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The Sublime Overlord of the Realm
Raglar squeezed the side of his arm. It was a barely felt sensation, but one that was acknowledged internally without any outward sign of recognition of the act. He waited at her side, watching the patrons. The stink of their mild fear, the musk of the cat people, the food smells coming from the back, these things bothered his nose. He did not like the way they looked at Raglar. Their hatred of him stemmed from their mewling fear. Had they been orc, they would have challenged him. Yet these squishing sacks of pus did nothing save cast furtive glances in his direction. He would use their little finger bones to pick his teeth.

The goddess turned her kindly favor upon him once more and he looked at her as she beseeched him to locate Claws. Raichek nodded. What else was there to do? She commanded, he followed. There was a time when he might have balked before a female commanding, or anyone for that matter. However, there was a certain rightness. It filled him with a sense of purpose instead of the chaotic freedom he had had before in what had formerly been his territory. He had mated many females and some had settled in his land to rear progeny in his name. That did not fill him with the same sense of purpose that Raglar had when she brought him back to life. Perhaps he was operating on borrowed time, but with the time he had left, he owed it to her. Raglar, I am yours to command. I will find Claws. His rough voice was almost a tender purr as it rolled out of his throat like a tumble of pebbles.

Her command in effect, the orc rolled back his shoulders, rocked his head side to side, and then set one hand in the other to push on all the knuckles of one hand and then repeated the gesture with the other. His bones grated together like the sound of boulders grinding, sickening pops and cracks as he loosened his joints. It was an easy first step to intimidating the others in the room. He was bigger, badder, and louder. He reached into his armor and slid out a thickened sack that made a very unmistakable sound. Coins in a bag always did. With a simple finger, he undid the drawstring and put his hand inside, indiscriminately pulling out a handful of the cool metal bits. He let the generous handful thud against the table in front of Raglar, making sure to drop them in a way so they did not roll off the table. The orc's voice was powerful and commanding as it came out. These for the person that can find me the one called Claws. He slammed down the bag next to the smaller pile. This is for Claws if Claws finds himself and comes to me.

The smaller pile of coins ranged from mostly silver to some copper with one piece of gold. Surely the bag had just a mixture inside as well. This offer only good until we leave here. Raichek never understood how it was possible, but he had seen humans rat out others of their kind for these silly bits of metal. This is primarily why he had stopped, killed, and took what he wanted from the merchant carriage that he had seen on the way in. It was the only way to deal in a human city. Those that had recommended Claws said he would recognize him when he saw him. For now, however, there was no one to recognize. Perhaps the man would have silly finger protectors that were pointed. He had seen those before once. They were easy enough to bend backwards with the man's arm until the whole thing snapped.
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So Raglar Commands · City Randatria

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