Comfortably seated, with both weapons at his feet, Kharthak leaned back in his wooden chair and let the high end rest against the plastered yellow wall marking the Goblin architecture known to Ratchet. His expression seemed to glow as morning dew glinted between the shavings of facial hair on his cheeks and in his beard. A broad grin stretched. Kharthak leaned over and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of one of his axes. He pulled the blade up and absentmindedly sharpened his fingernails against the edge.
A groan and a moan came from inside the inn. Kharthak stopped for a brief moment, relished the sound of disgruntlement, and then resumed his sharpening. Ul-Rezaj stepped towards the entrance and leaned against the door's frame.
"Good morning," Kharthak greeted sarcastically, "I trust your accommodations during the Inquisition went well for you to be that peppy."
Ul-Rezaj stood straight up for a moment and shot an unwelcome glare at the Orc. "No, Peon, they didna go well at all. Ahm thinkin' you be wise if you jus' keep ye mouth shut."
"Aww," Kharthak chuckled meticulously, retaining his sarcastic attempts at empathy, "I'd say the servant to master duty you gloat about would be all about communication. Tell me, did a scorp crawl up your ass?"
Ul-Rezaj's lips curled around his tusks to show his gritted teeth. The troll's figure returned to a hunch and expressed less hostility than before. "Now now, Kharthak," Ul-Rezaj stated reassuringly, "If ye wanna be treated like a person, den you got to act like one."
The chair flung forward and landed on all four feet. Kharthak dropped his axe to the ground and stared at Ul-Rezaj, rolling his eyes. "Right," he stated flatly, "And you just seem to think everyone should be equally boring."
The Soul Eater shrugged. "Mebbe dat's how it's supposed to be," he remarked, "At least, o' course, ah went through de hardship o' installin' you into de Mandate for you."
Arm's folded, Kharthak snarled at Ul-Rezaj. "I may serve both you and the Mandate now, but even the Grim recognize that my services have greater utility than you acknowledge. They would not discard me."
Dissatisfied, the troll grumbled to himself. "Ah didn't say you were useless. Ah said you were disrespectful. Fo' all de work ah did to get through de Inquisition as a Supplicant, you get in on a free ride. Neveh, wouldju eveh, have de experience o' laborin' through de trials. Per'aps you need 'em to break from your sense o' entitlement. Don'tchu agree it'll allot you wit' a sense o' responsibility and respect?"
"No, that would be awful for you." Kharthak responded plainly, "I especially don't think you want me to go through the trials because it would mean that you would no longer have sustained control over me."
The troll's lips grew thin, then he shrugged. "Ah dunno," he started, "You got a lot o' personality fo' a mere minion, mos' Grim do not let dem have such lenience. Your ambition and utility be why ah took you into dis fold."
Kharthak's figure shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Right... I had not...," he started contemplatively, but did not finish his thought.
"Come to terms wit' reality when you kin, Khar'tak," Ul-Rezaj's whistle summoned a din coming from Ratchet's stables. A hulking, luminescent fel-green Dread Raven screeched and hurtled over the inn's roof. Despite the ropes still attached and the ruckus the raven had caused, it landed calmly next to Ul-Rezaj. The Troll took the reigns and climbed up the wings to get saddled. "And when you do," Ul-Rezaj went on, taking one more glance at the Orc, "Recognize de greateh picture, okay? Our own truly bein' held at de hands o' de Alliance. If de Mandate calls, den you must respond it."
Kharthak beat his chest in salute. Ul-Rezaj kicked his foot behind the wing and the Dread Raven soared off.
