Date: 6/10/2001 11:55 PM Central Daylight Time
From: JakeThrash
Transactions by Night
Jake leaned against the wall of a building in a shadowed alleyway. His contact was late. Concealed by the shadows he waited and pondered the events which had brought him here. The request had been an unusual one. Vampires and their ilk weren't as common in Rhydin as they had once been. It had been a long time since he had heard a request for Bloodwyne at the Inn.
The orc presumed the influx of people over time had caused them to move back into the shadows, hiding their presence from those that would take up the cause of purging the town of them. Oh, they were still around, to be sure, just not as visibly as before. Therefore the appearance of the one in the Outback had been a surprise for the orc. Their kind had never before frequented that particular establishment to the orc's knowledge. He had seen them often enough in the Arena, which made a certain kind of sense due to the presence of blood. And they had been common enough in the Inn, but as the center of what most called the "Nexus" even that made a certain sort of sense.
Not in the Outback, though. That was new. Jake shrugged, his own kindred didn't care much for undead. Full-blooded orcs, in fact, generally feared the undead. Orcish philosophy revolved around the notion that the dead were meat. Meat wasn't supposed to get back up and walk. The idea of 'dinner' getting up and walking around didn't jibe with the orish way of life.
Which wasn't to say that the undead didn't regularly pop up in orcish society. The principle of "Might makes Right" which dominated orcish culture pretty much dictated that the strong ruled the weak. Orcs, as a rule, admired and followed the strong. Those who could take command, and hold it, did so. So the presence of the occasional lich or vampire in command of orcish armies was not unusual. For that matter, it was not all that unusual for strong, ruthless humans to occasionally rise to positions of power in orcish society. The presence of such even accounted for Jake's existence. Born of an orcish mother and a human father, Jake's half-orc heritage gave him much of their build and strength, but he also held the superior acuity of his human blood in thought and guile. A necessary trait for the survival of the half-blooded. If they did not learn guile and battle quickly, their lives were usually short. Full-blooded orcs learned early on the ways of dominance through strength. A half-blood that could not survive fights with the stronger full-bloods did not escape the breeding pens alive.
Jake smirked thinking of the breeding pens. He wondered if his sire, whomever it had been, had realized what he was in for when first brought to the orcish breeding pens of Gothgulka. Did he face it the same commanding arrogance and strength with which he dominated a troop of orcs? Or did he squeal in fear and panic as he was tossed in among the female orcs overcome with breeding frenzy?
A noise brought Jake out of his reverie. His hand reached automatically for the hilt of a sword. A figure approached furtively. His stance was crouched and distrustful. The orc could not see the man's hands concealed as they were beneath a dark cloak. Jake assumed it was a man. The orc remained in the shadows, watching his approach. Jake frowned, was the man sniffing the air?
The furtive figure did indeed appear to be sniffing the air, and after a moment two beady eyes turned in the direction of the orc. He paused for a moment, as if studying the orc, or perhaps looking for others that might lie in wait.
Despite the low light, the orc had no difficulty making out the figure, thanks to his orcish heritage, but it appeared the other fellow also had superior faculties for movement in shadows. Jake took note of that with the corner of his mind that was always alert and calculating tactics for battle.
Jake stepped forward, hand still upon the hilt of his blade, though he held his arm relaxed to suggest he did not intend to draw. He kept his voice low so that it would not carry. "You have a response for me?"
The figure seemed to sniff the air again before answering. Beady eyes glanced about again, perhaps reassuring himself that this was not a trap set by those who felt...free commerce...did not include certain types of transaction. "Yes," the figure answered almost with a hiss so close it was to a whisper. Then he twitched a moustache in a manner that puzzled Jake for a moment, so much did it resemble some sort of animal.
The man remained mostly concealed by a cloak, though he did straighten slightly, again checking the alleyway, before continuing. "My master bids you greetings and says it has been a long time, too long, since last he heard from you. He adds that the...ah...item...you have expressed interest in, is available and for sale. He has given me a price to repeat to you--two hundred silver crowns per bottle."
The orc snorted in derision. "Tell your master he is a greedy old beast and thinks he deals with senseless elves." The orc bared his tusks slightly, adding a hint of menace to his expression. "Tell him I will pay fifty silver nobles and no more."
The beady eyes glinted, there was a hint of red to their color, again reminding the orc of some animal. "My master said to remind you that it is a difficult item to procure and transport, one which does not store well and so must be sought fresh."
Jake smiled, his tusks bared in a broad grin. "Tell your master I know well he overcharges for a product he traffics in often. His claims of difficulty are exaggerated. I know how far his network extends." The orc relaxed slightly, the negotiation so far went much as he had expected. "Tell him I will pay 75 silver nobles per bottle and at that he makes obscene profit."
The figure paused, the moustache twitched again. "My master bade me remind you of the risks involved, and of those who would...discourage...such trade."
The orc cut a hand dismissively as if to brush away the objection and shot back a quick retort, "there is no law in Rhydin."
Jake made his third and final offer. "One hundred silver nobles per, and with that your master bleeds my pocket. Tell your master he too must have the thirst of a vampire to need so much."
The figure chuckled darkly. "My master looks forward to doing business with you." His words were the concurrence that a deal had been struck. Jake nodded in satisfaction.
A noise at the end of the alley made Jake look away, but it was nothing, a passerby perhaps. When the orc looked back the figure was gone. "He disappeared quickly," the orc thought. His night-sensitive eyes scanned the alleyway for a source of heat that might be the messenger hiding or skulking about, but Jake was alone in the alleyway, save for the rats who made their home here. Their quiet squeaks and chitters were all that remained besides the orc.
After another look about the alleyway, the orc turned and moved towards the entrance to the street. His business was done here tonight.
Transactions by Night
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Re: Transactions by Night
Date: 6/25/2001 6:14 AM Central Daylight Time
From: JakeThrash
A Visit to Badside
The visitor to the brewery came late at night. Long after Jake had locked and barred the doors for the night. Jake eyed the note left upon the front counter again. Its hasty scrawl was difficult to read, but its meaning was clear enough. His special order was ready for delivery.
Jake belted on his twin swords and grabbed a couple of extra knives...just in case. The part of Rhydin he planned to visit wasn't exactly known for being safe. Rather, it was where the more unscrupulous tended to gather. Jake had not wanted the special order delivered directly to the brewery. Wouldn't make for a good reputation among the humans were they to find out. Though...as the orc thought about...with a town as chaotic as Rhydin, there was always the possibility that no one cared. Still, it paid to be cautious. Just because it appeared there was no law in Rhydin didn't mean there weren't busybodies around that had nothing better to do than interfere with free trade.
Jake unbarred the back door. He did not dwell on how the messenger had gotten into the brewery. Rather, Jake would have been surprised if he hadn't. Knowing the resources of his contact, it would not surprise him to find out he dabbled and mingled with all sorts of less than reputable but skilled individuals. No doubt some of them even trafficked in magic. Jake's nose wrinkled in disgust at that thought. He'd had his lifetime's fill of magic. The realm would be a much better place without it he was sure. Blood and steel, those were things that could be trusted.
Stepping out into the night, Jake checked to make sure the alley was clear before closing the doors of the brewery and listening as the bar automatically fell into place. Wouldn't do to leave the place unlocked. Who knew what thieves might be hanging about looking for free ale?
Jake moved off down the alley. The lateness of the evening meant there was little enough traffic in the streets of Rhydin. Most of those who did wander so late were of the type to move quickly to their destinations, or were too drunk to be aware of others. Jake passed several of those type as he made his way towards 'Badside.'
It wasn't called that during the day, of course. Few probably even knew there was such a place. And those who did know about it generally didn't discuss their knowledge.
One of the things that made Badside difficult to find was that it tended to move from time to time. The cabal that ran it, and organized most of the darker dealings in Rhydin, felt it best to avoid getting comfortable in one spot. Better to move around and keep people guessing. People who needed to find Badside usually just had to wait. A word or two dropped here and there was usually enough to get the attention of a messenger who would relay the location if the seeker was found to be trustworthy.
Jake chuckled at the thought of being trustworthy enough to know the location of Badside. There might not be honor among thieves, but there was certainly paranoia.
Jake approached the darkened warehouse with a relaxed walk, though his senses were alert and he had taken a very circuitous path in reaching it. He was fairly certain no one followed, and the area around the warehouse seemed appropriately deserted. Seemed was the keyword of course. Jake was sure that multiple sentries had already spotted him and sent along word of his approach.
As if unconcerned and oblivious, the orc wandered into the shadow of the warehouse. The torchlights that illuminated the main streets were not well tended here. Deliberately so, the orc was sure. It was easy to disappear into the shadows of refuse and broken crates which littered the area near the warehouse.
The entrance he sought, located behind a large collection of empty crating, appeared as nothing more than an unbroken wall, but, at his approach, a section of the wall pulled back noiselessly allowing the orc to enter.
A human entering the warehouse would have been at distinct disadvantage in the shadowed enclosure. The room was perfectly dark, no light appeared that could give away the entrance to those outside, and also served to blind most visitors until their hosts were ready for them to see.
Jake, being of orcish blood, was able to see more than a human. Two figures occupied the room he entered. He guessed one would be his guide and the other, no doubt with crossbow aimed at Jake's chest, would be the guardian of the door.
The orc made no quick movements. Instead he waited for the escort to close the secret door, and watched the guardian. The guardian, in turned, watched Jake. Jake did not doubt that if he made a wrong move, a quarrel would bury itself in his chest long before he could reach the guardian. Jake wasn't sure how good his darksight would be, but it was sure to be better than human in order to be assigned this task.
The escort sealed the entrance and brushed past Jake, a muffled "follow" was all he said as he moved towards a stairway at the back of the small room.
Jake followed, his hands kept well away from the hilts of his swords, just to make sure the guardian would not mistake his intent.
They moved down into the darkness, feeling their way along a very narrow staircase that Jake was sure was concealed between walls of the warehouse. As they went lower, a dim light eventually began to illuminate the way.
Able to make out more of the features of his escort, Jake saw he was a small, dirty man, dressed in an assemblage of dark clothes and rags. A beggar-spy, most likely. One of the cabal's eyes and ears on the street. His ragged appearance was deceptive. Jake spotted several knives about his person, and he was no doubt good with them.
Since Jake wasn't here to invade, the armament of his escort did not matter. Instead, he followed in near silence, letting the hunched man lead the way deeper into a maze of narrow hallways, past cross-corridors, and probably circling back once or twice to make the path less negotiable for those trying to remember their way. Again, Jake was unconcerned. This was only routine security for Badside.
Twice they passed doorways which opened onto largish rooms, illuminated by firelight and containing a ragtag lot of individuals sharing an ale and perhaps recounting the day's exploits or misadventures. The improvised taverns were a regular feature of Badside. Jake knew a couple of the proprietors who made their livelihood catering to the roaming needs of Badside. Retired mercenaries or thieves usually. People no longer fit, either due to injury or age, to work the streets or hire out their blades, but still wise to the way of life and useful sources of knowledge. Serving the needs of Badside gave them the casual protection of their brotherhood, and also provided Badside with necessary services. It was the closest thing to 'retirement' their kind--Jake's kind--had.
The orc didn't spend much time in the taverns of Badside. His work at the brewery kept him too busy, but he did from time to time do business with them. His brewery's black ale was popular with a segment of the Badsiders. It helped keep the brewery out of the red when sales were not as high at the dueling venues.
Jake was eventually ushered into a dimly lit room with three other occupants. One would be a bodyguard, and a good one. Probably an assassin. Jake would not want to try his blade against him unless it was absolutely necessary. Jake's contact was notorious for having the best killers in his service. The bodyguard's stance was as taut as a wire. Ready for instant activity should need arise. His eyes were bright points of light, reflecting the firelight of the room. His gaze was locked on the orc's movements.
The second figure, who also stood, was likely his contact's latest inventory keeper and coinmaster. Someone who knew exactly where things were, what value they had, and how to move them. If history was any measure, he was also a dead man. Kept alive only as long as he served faithfully. A poison probably coursed his system, something nasty, which would kill him if he ever failed in his service. He lived only as long as he received the antidote. Poisons being what they are, he probably only had a few years to live anyway, even with the antidote.
The figure that concerned Jake was the one who sat in the middle of the room. An immense figure. Jake estimated him at well over twenty stoneweight, and probably close to thirty. The giant orc filled an enormous chair. His limbs were powerfully muscled, and his tusks were large and strong. Despite his bulk, Jake was sure the great orc was as dangerous as he had ever been. Perhaps a little slower, but not enough to make Jake gamble against him in a fight.
"It's been too long...Jake," the giant orc rumbled. The words were followed by a long low rumbling chuckle which set the enormous bulk to rolling and heaving.
Jake nodded and replied, "I see you are bigger than ever, Gorog."
Gorog continued his rumbling chuckle, unoffended by the remark, and no doubt taking it as a compliment. "And you are still small, halfblood."
The taunt was a familiar one, as was Jake's response, "...but my blades remain sharp."
Gorog seemed amused, his yellowed tusks were bared in a broad smile. "We shall have to see one day if that is true... The pits still miss your presence. There are many who would still bet on you."
"The pits will continue to miss me."
Gorog only laughed harder at the response, and leaned back to comment to his assassin/bodyguard. "The halfblood's tongue is still sharp as well."
Gorog was unfazed by the rebuff, as if certain Jake would one day return to the pits where he had fought a lifetime ago. "What brings you to me today...little halfblood...if not to fight for me?"
Of course, the question was rhetorical. Jake knew that Gorog's mind was as sharp as a knife and that he well knew about the special order Jake was seeking. "You know why I am here, old beast. Your messenger sent word that you had my special order."
Gorog's smile was undiminished. "Ah...the blood..." his large bulk shifted in the chair, and a massive hand moved up, waving the slender man to his left forward. "Is this true, Sargath? Have we a shipment for the little halfblood?"
The human twitched and his voice was mildly slurred, probably a side effect of the poison. "Yesss...yes masster Gorog." His face was tight with pain. Jake suspected he had over-guessed how long before the poison took him.
Gorog waved the man back and turned his enormous head once again to Jake. Gorog's neck was so thick and muscled that it appeared he had no neck at all. "Good...good...it appears we do have business then after all."
Jake nodded, but said nothing. Gorog shifted his massive bulk and again peered at the half-orc. "You must visit me again soon, halfblood. We should talk of things. The pits miss your blade."
Gorog waved forward his inventory keeper. "Attend to his needs."
It was a dismissal.
Jake backed up, sparing a final glance for the bodyguard, whose eyes had never moved from the half-orc's form. It was a measuring gaze, Jake was sure.
He turned out of the room, rejoining the raggedy escort, and was followed by the inventory keeper, Sargath.
"Come." The keeper led now, leading them off into the twisting maze once more, and shortly thereafter Jake was headed back towards the brewery by way of the Outback.
~~~
Upon reaching the Outback, Jake let himself in the back entrance and carried one of the casks to the bar. He made a place for the cask under the insulated portion of the bar, and labeled it "special order for Angel." A simple enough message. In fact, he was sure it needed no other note. Angel would probably sense it the moment she next entered the Outback. Vampire senses seemed keenly attuned its presence. He was sure she would not miss it.
From: JakeThrash
A Visit to Badside
The visitor to the brewery came late at night. Long after Jake had locked and barred the doors for the night. Jake eyed the note left upon the front counter again. Its hasty scrawl was difficult to read, but its meaning was clear enough. His special order was ready for delivery.
Jake belted on his twin swords and grabbed a couple of extra knives...just in case. The part of Rhydin he planned to visit wasn't exactly known for being safe. Rather, it was where the more unscrupulous tended to gather. Jake had not wanted the special order delivered directly to the brewery. Wouldn't make for a good reputation among the humans were they to find out. Though...as the orc thought about...with a town as chaotic as Rhydin, there was always the possibility that no one cared. Still, it paid to be cautious. Just because it appeared there was no law in Rhydin didn't mean there weren't busybodies around that had nothing better to do than interfere with free trade.
Jake unbarred the back door. He did not dwell on how the messenger had gotten into the brewery. Rather, Jake would have been surprised if he hadn't. Knowing the resources of his contact, it would not surprise him to find out he dabbled and mingled with all sorts of less than reputable but skilled individuals. No doubt some of them even trafficked in magic. Jake's nose wrinkled in disgust at that thought. He'd had his lifetime's fill of magic. The realm would be a much better place without it he was sure. Blood and steel, those were things that could be trusted.
Stepping out into the night, Jake checked to make sure the alley was clear before closing the doors of the brewery and listening as the bar automatically fell into place. Wouldn't do to leave the place unlocked. Who knew what thieves might be hanging about looking for free ale?
Jake moved off down the alley. The lateness of the evening meant there was little enough traffic in the streets of Rhydin. Most of those who did wander so late were of the type to move quickly to their destinations, or were too drunk to be aware of others. Jake passed several of those type as he made his way towards 'Badside.'
It wasn't called that during the day, of course. Few probably even knew there was such a place. And those who did know about it generally didn't discuss their knowledge.
One of the things that made Badside difficult to find was that it tended to move from time to time. The cabal that ran it, and organized most of the darker dealings in Rhydin, felt it best to avoid getting comfortable in one spot. Better to move around and keep people guessing. People who needed to find Badside usually just had to wait. A word or two dropped here and there was usually enough to get the attention of a messenger who would relay the location if the seeker was found to be trustworthy.
Jake chuckled at the thought of being trustworthy enough to know the location of Badside. There might not be honor among thieves, but there was certainly paranoia.
Jake approached the darkened warehouse with a relaxed walk, though his senses were alert and he had taken a very circuitous path in reaching it. He was fairly certain no one followed, and the area around the warehouse seemed appropriately deserted. Seemed was the keyword of course. Jake was sure that multiple sentries had already spotted him and sent along word of his approach.
As if unconcerned and oblivious, the orc wandered into the shadow of the warehouse. The torchlights that illuminated the main streets were not well tended here. Deliberately so, the orc was sure. It was easy to disappear into the shadows of refuse and broken crates which littered the area near the warehouse.
The entrance he sought, located behind a large collection of empty crating, appeared as nothing more than an unbroken wall, but, at his approach, a section of the wall pulled back noiselessly allowing the orc to enter.
A human entering the warehouse would have been at distinct disadvantage in the shadowed enclosure. The room was perfectly dark, no light appeared that could give away the entrance to those outside, and also served to blind most visitors until their hosts were ready for them to see.
Jake, being of orcish blood, was able to see more than a human. Two figures occupied the room he entered. He guessed one would be his guide and the other, no doubt with crossbow aimed at Jake's chest, would be the guardian of the door.
The orc made no quick movements. Instead he waited for the escort to close the secret door, and watched the guardian. The guardian, in turned, watched Jake. Jake did not doubt that if he made a wrong move, a quarrel would bury itself in his chest long before he could reach the guardian. Jake wasn't sure how good his darksight would be, but it was sure to be better than human in order to be assigned this task.
The escort sealed the entrance and brushed past Jake, a muffled "follow" was all he said as he moved towards a stairway at the back of the small room.
Jake followed, his hands kept well away from the hilts of his swords, just to make sure the guardian would not mistake his intent.
They moved down into the darkness, feeling their way along a very narrow staircase that Jake was sure was concealed between walls of the warehouse. As they went lower, a dim light eventually began to illuminate the way.
Able to make out more of the features of his escort, Jake saw he was a small, dirty man, dressed in an assemblage of dark clothes and rags. A beggar-spy, most likely. One of the cabal's eyes and ears on the street. His ragged appearance was deceptive. Jake spotted several knives about his person, and he was no doubt good with them.
Since Jake wasn't here to invade, the armament of his escort did not matter. Instead, he followed in near silence, letting the hunched man lead the way deeper into a maze of narrow hallways, past cross-corridors, and probably circling back once or twice to make the path less negotiable for those trying to remember their way. Again, Jake was unconcerned. This was only routine security for Badside.
Twice they passed doorways which opened onto largish rooms, illuminated by firelight and containing a ragtag lot of individuals sharing an ale and perhaps recounting the day's exploits or misadventures. The improvised taverns were a regular feature of Badside. Jake knew a couple of the proprietors who made their livelihood catering to the roaming needs of Badside. Retired mercenaries or thieves usually. People no longer fit, either due to injury or age, to work the streets or hire out their blades, but still wise to the way of life and useful sources of knowledge. Serving the needs of Badside gave them the casual protection of their brotherhood, and also provided Badside with necessary services. It was the closest thing to 'retirement' their kind--Jake's kind--had.
The orc didn't spend much time in the taverns of Badside. His work at the brewery kept him too busy, but he did from time to time do business with them. His brewery's black ale was popular with a segment of the Badsiders. It helped keep the brewery out of the red when sales were not as high at the dueling venues.
Jake was eventually ushered into a dimly lit room with three other occupants. One would be a bodyguard, and a good one. Probably an assassin. Jake would not want to try his blade against him unless it was absolutely necessary. Jake's contact was notorious for having the best killers in his service. The bodyguard's stance was as taut as a wire. Ready for instant activity should need arise. His eyes were bright points of light, reflecting the firelight of the room. His gaze was locked on the orc's movements.
The second figure, who also stood, was likely his contact's latest inventory keeper and coinmaster. Someone who knew exactly where things were, what value they had, and how to move them. If history was any measure, he was also a dead man. Kept alive only as long as he served faithfully. A poison probably coursed his system, something nasty, which would kill him if he ever failed in his service. He lived only as long as he received the antidote. Poisons being what they are, he probably only had a few years to live anyway, even with the antidote.
The figure that concerned Jake was the one who sat in the middle of the room. An immense figure. Jake estimated him at well over twenty stoneweight, and probably close to thirty. The giant orc filled an enormous chair. His limbs were powerfully muscled, and his tusks were large and strong. Despite his bulk, Jake was sure the great orc was as dangerous as he had ever been. Perhaps a little slower, but not enough to make Jake gamble against him in a fight.
"It's been too long...Jake," the giant orc rumbled. The words were followed by a long low rumbling chuckle which set the enormous bulk to rolling and heaving.
Jake nodded and replied, "I see you are bigger than ever, Gorog."
Gorog continued his rumbling chuckle, unoffended by the remark, and no doubt taking it as a compliment. "And you are still small, halfblood."
The taunt was a familiar one, as was Jake's response, "...but my blades remain sharp."
Gorog seemed amused, his yellowed tusks were bared in a broad smile. "We shall have to see one day if that is true... The pits still miss your presence. There are many who would still bet on you."
"The pits will continue to miss me."
Gorog only laughed harder at the response, and leaned back to comment to his assassin/bodyguard. "The halfblood's tongue is still sharp as well."
Gorog was unfazed by the rebuff, as if certain Jake would one day return to the pits where he had fought a lifetime ago. "What brings you to me today...little halfblood...if not to fight for me?"
Of course, the question was rhetorical. Jake knew that Gorog's mind was as sharp as a knife and that he well knew about the special order Jake was seeking. "You know why I am here, old beast. Your messenger sent word that you had my special order."
Gorog's smile was undiminished. "Ah...the blood..." his large bulk shifted in the chair, and a massive hand moved up, waving the slender man to his left forward. "Is this true, Sargath? Have we a shipment for the little halfblood?"
The human twitched and his voice was mildly slurred, probably a side effect of the poison. "Yesss...yes masster Gorog." His face was tight with pain. Jake suspected he had over-guessed how long before the poison took him.
Gorog waved the man back and turned his enormous head once again to Jake. Gorog's neck was so thick and muscled that it appeared he had no neck at all. "Good...good...it appears we do have business then after all."
Jake nodded, but said nothing. Gorog shifted his massive bulk and again peered at the half-orc. "You must visit me again soon, halfblood. We should talk of things. The pits miss your blade."
Gorog waved forward his inventory keeper. "Attend to his needs."
It was a dismissal.
Jake backed up, sparing a final glance for the bodyguard, whose eyes had never moved from the half-orc's form. It was a measuring gaze, Jake was sure.
He turned out of the room, rejoining the raggedy escort, and was followed by the inventory keeper, Sargath.
"Come." The keeper led now, leading them off into the twisting maze once more, and shortly thereafter Jake was headed back towards the brewery by way of the Outback.
~~~
Upon reaching the Outback, Jake let himself in the back entrance and carried one of the casks to the bar. He made a place for the cask under the insulated portion of the bar, and labeled it "special order for Angel." A simple enough message. In fact, he was sure it needed no other note. Angel would probably sense it the moment she next entered the Outback. Vampire senses seemed keenly attuned its presence. He was sure she would not miss it.
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Re: Transactions by Night
Date: 6/25/2001 2:47 PM Central Daylight Time
From: JakeThrash
(())
Belated Author's Notes:
"Stoneweight" was borrowed from the English measurement of weight. An English 'Stone' equals 14 pounds. So 20 stone = 280 pounds. Which places Gorog's weight someplace between 280 and 420 pounds.
"Badside" was completely an improvisation on my part. I couldn't remember if there had ever been a 'bad' quarter of Rhydin defined, and no one I chatted with could remember one, so I took the liberty of inventing one. Anyone else interested in making use of Badside is welcome to do so.
From: JakeThrash
(())
Belated Author's Notes:
"Stoneweight" was borrowed from the English measurement of weight. An English 'Stone' equals 14 pounds. So 20 stone = 280 pounds. Which places Gorog's weight someplace between 280 and 420 pounds.
"Badside" was completely an improvisation on my part. I couldn't remember if there had ever been a 'bad' quarter of Rhydin defined, and no one I chatted with could remember one, so I took the liberty of inventing one. Anyone else interested in making use of Badside is welcome to do so.