Open Chronicles For Guts, Glory, and Gudtimes

[Urzog Mhartoc]

Gudtown. Ten years ago it was little more than a nameless collection of huts by the Wda. Then an entrepreneurial Sharok, an entrepreneurial pub owner, decided that instead of drunk orcs making a mess in his bar he'd have them make a mess outside. Chopping a few logs and putting them in a circle, Sharok made an arena and all bargoers who wished to settle disputes would do it in the ring.

As it happened, the orcs found this solution innovative and rewarded Sharok with business. Tales went across all of the orcish tribes about how Sharok's arena was full of 'gudtimes', and quickly maps were filled with the name "Gudtown". More than a humble collection of logs, Gudtown's Arena was now a spectacle to be admired, built up both by the Orcish craftsman of Bhathairk and the dwarvish smiths of Belgrath. From across the land warriors of all species would come to Gudtown to prove their mettle against warrior, and beast.

Urzog arrived in Gudtown pulling a muzzled wyvern by his chain. The wyvern had a torn wing, and none in Urzog's family had the means to heal it. It would never fly again. But the beast still had fire in it's heart, and would be a worthy combatant for any orc who wanted to join the ring.

"Five hundred crowns." Urzog said to the Arena's quartermaster. "And a ticket to tonight's bloodbath."

 

[Maecey]

"YES! YES! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" The sound of the Halflings screams somehow seemed to carry far more than those of any of the large orcs standing all around her.

Her eyes glittered with a mixture of greed and drunken glee as she watched one of the warriors in the pit below bash his skull into his opponents face repeatedly. Blood spurted out onto the sands, and the other orc took a step backward.

For a second the crowd went quiet as it looked like he was about to step forward to attack, and then the orc with the bashed in face suddenly fell forward flat onto the ground. "YES! I'M RICH! I'M FUCKING RICH!"

Maecey threw up her hands in glee, and suddenly felt herself being lifted up into the air by a nearby orc as they cheered on her victory.

It was only a mid-day fight, but in an act of brashness and drunken idealization of one Grok Trees-Splitter, Maecey had just one five thousand Gold Crowns in a single match.

It was gonna be a good day. "ALL HAIL GROK! THAT'S MY FUCKING GUY!"

She said, riding one of the Orcs shoulders as she began to glug back the remnants of her Ale.

 

[Urzog Mhartoc]

"Five hundred crowns! The beast's a torn wing Urzog. I can't give five hundred for that." The quartermaster protested. In the good ole days Urzog would deal with Shork directly. He had an appreciation for such beasts. Ever since he hired that damn dwarf to handle his finances getting respectable coin had become a task of it's own. For some reason the dwarf thought it was running a business instead of an arena.

"Of course it has a torn wing Dvarag. If it didn't you couldn't keep it on the ground for the fights. No roof to the arena, last I checked." Urzog argued, not offering a counter proposal.

"Aye, but the tear is so large Urzog. We can't capture the true majesty of the beast like this." Dvarag haggled. "I can offer you four hundred crowns, no more."

"You've not had a wyvern fight in Gudtown in three seasons Dvarag. The beast will draw it's crowds. Four fifty is more than a bargain for this creature." Urzog said and ran his fingers under the chin of wyvern. It cooed at Urzog's touch, he had a way with such beasts, but then hissed at Dvarag in a tone of spite.

"Fine, four fifty, but don't you dare say I haven't done you any favors." Dvarag gathered a few coin purses sorted into useful increments, and consolidated them into a single purse for Urzog. Urzog took the coin but continued to stare at Dvarag, keeping his hands on the wyvern's rein. "And the daypass, very well." Dvarag pulled out a slip of paper that gave him entrance to the arena.

"Here." Urzog handed the wyvern's rein to one of Dvarag's assistants. "It prefers beef to poulty, it'll help keep it strong." Urzog advised the keeper, who seemed to brush off Urzog's advice. He was a new keeper, one Urzog hadn't seen before. He wagered the orc would get a snip at some point and then start taking Urzog's advice. Such was the way of things.

His business concluded, Urzog made his way into the arena and got a flagon of ale for the remarkable price of ten crowns. Near highway robbery as far as Urzog was concerned, he'd have to sneak in a blend next time. Once in the arena everything doubled in price compared to the outside. After downing the ale and ordering it refilled for the stands Urzog made his way to his seat, finding himself next to a collection of other orcs, one of which had thrown a halfling atop his shoulders. The girl seemed to be having the time of her life. Urzog put out a chuckle.

"Nothing quite like Gudtown." Urzog said, a bit of joy finding it's way to his face.

 

[Maecey]

Maecey let out a loud "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Shouting louder than anyone else around her as she threw up her hands and pointed towards random orcs in the crowd.

"DRINK FOR YOU! DRINK FOR YOU!" A beaming wide smile broke across her features as she looked around. "THEN A DRINK FOR MEEEEEEEE!"

She leaned down and patted the Orc carrying her on the head. "Two drinks for you."

The Orc looked up at her and practically beamed, clearly ready to go and get what Maecey had promised. The Halfling made a motion with her hand, and the massive green man gently plucked her from his shoulders and set her down.

"Get me one too!" She told the Orc as he went to go get what had been promised.

 

[Urzog Mhartoc]

The halfling woman continued to celebrate, pointing to random orcs around her and offering to buy them drinks, doubling the offer for the orc who'd thrown her atop his shoulders. She was almost certainly drunk already, or perhaps the adrenaline of the arena had got to her. Then Urzog saw it.

A ticket punched for Grok Trees-Killer against Yort Tiger-Eater at twenty to one. The Trees-Killers were a family of carpenters, and Yort was an experienced gladiator . . . but there he was, knocked back, knocked out missing teeth on the Arena floor. What an upset! And Urzog had missed it because of haggling with Dvarag. Urzog almost growled. Crusty dwarves and their coin.

But now was not the time to be spiteful. Maecey had won a small fortune, and such things were to be celebrated.

"To your victory, and that of Grok Trees-Killer!" Urzog shouted, and then began chugging his flagon. Today would be a good day.

 

[Maecey]

Maecey pumped her fist into the air, finding there was a beverage placed into it by the time she retracted her arm. "Thank you, friend!"

The Halfling of course had absolutely no idea who the strange orc was, but at this moment she figured pretty much anyone with a face was a friend.

"Never been so lucky in my life!" That was for sure.

The last time she'd bet any good amount of money on...well anything, she'd straight up lost it all. Part of her was sure that was because the people at the table had been cheating, but at the time there hadn't really been a way to prove it.

Now though? Now it was all winnings.

"Do you know Grok?" The question was probably slightly racist, but Maecey was too drunk to care.

 

[Urzog Mhartoc]

The halfling continued to celebrate her winnings with drink, given a cup of ale as fists reached for the skies. She exclaimed of her good fortune, and asked Urzog if he knew Grok. The orc laughed, and considered asking if she knew the Baggins.

"I've never met Grok personally, but I've dealt with the Tree-Killers before." Urzog replied. "One year the Mhartoc clan held a grand banquet, and it was such a fantastic place that all of the tables and chairs had to replaced. I paid the Tree-Killers to give us new furniture, and they gave us a good price for strong oaken furniture, and had it finished before the end of the season. Proud craftsman the Tree-Killers."

Urzog would never have gambled on a Tree-Killer against something that could fight back, but it seemed all families were full of surprises.

"Grok has done well. Yort Tiger-Eater is no pushover. He brings his name much honor this day." Urzog replied to Maecey, giving her a peek into the culture of Bhathairk and the outlying orc settlements.

 

[Maecey]

"Wait." Maecey said with a frown.

She was pretty drunk at this point, hell, she'd been pretty drunk for the last few days. Since she'd stumbled her way into Gudtown things had been somewhat of a blur. Her last job had paid pretty well, and...Maecey liked to enjoy herself.

The words the other Orc were saying cleared some of her haze though, and Maecey pursed her lips. "I bet on a carpenter?"

She blinked in bewilderment.

 

[Urzog Mhartoc]

Urzog bellowed out some laughter as the realization hit Maecey on what she had done. Her face wore a small frown, while her eyes spoke of confusion.

"The Tree-Killers kill trees and make crafts with the woods. He may be a carpenter, or he may be . . . Oh what's the word in the trade tongue." Urzog struggled for a moment. "A lumberjohn. Yes, that's it, a lumberjohn."

The Orc gave out a hearty grin, his tusks coming to bare.

"Whatever Grok's family was, he won today. It is good to know that an orc is not trapped by his name or the place he is born, right?" Urzog consulted. It might have been the smartest bet, but she still won. There was no reason for the halfling to frown. Unless perhaps she had bet on a Rock-Crusher. Miners were notoriously poor in the arena.

 

[Maecey]

"Well shit." Maecey said with a brief consideration, wondering if she should double her bet on the next fight.

She had chosen Tree-killer at random, mostly egged on by a goblin with a nasally voice who had been extremely encouraging. The Halfling frowned for a brief moment, then simply shook her head and decided to cut her luck.

Best to stay up and have money for drinks.

"Good indeed." She agreed with the Orc. "Had it been that way for me I would be a farmer instead of a..."

Maecey cut herself off, clearing her throat. "I'm Maecey littlefoot."

She said, offering a tiny hand to the orc.

 

[Urzog Mhartoc]

If Urzog noticed Maecey lack of forwardness in her career, he did not appear to moved by it. At the introduction and extension of a hand Urzog would bring his orcish hand to swallow the halfling own, giving it a firm squeeze and a shake.

"Urzog Mhartoc, beast tamer." The orc introduced himself, before freeing the halfling's hand. "My home is in Bharthairk, but Gudtown always provides good business and entertainment. Were I a rich orc I'd buy a summer hut and drink all season." Urzog declared, as the next match began to start. Verlock one-eye against The Shade, an elf who favored long black robes. From what he heard the Shade was a strong fighter, but less direct than Urzog preferred.

"Is this your first time in Gudtown?" Urzog asked, noticing that his drink was empty. He'd have to get another one after the fight.