Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20191014000602/@comment-7262318-20191016221502

Last Night...

Shrava sat quietly in her room, her mind deep in thought. Over the past few days in the forest, Shrava had kept to herself and usually in the far corners of the groups camp sites. She had not been a bother to anyone and was not much of a burden, aside from the offhanded cynical takes on certain members of the group. Mostly Scaldor, but Scaldor did not seem to be particularly offended.

The others, despite the miserable conditions of the forest, had seemed to be warming up to each other and becoming friendlier. Not her, though. To her, the rest of this group still represented liabilities to her current goals; kill the Daedra, kill Delusul, burn everything he has ever loved to ashes. A very simple goal, but rather hard to accomplish with this lot.

Perhaps it would be best for her to go back out on her own, she thought. Surely, that would not be a violation of whatever prophecy the Elder Scroll was outlining. After all, she would still be on the same path as the others. She would just be clearing the wreckage efficiently while the others ran in circles trying to find their silly trinkets.

As she weighed her options, the door suddenly opened. She cracked one eye open to see who was disturbing her, to see Garran poking his head in.

“Any of those beds taken?” He asked her.

“No.”

“Fantastic,” Garran took that as open invitation and waltzed in, flopping onto one of the beds and letting out a long sigh. This had been the first time in nearly two weeks that he was allowed to sleep on something that wasn’t hard, unforgiving dirt floors.

“… Would no one else take you?”

“Nah, I smell like how I look.”

Shrava rolled her eyes. Out of all the members of this fellowship, she supposed that she had come to hate Garran the least. These last two weeks, they had struck up conversation on more than one occasion. Granted, those conversations were usually brief and typically ended with Shrava telling Garran to go talk to somebody else, but he hadn’t annoyed her to the same extent that the others annoyed her. He was still a meat-headed lame-brained do-gooder, but she supposed that she saw less of those qualities in Garran than the others.

“… Why do you insist on antagonizing him?” She suddenly asked.

“Who?”

“Scaldor,” She clarified. “You are always taking him up on his invitations to argue.”

“Ah, it’s not arguing, we’re just fuckin’ with each other,” Garran shrugged. “It’s funny to hear ‘em talk like he’s hot shit.”

“How do you find humor in that?”

“I mean… you know, it’s just funny…”

“The way he personally insults you and your appearance in almost every dialogue?”

“That’s not-“

“Or the way he constantly pinpoints your shortcomings and failures and refuses to let you forget about them?”

“Well that… you do that too!” Garran pointed out.

“Yes but This One not find humor in doing these things,” Shrava countered.

“I guess… but it’s not like we’re trying to make the other one feel bad,” Garran said. “It’s just clownin’ around.”

“This One is almost certain that Scaldor means every ounce of venom that his words convey,” Shrava muttered.

“Yeah, well… I don’t take it too personally,” Garran shook his head. “I have heard far worse from far meaner.”

“So you are okay with Scaldor’s cruelty on the grounds that there is much crueler people in the world?”

“Well.. I think you’re looking too far into it,” Garran said. “Listen, I hear that from a lot of people on the ''daily. ''If that’s what passes for cruel then I guess everyone’s a heartless monster, then.”

“Most people are,” Shrava said. “You are not that ugly.”

Garran arched an eyebrow. “Your eyes workin’ alright? You didn’t accidentally burn yerself’ blind, did you?”

For the first time in what felt like a centuries, Shrava let out a slight chuckle. “No… you are quite hideous compared to most, but just as an Orc alone… you are not overwhelmingly hideous,” She said. “Quite average, This One would say.”

“Ah… I just need to find an Orc hold that will take me, and I’ll be set then?” Garran grinned.

“Possibly,” Shrava said. “… Do you not come from an Orc hold?”

Garran’s grin slowly melted away at that question, shaking his head. “I… no.”

“A city Orc?”

“No, I… my ma was a chief back when she could kick some ass,” Garran shrugged. “And she uh… she met a Knight out one night. He was beaten up pretty bad. Said that he had to fend of an angry troll, and she took him into the camp and… and they fell for each other.”

Shrava raised her eyebrows. “You’re a half-breed?”

“Yeah,” Garran said. “I mean… as you can see, I’m pretty pale for an Orc… part of the Breton blood, I suppose.”

“And… they do not accept you?”

Garran slowly nodded. “They cursed my ma for sleeping with a commoner, as a chief of her clan. She was exiled, along with her unborn boy,” He jutted two thumbs back at himself. “… She told me not to seek them out, or I’d be killed on sight… so I decided not to risk it?”

“What about your father? Would the Knight offer you no aid?”

Garran put his head down and laughed. “Funny thing about that Knight… turns out he, he wasn’t totally truthful with my ma.”

“Oh…”

“He was a con-artist. An ‘actor’,” Garran scoffed. “That ‘troll’ he fought off? It turned out that what had really torn ‘em up was a debt collector…”

He shook his head. “When I turned 13, my ma and I set off to Wayrest to find my father… we found him selling Vampirism Cures in the market square for 5 septims… it was just water, too…” He laughed.

Shrava, however, was not laughing. This was a terrible story that she was hearing from the Orc. “And… how did he react to you?”

“He wanted to put me in a cage and bring me around Tamriel,” Garren snorted. “As a vampire-orc-child. He had this… set of fake fang-teeth he wanted me to wear. My ma almost skinned him alive right there in the town square…”

Shrava’s frown deepened. “… Why are you laughing?”

“It’s funny.”

“That’s not funny,” Shrava protested. “How do you find humor in your clan exiling you and your father abandoning you?”

“Well, I… I guess I didn’t really feel too upset about the whole abandonment thing,” Garran thought about it. “I mean, yeah, I got his blood but… to me he was just another bum on the side of the road. I don’t really think about ‘em all too much.”

“And your clan?”

He shrugged. “Never really had use for it. I made it on my own for plenty’a years… haven’t given it too much thought recently. All I needed is me, myself, and I.”

Shrava could understand that.

“But… why is that funny to you?”

Garran looked forward, thinking hard on her question. He had never really thought about why he laughed these things off. They were pretty terrible, weren’t they? To have everyone you just meet say that you look like a monster. To know that half of your person came from a liar and a cheat. To be exiled from home, for the crime of being born.

“… I suppose it’s better than cryin’ over it.”

There was a long silence between the two of them, the only sound being made when Garran let out a long sigh and put his feet back down on the floor. “Well… you got me feeling bad now,” He chuckled. “I think I’ll go get a drink.”

Shrava watched the Orc carefully as he moved across the room and towards the door. As he put his hand on the knob, he stopped himself suddenly and turned to her. “Would you like to come get one?”

“A drink?”

“No, a puppy,” Garran muttered sarcastically. “… Yes, a drink.”

Shrava thought about his offer for a moment before deciding against it. “This One does not drink.”

“Ah… alright,” Garran nodded, opening the door and closing it behind him.

It had been a long time since Shrava felt sympathy for someone.

---

"Amen to that," Alvoran commented from a few seats away, overhearing the loud Augur speak highly of Graicus.