Day 2, Afternoon
If there’s one thing this festival has done, it’s proven to you that half-orcs have no place in a human world. You may be a member of Fate’s Hammer, and you can see the people’s respect for that, but while your companions enjoy lavish attention, all you seem to get is begrudging thanks. Perhaps the war with the Red Hand just isn’t far enough removed…
Despite all that, you’ve still managed to squeeze out some fun, mainly by hanging out with Kai. But as the day wears on, and he receives more and more invitations, you can’t help but feel a bit sorry for yourself.
On a positive note you did meet Torgrin, the grossly fat half-orc and proprietor of the Thirsty Zombie. He was very pleased to meet you and made sure you knew that you were more than welcome at his establishment. “Come on by this evening,” he boomed. “We’ll swap stories! Drinks will be on me. We’re even having an arm wrestling contest, if you’d like to have a go.”
Day 2, Evening
You return to the keep with Kai, eager to take a break from the crowd. You can’t put your finger on it, but something about this place makes you uncomfortable. It’s not the noise, or the crowds, or even the stares. It’s deeper than that. You feel incomplete, like realizing something’s amiss but not being able to identify it.
Unfortunately, it’s been growing for some time, but seems to have just now reached a level incapable of being ignored. Whereas at first, it surfaced at night, slipping through some unguarded seam as you prepared for sleep, it now stays with you during your waking hours as well. Even amid your friends, it’s there, and while you respect them, you realize you don’t really know them, and outside of combat there certainly isn’t much fellowship.
Contemplating this elusive awareness for a time, you lay on a down-filled mattress upside down, staring at the ceiling as your head hangs off the edge. Growing hungry, you finally emerge from your room to discover you’re the only one here.
“Ayas left with the boy an hour ago,” the sergeant of the guard tells you. “And Kai went with Equis to the Cathedral. I think they have a meeting with Relgus. Can I order you something to eat?”
You get the feeling he’d rather be somewhere else, or at least assigned a task other than seeing to your needs.
You sigh. “No,” you answer. “That won’t be necessary,” and make your way into the night.
Leaving the keep you stand for a moment on the hill, taking in the view as the sun changes from orange to red. A crowd of people have gathered in the Cathedral Square and you see others rushing to join them before the sun sets. Barely audible, music and singing are carried along the whispering breeze to your ears. It sounds joyous. You sigh again, realizing it’s the last place you want to be.
Losing interest, you walk northwest toward the market square. Passing Velorian’s at the hill’s base, you again stop to watch as people file in to see the show, many of them couples locked arm in arm. It only furthers your depression. Eventually, you arrive at the market square to find it empty. Taking a seat on a low stone bench, you toss pebbles into the grass as your hopelessness grows threatening to swamp you in a mire of despair. Suddenly, a brevity of raucous laughter cuts through your self-loathing. Intrigued, you look up and smile as your eyes fall upon the sign of the Thirsty Zombie.
“Terik!” You’re announced as you enter the establishment. Torgrin, the half-orc proprietor, is standing behind the bar, a greasy rag thrown over his shoulder as he uses another to wipe down a glass mug. “Welcome!” he continues. Banging the mug on the counter until he has the crowd’s attention, he clears his throat, spits on the floor and says, “Ladies and Gentlemen. Well… Men at least. Can’t say there’s anything gentle ‘bout any of you!” He waits until the conciliatory laughter dies down. “This here is Terik, Wielder of the feared fullblade of Fate’s Hammer. He’ll drop your ass dead boys… Challenge him at your own peril.”
A round of applause ensues.
“Now come on ya cheap bastards,” he continues. “Buy him a round and make him feel at home.” And that’s exactly what they do…
Day 2, Night
It must be close to midnight when you stagger out of the Thirsty Zombie, a stained and weathered scroll case in hand.
“Sure you don’t wanna jus’ stay here?” Torgrin asks one last time.
You jut out your lower jaw and shake your head, concentrating on maintaining your balance.
“Suit yerself,” he says. “See ya when I see ya!”
Returning to the market, you resume your seat on the low stone bench. Unlike earlier, the square is once again full of revelers, dancing, singing and carrying on. It’s noisome, but you don’t mind, content to sit and breathe the cool night air. The relaxing effects are immediate and you stretch out, embracing the cold stone pressing against your back as you lie down.
Some time later, on the verge of falling asleep, you realize you have company. Opening your eyes with a start you sit up and turn to confront the impertinent intruder. Upon seeing who it is however, you’re forced to swallow your angry words before they escape.
“Hello Terik,” Nine says nonchalantly.
Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you look him up and down before answering.
“What are you doing out?” you ask.
“I was running,” he answers.
“Running?” you ask perplexed.
“Dandelion’s idea. He said it would be fun.”
You laugh as an image of the two of them slowly trickles through the fog of alcohol.
“Terik?” the soldier asks curiously.
“Yeah Nine?”
“What is… fun?”
His matter-of-fact question causes you to explode in laughter. A reaction you’re quick to regret, as your head begins to pound again. Just as you begin to regain your composure, Nine speaks again.
“Your breath smells wrong.”
Tears streaking, you manage to answer between sobs, “I’m sure it does,” you confess. “I’m sure it does.”
“Come on,” you finally invite him. “Let’s head back.”
As the two of you stand you notice he’s covered in swirls, dots and streaks of red paint.
“Nice,” you compliment him. “Where’d all that come from?”
Nine looks at himself. “They are markings. Nuri’ says I’m her champion now. They are not to be removed.”
You cock an eyebrow. “Nuri?” you ask, intrigued.
“Yes.”
“Who is this, Nuri?” you press.
“Luca’s sister.”
“Uh-huh. And Luca?”
“A Vistanni. He has red hair. Like Dandelion now.”
“I see. So you went to a Vistanni party, I take it?”
“They are celebrating life.”
“And why not, right?” you ask cheerfully. “Where are they now?”
“Do not know. They ran that way,” he says pointing over your shoulder.
“We’re in luck. I was headed that very way. Let’s just see if we can’t find them, shall we?”
“Yes,” Nine says. Bending down, he retrieves a wicker basket from under the bench.
“What’s that?” you ask curiously.
“His clothes. I am to keep them. He wanted to wear his… birthday suit.” And the fit of laughter starts all over again…
You never did find Dandelion or his friends, but managed to make it back to the keep. Nine, worried he would disappoint Dande, elected to stay out with his clothes. You on the other hand were hungry, thirsty, and above all, tired. Thankfully, Sergeant Kroft had kept a kettle of beef and carrot stew warmed over the fire. You devoured a bowl as if you hadn’t eaten in days. Eventually, satisfied, you made your way to quarters and collapsed upon your bed.
But sleep was hard to come…
You keep staring at the scroll case, replaying events at the Thirsty Zombie.
“So? You enjoy playing the hero?” Torgrin asked you.
You tried to play it off. “Hero?”
“Don’t play the fool with me,” he says sternly.
“Well,” you contend. “Regardless of perception, I don’t consider myself heroic. It’s more like being in the right place at the right time and I’m just doin’ what I know best.”
“Yeah?” he asks. “And what’s that?”
“Kill whoever, or whatever, gets in the way,” you state seriously.
“And you don’t consider that heroic?” he asks with a smile, equally as serious.
You never had time to answer, as he moved away down the bar tending to other patrons. He returned later, but didn’t bring it up, broaching another subject in its stead.
“So what’s it like livin’ with a bunch a elves?”
You looked at him for a spell, trying to read his intent. His disdain for the word “elves” was unmistakable, but you didn’t sense he was trying to offend you.
“Better than living as a slave to a demented creature from the Far Realm,” you admit truthfully.
“You’d have a hard time convincing me of that,” he says playfully. “Maybe it’s my father’s blood in me, but if I’m around an elf too long, I get the overwhelming desire to rip his arm off and beat him over the head with it!”
You smile and nod. “I know that feeling,” you confess. “But I’ll tell you. Without the discipline they instilled in me, I wouldn’t be alive to have this conversation. Of that, I’m absolutely positive. Would’ve been killed long since…”
“Hmm,” he murmurs. “A killing machine you can turn on and off,” he says quietly.
“What’s that?” you tried to clarify.
“You’ve got a bright future Terik,” he says. “I hope I live long enough to see it.”
Although Torgrin seemed amiable enough, you got the feeling there was an ulterior motive to his friendliness. A feeling made more prominent after the arm-wrestling match.
It started as a friendly jest. Torgrin announced a challenge to the crowd, against your wishes. “Any a’ you think ya got what it takes to beat my man here, step right up.”
Fortunately, no one was stupid enough, or drunk enough to accept. Until he sweetened the deal…
“Free drinks for a’ week to the man strong enough to beat our hero. One try. One try only.”
At that point, a wretched looking human rose to the challenge, sauntering up to the bar.
“Giles, you ugly bastard,” Torgrin addressed him. “Sit you down. You don’t have what it takes. And besides, I know you don’t have the coin.”
You watched the conversation unfold, wishing you could leave but knowing you couldn’t. Giles was a big man, and Torgrin was right, he was ugly beyond fairness, a number of warts covering the left side of his face and a bulbous nose that suggested disease. You didn’t want to touch him, let alone arm-wrestle him.
Giles was undeterred by Torgrin’s jaunts. “I’ve got this,” he said, tossing the scroll case onto the table.
“What’s that?” Torgrin asked.
“My deed to the copper mine in Red Rock,” he answered with an air of cockiness.
Torgrin snatched it up, unfurling it before reading it quickly. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered softly. “And in return?” he asked.
“I want my tab forgiven for me an’ my men, an’ free meals, drinks and a bed for the rest a’ my days.”
Torgrin smiled at you as if he’d just stolen the king’s crown and gotten away with it.
Poor Giles didn’t stand a chance. You knew from the time Torgrin said, “Go” and released your hands, you had him beat. And you embarrassed him. As Giles grunted and pushed with every ounce of strength he had, you held your arm in place, completely upright. Adding to the spectacle, you lifted a mug of beer and drank deeply, slamming it to the table once finished. Then, looking from Torgrin to Giles, you smashed his wrist onto the table with astonishing speed. The crowd went crazy. Giles slinked away.
“Amazing,” Torgrin congratulated you.
“Don’t ever do that again,” you warned him.
He frowned. “Your right. I’ll tell you what. You take the deed.”
“I can’t do that,” you said.
“Bullocks! I’ve had my share of mining. I insist.” He wouldn’t take no for an answer…
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