“Blacknail looks a bit nervous when the ork laughs but gets a face of pure childish delight when he gets tossed one of the food squigs. Sure he could have eaten any of those slugs he was herding when he wanted, but the ork gave one to him. He puts it whole in his mouth and grinds it up into goop with his several rows of needle-like teeth. “Dis way den boss! The camp is up on the surface. Dun tend to go there much on account of not having anyone to keep me safe, but now I’s iz a proper minion an everything. Anyone give me trouble and you’ll krump em right?.” And he leads her off down a tunnel that does have a rise to it.

Jennifra’s inner ork brain does actually agree that you should defend minions from others, an odd opinion from ork instincts that were fine with eating the gretchin moments ago. But the logic becomes clear with the weakly associated emotions, the minion was hers and nobody should mess with her stuff.

"You bet I will!" She says. Because duh. He's her people. All the parts of her agree that if you have people you defend them, that's just logic. She follows Blacknail in the indicated direction.

They get up out of the tunnel and onto a landscape of craggy blasted cratered rock and a brilliantly bright starscape. Whatever she is breathing must not go very high because it is blocking almost none of the starlight. The horizon also seems very very close compared to the distances she is used to on a planet.

The camp is a bunch of ramshackle huts made of bone and scrap metal and leather and really anything the builders could get their hands on. There are some scrawnier than Jennifra looking orks laying about the outskirts that eye her up as she approaches but decide the fight isn’t worth it. Jennifra seems to have been born decently healthy and strong if these orks are anything to go by. What they do have that Jennifra lacks is any clothing, they all at least have loincloths and some have ratty vests with pockets or belts holding up bags strapped to them. There are also a few gretchin tending campfires and roasting squigs and other unidentified meats or scurrying around doing errands.

There is a gathering of bigger better-dressed orks in the middle of the camp all talking loudly and standing around a nicer bigger hut.

Blacknail is nervous about being near the camp but is walking proudly beside Jennifra as a “proper minion”.

She has seen the stars from mountaintops, but this is something else. She grins at the sky, heedless of her fangs.

The clothes on the other orks remind her that she ought to get some clothes of her own, even if she doesn't actually have most of the things clothes are usually there to cover. For the pockets, if nothing else. She's not clear whether that means "buy some" or "find something largeish and skin it" or what, though, so she parks by one of the bigger campfires, snags a stick from the edge of it, and starts roasting her squig.

The skin crackles and bubbles and it looks pretty well cooked in no time. Smells really tasty! Blacknail is eyeing it greedily even though he just ate a whole one raw and it was a considerable amount of his body weight.

Another ork, a bit smaller than Jennifra, smells the tasty looking roasted squig and comes over. Too lazy to find and roast his own squig, taking it from this newbie seems like a great idea to him. He is smaller than Jennifra but he has a stone knife not that that makes a huge difference with claws and teeth as big as they both have. "Oi! you dere! Gimme dat squig!."

Ork brain instincts do not take kindly at all to being ordered to give up food by a smaller ork. It wants to react with a headbutt and a kick while he's down to establish dominance and that its food stays belonging to it.

Stars, what a trivial reason to fight. Jennifra can see why this is the species you'd pick if you were looking to start a war: resilient enough to fight nonstop and aggressive enough to like it. Still, she's not about to throw the first punch. She takes a big bite of her now-done squig and says "How about, fuck off."

The roast squig is delicious, orks must enjoy food more than humans because this is very tasty stuff.

Blacknail ooohs appreciatively at the retort like a good minion should, making sure to be out of punting range of the other ork.

”How abouts I shiv ya with me knife fresh spawn!” And the other ork lunges with his stone knife at the hand holding the rest of the roast squig.

Now, the second punch, that she will throw. She rolls out of the way, which might put her opponent in the campfire if he doesn't stop fast enough, then jumps to her feet and gives this playground bully five claws worth of what for.

The other ork does end up in the fire, doesn't seem to bother him that much besides a baring of teeth and an aggressive hiss. The claws cut into the other orks chest deeply but the cuts don't seem to bleed all that much or slow him down. Ork Instincts are nudging Jennifra to blunt forces and breaking limbs unless she wants to bleed her opponent out really slowly.

It's a bit much to get injured over half a roast squig but this isn't the brightest ork in the already dim bunch.

Sure. Fine. Blunt force. Kick to the kneecap, that's blunt force. Also she shoves the rest of the squig in her mouth, she knows how to use a free hand better than her teeth.

The kneecap breaks under the blow and the other ork finally backs off limping slightly baring his teeth at her. He stupidly throws his weapon at her, his one advantage gone now. The knife flies true and sticks into her shoulder but it doesn't go very deep and barely hurts.

"PUNCH HIM TO SLEEP AND TAKE HIS STUFF!" Blacknail screams with bloodthirsty glee from the sidelines, seeing an ork get beaten up was always fun.

She almost does as Blacknail suggests, but pulls herself together. "Looks like I've already got some of it," she says, pulling the knife out of her shoulder. "Say, what are clothes around here made of? I gotta get me some. New ones. Wit pockets." She's still getting the hang of this dialect, but she'll manage eventually.

"uhhh..." The other ork is also dumbfounded he isn't getting his face punched in right now. "Bag Squig leather I guess?... or stuff taken from da umies and da tall thin slaver ones. Ya not gonna take me stuff? I did just shiv ya..." Was this a sign of weakness from the new ork? It seemed to be stronger than him but maybe it was a bluff?.

Ugh, she probably should have taken his stuff, especially if it was mostly stolen to begin with. When in Rome, or something. She adds "tall thin slaver ones" to the list of long-term problems to deal with and says threateningly, "Well, if ya think I oughta take yur stuff, maybe I will. Ya did just shiv me, and ya didn't even do a good job of it!"

The other ork holds up his hands. "No no you can not take me stuff if ya want, ye already ate de squig." And he backs away hoping she doesn't change her mind.

"Boooo, shoulda put him ta sleep an nicked his stuff, he had a nice belt." Blacknail comments, and he is eyeing the shiny stone knife Jennifra holds with awe and greed.

Well, at least she's an embarrassed non-thief instead of an embarrassed thief (the knife doesn't count, anything she pulls out of her body is hers). Still, she does need some clothes. Hmmm . . . She looks around for an ork who is 1) about her size or a little bigger, 2) even more stupid-looking than average, 3) not conspicuously surrounded by friends, and 4) wearing a loincloth and some sort of halfway decent storage solution, pouches or pockets or whatever. Having picked her target, she strides up to him and says, "Hey you, wanna make a bet?"

"Uhhh wot?" The ork she picks turns around confused, it is wearing actual pants! With pockets! Probably looted off a human. They are a bit ragged but seem better than a loincloth, they are covered in oil stains and he has some fiddly tools strapped to his chest by a belt. He does look reaaaally stupid though. "Watchu want fresh spawn?."

"Let's you and me fight. You win, you get my stuff; I win, I get your stuff." She can't really match an ante of pants when all she has is a knife, but that's half the reason she went for a stupid one. She's half-expecting him to answer her with a punch rather than a verbal agreement or objection.

"Thas not really a bet fresh spawn thas more just how tings work round 'ere." And the other ork goes for a backhanded slap at Jennifra with his huge orkish hand. If it wasn't telegraphed so obviously it might have rattled her skull pretty hard. The other ork wasn't even fighting for stuff he just wanted to show the newbie who was boss and wasn't putting his all into the slap expecting it to connect and for Jennifra to back off.

Oh good, she she got the cultural nuances right this time, ha ha. She dodges the slap, grabs the flying arm, and yanks, hopefully pulling the other ork off balance, while bringing a kneecap up sharply to meet him halfway.

The ork does topple as he is pulled, the kneecap to his solar plexus does hurt him but orks have multiple smaller “lungs” around the torso so it doesn’t wind him too much. He flops to the ground with a wheeze and then gets back up quickly with an only slightly terrifying toothy grin. “Good job fresh spawn! That was a ‘ight propa scrap dere.”

This ork doesn't seem too upset Jennifra got a hit in. He seems to be having a lot of fun finding someone who fights back actually, but he does seem more serious about the fight now even with his good mood.

Serious is fine. He's not in a state from which she can steal acquire in a culturally approved manner steal his pants yet. Uppercut to the jaw!

Teeth go flying! Blacknail scampers to collect the fallen teeth. The other ork wildly swings with his long arms and though he telegraphs his attacks like an idiot it isn’t that easy to block those trunks of flailing muscle so it is an effective tactic to make people back away a bit and gain some distance. “Ya wud make a great pit fighter!” Spitting teeth but still seeming like he is having the time of his life, he does seem a lot less generally hostile than other orks even though they are fighting Jennifra. “Ye wanna teach me dat move later?.”

What an excellent dude this dude is! "Sure thing!" she says, ducking under the windmill-arms to tackle his legs out from under him.

He topples to the ground a second time, this time when he gets up he brushes the pebbles out of his face and puts his hands up plaintively. “Okay fresh spawn ya win, Mork was wit yer when yous was born. Watchu want?.” Pointing at himself or rather his stuff.