trans_9 | ...We love to eat our pork! [Open]

After dealing with the mess that was waking up on this strange ship of sorts, Thrall has found it very hard to fit in at all, especially when there were so many human looking creatures on this ship - as well as other oddities. Yet, strangely, no other orcs.

It took him time to orient himself with his sense of direction, being too stubborn and stoic to ask for help to find anything, and it lead him to the mess hall. It was crowded and there were many others there, but he slowly gained his bearings - very slowly. It took Thrall a few times of standing there and watching others go through the process of being scanned by that large eye before they receive any nutrients, if you could call it that.

The orc was leery of proceeding and allowing that thing to scan him, if it was even doing that. The hesitation was quite obvious in both his motions and on his face. For a creature that is as large as him, he certainly did jump when the slop was offered upon his tray. There was a sharp inhalation of whatever was offered. Is this poisonous, he wondered? Thrall then proceeded towards one of the tables to sit and stare at whatever was on his tray. Unfortunately, it was not pork. Nor was it bear meat, lion, or any other red blooded beast that he could tear his tusks into. Instead, he lifted a utensil, and poked at the slop a few times. Maybe he lost his appetite already?

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"I am pleased to meet you, Thrall," she said, angling a glance at him as she paused before the Sensorium doorway, then entered. There was nothing but white. "Come. Fill your mind with the thought of where you would like to eat and then what you wish to have as your meal. This is all it takes. Just concentrate on those two things. This place will accommodate."

The large orc is rather quiet as the two make their way to the Sensorium. He's busy taking in the sights of it all, passing people, different rooms, and other oddities of the ship that they end up passing by.

Once the door opens and they step into the room, Thrall looks around himself at the, well, nothingness. He looks back towards her as she instructs him on what to do. "There are no verbal commands?" He questions, obviously fascinated by the room and the strange simplicity of it.

It takes him a bit to even focus on concentrating. Where should he choose? Will it pick up his details, his stray thoughts? Even just uttering the words for him to concentrate caused a backlash of rampant thought to rush through his mind instead...

With the shake of his head, he actually closes his eyes and attempts to steady his mind. As to the location, he has one in mind, and tries to fully wrap his mind on the imagery...

The room reacts and shifts into what looks like a sprawling barren savannah, packed with red earth and a scarce few tropical looking trees that dot the landscape in the distance. The sun is high overhead and there doesn't appear to be any shelter nearby to help against the scorching heat. The two of them appear to be perched atop a hill with a campfire lit. And instead of slop being there in the tray within his hands - there's the haunch of a roasted boar. The smell alone was enough to wet his appetite, let alone the sight of it.

"By Ogrim's Hammer!" He exclaims, taken back by the whole scene before them. "This..." His tone lowers a bit, as though he is at a genuine loss for words. Thrall turns his attention back towards Arha, and there within his blue eyes, is a spark of happiness. "Thank you, Arha," he utters in a low and humbled tone.

"You are very welcome," she said, her tone pleased as she turned her face up into the sun. "The place you come from is hot. My own world, too, is such a place. I am Fremen, a desert creature of sand and rock. This is a good place to eat this day." Arha's glop had formed itself into a few spice cakes and, her favorite, juicy desert fowl meat picked clean from the bones and encrusted with spices. She shifted for a moment and then found a proper place to settle, letting her cloak pool around her as she sat cross-legged.

"This place will help with any missing-of-home you may have, though it is illusion. Still, sand feels, resists, passes though your fingers, as if it were real. And there is the added bonus of food looking and smelling as real as what you wish. It is my pleasure to share such a thing with you."

A smile spreads across Thrall's features as he says, "I may need to come here more often when I am hungry." At least until he can get used to eating whatever Stacy was trying to offer him.

He takes a bite out of that boar haunch, tearing the flesh with his tusks. It never tasted so good before in his life. When she speaks, about the desert and her people, he finishes chewing and replies. "We call this the Barrens." He points off in the far distance, to where some shallow riverbed. "Over there, in the distance, is where we call Durotar. It is named after my father and it houses the great city of Orgrimmar, for the Horde and my people." He's busy taking in the sights of it all again, realizing how much he's missed it.

"My people weren't originally desert dwellers, and this world has jungles, forest, even the most bitter arctic tundras. We actually came from a different world and settled here. It had marshes, forests, and even sprawling grasslands." Glancing back towards Arha, he adds, "But, you do what you must for necessity and the good of your people, even if that means living in a harsh landscape."

"It is good for eating when glop becomes intolerable. When I am in a hurry, it is fine and goes down as well as anything, but there are times when you wish a piece of home." She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "You do what you can to survive," Arha said. "Such is it with all who come from one place to another. Survival means doing anything you can to survive. I know this well."

...We love to eat our pork! [Open]

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