[x] Question the Ogre
You stare at the ogre for a few moments, as if disbelieving that he is there. Frankly, his presence boggles your mind. What exactly is he doing here in the village? Why hasn't anyone tried to force him out yet? He's an ogre, for Heaven's sake!
Granted, he's also eight feet tall and made of muscle. Everyone has likely been far too frightened to mount any kind of resistance to his presence. And, in truth, there probably isn't much they could do to actually hurt the ogre. Not without massive loss of life, anyway. The people here just aren't equipped for such matters, for all that the ogre still appears wounded and scarred from the battle with the Oni.
Then you notice the bowls and plates around him, along with the water skins. He has been sitting down there for a while, apparently waiting for you. He's also been getting fed somehow. Most likely he has been intimidating the villagers into providing for him, something that makes you eyes narrow.
"Not lost," you say. "Just recovering. The fight took a great deal out of me."
"I can imagine," the ogre responds. "Since you were on fire and all. It doesn't seem like it should be a comfortable experience."
"While we are on the subject of comfort," you say, motioning toward the dishes. "You seem to be relaxing off the efforts of other people."
"All this?" the ogre asks, grinning. "It is merely an expression of gratitude. After all, I did help end these people's torment."
"So you did," you admit grudgingly, lips tightening into a thin line. "Just do not push this too far. The citizens of this town are not your servants."
"No, they would be yours if my understanding of your society is correct," Muharanok says. His smile widens, showing some teeth. "Do not fret, Samurai. I'll be gentle while amongst these little people."
"See that you are," you say. "I don't want trouble."
"Your superior said much the same," the ogre responds. He motioned toward the rice and sake in your hands. "You go off to honor the fallen?"
The reminder of your task reminds of you the gaping pit in your stomach, for all that you just ate. Shasa is dead. She sacrificed herself, using dark powers your Clan has reviled for centuries, to break the machinations of the enemy. The paradox of that twists your mind almost as much as the realization of her passing. How could one use an evil force to achieve good? It makes no sense.
But despite that, she was your comrade. She deserves to be acknowledged, even if only in this small way. You owe her that much and more.
"Yes," you say. "I am going to pay my respects to my friend."
"Good," Muharanok says. "She died well, for all that she had her… issues. Her actions deserve recognition."
"I must admit I am... surprised to hear an ogre talk of honor," you say. "I'm not familiar with the concept coming up in relation to your kind."
"The Mikata appreciate honor," Muharanok responds. "Ours simply isn't what you Rokugani would recognize as such. But sometimes they… overlap."
"Mikata…" you say, frowning. "You've called yourself that before."
"Yes. It's something I wanted to talk with you about. That can wait, though." He nods to you. "Go. Honor the dead. I will be waiting."
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