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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Kobold Stew" data-source="post: 9683399" data-attributes="member: 23484">"Urgan Magall," the orc introduces himself, announcing his name with no expectation that it will be recognized. At first glance he knows none of those that are there, but has hopes that someone he has come across before will also have answered the call. He tries not to smile among strangers, because that reveals his tusks and that can be threatening to some. He is dressed as a servant, with ordinary travelling clothes and only a whittling knife on his hip. His rough hands show that they are familiar with toil. "I have come for the summons, as I expect we all have."Beside him pads a hyena, with no leash, and Urgan absentmindedly scritches its neck, until it purrs. "And this is Scamp. Please be assured, he will not bite." He quickly corrects himself, adding, "Any of you." Urgan rubs Scamp's head, and who responds by nosing into Urgan's thigh, before it curls up on the floor near the table, hoping for some dropped cheese. The orc leans his quarterstaff against the wall, and it is the only outward indication that he might be an adventurer, perhaps one of the monks of the Forgotten Plateau. The staff itself is elaborately carved with an interlocking knot pattern, as if someone has tried to make the wood appear as if it were several cords twisted together.Looking around, Urgan feels older than many of the others in the room. He's solid, and once was quite fit, and his bald head makes him look more approachable. He washed his hands after work today, sure, but he'd been at the forge this week and the soot had left an outline of the leather apron he had worn before taking his leave. His master had let him go -- Urgan was a dependable worker, and hadn't asked for vacation time at all over the past several months -- and working as an assistant was never going to content the craftsman fully. And so he'd been let go by the bastion's foreman, confident that Urgan would return to his place (a place he didn't fully deserve, in the foreman's eyes) one his dream of participating in this little quest, whatever it was, was squashed.Approaching the table, Urgan grabs a piece of bread and places some cheese on top, foregoing the butter and mustard that he sees. He tears a bit and tosses it to Scamp before taking a bite, and he approaches the man with the leg. Well, without the leg he thinks to himself, and for the first time a small tusk is visible."That looks uncomfortable," the Orc offers. "I'll be the socket rubs particularly when you climb up hills...." He's about to continue the conversation when he thinks he sees a familiar face.</blockquote>

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