The sky became dark the moment Klaus got back to Feoh, as much as he wants to stay and look at the glimmering stars, he has a report to give to Volt.
But as he went on, failed to notice a meteor falling down into the atmosphere
... Maybe it's not? it wasn't burning per say.
In other regards, it continued to plummet down to the oncoming earth, if anyone is even awake, or not so busy making the "whores" squeal, they would have seen it.
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By the next day, Inside the smoking crater from last night, he poked his head out, brown and blue eyes surveying the area around him.
Coughing to himself, he got up and grabbed the axe next to him before making his first few steps into this world.
Then he ends up realizing about what's left of the crater.
"Fuck!" He screamed and ran back to see what's left.
And true to heart, it's all there. A handgonne, a fat sack of gold, a sword, and a belt of knives.
The boy wasted no time in grabbing all of them, he pocketed the firearm, laid the sheathe on his back, strapped in the belt of knives, and happily tucked his gold in his jacket.
Once he was done, he went back on sight seeing. He couldn't help but smile as he saw the vibrant green grass swaying by the wind, how the sun shines merrily down onto him, and the birds chirping loudly.
At that point, he blocked off any sense of rational thought and frolicked like a little girl, he's just enjoying himself greatly.
He bellowed nothing more but joyous laughter as he went on rolling across the fields, when he was done, he simply got up and patted himself before heading out for an adventure.
After a good long while of trekking of what this world can offer, he encountered a problem: the sun setting down and night crawling near.
XXXXXX
'Shit, it's getting dark...' He thoughtthought. 'There has to be a town around here somewhere... I'll be damned if I'm lucky to find a city.'
He ran off, a hand over the leather grips on his axe, a determined look on his face as he kept on running. Nothing's stopping him now, and he isn't planning to.
"Hey! What are you doing over there?!"
He froze in his tracks, his hand tightening around the handle, he didn't waste any time and looked behind him.
"Put that axe away, there's no need for a fight."
He just stared at the person, his guard not leaving any time soon, and decided to note him down... well... should I say Orc.
The Orc looks rather odd among his kin, instead of the usual large, hulking, Neanderthals with clubs and loincloths, he was rather small in comparison as he stood in a height that the foreigner can assume to be 6" 5. Still rather bulky and muscular, but he wore a torn black leather cape and armor, even well armed as he had a handcannon, a large curved sword, and a couple of knives.
Despite having the looks of being a warrior, his mount betrayed him as he wasn't riding on a horse, but steering a caravan filled with goods.
The foreigner can only assume that he was a trader, or a merchant, but he's not doubting that he could be a raider, and those are the spoils of war.
"Come over. There's nothing to worried about, ya boggan! Trust me."
He can only give him an odd look, he approached him regardless, but he still has his eye trained on him, ready to kill him if he has to.
"You're lucky to meet me at this time. It's getting dark, and those idiots might come here. Get in the trunk, the city's not far from here."
He did as he's told, and as he settled himself comfortably, he felt the caravan move once again, the wheels making squeaks again along with the clopping hooves of the horse.
"Where ya headin' off to?" The org asked him, sparing a glance as he asked him that question.
"Just looking for civilization." The foreigner merely replied. "I'm not from here, you see. I'm a foreigner."
"Well, then you're gonna love where you're going. I'm heading off to the city, and it's not far from here."
"What's it name?"
"Harrendale. One of the city's from Luu-Luu's Kingdom."
The foreigner snickered a bit from the name.
"Really? Luu-Luu?"
"She's a Halfling, what do you expect? Out of all the Halflings I know, she's a bit of rowdy cunt."
Both of them shared a light chuckle from that little jab.
"Speaking of names... What's yours? an Orc like should at least have a name."
"Of course I do, you bloke! It's Örîn. You?"
"My name?" He asked.
Örîn can only shake his head, and he gives him a questioning look.
"I gave you my name, it's only natural if you give me yours."
The foreigner gave of a long him as he looked at the sky in thought, his eyes darting around as his lips pursed into a thin line.
"It's Dennis..." He began. "Dennis Whateley Moore."
"Alright, Ser Dennis. We're off to Harrendale. Where the night shines like day, and parties are all around!" The orc joked as he looked beyond, seeing the gates coming into view.
And at this point, they sung a shanty. Singing like drunken bastards inside a tavern.
