The ogre rocks on his heels, fists pressed to his eyes, and starts shouting through the grit. His club keeps circling in wild, warning sweeps, cutting reeds and spattering mud as he tries to buy time.
The Ogre
Parley! Parley, horned one! Settle the debt of the shrine! I talk, yes, I talk before I break!
His voice is rough with panic, but the words are plain enough. He is stalling, not surrendering, and every second he wastes gives Kamakulzar a clearer measure of his fear.
Old Tusks
He tastes the net now. Press him. A cornered ogre lies, then swings.
From the reeds, the smaller companion stays hidden, watching for a gap. The marsh holds its breath around the three of them, all mud, bone, and steam.
Kamakulzar
He is buying time for his eyes to clear.
The ogre lowers one hand from his face just enough to squint toward the dark shape of Kamakulzar. If he can finish his plea, he may still flee. If Kamakulzar answers now, the hunt turns into the next strike.
✓ Quest Accepted
Remain stark