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The Sublime Overlord of the Realm
As Raglar stumbled as she moved around him, the large orc reached out for her. However, she seemed to regain her balance enough to settle in a seat. Her delicate voice called his name, softly like a whisper, loud like a command. Raichek's right hand lifted and gently wrapped around his goddess' fingers. His armor creaked softly, the bones rattling against the leather like a subdued snake's tail. He sank to one knee, his hand and arm adjusting so her fingers never lost their original positioning, and then placed his bowed head under her fingers like an obedient dog. As you command, Raglar. I will find Claws for you. You will be protected. His normally loud voice had tamed enough, but it still carried. If it didn't unnerve them yet, the patrons of the Two-Headed Mare were probably worried about the power the woman held over this evidently wild orc.

He smelled the stink of the barmaid coming before she arrived and backed away from Raglar's hand slightly, his fingers delicately holding the side of her hand until he stood beside her, before resting her fingers on his arm so she would know where he stood. The man knew that she could see as how else could she have found him, but she saw the things of the divine. She must save her eyes for her purpose and see the things which he could not. Raichek glared at the barmaid as she spoke to Raglar. He said nothing for a moment until she began mentioning food. Raglar will have stew. More water. I want meat. Bread. Drink. These things. Bring now. His was a brusque statement, forceful, but not yet violent and he made no move towards his weapons or towards any action at all.

There was an irritating itch in his right nostril so he stuck his pinky up it and began to scratch it. Feeling the subtle bump of a thing, he picked it out, but it was coated in a thick mucus which caused it to stick to his finger. The mucus was displeasing. It was easy to realized that he did not want it stuck to his armor and he could not touch Raglar with that hand until it had been taken care of. So he stuck the finger in his mouth, scraping it lightly against his lower tusk in order to work it free. It had a mildly unpleasant taste, but he expected that. The liquor would clear it up more.
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So Raglar Commands · City Randatria

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