Kogan walked with purpose, ignoring the chill except when the wind picked up. It stung his eyes and he pulled his tattered cloak around his face as he trudged toward the house he had mentioned. It was near the edge of town and as they grew closer, he realized he'd been somewhat mistaken. Part of the roof had caved in and half of it was rather charred but the basic structure remained upright and looked sturdy enough that if they stayed in the western side of it, nothing would fall on them and it would keep the wind and cold at bay.<br/><br/>The door had frozen shut but Kogan put his shoulder to it, forcing it open with a crack. One of the hinges had broken free but as soon as they were inside, he managed to get it back in place. The hut was rather disheveled, likely in disarray even before the bandits had come. Several shelves had been toppled in the attack, spilling various items over the stone floor of the main room beside a fire pit. Some furs hung on the walls and there were a few gaps between the logs that made up the structure but all in all, it had survived rather well, likely due to where it was situated, away from the main buildings.<br/><br/>"In Zerrikania," Kogan replied to her question as he moved over to the fire pit, shoving the fallen shelves aside, several jars of preserves rolling across the floor. From his pack, he pulled a flint and tinder, placing several logs from a pile in the corner into the pit and starting a small blaze. "Far to the south of Trest. To me, you talk strangely." His accent was thick, both because of the difference in pronunciation of orcish words as well as what he'd picked up from Zerrikanian dialects. It made for an odd mix of stunted Rs and pronouncing Es as if they were Us.<br/><br/>Once the fire was going, he removed his cloak, revealing broad shoulders, bulging biceps and the extent of his tattoos. They continued down the side of his face, his neck, even onto his shoulder and chest. The shade of ink had shifted somewhere about halfway down, as if he'd lost access to whatever kind of ink had originally been used and needed to make due with what he could find. He unfurled a leather roll from his pack containing several glass vials, needles and a cloth. He sat cross legged, bound his hair into a topknot and opened the bottles. He dipped the needle in the ink and brought it up to his shoulder, pressing it into his tough skin, creating another mark beside the last, a mark to signify another day as a Banished.<br/><br/>Whenever he stopped to redip the needle, he would look up at his new companion. "I have revealed my name. It is rude not to do the same."