“You are a rather curious fellow, are you Sir?” The Halforc asked desultory, almost bored, instead of answering the question about her profession. Curiosity kills the cat. Layers of thick cloth and the Hauberk she was wearing rustled quietly as she bow down to pick up the basket with the herbs again and leaned it on her hip. His sudden movement made her frown and hidden under her Hood her ears turned after whatever could have drawn his attention away from her,like the ears of a hunting dog.
“I am neither part of the Horde, nor am I an Orc.” Mar slowly said, eyeing the man now with a little more curiosity herself. She didn´t hear anything, at least nothing suspicious beside the sounds of two people and a horse standing in the forest with the rustling of leafs above and the quiet gurgling of a little creek near. As a Halforc Mar had not only a very good Nightvision and sense of smell (Even thought the latter was more of a curse considering she very often worked in Stormwinds Harbor and had to bear the scent of fish and boiling tar hanging over the town like a Miasma) but had also a better hearing than a normal human. Accordingly being warned by someone who seemingly was a human made her leery and at the farthest edge of her conscious also very curious: “…Therefore everything you think to know about Orcs should not be associated with me, Sir.”
With a quick step she suddenly stood before the steed and grabbed focussed after the reins to make sure Liam won´t just leave:“Tell me, Sir, since you are so enthusiastic in sharing your thoughts with me…”
Curiosity kills that cat, but Mar would not let go of a chance for informations so easily. Frowning she looked from the shadow her Gugel draw over her face up to the man, the Horses leather reins still but loose in her grasp now:
“…Are those Worgen the feral pack that had started to attack the merchants traveling through this area during the last month? Can you tell how many of them are hunting in the Group now?”
He was quite the curious fellow, wasn’t he? There was so much to explore, so much to do outside of Gilneas now that the wall had crumbled. And though he wasn’t living in his home city, it’s a glorious freedom he doesn’t squander. He takes in what the female was wearing. Leathers and chainmail, most likely a shaman or a hunter given her armor, but he wasn’t too sure. But it mattered little as she mentions that what he knows of Orcs shouldn’t be associated with herself.
To what would he associate her with if she was neither Horde nor orc? He wonders at this, his amber eyes peering at her from atop his horse. But she’s suspicious of him, and his ability to hear his brethren. His slightly pointed ears, though not pointed enough for him to be considered half-elf, almost twitch. She’d only hear the rustling of the normal woods, not the hunters that lie inside it.
She makes him stop, grabbing at the reigns. The horse doesn’t balk, but it does give a mighty shake of its head. It’s not panicking, but matters little to the Gilnean Prince who stares at the woman who is so bold as to get close to him. His pupils might not appear normal for a moment, dilated and wide. He’s staring at her for a split second like prey. But the moment passes, and he returns to himself, catching sounds of the hunters carefully picking their way through the woods.
“No, they are not,” he states. “They are here for them.” But as for numbers, as for precise locations, Liam knows better. though she says she doesn’t associate with the Horde, he knows of the tales of one who claimed the same. “I’m sure if you stuck around, you’ll discover just how many there are.”
