Date: 10/31/2002 2:29 AM Central Daylight Time
From: JakeThrash
A Visit to Badside, Part I
Decorations Long Overdue
Jake checked his weapons one final time before entering the den of corruption called Badside. Heavily calloused fingers lingered on the hilt of a favorite knife as he stepped into the dimly lit tunnel. His boots splished as they entered the water covering the floor of the tunnel. The orc snorted to himself. The damp walls around him were confining, forcing him to hunch, and he kept a hand near to his longknife in the event of trouble. No room for swords in these close quarters.
The orc sloshed his way down the tunnel, relying upon his darksight to show the way in the absence of torchlight. The water was only a couple of inches deep but the sounds of his movements echoed down the tunnel. They would alert anyone standing guard at the other end. A good crossbowman could defend this tunnel with little effort...there was no place to hide.
As he moved down the tunnel, the sounds of dripping water were all that the orc could hear beyond his own movements. Whatever guard waited down the way was attentive to his duties and made no noise.
The tunnel opened out into a cross-junction of tunnels. The space there would be enough to fight more freely, but would also offer more vantage points for a guard, or guards, to strike at him. The half-orc paused before entering the open space. His eyes sought out the presence of sentinels. There! Hidden in the darkness of the tunnel on the left. A faint image. The heat of the steam tunnels made it difficult to pick out individual sources, but it had moved. Perhaps the guard was adjusting the aim of a weapon.
Jake called out. "I've come to conduct some business."
"What business?" came the reply from the darkness. Jake sensed the voice was not attached to the figure he saw, which meant a second sentry, one positioned out of sight.
"Business of my own."
"Step forward. Lemme get a look at you."
Jake hesitated, but only for a moment. Any longer and the sentry would have been suspicious. The half-orc stepped out, rising to his full height in the open space. He was careful to make it clear his hands were empty, but he kept them close to his hilts nevertheless.
"Your turn."
Two chuckles were all that answered the half-orc.
"Unsociable types, are ya'?" Jake stood in the open space waiting patiently. Only two. No way he could reach them, of course. They were going to stay outside of sword range. Now he waited for them to recognize him. His visits were less frequent these days, but there weren't that many orcs, much less half-blooded orcs, in Rhydin.
The half-orc could sense an adjustment from the figure he had spotted in the tunnel before him. The other figure remained concealed in a tunnel somewhere behind.
"Jake?"
"Yup, now, ya' gonna make me stand here all mornin' or are ya' gonna let me get with my business?"
The figure from behind spoke up, the voice was unfamiliar to Jake. "'ow we know it's really 'im?"
Jake called back over his shoulder, "come down here and lemme punch ya' inna face."
The figure before the half-orc laughed. "It's him alright." Jake could see him lowering something, most likely a crossbow. "Third tunnel from the right is the one you want."
With a nod to the concealed figure, the half-orc moved off towards the tunnel. "I'll make sure to tell 'em ya' weren't sleepin' on the job."
An Orc Visits to Redecorate
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Re: An Orc Visits to Redecorate
Date: 10/31/2002 2:33 AM Central Daylight Time
From: JakeThrash
A Visit to Badside, Part II
Decorations Long OverDue
Past the sentries that guarded the entrance to Badside's location this week, the half-orc continued some distance down a series of unlit winding tunnels. The point, of course, was to make the visitor lose all sense of orientation and direction. They would know they were under the town of Rhydin ... someplace ... but not precisely where. For all the orc knew, there were probably spells, and other devices, in place to help make sure no one could figure out where they were too. Badsiders were extremely paranoid about avoiding the attention of would-be lawgivers.
Upon finally arriving in the open cavern that currently served as Badside central, Jake sought out the wrought iron sign that would indicate the particular merchant he sought. Given the nature of the narrow alleys and walkways set up between shanties and lean-tos, working his way through the bustle of regular Badsiders, and other visitors, took some time.
Once a human whelp attempted to lift his moneypurse, but a curt cuff on the ear dissuaded him and the half-orc was left unmolested from then on. The half-orc was surprised at the attempt. Normally, the alley thieves avoided going after orcs. Not that orcs were difficult prey. To the contrary, most orcs were pretty easy marks. However, the resident orc boss, Gorog, didn't take kindly to orcs being preyed upon while in Badside and made messy examples out of those he caught. Very messy.
The half-orc wandered past the sounds of fighting in one of the local betting parlors. Jake was tempted to step in and see who the current crop of pit-fighters were. Not that it mattered for the most part. The faces changed, but their life expectancies usually stayed the same. Short and violent. Gorog's comment of several months past came back to him, but the half-orc did not even consider a return to the fighting pits. He was too old for that sort of combat. Too old, too slow. Pit-fighting was for the young; those who still believed in their immortality.
The wrought iron griffon caught his attention and he knew he had finally found his destination. A bouncer stood at the door sizing up everyone who entered. The crowd was heavy. A lot of figures drinking and carousing in the poorly lit tavern room. Jake moved past the bouncer with a nod. A big guy, probably part humanoid. He didn't appear to have a knife, but the knobbed club he kept over his shoulder looked formidable. He looked new. Probably a recent arrival in Rhydin.
Jake looked towards the tavernkeeper. A scarred man. The left side of his face had been heavily clawed at some point. A dull grey orb or stone filled the left eye socket. His build marked him as someone who had been a warrior in his day. The muscle was still there, but it had lost some of its tone. He had the presence of one who had commanded men in battle, but these days that presence was only used to keep the fights in the tavern from getting out of control. Most called him "Scarface" but few had any idea what his real name was. Like many among Badsiders, truenames were rare.
Jake made his way to the bar. "Got any Orktoberfest back there?"
"Only for cleaning the bar with."
Jake chuckled at the response. The tavernkeeper grabbed a mug off the wall and filled it with Orcish Black ale and pushed it across the bar to the half-orc.
"My delivery get here yet?"
The scarred man gestured with a jerk of his head towards a corner of the tavern. A largish black orc sat there, glaring at the room. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he sat scowling at anyone that strayed too near his table. The tables nearby were notably unoccupied.
"Get your business done quick. He's scaring off customers."
Jake grabbed the mug of ale and nodded. He moved through the tavern, making a direct path for the orc. Arriving at the table, he say without invitation. The black orc did not react.
"Took ya' long enough."
The black orc grunted and looked back at Jake. "Me gots what you want. You gimme gold now."
Jake glanced around. "Hidin' it in yer cloak?" Then he waved to the tavernkeeper with his mug and made a sign for two more.
"In the back. Where's gold?"
Two mugs of ale arrived at the table. Jake waited until the serving wench had gone before answering. "Ya' will get yer gold after I see the stuff ya' brought back. Zog-Chaggoth!" He raised the mug of Orcish Black high in a toast.
The other orc, Korg the Blackhanded, grabbed his mug and returned the salute, "Zog-Chaggoth!"
~~~~~
It only took a few minutes to finish off the ale, and another three or four rounds. As they drank the two orcs, one full-blood and one half-blood, commiserated about old times and current events near the Plains of Blood.
When they were done, they moved into the back room of the tavern where several boxes lay piled about. Jake was surprised at the number. "These all mine?"
Korg uttered a low guttural chuckle. "No. Gorog heard. He want some too." He pointed out two boxes, "those yours." And then three others. "Those Gorog's."
Jake chuckled. "The old beast is doin' some redecoratin' too?"
"Mebbe. Korg don' know. Korg don' care."
"Lemme guess. Where gold?"
"Where gold?" Korg nodded in agreement.
Jake paid him off and hefted the first of the two boxes onto his shoulder and began the trek back to the Brewery. He would come back for the second box. He didn't trust anyone to deliver it, but he trusted old Scarface to keep it safe until his return.
From: JakeThrash
A Visit to Badside, Part II
Decorations Long OverDue
Past the sentries that guarded the entrance to Badside's location this week, the half-orc continued some distance down a series of unlit winding tunnels. The point, of course, was to make the visitor lose all sense of orientation and direction. They would know they were under the town of Rhydin ... someplace ... but not precisely where. For all the orc knew, there were probably spells, and other devices, in place to help make sure no one could figure out where they were too. Badsiders were extremely paranoid about avoiding the attention of would-be lawgivers.
Upon finally arriving in the open cavern that currently served as Badside central, Jake sought out the wrought iron sign that would indicate the particular merchant he sought. Given the nature of the narrow alleys and walkways set up between shanties and lean-tos, working his way through the bustle of regular Badsiders, and other visitors, took some time.
Once a human whelp attempted to lift his moneypurse, but a curt cuff on the ear dissuaded him and the half-orc was left unmolested from then on. The half-orc was surprised at the attempt. Normally, the alley thieves avoided going after orcs. Not that orcs were difficult prey. To the contrary, most orcs were pretty easy marks. However, the resident orc boss, Gorog, didn't take kindly to orcs being preyed upon while in Badside and made messy examples out of those he caught. Very messy.
The half-orc wandered past the sounds of fighting in one of the local betting parlors. Jake was tempted to step in and see who the current crop of pit-fighters were. Not that it mattered for the most part. The faces changed, but their life expectancies usually stayed the same. Short and violent. Gorog's comment of several months past came back to him, but the half-orc did not even consider a return to the fighting pits. He was too old for that sort of combat. Too old, too slow. Pit-fighting was for the young; those who still believed in their immortality.
The wrought iron griffon caught his attention and he knew he had finally found his destination. A bouncer stood at the door sizing up everyone who entered. The crowd was heavy. A lot of figures drinking and carousing in the poorly lit tavern room. Jake moved past the bouncer with a nod. A big guy, probably part humanoid. He didn't appear to have a knife, but the knobbed club he kept over his shoulder looked formidable. He looked new. Probably a recent arrival in Rhydin.
Jake looked towards the tavernkeeper. A scarred man. The left side of his face had been heavily clawed at some point. A dull grey orb or stone filled the left eye socket. His build marked him as someone who had been a warrior in his day. The muscle was still there, but it had lost some of its tone. He had the presence of one who had commanded men in battle, but these days that presence was only used to keep the fights in the tavern from getting out of control. Most called him "Scarface" but few had any idea what his real name was. Like many among Badsiders, truenames were rare.
Jake made his way to the bar. "Got any Orktoberfest back there?"
"Only for cleaning the bar with."
Jake chuckled at the response. The tavernkeeper grabbed a mug off the wall and filled it with Orcish Black ale and pushed it across the bar to the half-orc.
"My delivery get here yet?"
The scarred man gestured with a jerk of his head towards a corner of the tavern. A largish black orc sat there, glaring at the room. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he sat scowling at anyone that strayed too near his table. The tables nearby were notably unoccupied.
"Get your business done quick. He's scaring off customers."
Jake grabbed the mug of ale and nodded. He moved through the tavern, making a direct path for the orc. Arriving at the table, he say without invitation. The black orc did not react.
"Took ya' long enough."
The black orc grunted and looked back at Jake. "Me gots what you want. You gimme gold now."
Jake glanced around. "Hidin' it in yer cloak?" Then he waved to the tavernkeeper with his mug and made a sign for two more.
"In the back. Where's gold?"
Two mugs of ale arrived at the table. Jake waited until the serving wench had gone before answering. "Ya' will get yer gold after I see the stuff ya' brought back. Zog-Chaggoth!" He raised the mug of Orcish Black high in a toast.
The other orc, Korg the Blackhanded, grabbed his mug and returned the salute, "Zog-Chaggoth!"
~~~~~
It only took a few minutes to finish off the ale, and another three or four rounds. As they drank the two orcs, one full-blood and one half-blood, commiserated about old times and current events near the Plains of Blood.
When they were done, they moved into the back room of the tavern where several boxes lay piled about. Jake was surprised at the number. "These all mine?"
Korg uttered a low guttural chuckle. "No. Gorog heard. He want some too." He pointed out two boxes, "those yours." And then three others. "Those Gorog's."
Jake chuckled. "The old beast is doin' some redecoratin' too?"
"Mebbe. Korg don' know. Korg don' care."
"Lemme guess. Where gold?"
"Where gold?" Korg nodded in agreement.
Jake paid him off and hefted the first of the two boxes onto his shoulder and began the trek back to the Brewery. He would come back for the second box. He didn't trust anyone to deliver it, but he trusted old Scarface to keep it safe until his return.
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Re: An Orc Visits to Redecorate
Date: 10/31/2002 2:40 AM Central Daylight Time
From: JakeThrash
A Visit to the Outback
Decorations Long OverDue
It didn't take long to inventory the box at the Brewery, and after adding a bag of additional supplies, the half-orc made his way to the Outback. Leaving the box near the bar while there was still dueling going on, the orc stopped for a while to grab a mug of ale and watch. After a few minutes of watching he stepped into the ring with a stranger for a duel himself, but the stranger had to leave suddenly.
Jake grunted to himself. He had not even managed to get all of his joints loosened up.
As the Outback began to empty out, Harris called him out to duel. Jake joined him in a ring and they went a few rounds. Harris' woman was hanging around as well. The half-orc figured he was showing off for her. Jake had seen that behavior before in humans. Still, Harris gave good fights, and Jake got in some decent exercise before everyone called it a night and departed.
Left to himself, with the box, and the Outback, Jake made his way to the Pit and began his redecoration. The ladder still irked him. What pit-fighter was so wimpy that they needed a ladder? The orc snorted to himself. He had ripped the ladder out once, but someone had put it back.
Jake was tempted to rip it out again. It just wasn't right having a ladder in a pit. Of course, what proper pit was infested with beetles? And beetles that preyed on cotton! Couldn't Matt at least get a good flesh-eating variety?
The half-orc figured Matt must pay out a fortune to keep restocking the Pit with weevils that had nothing to feed upon. And with the constant flooding of the floor of the Pit, which made the floor into mud, there was no way to anchor in a proper set of sharpened stakes. Jake shook his head. Where was the danger? Where the excitement? Jake thought he should drag Matt down into Badside some night so that he can see what a proper pit looked like.
Even if he could not get sharpened stakes into the Pit, the half-orc figured the Pit was long overdue for some redecorating to give it a more authenticate feel. Pulling open the box, Jake began pulling out gleaming white bones, all recently recovered from the "Great Boneyard", and tossed them into the Pit. Most of the bones were humanoid. A few skulls went in as well. Many of the skulls were from Men, some from other demi-humans or humanoids.
The layer of old bones would settle into the mud and at least give the Pit an authentic look. A dueler crunching into those in a bad fall would know they had taken a fall!
Following the bones, Jake emptied out the bag he had recovered from the Brewery. In addition to the bones already in place, an assortment of small bones and skins, some from rodents, some from serpents, went into the Pit.
Jake jumped down into the Pit to mix the bones all around, getting them scattered more or less evenly throughout.
Satisfied with his work, the half-orc spurned the ladder and reached up to grasp the edge of the Pit and hauled himself out. After wiping his hands free of the muck and mud, Jake grabbed up the last two skulls, one Man, one Troll, and carried them over to the bar. He placed one on each end of the bar that he, Layne, and Dalamar Majere had built. Fit decoration, the orc thought, especially given the holiday happening on the following day for the humans.
Done for the night, the orc grabbed up a mug and filled himself a final mug of Orktoberfest ale. As he guzzled it, he ambled out humming tunelessly to himself.
From: JakeThrash
A Visit to the Outback
Decorations Long OverDue
It didn't take long to inventory the box at the Brewery, and after adding a bag of additional supplies, the half-orc made his way to the Outback. Leaving the box near the bar while there was still dueling going on, the orc stopped for a while to grab a mug of ale and watch. After a few minutes of watching he stepped into the ring with a stranger for a duel himself, but the stranger had to leave suddenly.
Jake grunted to himself. He had not even managed to get all of his joints loosened up.
As the Outback began to empty out, Harris called him out to duel. Jake joined him in a ring and they went a few rounds. Harris' woman was hanging around as well. The half-orc figured he was showing off for her. Jake had seen that behavior before in humans. Still, Harris gave good fights, and Jake got in some decent exercise before everyone called it a night and departed.
Left to himself, with the box, and the Outback, Jake made his way to the Pit and began his redecoration. The ladder still irked him. What pit-fighter was so wimpy that they needed a ladder? The orc snorted to himself. He had ripped the ladder out once, but someone had put it back.
Jake was tempted to rip it out again. It just wasn't right having a ladder in a pit. Of course, what proper pit was infested with beetles? And beetles that preyed on cotton! Couldn't Matt at least get a good flesh-eating variety?
The half-orc figured Matt must pay out a fortune to keep restocking the Pit with weevils that had nothing to feed upon. And with the constant flooding of the floor of the Pit, which made the floor into mud, there was no way to anchor in a proper set of sharpened stakes. Jake shook his head. Where was the danger? Where the excitement? Jake thought he should drag Matt down into Badside some night so that he can see what a proper pit looked like.
Even if he could not get sharpened stakes into the Pit, the half-orc figured the Pit was long overdue for some redecorating to give it a more authenticate feel. Pulling open the box, Jake began pulling out gleaming white bones, all recently recovered from the "Great Boneyard", and tossed them into the Pit. Most of the bones were humanoid. A few skulls went in as well. Many of the skulls were from Men, some from other demi-humans or humanoids.
The layer of old bones would settle into the mud and at least give the Pit an authentic look. A dueler crunching into those in a bad fall would know they had taken a fall!
Following the bones, Jake emptied out the bag he had recovered from the Brewery. In addition to the bones already in place, an assortment of small bones and skins, some from rodents, some from serpents, went into the Pit.
Jake jumped down into the Pit to mix the bones all around, getting them scattered more or less evenly throughout.
Satisfied with his work, the half-orc spurned the ladder and reached up to grasp the edge of the Pit and hauled himself out. After wiping his hands free of the muck and mud, Jake grabbed up the last two skulls, one Man, one Troll, and carried them over to the bar. He placed one on each end of the bar that he, Layne, and Dalamar Majere had built. Fit decoration, the orc thought, especially given the holiday happening on the following day for the humans.
Done for the night, the orc grabbed up a mug and filled himself a final mug of Orktoberfest ale. As he guzzled it, he ambled out humming tunelessly to himself.