Demi-Gods

	Wet mud squelched underfoot, clutching and pulling desperately at the intruding objects. The orc sunk to her knee, cursing as the mud inhaled her. Backwater villages were an all too common sight for the warrior; yet this was one of the more common problems she'd always loathe. Kasha twisted in the mud, peering through sheets of rain for anything that could hold her weight.
	All for a pathetic payout.

	Her boots, choked with mud, dangled from her shoulders; tied by the laces around her neck. Equally mud-stained feet stomped across the entry, heavy trails of ice cold water following the mud prints left in her wake. The orc struck the swinging doors with her shoulder, ignoring the startled expressions she received upon entry in the near pitch-black tavern. She could feel the barkeeper's glare on her from somewhere within the smoky interior.
	Kasha's feet knocked about long-since empty bottles and clutter that lay neglected on the floor, torches angled in corners of the room offering a warm light for flittering insects but little for visibility. For a moment she envied the bugs, her skin frozen from the downpour, wishing for little else than to sit beside the insects in their own little world. Unnoticed and content with something so simple as heat.
	"I've 'erd mud baths were good fer the complexion," a raspy voice chuckled from somewhere in the darkness; wisps of smoke brushing her face. It absolutely reeked of tobacco. "But I dun' think a beast like yous' is gonna benefit."
	Eyes finally adjusting, she could vaguely make out the face of the bearded man behind the counter, watching her with a look of contempt. Ready for her to give in to her orc instincts at any moment.
	"Don't need looks when I have gold," Kasha spat in return, her Common a little unnatural; to be expected, coming from an orc. "You could stand to have bags of it lying about."
	"Fer you to steal?" His eyes bore into hers, his brown orbs watching her own blue for any hint of aggression. "Likely."
	Kasha shrugged, pulling her bag from around her neck and tossing it on the table; a wet 'thud' breaking the conversation. His eyes darted from her to the bag, nervously reaching forward. His rough hands gripped the bag, flipping it upside down to empty the contents out: A severed head, which rolled across the table as it fell free of previous confines, resting on the lip of the table with strings of blonde locks sticking to the tabletop. Stunned, the man looked up at Kasha once again.
	"Fer fucks sake, I only asked fer 'er 'and!"
	"She put up a fight," though he didn't really need to know there was no hand that hadn't fully decomposed in their graveyard. "Next best thing."
	"Hells it is!" He growled, throwing her bag towards her. "Wench wouldn't take me 'and in marriage, so I'd take hers! Not 'er life!" If Kasha hadn't been convinced she could salvage this, she would have very well cursed her luck aloud.
	"Said she would rather die," the orc lied, shrugging her thick shoulders. "Only did as she asked."
	The barkeep glared daggers as he shuffled off into the darkness, muttering mostly unintelligible things as his voice drifted away. Kasha glanced to her left, nodding to a man so far gone that he gave her a smile in his drunken stupor. Barkeep returned shortly after, throwing three gold pieces on the table before her.
	Kasha pocketed the gold, watching him in silence for a moment. "The rest?"
	"That's all yeh get," he grunted, turning his back to her. "Poster never asked fer a filthy orc to do the work."
	Kasha's eyes widened, fingers tensing; hands balling in to fists. Three pieces? That wasn't even half of one fourth of the total! "You'd best change your mind," she spoke up, striding around the counter of the bar as she got in his face; poking him in the chest with a bright green digit. "I didn't go all this way and nearly drown in your filthy bog to be treated like a gezzno--" She bit her tongue, the tavern falling deathly silent.

	What one simple word in Orcish would do to a bunch of terrified, [i]gezzno[/i] men. Kasha sat atop the bar, palms pressing to her eyes as she rubbed her temples. With a heavy sigh, her hands slid down her face until her fingertips pressed against her jawline; face slick with blood. Her axe lay embedded in the counter beside her, the heavily intoxicated man presenting her with an open mouth smile, foam dribbling down his chin, unawares to it all.
	All this for some human woman that had begged Kasha to free her from a forced marriage to the barkeep.
	She jumped off the table, wallets fat with gold, and patted the man beside her as she pulled her axe free with a tug. Stepping over corpses, the orc pressed open the swinging doors; shielding her face as what little of the setting sun remained filtered through the treeline beyond the village, blinding her.
	Maybe she could find another hesitantly tolerant village before nightfall.