A Half-Orc's Puzzlement.

[Stephen_Zuckerman]

A half-orc stands before the message board, his seven feet of height and the greataxe over his shoulder lending him quite a wide space to walk, free of commoners. The occasional adventurer steps up next to him, unconcerned, to read the postings, but the half-orc simply stands there, staring at the paper before him.

From a crudely-made pocket of animal hide as his side, he pulls what appears to be the severed arm of a goblin, and takes a loud, crunching bite from it. A fragment of bone sticks in his throat, however, and he pounds his chest a few times, sending his corroded chainmail clinking, as he coughs it up. He scowls down at the arm, and stuffs it back into his pocket.

When he looks again at the message board, however, his scowl fades to a frown, his tusks jutting from his lower lip with the expression. For hours, the half-orc stands there, simply staring at the papers, his frown slowly deepening, occasionally muttering to himself in broken Common.

"Grok not work papur..."

[Stephen_Zuckerman]

Much to many a passer-by's surprise, the very same half-orc appears day after day in the Surge, standing there, looking at the board. He simply stares at the papers, as if trying to intimidate them into revealing their secrets.

[laurabunny]

Brielle approaches the half-orc cautiously, wondering if it will soon be her arm he's chewing on, but determined as always to help those in need.  Or something.

"Excuse me," she says quietly, as though afraid of startling him, "are you looking for something in particular? Maybe I could help..."

[Stephen_Zuckerman]

//I'd like to request this be moved to Character Development as soon as a mod gets the time to do so, so that Laura and I may continue the RP despite differing schedules.//

Grok looks dejectedly at the woman, scratching with thick nails at the half-beard, half-mane that grows from the sides of his chin. "Grok not work papur..." He points at another person reading through the boards, and goes on. "Hoomin talk papur! Papur talk hoomin! Papur not talk Grok..." He sighs, hanging his head in defeat.

[laurabunny]

Brielle stares at him in disbelief for a moment while parsing his short speech, then her expression softens.  "You... can't read.  You don't understand the papers? Well, I suppose if you wanted me to I could teach you how to read..." The moment the words leave her mouth, a terrified look crosses her face.  She isn't sure why she has just offered to teach a half-orc to read, except that, strangely for such an imposing creature, he seems childishly innocent.  She bites her lip, then nods firmly.  "I'll teach you.  If you'd like."

[Stephen_Zuckerman]

A looks of pure delight flashes across Grok's face, and he laughs, throwing his head back and pumping a fist into the air. For several moments, he dances around happily, not seeming to pick up on the woman's obvious dismay. When he calms down slightly, he thumps his left fist to his chest, stating, "Grok." He then points at the woman, still grinning widely, the childlike glee in his eyes apparent.

[laurabunny]

Brielle grins weakly up at him.  "Pleased to meet you, Grok.  My name is Brielle." Suddenly she wonders how she'll be able to teach him to read when his spoken Common seems barely functional.  Still, she supposes, he might be more intelligent than he appears... Studying him carefully, she amends the thought: he might be MUCH more intelligent than he appears.  He'd have to be, if she was going to be able to teach him.

"Come on, Grok.  Let's go sit down somewhere.  You can... tell me about yourself."