The days passed on. The flick of the whip, the buzzing flies and the sneering crowd his only company. The rotten meat went down like a pack of razors and kicked like a mule. His hide, once golden and pure, was now marred with stripes, died that deep red color from his own blood dragged out by the whips and drying there in shadow.

He knew now where he was for certain. Goldshire, it's white walled inn and thatched roof spread out with a ceratin charm that before he would have loved to paint, to render best he could. The people of this place were..people he had spoke for in the past. Long ago, when Koushi had been running against the alliance in Ashenvale and he had stayed in the barrens in protest. Now... He growled and dug his claws into the cage's hard floor, watching as a group of young humans and elves casually strode up to watch him write under the orge's whip.

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The Ogre lazed around the outside of the lion's cage. He'd never seen a horned lion before, not that he much cared what it was, it was bringing in a lot of people..and those people were buying lots of beer and food. Another group seemed to be coming up. The ogre sighed, lamenting possibly how hard he had it, or how hard his arms were going to ache after this day was done. All the same, they came and so he unhooked his long whip from his belt, wiping a dirty rag from his loincloth across it first to remove a little of the gore for a snack. He turned about in two lumbering steps to face the cage. The lion was staring at him with a feirceness he hadnt seen yet, it's green eyes blazing, pupils like daggers. One of the humans said something as he drew his whip back in a large coil to begin the show.

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The whip snaked forward. Ahka didnt care when it hit, he didnt make a sound other than the cracking of the bars as they ripped out of their foundation, and then the sloshing wet gurgle of the ogre as he clawrd it's throat out. He landed on mounds of fat as the hit the ground, not stopping for even a moment before pouncing upon the crowd, and the gaurds, and then finally the ringmaster.

The little gnome smelled of cigar smoke and money, and now fear. Covered in gore, Ahka pinned the gnome to the ground with two paws and roared inches away from his face, letting the blood that coated his body -both his and others- drip onto the terrified gnome's face. Ahka drew back, giving the gnome one more moment to contemplate whatever puny thing he had in his mind, and then lunged in to rend the life from him.


The blast from the gun knocked the movement out of him. The bullet didnt hurt so much as knock him sensless. The ringmaster wormed out of his coat and fled. The elven hunter reloaded his gun, a large nightsaber ran into veiw, ready to attack. Ahka shook off the rest of the pain ran. His legs pumped underneath him with everything he had, stealth was not an option. His sides ached as though a dwarf in plate was doing his best to crush his ribs, but by the time he reached Raven Hill he had lost them. Barely able to think for hunger and thirst, he staggered into the abandoned building where he had been one All Hallow's Eve so long ago, and fell asleep underneath some cobwebbed covered wreckage.