A minor incident with another choice.

“Anu's Ass!” The Akkadian swears under his breath, his frustration growing as he rides the Sorceress's prize stallion along the outskirts of the Desert of Deir Al-Zor to her stronghold in the Oasis of Tel'Kadesh.

He has only one all consuming desire, to retrieve his manly body, yet circumstances are forcing him to go in the exact opposite direction of its last location. All the scenarios he images are not good. Is the Sorceress alive? Is she free or imprisoned? What would Trimon do to her? Would he believe her? If freed what would she do? Stay in Al Areth? Return to her tower? Find aid elsewhere?

After several hours of traveling along the fringe of the desert the caravan stops at a small watering hole hidden from the sight of the road. Since nothing is said, and by the routine reaction of the entourage, the assassin summarizes this must be a standard stopping place on the journey. Dismounting from the stallion he stretches his muscles and enjoys some cold spring water brought to him by one of the smaller orcs.

The other brutes go down on all fours, right next to their wolf mounts, and slurp up the water like a common animal. Turning from this disgusting display the assassin notices in the distance the large orc on his black warg returning from his reconnaissance.

“Mistress.” He rides up to his lord, stopping but a few feet away form her, the warg's eyes level with the assassin's. The orc bows while still in his saddle, but before he can continue his mount sniffs at the Akkadian and its cruel lupine eyes go cold and narrow with anger. With a low deep beastual growl in bares its teeth at the assassin, most displeased at his pretense.

“Quiet!” The orc pulls his reigns, surprised and angered at his pets reaction. The beast pays him no heed and crouches as if to attack. The assassin reaches for his ornate dagger, quite displeased at how slow and feeble his new body reacts. The first to respond, however, is the orc, who with one fluid yet savage motion dismounts the warg while grabbing it around the neck, and with a display of strength that even impresses the Akkadian, throws the beast several feet.

Yelling at the animal while brandishing his sword the orc cowers the beast as it slinks off with his tail in between his legs. Quickly turning to his mistress he prostrates himself on one knee before her.

“Beg I forgiveness.” He stutters. “I don't know why Mok act bad. He only does that around human male flesh. Forgive me!”

The Akkadian mind races, acting with weakness would be ill advised, but excess would bring too much attention. “Have the beast beaten once we arrive.” He remembers the sorceress's fondness for flagellation. “If it happens again both you and it will pay with your lives!” He glares with his best commanding voice.

“Thank you, Mistress.” The orc bows its head.

“Mistress.” The brute continues after a few moments of respectful silence. “Do we go to tower or to town?”