07.09d: Pecking Order

[Joshua]

A 7' 4" black orc weighing 500 or so pounds with red eyes is finishing up from his skirmish with the dwarves. He alone is responsible for 5 of the points the orcs scored, taking out both the normal shield wall, the interlocking shied version, and the pylon-in-the-ground shields. He is nursing a slight sprain, mostly by flexing it to force the muscles to knit back together or tear. (Non-orcs, don't try this at home.)

Two of his black orc buddies are getting a large order of turkey(?) legs from the vendors.

As Kothir is looking for a seat, he will spot Cameron and will walk up and perform a traditional orc greeting, by attempting to punch the smaller orc in the face.

[khadjair]

Cameron is taken a bit aback by this - his home culture is a slight bit more civilized and prefers to beat you by having constables point guns at you. He considers his options quickly, tossing his half-flaggon of mead to the side and unfortunately splashing Osmund, swinging his head to the right, then reaching up to grab Kothir's head and give him a good headbutt instead (something he's pretty sure he can take better without breaking something vital, like an eye socket or a tusk, but still has the potential to draw blood and inflict some measure of harm to both parties). With the greeting completed he will stagger slightly and grin to the bigger orc.

"Great show out there! I bet there's a bunch of dwarves who are glad you're not allowed a weapon! Not that you need one, with that kind of showing..."

[Joshua]

Osmund stoically takes the flagon with the dragon* to his noggin (failed at dodgin'). He will make excuses to head to clean up before he gets sticky.

Kothir staggers back, still not used to Cameron's strength** and nods, a little stunned. "Thank you little chief. You should have been there. No Dwarf would have stood in your way." He pauses, realizing his mistake a moment too late. "Little chief wouldn't have sided with... Aibne talked about two chiefs, made my head hurt." It's very hard for a seven-foot orc to look small, but somehow Kothir manages.
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*: Court Jester.
**: Or used to anyone with ranked strength for that matter.

[khadjair]

Cameron looks a little bashful himself, not quite looking away from Kothir though.

"It's.. complicated. I have to be a prince for all of Ht'gon, but I am still an orc at heart. To take a side would've shown me favoring my blood or rejecting it. Politics said I can't do the former, and my heart makes it impossible to do the latter.I'm going to have to stand between worlds for a while."

He eyes Kothir appraisingly for a moment. "And for the first time in my life I feel like I can be home here." His look softens and he smiles. "So, how many celebratory mugs have you downed? I'd like to add at least one more to the pile."

[Joshua]

Kothir blinks. "Celebrate victory. Show isn't victory. Tournament, that will be victory. No drink until after." He look over the confusing orc. "Orcs don't speak of politics. Orcs rule by strongest. No need to politics. Only strong rule. That's the true way. The orc way. The rest, is for cowards."

[khadjair]

Cameron chuckles and shrugs. "I am from a very strange land, obviously. It's going to take time for me to learn some things. And unfortunately.. I am an orc AND a Prince of Amber. I'm involved in politics by the fact that I continue to draw breath."

he look just as exasperated but has a smile on his face. "Then at least let me get you something to drink while I replace mine. Bowling dwarves must work up a thirst."

[Joshua]

Kothir shakes at that*. "Why would you? Bowling dwarves is... beneath my honor. It was for Morgana. I don't know why she wanted it."

"Little orc is soft, but strong. How is that possible?"
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*: Not all orcs are this bad, but you are talking to literally the least cultured orc in Amber at the moment.

[khadjair]

Cameron tries very hard not to roll his eyes. "It's a diversion. Fun. And a way to channel all the rivalry into something that isnt' going to get people killed without purpose. After all, if yor'e going to actually do something that would get you killed, wouldn' tyou rather it be something worthy of tales for generations, not 'I got jumped by 9 dwarves on my way back home because one of them got knocked in the back by a totally different orc at the bar an made him spill his drink and he..."

He stops for a moment. "Right. I'll just shut up now. And as for strength... wait until you see what happens when I get my workshop complete." He's largely given up on getting the other orc to have a drink with him at this point.

[Joshua]

Kothir grumbles. "Killing is the purpose! Like when orcs play dodge-rock, it culls the weak! I don't care if family knows I dies a warrior. I will know! Ufthu will look down and smile!" He will pound his chest, then realize no one is impressed and settle down as the other black orcs return wiht turkey legs. He will take one and tear into it. "To dull one's senses, is death."

He will ponder... "You are engineer? Like goblin?"

[khadjair]

Cameron considers what sort of trap he has stumbled into with that question, and eyes the big orc warily. "After a fashion, yes. Though a different tradition than anything I've seen here so far. That is one of my strengths... what brings the question?"