The sky was a dark, blackness. Not a star in site, only the light of the moon. As well as the simple glow of a small campfire. The smoke fumed the air with the stink of burnt wood, and burnt pork. A hog was cooked here, and seemed not so fresh as before. But, the chef at hand payed no mind. When your an Ork, things dont taste the same for you as they do other races. To them, burnt is disgusting. To Throb, it add's character. Throb was a loner, he hated to be in groups. And proffered to work alone. After all, he very well can be on his own. At seven feet, 6 inches, four hundred and a half pounds, and nothing but raw muscle. Nothing challenged him, and lived. Or, at least came out unharmed. And, by the extent, nothing, no one, not even an imaginary friend can get along with him. He was to much of a hard ass. Besides, a hog to himself? Served him just fine.<br/><br/>"If only there was at least a single bleeding star in the sky. I hate an empty night..." He said, as he finished picking his two small tusk's with a splinter of bone. With a deep breath, and a heavy snort. He layed back. His head nestled on his pack's. His long coat as his bed. And a nice thin blanket.... "Living the dream Throb. Your living the dream." He said sarcastically. Sure, he is a hard ass. But, doesn't change the fact he is unhappy. He would rather be a black smith, or a carpenter. If only his father taught him a trade. A woodsmen? No, no one in their right minds would hire such a oof. He looks to much like a thug. Being an ork is one thing, but being built like an ox among orks is another matter entirely. Not to mention, a guy his size attracts unwanted attention. His scar's, evident of that. On his rough, green skin. One, climbing down from his brow, and curving to the right along his cheek. Another, from his top lip to his bottom, ending along his chin.  He was not handsome, but male Orks were never often beautiful.<br/><br/>(http://nothlands.wikispaces.com/file/view/Half-orc.jpg/188614981/346x297/Half-orc.jpg)<br/><br/>With a sigh, He looked back up at the sky. Sure, he was a prick. And, he enjoys adventuring. The thrill of the kill, the theft, the hunt. Tomb robbing, bounty hunting. Hell, he even raped before. But, he cant stand the thought of doing it because he had to. Throb always chose. It pains him to think, of the sad truth. He is what he is, because he had no choice. Either rot in a hole, or do something and live. Soon however, something caught his eye. "A star?" He asked. As it began to grow bigger. "No.... Something else!" He stood, and watched in awe. As a fiery object came crashing onto the ground.  (Task: Enduring the quake of the explosive crash. Endurance +3D to Physique or Stamina checks when performing taxing physical tasks. Accompanied by a physique of 5d: 35 = Narrow endurance success. Coordination 2d: 7 = failure to coordinate well. )<br/><br/>Try as he might, though he physically endured the massive shock wave brought by the massive object crashing down upon the hill below. He had not the best of coordination. Soon tumbling down. Dropping the Axe he had in hand, as to not let it hurt him further on the way down. As he reached the bottom. He quickly sat up, covered in hot debree and dirt. Luckily for him, not hot enough to penetrate his thick hide like skin.  He looked to his left, and then his right. But could not see his axe. But, from the debree laid a suitable club. The branch was thick, and small enough to weild with one hand, as well ending with good enough curvature that he can use it for quite a few good and considerable blows before it broke. But, before him was something truly memorizing. To a degree he can only describe as a large, dragon with the smoothest scales. Reflecting like a mirror, or clear water.....