Such an action as the half-orc took would have won him a beating from the warlord, if not death.   Yet likely he would not have offered the same disrespect to the general.   Funny how those who were most arrogant of their prowess could not bear the scorn of a lesser being.  It was a truth that the priestess often used to her own benefit, and perhaps had kept her from falling into the same trap.<br/><br/><i>"I follow my god," </i>she said mildly, her composure intact save for a small smile that twisted her lips.<i>"As does Gregorski."  </i>She did not add, 'or so he claims' out loud.  She suspected that Gregorski followed nothing save for the visions of his own greatness, in truth, but that was between him and their god.  The truth of it would be known sooner rather than later, though she did rather hope she would have the pleasure of witnessing the revelation.  That was a matter for another time, however.<br/><i><br/>
"You are sure?  Well, surety is a valuable commodity in an uncertain world.  Guard it well."  </i>Most of his companions would not be able to puzzle out the meaning of her words, and would thus likely take it as an insult.  Whether or not they addressed the insult directly or nursed it would depend upon their wisdom.<br/><br/>She watched while he rearmed himself without commentary, silently approving of the number of weapons he could fit upon his not inconsiderable bulk.  Most of his brethren were content with one weapon, or one in each hand, and relied mostly upon their crushing strength ... a mistake that Dregu's opponent had made in their sparring... or at least one of them.<br/><br/>She smiled again when he agreed that he could wait upon her whim, and broader still when he demanded an honest answer to his question.<i> "A mercenary who demands honesty of his employer ... or perhaps just me, since I think such a mercenary would find it hard to find work to keep his coinpouch from dangling empty.  You are not the strongest, nor, I suspect, even the most skilled with weapons of your fellows, but as you say, you are of mixed blood.  That alone makes you a better conversational choice upon a journey, unless I were fond of grunts and bellows."</i><br/><br/>Mercy adjusted the pack upon her shoulder.<i>"If that does not suffice, my errand is one that may well depend on my escort's wit and stealth, along with his strength of arms.  An unwise priestess would I be indeed if I did not choose you rather than your fellows.  Now, if you deem my answer honest enough, let us be off ... unless you would rather spend your evening drinking and listening to exaggerated tales of conquest."</i><br/><br/>Without another word, she turned and strode away from the practice field, her shoulder catching that of a burly Orc's whose curiosity, or thirst, had led him to stray too close.  Her bulk was not enough to thrust him back, but neither did she stumble or fall, or even raise a hand to rub at her arm, as if the contact had been of moment at all, and when the orc snarled at her, she snarled right back, hurling an orcish insult accusing his mother of having dallied with an elf without so much as slowing her pace.