From the journal of Dvarim Bolg
One of my family's favorite holidays, through the generations, is Day Drinking Day. Which, it turns out, was today. Huzzah! As any Dwarf of discernment and youthful vigor knows, while the best fine establishments are in Throal, the best undiscovered joys are to be found in Bartertown.
My wanderings found me at the Frothing Firkin, which was building a reputation as a watering hole for Adepts, largely on account of its well reinforced walls. Never underestimate the enduring attraction of solid architecture. In fact, that very feature was being put to the test by one Bdzolgrojsh the Shinkicker whose name was as messy as his drinking.
A moment to examine the very idea of an Orcish hero. Bdzolgrojsh looked like he had lived some 73 hard years, which probably meant that he was 9. Orcs, am I right? He had the necessary ingredients of Orcish heroism. Equal parts bravado, random destruction, hurlg, and joie de vivre. His personal troubadour was in the process of recounting the story of how they had saved a very unlucky village that had apparently been attacked twice by Horror-crafted undead.
Being the sort of hero he was, Shinkicker had lost his sword. Not in the battle, but in the drunken revelry on the way to the battle. A charming sort of savage buffoonery, really. He offered the quite sizable sum of the sword's weight in silver to whomever recovered it.
Requiring seed capital for my own endeavors, I offered to take up the job, as did three humans. Such enterprising folk, the humans. Two of them I had traveled with before - Karl and William. One a Scout, the other an Archer, I honestly could not tell you which was which. They're both human, they both understand the wilderness, they both do well at a distance, and they both have an unrequited love of animals. The third human was a warrior named Xeviouz.
We did our research, which largely involved speaking to the Elven captain of a small air skiff called the Pegasi's Wings. I did a bit of repair work for him, and hope to build that relationship in the future. Never a bad thing to have an Air Sailor think well of you.
Based on the intelligence we gathered, we plotted our path and set off. We got ahead of most others who wanted the same prize but, it turned out, not all of them. We reached a river - ahh, what a challenge rivers are. An elf, a t'skrang, and an obsidiman had embarked on the same mission as us and had gotten just far enough ahead that they were on the more profitable bank of the river. And in a position to destroy the bridge we needed to cross.
Which, of course, they did.
Once again, engineering to the rescue! I managed to convert the debris from the bridge into a set of swimming boards. Plankswimmers? Riverboards? Kickboards? I shall have to consider the branding. They did the job admirably, as did the rope tying us together and Xeviouz's extraordinary swimming effort.
Upon catching up with our rivals, we entered into negotiations. I employed well-taught Dwarven mechanisms of diplomacy, focusing on establishing hierarchy and community. Others disparaged the technique as 'shit-talking'. Our discussion was, however, interrupted by a herd of absolutely bizarre creatures. William tells me the are called 'Elephants' which is just a weird word and I'm not certain I like it. We were also told that they were vulnerable to provocation.
Which was abundantly clear because they promptly charged all of us. Ahh, the secret wisdom of nature. Can be provoked, indeed.
Fighting was done, beasts were driven off, and one was even rendered unconscious; its affections to be argued over by William and Karl in the strangest of all possible love triangles.
We also elevated our discussion with our rivals into the realm of physical action. I proudly secured the low ground, which is to say that I spent most of that scuffle knocked on my ass. Hardly my proudest moment. Still, through the fantastic martial capabilities of my Human compatriots, we took the upper hand, and the blade in question.
We provided mercy and support to our wounded rivals, and returned safely to Bartertown, only to find that Shinkicker had been thrown in the drunk tank. No one anywhere in all of Throal or Barsaive was surprised. Still, we are a civilized people, and were able to visit him in holding, whereupon he honored his end of the deal and we found ourselves well recompensed for our efforts.
Not the noblest of adventures, perhaps, but educational and enriching nevertheless. Especially for William, who won the indifference of one of the smaller elephants, if not its affections.Statistics:Posted by bronzemountain — Sat Mar 07, 2020 2:06 am
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