Arnakhor was not one known for his patience. Something about the silent Hillman before him caused him to seeth in an odd, hungry anger. The sort of anger that caused one to see red, rather than the people before him. Though he remained calm, his fist in his gauntlet just barely shaking in anger.
They stood there, in awkward silence, until an orc came scrambling up the cobbled street, nearly tripping. “Sir! Boss!” he cried out, before dropping onto his knees before Arnakhor. The tall man growled, diverting his attention to the orc, “Speak, filth.” he said, cold eyes peering into the shambling orc.
“The Hillmen, T-T-They’ve...They assaulted our patrols, mi’lord.” he said, staring down at the cobblestones at his knees. Arnakhor opened his mouth to speak before interrupted by another orc who stepped in the scene. “Wut’ this wretch didn’t mention was the brawl Blogmal and Tarkrips had. Our Krahjarn stepped in to stop ‘em from killin’ eachother, before we were attacked. Barely escaped with our lives. Wit’ most our forces in the South,and bein’ cut off from them, we can’t call for reinforcements.”
Arnakhor snarled, though he looked back to Gorlakon and his warband, a blessing in disguise, he thought. The news of the Hillmens revolt did cause Arnakhor to internally writhe in anger, but he kept his composure. He did not want to risk Gorlakons men joining the revolt. “Well, honored guest.” he started, gesturing to Gorlakon, “I regret to inform you that you must get your men, and quell this revolt. Afterward we shall discuss terms of Rhudaurs service to the newly created Realm in the North.” he said.
But there was that silence from the red haired Warlord. Arnakhor turned to look at the orc still on his knees, though there was a certain fear in the orcs eyes. He was looking past Arnakhor, and suddenly lifted his hands. And then it happened. For just a moment all Arnakhor saw, was black. Dizzy, confused, angry. He realized he was on his knee, and his eyes were closed. Sounds of shields slamming, and axes thumping filled the air. Shrill cries of fear coming from the orcs, and roars of distorted anger from the Hillmen. Arnakhor opened his eyes slowly to see the short Warlord standing before him, bronze axe in hand, shield in the other. “Traitor.” grunted Arnakhor. But Gorlakon jabbed Arnakhor in the face with the rim of his shield, rendering the Tall man unconscious.
