He'd never heard of Rien people being called 'grim' before -- maybe the word didn't suit them, to him. He'd heard haughty, cold, repressed, loveless... perhaps all of those things together did make a man grim, though, if his mind was saturated long enough in its state of cold dismay. It was what the birds had done to them -- the grim overseers of their every emotion, forbidding them within their own watchful eyes. The birds were half the reason his people, in New Betham, hadn't gone to live in Lienburg or Goteborg. They didn't want to end up like the old, callous shells around them, marrying for convenience -- loving no one, scarcely even themselves. Working tirelessly for a purpose unknown; perhaps only to continue to live. At least, he supposed, they didn't have to fear the wroth of metal-men.
As he continued to think on those trivial words, Arkash spoke more of himself; his excellent sense of smell, which was what he would use to guide them. Orion winced at first, thinking of how the last thing he would want now would be a good nose, considering the muck and mire around them. The other man didn't seem to complain, however, and spoke of how they'd managed to set up the right conditions for him to lead: rat blood. His wince became a sudden frown as he felt himself begin to reel at the thought; his mind vaguely imagining the poor creatures being dissected and slathered on the walls. At least their sacrifice was keeping the two men safe, for now...
"Ah... ahuh," he softly replied. Orion compliantly took the burlap shirt and held it against his chest, using it to follow after the other man. He walked steadily, slowly, not making any quick movements and truly feeling the shape of the ground beneath his feet after each step. He was heavily reluctant to accidentally press into the other man and knock him over; he didn't want to be at fault for anyone getting hurt.
The other man began to drag the pommel of his blade against the wall, creating a coarse scraping noise as they walked. The human was again impressed by his resourcefulness, but for a while now he refrained from speaking, largely because he was nervous and a bit afraid. His surroundings were so dark and treacherous; it was wild to him how city infrastructure could often be more perilous than the wilds. And Nivenhain itself -- massive like it was -- was something of a hostile land to him. He constantly feared the repercussions of every step, and on his mind was the worry that he wouldn't be able to easily go back.
Shaking Arkash's hand, when he finally did, was a measure that offered him a sense of security. He felt more grounded after the shaky touch, at least knowing that the other man would be there to guide him; that he was in safe, or at least practical, hands. He learned his name, finally, and repeated it softly to himself: "Arkash."
It was a strange name, for a strange man. All the Rien's he'd ever heard the names of were... Karl's, Luden's, Heinrich's, Lukas', Erik's. Then, suddenly, a name that sounded as guttural as the Lizard-Man that wielded it. He nodded his head once more.
"You've never heard 'f us? I reckon you don't speak much ta humans, do ya? There're lots in Lorien, even 'n Lower Nivenhain. Some'a them give us intel, ya see. They still wanna help out their people. I think thas' how we foun' out abou' them guns," he pondered, before nodding once. That was what his mother told him, if he could recall. "Ya see, lossa them just go ta Nivenhain an' tha Eas' End ta survive. They don' do it 'cos they wanna, 'r ar happy ta do so, an' most hope they can go back some day."
He continued to follow the other man, though quickly the two of them stopped as a turn came. Orion kept his feet grounded and sighed a breath of relief, though his arms were still shaky -- he was worried Arkash would mess up the turn and fall in. Luckily, he didn't, and the two continued their conversation. He spoke of his people: the 'Lizard Folk' as Orion had called them, only to inform the young Ranger that they were more than just lizards. His mother was a wolf, his dad... a horse? The Koltoskan's eyes widened, even though he couldn't see 'fer shit', as he would've said.
"Ar' yew pullin' mah leg? No way. Yer ma' was a wolf and yer dad a horse?" He pursed his lips together and pondered, trying to decide whether or not he believed the other man. He decided that he didn't. "Thas' malarkey. There ain' no way that a horse an' a wolf can birth a big ass lizard," he said, shaking his head.
"As for why mah people wan' guns, well... Mister Jus'-Arkash, issa long an' complicated tale. If yew ever heard of them Awokens, well... actually, ya know the Hollowers, yeah? Metal-men, sor'da. Imagine if there were metal-men way-way worse than 'em, all over, everywhere ya went... constantly reavin' an' destroyin' towns. No need ta sleep, ta eat, no need fer supply lines; none-a-that. An' all they wanna do is kill, destroy. No wan' fer money, fer a trea'dy, fer land really... jus' dead us. Because'a that, we need weapons ta pratec' ourselves. The Rien owe i' ta us anyway; is' their stupid war that done caused all these metal-men to be made in the first place. An' now... we're almost all gone. We used ta be a big nation; Koltoskai. Now we ain' got shi'. No leaders, no rule-a-law, no lan'. Jus' war. An' guns are all we got 'ta keep us safe."
