noticing the look of the whore as she passes, grinning as one tusk is bared, spittle gleaming off its surface .. a low hiss of orc curses to be heard by the woman as she continues on .. leaning back into the bricks of the wharehouse as a low sigh of impatience escapes, thoughts of the wait nawing at me, thoughts going back to the man in the tavern, the urge still their to have fought him for the looks, for the curses spoke against me ... the screams of a woman shakes my senses as I leap to my feet .. picking out the direction and heading off to locate the cries .. anticipating the close of the hunt .. quarry at hand .. orc blood beginning to surge with lust of battle ...

ooc: It is my intent to enter the middle of the scene almost instantly without much planning .. to gain surprise .. the wait having tried my patience as much as anything .. the urge for a fight strong ..
before you stands a young orc or is it a half-orc .. nah anything that ugly has to be all orc ... doesn't it?