[Kruol Gaadish]

Darkening was falling. His nightvision was good, but not as good as dark elfies. They lived in caves. Kruol scoffs at caves. He scoffs at many things. "Arrg!", he barked then yanked at the worg's reins. The animal slowed, but when he showed the inclination to stop completely, Kruol urged him onward. "Not stop yet." He said flatly. "We need shelter. Not out in open. You want to die like ratta beech?" Kruol scoffed, this time out loud.

Looking around, the Hammer was looking for anything that might provide him shelter -- rocks, trees, a cave, maybe even an inn he can pillage. Whatever. The last thing he wanted was to sleep in the open with his worg and wake up to Jorel and Jalat arguing who should take him. "You smell nuthin'?", he asked the beast. Worgs were usually impatient, especially this donkey of a creature, but being a reject like Kruol taught Arrg many things. For one, survival was the number one priority. He knew that the worg wouldn't second guess eating him. That was good since he often told Arrg that if things got bad, or if got pissed enough, he'd eat him too.

They were good friends.