty much taking the job from what sense Raichek could make of it. Raglar had even bared her true face to her and still the disrespect came! The orc simply glowered in unhappiness for even talking to this cowardly kitty any longer as she obviously did not fit the need Raglar had. Raglar needed someone else to help protect her. How was a runny jumpy kitty going to protect anyone, especially if all she could do was throw itty bitty darts at people using her itty bitty clawed hands. Some of the bears that I fought should have been named Claws. It would have been more fitting.

As his name was said, the warrior turned to look at his goddess. Her alabaster face had looked towards him, her blood pool eyes beseeched him to do her work. The stuff she said about "Claws" made him snort rather loudly, which made it easy enough to know what he thought of the cowardly kitty's "skills." However, he had the grace not to mention it. As you wish, Raglar. I will find you what you want. Raichek shot a glare at the kitty once again. I will be back. It was a very unveiled threat, easy enough to read even if someone was deaf and couldn't have heard it in his voice. Basically, it went something like: "You hurt her and I will find you wherever you might have run off to. Then I will break you and use your bones as my toothpicks because your hide will be too tough and stringy to eat cleanly." The orc patted Raglar's pale hand as if it were made of butterfly wings and then stepped back and made his way into the bar proper.

The bar had started to come to terms again, tables righted, patrons sitting uneasily around the recently righted tables if they hadn't already left. They smelled like drink, but they were not so full of it that they weren't wary of him. Their rigid postures were instantaneous as soon as his eyes had scanned across them. They were all sheep and deer, fluffy and skittish, too gamey or over-boiled to think on. All were unworthy of Raglar's gifts. His frown deepened into a scowl. A few patrons coughed nervously. And then Raichek just strode past and out of the bar. His strides were long as they took him to the streets. If people happened to get into his way, being either too slow or too stupid to move, he moved them for them with a shove. The few of them that issued a remark shut up quite quickly after his sudden growls and a ferocious scowl. He left his nose lead him. This was as unfortunate as it was helpful. The stench of "civilization" was rotten. Unwashed bodies were one thing, but it seemed like the whole of the population simply shat in their streets and rolled in it. He side-stepped a large pile of horse shit and made his way back to the worn buildings that had had the smell of sex and death around them. Most were usually sandwiched between other ramshackle buildings that smelled like drink. And that was where Raichek found what he was looking for.

The dwarf man was round like a ball in the gut as if he had swallowed a beehive and he was sitting in a puddle of piss, with his nubby fingers reaching up towards the slack breasted whore who was pointedly ignoring his panting and hollering. He smelled of drink and left over bread and stew caked thickly in his beard. His eyes were blurry and beady, but that only made his nose seem that much larger. It was reminiscent of a saggy teat, all rounded red and veiny surrounded by a ring of flushed pink attached to saggy skin that seemed to be trying to suction itself off his face, but his beard was holding it all on somehow. His brown hair was patchy, looking burned in some places.

Raichek walked behind him until his full shadow fell upon the man, giving him a moment to notice before reaching down to pick him up by the collar and lift him off the air with one arm, his legs wiggling after his squeal of surprise was finally choked out. You are not worthy, but Raglar sent me to find you. It is her bidding that I not kill you. The red color was spreading further across the man's cheeks and he was beginning to weakly hit at Raichek's gripping hand before the orc set him far enough down that his feet could brace him against the ground so he could breathe. A quick breath is all a person really needs anyway before another drags him away.

The dragging was a bit cumbersome as people kept looking strangely at Raichek and pointing. He simply kept dragging. For a dwarf, he was on the tallish side, but that made him easier to drag along. It was probably more than a few minutes and less than an hour when Raichek finally returned and tossed the drunkard dwarf to the floor at Raglar's feet, where the man coughed, red-faced and terrified. There were none worthy of you, Raglar. This was the best I could find.


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