[Durelin]

Firefoot's Post

Evening was nearing by the time Kharn almost literally shoved Grimkul and Ulwakh out of his tent. “Get out of my tent, you foul mountain vermin!” he snarled. Grimkul spared him a slight victorious smile, fury and the need for vengeance still gleaming in his yellow eyes. Kharn quailed under that look for a moment before swinging his whip at the two now-retreating forms.

Ulwakh led the way, threading his way quickly through the camp to put as much distance as possible between them and the captains, mostly Kharn. He wasted no time in cutting with a dagger the rope binding him to Grimkul, then the rope around Grimkul’s hands. Though Grimkul seemed hardly to mind, Ulwakh could not help but notice the way Grimkul’s bloodied legs hardly supported his weight, nearly giving out numerous times. Clearly, his fury still fueled him, but what about when that grew less hot? Battle loomed – Grimkul could hardly fight in such a condition.

Before too long, Ulwakh started looking around for a promising bit of space in the crowded camp. He dared not go too close to the periphery lest Grimkul get any more idiot ideas into his head. When he finally did find one, he sat down carefully, looking around as if worried about taking another Orc’s area. No one immediately disputed the claim and he relaxed somewhat. Grimkul removed his pack and dropped it carelessly on the ground before collapsing beside it, all the while saying not a word. Ulwakh sat uneasily, fearing for the outburst that he feared would surely come.

But it never did. The fading afternoon light faded into dusk, but still Grimkul sat unmoving, staring broodingly into space. Ulwakh grew hungry and tentatively dug into Grimkul’s pack for some dried meat, yet Grimkul still seemed not to notice. Occasionally his hand strayed to his sword hilt, or he might mouth some words Ulwakh couldn’t make out. The muscles in his face were taut, strained. Ulwakh finally tired and laid down to sleep, but Grimkul stared on into the night. The fire of hatred showed clearly in his eyes, not the fickle hatred for a meddlesome or irritating Orc, or for a fool of a commander, or for the Elves and Dwarves against whom he so fiercely fought, but hatred born of long taunting and torment – undying, burning hatred.

Ulwakh wished Grimkul would yell and rage.