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Pint made a face when the Rhinoman addressed him so casually, even going as far as calling him a lad. Did he not realized the dwarf was armed?? Pint made a point to rest the handle of his Urgrosh on his shoulder, weapon still at the ready but with a far less threatening stance. Now that he got a good look at Mokk he had to admit that he had never seen an Ogre like him before. Not that it was any consolation though-- for all Pint knew, this guy could be one of them Ogre Mages! Now those could look like whatever the hell they wanted.

He glanced at the Captain as he made a point to get Mokk to identify himself-- only for Lady Helena, of all people, to identify him for what he really was. Another animal kin.

"Really?" Said Pint in utter -disappointed- disbelief. "Unbelievable, just another bloody merchant??"

He said and sheathed his Urgrosh, turning around whilst shaking his head. "False alarm people! Stand down!"

Mokk's most powerful weapon might not be his horn. It's not his size, muscles or armor. It's his strategic mind. By not carrying weapons, he appears unarmed. Wearing thin clothing makes him seem unarmored. Maybe he even seems like such a simple traveler. There are words for those who move under such cover, especially while completing 'assignments'. The truth was that Mokk was always armed and armored. He even had the ability to go from cool and subtle to wildly charged in under three seconds.

If one let their guard down, they could be falling right into his scaly palm.

The Rhinoman carried no such pretenses tonight. He had noticed the weapons, but calmly dissuaded the aggression placed upon him. Such a calm demeanor could show he was on their side. As soon as he'd seen the flashes of movement inside the tavern, he'd expected everybody to greet him under arms. He even gave them a moment to prepare while he knocked and waited.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the pub's light. The group almost appeared to be a military unit under a closer look. There were also simply settlements where lines between militia and populace were blurred. Mokk felt a bit of ease when the dwarf called everyone to relax.

"Cheers, sir dwarf. The name's Mokk Grun", he said with a curt bow of a nod. Although his voice was loud, there was something calm enough about it to not sound as if he were yelling. "Just on me travels, yeah?" There was almost a twisting manner to his words. His accent was almost singsong, slightly guttaral and still crisp on each word. "Is somethin' fixing to go down?"

The man turned and twisted slightly to glance around the structure.

"He'll get us all killed" does that mean Pint of Captain Baring, wondered Brenna. She really couldn't tell. Certainly Peter shouldn't have disrespected his commanding officer like that, to a stranger, she reflected. Then to call Pint a "stupid dwarf". On the other hand, he seemed a fairly pleasant young man.
"Let's go downstairs" he says, "I think Rhinoman is under control".

"You get all sorts at inns" Lady Helena says to Pint. "The Rhino people live south of Petula, but we see them occasionally. You get some real riff raff as well, I hate travelling."
"Oh, I love meeting the people" says Caitlin.
"Travelling is what I do, as a merchant," says Macey "you certainly see the world, in my business. Some of our spices come from islands so distant that no one from here has ever set foot on them. It's all traded, then traded, so the original grower never gets to know who his customer is."

Alfonce the chef comes out and exchanges some words in Petulan with Lady Helena and the ambassador. Then he asks Mokk what he wants for dinner - chicken stew or fish pie.
"Have the chicken stew" Macey counsels him, "it's got some of my spices in. The Royal Mile Inn just bought them an hour or so ago."

"You're a doughty dwarf," Captain Baring says to Pint, "if only all my soldiers were as brave as you. Now Peter, my second in command ..." he realises that everyone can overhear him, not just Pint, "well, never mind. But your help was much appreciated."

"Brenna", Caitlin asks as the two archers descend the stair, "what exactly do you intend to do in Great Whiteminster?"

Brenna stowed away her bow again and pulled the bedroom window and door closed before following Peter down the stairs to the common area.

She cast a curious glance in Mokk's direction, thinking he seemed friendly enough, once you got over the initial shock of seeing such a large humanoid walk through the door.

But soon enough Caitlin was grabbing her attention, questioning her plans in front of everyone... as if it were any of Caitlin's business, let alone anyone else's here. "Oh... ah, going to live with my cousin for awhile," she lied, already inventing a cousin in her head should the nice, but nosey girl pry further.

It had occurred to Pint that this fellow might just be feigning harmlessness to enter the tavern. Then when everyone had dropped their guard he would strike. It was entirely possible, particularly if he was an Ogre Mage like Pint had originally suspected, and not a Rhinoman or whatever these people were saying he was.

But honestly, Pint didn't care at that point, if that was Mokk's intention then he had succeeded at fooling Pint. At this point though, the dwarf would gladly take the first hit if it meant he could get into a brawl tonight-- though somehow he doubted that was the case, much to his dismay Mokk actually seemed genuine.

"Oh, donna mention it." Said Pint to the Captain as he complemented him on his bravery. "I'm from the Bloodhorns clan, fightin's wot I do."

Pint was thinking of mentioning that the whole reason why he felt the need to go investigate on the giant footsteps was because there appeared to be no guards posted outside. Obviously, Bald Mick was no solider and he'd have no idea what to do with someone like Mokk. But, the dwarf decided against getting into a long rant with the Captain on how to properly defend a stronghold. If he stopped and tried to educate every single human he met on proper dwarven warfare he'd never get anything done.

As for Mokk, when the Rhinoman addressed him, the dwarf raised his mug at him in cheers-- the Rhinoman perhaps realizing at that point that the dwarf wasn't drinking ale, it was honeyed watered, which meant this particular dwarf was sober. A very uncharacteristic trait for a dwarf.

"Ey! Cheers, mate. I'm Pint Bloodhorns. Sorry 'bout almost bull rushing ye there. I'm sure ye've heard 'bout all them bloody orcs prowling 'round the wilderness. When I heard yer footsteps I thought they brought a soddin' ogre with 'em! Hah!"

When the Rhinoman asks if he was expecting trouble, Pint looks over his shoulder towards where the two half-orcs were sitting and purses his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe yes, maybe no. We'll see, night's still young and all."

Although Mokk had a wide frame, he was still barely taller than most humans. He stood somewhere around 6'1 to the top of his dense skull. He was still about as three times as wide as the most rotund human. There was still a calm nature behind his eyes, showing he wasn't as wild as the sudden appearance of his size might appear. His people taught calm and control through meditation. Rage was something to be utilized and controlled like a tool, released at just the right time to charge.

His crimson-amber eyes were pulled by the attention of a woman. An archer. Their eyes only met for a quick glance. He was reminded that if he had intended to charge into a place like this, people like her would have picked him off immediately. It was such a comforting thought that he started to smile. Mokk bowed his head slowly, nodding his horn to her in almost regal form. Just as her attention was pulled away, so to did Pint begin to speak to Mokk.

He could relate to the militant atmosphere, though he was surprised to find this as a staging point. He truly came here to rest for the evening, but found himself in perhaps just the right spot. Talks of conflict were reaching his people and they needed him to scout.

"Tell me 'bout the bloody orcs, mate", Mokk replied in his guttural accent.

"The roads into the area are full of the things." Mokk pronounced the word 'the' as 'va'. 'Things' sounded closer to 'fings'.

"Fought two raiders off on the first night 'fore gettin' wise to they antics, me did... Some bloke on the side of the road said to move by day. Wise advice." His accent drew out the second syllable of the first word. The speed with which Mokk had responded to the raider's attempt had startled the orcish highwaymen. They had never seen a Rhinoman charge before. One was gored and the other took off in a flash. The wounded orc howled in pain, clutching the puncture wound.

Mokk thought about the anger in the assailant's eyes as he was left there, bloody on the trail. It made Mokk chuckle at the time.

Watching the dwarf drink, he assumed the honeyed water was fermented mead. Tales oft the drink reached even as far as the southern lands of the Rhinomen.

"Anyway. Me people sent me to keep eyes on happenings here. Figure I could make meself useful, yeah?" The large figure looked around at the gathering of soldiers. News of the building troop numbers had started to concern the people which called themselves Rhinott. "Didn't 'pect to run into you lot here, though.. Flippin' heck." He thought he would have to wait until morning to track down any sorts of military leaders. His booming voice chuckled a little on the last words.

"This is a frontier area", says Captain Baring, "you get small parties of orcs infiltrating from the north, to prey on travellers mostly, and homesteads. There's always the risk of getting a large party that we can't deal with, but then it would be detected, and the main army could set out and destroy it in pitched battle. So mostly they send their orcs out in small packets, not enough to justify a full response from us, but enough to cause problems for us and to discourage civilians from settling this area. Then orcs have one major disadvantage, they can't operate during the day. So as long as you are withing the walls of the tavern by nightfall, you ought to be safe."

"It's pitch black now" says bald Mick, "I don't expect anyone else to come. Just going to check, then I'll lock the gate for the night"
The bell rings again.
"Not another rhinoceros" says Lady Helena.

It turns out to be an old lady and a dwarf. Together with a cat. Lupus and Rex bark viciously at the cat, and have to be put outside. Bald Mick asks them for payment.
"Instead of paying you with gold, and I can pay you with magic and with healing. Do you have any sick?" asks the woman. "I'm Mistress Weather, the wise woman. Ah, I see the object of my visit is here. I'm here to buy herbs."

"Hello brother" says the dwarf to Pint, "my name is Dalin. Pray what brings a Bloodhorn to these parts, too wild to be a source of pleasure, too settled to satisfy the Bloodhorn lust for war?"

Funny how the tone of the story changes... Brenna said to herself as she listened to Captain Baring talk to Mokk. This might be the most truthful version of the orc situation, she thought. It worried her slightly... the small parties could certainly just be preying upon travelers for the immediate gains, but they could also be testing the response, setting up and planning for something larger. Ah, she was giving orcs too much credit, she thought. They weren't that sophisticated with their planning.

When the new pair... or trio, showed up, she gave each a brief smile, laughing to herself slightly that a dwarf and "Mistress Weather" seemed two of the most normal visitors of the evening. Though she did pay attention to Mick's response as she hadn't seen anyone sick or injured.

Pint turns to look at the other dwarf, both surprised and glad to see a fellow dwarf in this parts. "Wot? I'm here to kill some bloody orcs of course! Haha!!" He glanced around for Brenna, hoping she wouldn't reveal the other reasons for their journey. "And some other business that I gotta take care of."

Is it to late to join the rp?

The Rhinoman chuckled on Captain Baring's last words. "Safe?" Once again Mokk let out a hrumph of a laugh. "Came to mix it up with them meself, sir." He raised his two arms into fists and pumped them in a mock flurry of a combo. "Figure I could take 'em wiv me fists an' horn, innit?" After lowering his stance, the large figure laughed to himself.

"Seriously though. There's got to be room for me on one 'a them lines, yeah?" His accent may have been thick at times. The word 'line' referred to squad or team. Mokk's large headed twisted and looked over to the bar. He looked towards servers, hoping to draw one over. He'd probably head over there soon.

Mokk knew having an untrained variable tossed into a unit wasn't always favorable. He also knew he wasn't the average person. The best way for him to scout would be to work with this militia. If the unit didn't move against the orcs at night either, there would come a time to eventually push back.

On that day, Mokk wanted to be there. A locked trunk inside of his carriage carried an axe and hammer, ready for combat.

As i am reading a book of ice sorcery, I start to think to myself, (Who am I? Where did I come from? And who are my parents?) I close the book and then I walk outside. "I believe today is the day I actually try to make some friends."



Hunter Darsen is a tiefling with red skin and long black hair, he studies ice sorcery and he has resistance to fire damage due to his infernal heritage.

He isn't very strong but he is very smart and if he goes into fights without a plan then he will try to make stuff up as he goes.

He has a staff made of crystals and a short sword, he has a spell book just in case he forgets how to use a spell, and his staff is a family heirloom, he would never go one day without it.

Hunter dose not know who his parents are because he was an orphan who grew up in a academy of magic and had the options of either a mage,wizard, or sorcerer, he chose a sorcerer.

He will know try to find some friends to go on adventures with.

"Do you want to do some practice with us?" Peter (the second in command) asks Mokk. "We've got some wooden swords. Generally we say no head strikes when practising with guests, but it seems a shame to disallow your horn. Maybe we can pad it?"

"I'll bandage his horn" says Mistress Weather, "I've got bandages with me."

She withdraws some bandages from the bag carried by Dalin. "These will hold it firm. It's just a question of what to use for padding. Anyone got an old shirt they don't need?"

"If someone gets injured, then Mistress Weather can earn her money" says Lady Helena.
"I'm so looking forwards to this fight" says Caitlin, "Brenna, do you think any of the soldiers would be able to defeat a rhinoceros like that? I mean single handed. Maybe there should be two to even it up."

Well, now this turn of events might prove nice entertainment for the evening! Brenna couldn't help but glance toward Pint, fully expecting him to want to get involved in this as well. She'd be content enough to stay back and watch. Her father, to his credit, had ensured she'd had some martial training, but melee fighting wasn't her strong suit. Plus, she wasn't completely sure she trusted this Rhinoman yet. He seemed nice enough... maybe... but it wouldn't due to go showing off her own strengths and weaknesses just in case.

Brenna gave a smile and a shrug to Caitlin. "I dunno. Probably not in a real fight. But I guess it depends on the rules of engagement for the practice ones. Is it first touch? Or getting your opponent to the ground?"

Pint noticed Brenna looking at him, and sure enough, he recognized what that look meant.

While Pint was already a professional soldier and wasn't in need of more training, he'd be remiss to pass up on an opportunity to spar. Particularly when Brenna had looked at him with expectation on her eyes. Now he felt like his warrior spirit was called into question.

He finished his drink and slammed the mug on the table. "Oi lads!" He called out to the Rhinoman and the militia members. "Lemme get in on that! I could use a work out!"

As a person that evolved from a species of herbivores, Mokk was very perceptive. The same vision which helped his ancestors escape predators on ancient grasslands allowed him to spot the quick glance between the ranger and the dwarf. His expression quickly warmed into a curious smirk. Mokk turned from the pair to address the Captain. His small pointy ears twisted and fluttered away in an animalistic way.

"Me horn can be wrapped for safety. I can't be bothered to use it in a spar though." His head bobbed slightly as he spoke, causing his horizontal snout to rise and fall. A deep voice escaped in notes that almost sounded like barking. "The wrong twist of me neck and somebody gets impaled."

The Rhinoman knew he had enough control to keep it away from contact. Pint quickly spoke up and offered to join the fray. Mokk met his offer with a wide grin. "Dwarves are strong, mate." The last word rolled off his tongue with an informal drawl. "Gunna need a massive mug a ale after this." Mokk stressed several words in the sentence, giving it an almost singsong quality.

"Heh! Ye know it mate!" Pint chuckled as Mokk called his kin tough, as they rightfully were. "Crossed blades with the stout folk before have ye?" Asked the dwarf, wanting to know of his battle experience.

Pint, for his part, had never fought at Rhinoman before, though he figured it shouldn't be so different than fighting an ogre or a troll, or perhaps more closely to a minotaur since they also had a penchant to try and gore their opponents. Thankfully, perhaps not quite like an ogre magi though as Pint suspected that Mokk didn't have any spellcasting abilities.

Naturally, Pint didn't outright say he hadn't fought Rhinomen before as he did not like revealing his own cards too soon.

"Let's have it out" says Captain Baring, "I'll back the dwarf. Who'll wager with me?"
"You're on" says the Petulan ambassador, "thirty gold pieces."
"The Rhinoman will fight with his horn, which will be padded, and a wooden sword. The dwarf shall have a wooden sword and a shield, to even it up a bit." says Captain Baring.
"Will you wager, Papa?" Caitlin asks of Macey.
"Who do you want me to back?" asks Macey.
"Is it first touch, or getting your opponent to the ground?" asks Caitlin.
"You need to disarm your opponent, but that's unfair to the dwarf, since you can't disarm a Rhinoman. So we'll say a significant strike" says Captain Baring.
"Whom shall we back?" Caitlin asks Brenna.
A space is cleared before the fireplace.

((Mokk and Pint please provide attack rolls if you intend to follow through with the fight))

"Sword and board?? Do I look like a bloody knight to ye all?? Gimme a quarterstaff so I can double attack proper." Pint definitely had a fighting style, and that was a big weapon with two heads on each end. A quarterstaff was the best way he could emulate the fighting style of his Urgrosh, and thus he retrieved a nearby staff and headed outside. Already he began spinning it in front of himself and around his back, then over his head as if he were some kind of martial artist.

Mokk laughed with a deep belly rumble. He had spaced out for a moment, mind thinking of the drink which now seemed a mile away. "Right to it then? Alright." The first syllable of the last word stretched into a slow roll. "If the lad here won't bother to use a sword, neither will I." Graceful swordsmanship wasn't Mokk's strong suit either.

Kicking one foot back and then the other, he tilted his snout upwards. "On wiv it then. Wrap me horn up. I don' need no sword or nuffin'." Mokk knelt as he noticed the woman arriving to wrap his horn. Some people began moving outside. The dwarf had been armed and was waiting. In a few moments, Mokk stepped outside.

"Right then", said the Rhinoman as he entered the space. "Come on." Mokk threw a heavy accent on the first word, making the pitch rise as if it had two syllables. He figured the faux haughty tone might anger the dwarf. Raising his arms, he prepared to fight.

((It looks like people have been rolling 1d20. Let me know if there's a different attack system.))