World of Warcraft - Interbellum (IC Thread)

[WindStruck]

"Mor! Lag! What--?" Isaera begins, just about sputtering, though perhaps she already knew the answer to this question and it was pointless uttering the rest. What was the ogress doing? Apparently, pummeling the face of another ogre to a bloody pulp, destroying the place, and being grappled by two or three daring patrons. Why? The Fel Legion if she knew! Damn ogres!

If it was at all possible to distance herself from this situation and let the onus of all the blame and responsibility fall upon Mor'lag, Isaera would have done so, but the fact was they were in this job together, and she needed their muscle...

It's too bad that Isaera did not understand orcish though. She looks about frantically trying to assess the situation, and figure out who of the other foreign faces was who. One of them was going to be an angry tavern owner, no doubt.

Regardless, she takes a few steps forward toward Mor'lag, though hesitant to to approach too close, or even within a ten-foot pole's length, given the circumstances, and growls, "You fools! Would you have the hoard kick us out and brand us an an enemy!?"