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[Garrosh appeared in the forest. An unfamiliar but lush forest. It's clearly not Ashenvale and it's not any other one he's familiar with, but there's game to be found and it's pleasant. But it is also certainly not Durotar, he's alone, with no gear or weapon and his back is pain. Still, instinct drives him: the first thing an orc needs, be it on Azeroth or in Outland, is some sort of weapon. He scouts around for a sturdy looking branch and a sharp seeming rock to fashion himself, with an hour or so's work, a primitive spear. With this supplementing his eight foot tall, muscular (and tattooed) brown form, he's better off.

...Aside from the weird partial polymorph on his back. He doesn't know magic (at least no well), so while pride dictates he'd prefer not to have these wings, with no immediate implication the black things are a detriment to him and (from when he reached to try to tug on them) the realization that they are sensitive, he's resolved to ignore him until he can force answers out of a mage.

So, the massive but quiet (he is a skilled hunter, after all) man is now skulking in the forest. Both to find something to eat, and to find answers (being as how he ignored the journal at his feet originally, oops). So if you're in the forest, particularly if you're not an orc or troll or goblin or tauren or look like any of those, expect to be hunted. It might be dangerous, but he is looking to question, not kill, at the moment. Probably.

He will, of course, probably make it to town eventually, and when he does you'll also see him going to the Smithy and then promptly back out of town with his gear in hand, following the rivers and going up to survey the mountains/more of the forest over the next few days, camping as he goes. So if you'd like to chime in there, that's possible too.]

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[Derek's been here a few days now, but he's no less settled than he was when he got here. Sure, he has a place to stay, there's a few people he'd at least consider talking to again, and he's read the journal guide by now, at least a few times. He's also managed to grab his own notebook from the general store so he can start 'thinking'. But over all, he's just uneasy and restless.

Remembering that the one girl from the bar had told him that he'd gone out hunting when he was here 'before', he figures that's as good an activity as any while he tried to settle a few more things for himself. It was something familiar, at least. And he'd be able to work things out without other people around.

At the moment, he's very carefully and very silently following the tracks of a stag he'd spotted a half hour before. He hadn't been the one to spook it--that had been the courtesy of something else in the forest that had in turn set off a murder of crows--but he figured it would be good practice anyway.

Thanks to his training as a vampire hunter, he is aware when the forest falls silent, feels the familiar tingle up his spine that tells him he is not alone, and he follows that instinct, crouching low beside a snowy boulder and a tangle of underbrush. He does't know if it's animal or another resident that has wandered close; either way, he wanted to make sure of what it was before he let himself be seen.

Problem being that whatever it was seemed to be just as good as him at staying out of sight.]

[Garrosh's form is large, bulky, and normally he wears heavy armor with a lot of chains and wields an ax almost full as big as a small human. This might be seen as an indication he cannot be stealthy. ...This is not the case. He's no rogue, of course, and outside of the wilderness there's no way he could manage this level of relative anonymity (he'd never pull it off in, for example, a city) but right now, crouched himself with his spear held tight. He is, fortunately, downwind of the human and off to his left.

At least, he assumes it's a human. It's not like he caught more than a glimpse of the form, but it was pale enough and tall enough it's a human or an elf. And the fact is, anyone else "with him" in a situation like this is most likely an enemy.

He doesn't have a clear shot to charge or to throw his spear at the moment though. Instead, he remains crouched in spot, straining his eyes to try to get a fix on the prey. He's not quite patient enough to wait indefinitely for the other to move first, but he can wait long enough to assess the situation]

[Derek holds his position, hoping that whatever it is breaks cover soon. The thought that he had nothing on him but whatever fallen branches might be around comes to mind, and he feels just a twinge of unease. If it's an animal, then treeing himself would be a relatively decent short term fix, as long as it couldn't follow him up.

If it's another resident, then in theory, he should be able to show himself without repercussion. He'd read enough to know that altercations between the residents of Luceti were pretty rare, sans experiments or people that just didn't get along.

Still, caution dictated he go slow. He wasn't about to make a free target of himself. Making sure there was a climbable tree in reach, he peered, ever so carefully, out into the clearing toward where he thought whatever it was might be hiding.]

...If you're sentient, let me know. I'm just tracking a stag right now.

[There, short and to the point. If it were an animal, it would either freeze up, bolt, or attack. If it were another resident, they should at least answer him. In theory.]

[Tracking. Sentient? What, so this fool doesn't want to make a spectacle of things? Still, the sound of its voice confirms it is indeed a human. Or an elf. Or ... something. The point is, it wasn't a trick of the light and his senses were right. Still, tiring of the game, he stands from his spot and takes a bold step forward. He lets loose his animosity, and the intimidating effect (coming out of his quiet crouch) is apparently impressive enough that a number of small woodland creatures like birds that were in the area flee, sensing danger from the eight foot brown humanoid wielding a spear]

You will come out and face me then, in fair combat.

[It's a low sound. But he's allowing this guy honor. ...Mostly because he doesn't have the patience (or the stomach, right now - he's hungry - for a proper hunt]

[Combat? What the hell? Derek looks out again, and curses to himself. Great. Whatever the guy is, he isn't human. It looked like the hunter's chances at getting out of this unscathed were rapidly growing non-existent.

Still, Derek wasn't one for running. He's pretty sure running won't help, anyway.

He stands, comes out, but holds his hands out to the side, clearly showing he has no weapons at all.]

Listen, man, I have no quarrel with you, whoever or...whatever you are, all right? I'm guessing though you just got dragged into this place, right?

[God help him if this...whatever he was, decided talking wasn't worth his time. Derek briefly wonders if someone would come looking for his body if he doesn't show up in the village by nightfall.]

You are fortunate I desire answers more than your life, human! [He takes a stomp forward. He can smell the fear on this one. Maybe he's imagining it, but this human (as so many of them tend to when face to face with the Warchief) was accepting his own mortality. Though mostly naked aside from this overly tight (they aren't made for his bulk) pants, the tattoos and the spear really cement the image. He makes no attempt to be quiet now, cracking brush under his foot and letting out a low growl as he does so]

And so, give them. [Or he can just torture the guy for them. He's not super fond of doing that personally, but hey, it might be more truthful]

[And with that ever typical 'I will crush you, human!' attitude from Garrosh, Derek feels himself calm instantly. This was now a familiar, typical stand off from the hunter's point of view. He was still aware that Garrosh could and most likely would kill him, but the awareness was being pocketed into the same category as vampire hunting now. It was the risk you took when you dealt with human hating monsters.

He sighs and allows himself to look irritated. His voice is measured, quiet, and just a touch cold when he answers, looking Garrosh straight in the eye.]

Listen. Wherever you're from? You're not there right now. I don't know what the fuck your problem is with humans, and I don't care. It's not my fight, and I'm not interested in fighting you or anyone else in this place, especially since we're all trapped in here together.

All killing me is going to do is give me a vacation from this hell hole that I'll come back from in one week, and quite frankly, I'm not interested. Now if you're going to kill me, just fucking do it. If you want answers, quit trying to scare them out of someone who's willing to help you.

Once you get over yourself, tell me what you want to know and I'll do my best to answer. Keep in mind I've been here maybe five days longer than you.

[His eyes smolder for a few seconds, both rage and cunning swirling within them. He's got no reason to trust anyone here, least of all this human, who in all likelihood might be in with the Alliance. Or the Twilight's Hammer, or any other enemy of the Horde. Really, this sort of magic displacement seems typical of the Twilight's Hammer, even if this man seems to be rational by the standards of that cultist ilk.

Seems.

Rationally, he needs answers more than he needs this man dead. But the fact is, this man has challenged him. Challenged the Warchief of the Horde, challenged a proud orc. Garrosh exhales once, gripping the spear, now trembling a little with fury. Saurfang would have reeled it in it, he knows, and gotten the answers he seeks. So too would Thrall--]

Very well...

[But he isn't Thrall. And so he readies his spear and charges, planning to impale this guy in a tree. It's hardly a wild charge (he's a killed warrior, after all) but it is one born out of anger more than calculated battle. And frankly, he's expecting this guy to cast a spell, draw a weapon, etc, before it connects.

After all, he's a warrior, not a murderer] Lok'tar ogar!

[Yeah, fuck. Derek expected this, much as he would have preferred this...whatever he was...to actually be reasonable.

Having no weapons, Derek does the only thing he can do, which is to use his own training to get the hell out of the way of the charge. He feels the passage of the much larger orc as Garrosh pretty much skims by him, and he kicks himself backwards to get out of range. He winds up against a tree anyway, but not the one Garrosh was aiming for, and thankful all the while that he was used to dodging vampires. Very, very fast vampires.

He falls into a watchful stance, keeping the tree at his back and waiting to see what Garrosh would do next. He wasn't going to be able to do this for long.]

Done yet? Or are we going to have to dance around a little more?

Arm yourself! I will not stomach these challenges, but I will not be a murderer. [He growls this out, turning and knowing now this man has capable reflexes. The spear is still held firmly in his hands] There is no honor in a simple kill.

[So in theory, the guy had honor anyway. Pissed off, 'I'm going to kill you as soon as you prove to be a threat' honor, but honor nonetheless.

Derek shakes his head, folding his arms and leaning up against the tree behind him. He's taking a big risk here, but he doesn't really see another way out of this without bloodshed. Or at least without more bloodshed.]

Yeah, and as far as I know, there's no honor in shooting the messenger, either, even if you leave him alive.

I'm not fighting you. I'll help you if you let me, but I'm not fighting you.

So be a messenger would be to name yourself as my enemy. Clearly, you're not one of my couriers and clearly this is not Durotar.

[Still, he snarls before taking one more step forward towards Derek, but lowers his spear] I have no reason to trust what you say. Nor shall I let you leave. But speak.

[Derek stays where he is, and although he notes the lowered spear, he's still prepared to get charged again. He'll nod though, and, still quiet, replies with the cold detachment gone from his voice and replaced by a slight weariness.]

Very short version is that this place, this enclosure, is called Luceti. It's on some other world or dimension that everyone in the village has been dragged to from their own homes. There are people from...more realities than I can imagine, and all of us are trapped here with no way to get out or get home. Not even our so-called caretakers know how to get us home, or so they claim.

The people who run the place and keep an eye on us are called the Malnosso. They're the ones who put us in here and put the wings--

[Here he'll turn just enough to show Garrosh his own pair before settling back against the tree]

--on us. If you try and take them off, it'll kill you. If you injure them, it'll make you sick. Pretty badly from what I can tell from when someone else tried it a day or two ago. The backache will stop in a day or two.

There are shops in the village--your cloths will be in one, any items that made it here with you will show up in the others, although it might take them a while. It's all free, no money or barter needed. There are also places to stay in, and food you can get, also free.

You should have a journal, if you don't, it's probably back where-ever you were when you woke up. It's a communication device for the villagers. It also has more detailed information on the place located in the back.

[As Derek speaks, Garrosh takes two steps closer to loom over him, his teeth gritting. Another world? Enclosure? A village?]

I have no interest in some village. I will not accept there is "no way out" either.

[Derek will continue to calmly meet Garrosh's glare.]

You're welcome to take a few days walk out to the barrier and try to get out. Was actually thinking of going myself, but from what I can tell from other accounts, nothing works. Not digging, not flying, not attacking it, not magic, not super-powered entities. Only time it comes down is when some outside force screws it up.

...And the barrier is supposedly keeping some pretty nasty shit out anyway.

Nasty? [And he laughs here. Kek hahaha. It's a low, grumbling sort of thing as he now leers, leaning in towards Derek's eye level] I have fought dragons, demons, and Death itself. Are you so full of fear you would surrender to apathy?

[Really, dude? We've fallen to Disney level theatrics now?

...yeah, vampires have pretty much spoiled him on that sort of thing.

Derek raises an eyebrow at him.]

Just repeating the info that's out there. Personally, I'm looking to get a feel for the place before I try anything. No point in repeating things that don't work, now is there?

Unless they were attempted ineffectually.

[He snarls, but then considers. No, he would be better to arm himself greater than this.]

Show me to this village.

That might also be true. Haven't had the chance to test it yet.

[Derek will nod and stand up, his wings flicking uncomfortably before readjusting back into place after being leaned on for so long.]

This way.

[He'll start leading, well aware that he might get that spear in the back at any second. Still, if there was any trust to be gotten here, ever, he was going to have to be the one to start offering it.

Wishful thinking, yeah. But maybe something would stick with the guy.]

Just a warning; there's a lot of humans, but no one like you that I've seen. I suspect none of them will know who or what you are either, or what Durotaur is, and if they do...well, it'll probably be more like a story they've heard as kids. Not the kind of legends you tell about heroes or old foes. More like bards tales told for entertainment.

[He was content to start to follow this man. His nose has wrinkled at the idea of more humans, but he had expected that when a human had told him a village. But a story they heard as kids didn't make him question it that much. Or well, it was an interesting idea but-

Entertainment.

The struggle of his people for survival was amusing? His next world is very low, very cold]

Entertainment?

[He hears that threat, but keeps steady anyway. He can actually sympathize, since he'd had to come to terms with knowing that someone, no, at least a few someones from stories on his own world were alive and well and very real in Luceti. It would be no less unsettling from the other end, he was sure.

And Derek suspected Garrosh would probably not take kindly to people not recognizing him...or at least not recognizing him as something more than a story.]

As in not something that happened in their world, or that could happen in their world. They just get...I dunno, echoes through their storytellers, I guess, of whatever reality the tales come from. Really don't know how that works, but apparently, it does.

Point being, for them, it would be like meeting a legend they were told didn't actually exist, and can't exist.

Point about all this also being that the villagers might recognize the fact that you expect to be obeyed and feared from your actions, but since they have no clue who you are, they probably aren't going to react the way you're used to, or at least some of them won't.

Then they will be made to learn that fear and learn that respect.

[A beat]

You've displayed much confidence, in challenging me to end your life, and now turning your back as you explain insults to come to me.

[It's a light statement. He's really not sure what to think of it - it's certainly not courage, for no courageous warrior would ask to die]

...I hunt monsters on my own world, to keep other people safe. Some of them act like you, thinking it will stop me, scare me off, frighten me enough to swerve from the job. And the kicker is that they don't have to do any more than scratch or bite me to do me in. But they do it anyway, because they think it makes them a top predator; they enjoy the fear just for the sake of it.

Honestly, you have a lot more honor than they do or ever could have. If you didn't, I'd already be dead. That puts you miles above them.

You come by it as a leader--they come by it so that they can feed off of people and spread their disease as far as it will go. If they kill me, it's just the eventuality anyone who does my job has to deal with.

If you kill me, it's my own fault for not being able to make it clear that what I'm telling you isn't meant to be an insult to a warrior, it's to try and get him to understand that right now, being a warrior won't get him what he needs or wants, and will just cause him a lot of problems he doesn't need if he's going to try and get out of here.

[Just to put this on the record, he's half-ready to stab Derek in the back at the implication that orcs are monsters he picked up from the first statement. His arm actually almost cocks back]

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