Thesius
The Imperial Paladin
The orc responded to Argus' question as he'd expected. He didn't think many orcs wandered the roads these days, and even fewer in legion armour. If they did, they certainly didn't survive as long as this one had. Before he could remark on that, the bartender made the mistake of drawing the greenskins attention.
As if unaware that provoking a man in heavy armour with more than one weapon visible was a bad idea, he continued on about how not many 'of his kind' were seen around any more. The barkeep now had the orcs full attention. Aware that a murder in the towns' only tavern would go poorly for anyone caught by the guard, nord or not, Argus swiftly made his way to the orcs side.
Aware also, that the orc might decide to turn on him, he gingerly grabbed his shoulder. "Stay calm. I'm sure our friend here didn't mean anything by those words, now did you?" The barkeep, greatful for a way out of his predicament, nodded rapidly. "Perhaps you have some tankards to clean out, and maybe a meal to prepare?" Again, the man nodded, then hurriedly went about his task. With a relieved sigh, Argus turned back to the orc "sorry about him. Some of my kinsmen are a little less...tactful than myself. What was your name?"
As the orc responded, the door, swung open yet again. Except this time, it wasn't adventurers or mercenaries that entered. Three stormcloaks, walked in, their leader, a rugged individual, took in the small crowd with a look of disdain. He spat on the floor and spoke "Right. I'm captain Torhulf. Which of you leads this...rabble of cuthroats?" Argus glanced at the others. No one had really brought up the issue of leadership or working together even. The one thing Argus knew was that there was no way the captain would work fairly with a non-nord. He seemed like one of the purist radicals that Argus' father had spent hours entertaining back in Windhelm. With an apologetic half shrug to the others, he stepped forwards and, keeping the same gruff nordic accent he'd used since entering the bar, announced "that'd be me. Argus Hjarsson, at your service, captain."
As if unaware that provoking a man in heavy armour with more than one weapon visible was a bad idea, he continued on about how not many 'of his kind' were seen around any more. The barkeep now had the orcs full attention. Aware that a murder in the towns' only tavern would go poorly for anyone caught by the guard, nord or not, Argus swiftly made his way to the orcs side.
Aware also, that the orc might decide to turn on him, he gingerly grabbed his shoulder. "Stay calm. I'm sure our friend here didn't mean anything by those words, now did you?" The barkeep, greatful for a way out of his predicament, nodded rapidly. "Perhaps you have some tankards to clean out, and maybe a meal to prepare?" Again, the man nodded, then hurriedly went about his task. With a relieved sigh, Argus turned back to the orc "sorry about him. Some of my kinsmen are a little less...tactful than myself. What was your name?"
As the orc responded, the door, swung open yet again. Except this time, it wasn't adventurers or mercenaries that entered. Three stormcloaks, walked in, their leader, a rugged individual, took in the small crowd with a look of disdain. He spat on the floor and spoke "Right. I'm captain Torhulf. Which of you leads this...rabble of cuthroats?" Argus glanced at the others. No one had really brought up the issue of leadership or working together even. The one thing Argus knew was that there was no way the captain would work fairly with a non-nord. He seemed like one of the purist radicals that Argus' father had spent hours entertaining back in Windhelm. With an apologetic half shrug to the others, he stepped forwards and, keeping the same gruff nordic accent he'd used since entering the bar, announced "that'd be me. Argus Hjarsson, at your service, captain."
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