Private Tales (Mis)adventure Time

[J'Darak Moghahk]

A town near Thiria.

Dreary and cold might have been how someone would have described the mornlate, the spattering of rain that attempted to fall from the overcast sky lending no hope to the day being bright and cheerful. Moghahk barely noticed as he trudged his way into the town, steps leaving mammoth prints that would have put a draft horse to shame. An hour prior he had run across a minstrel on the road, destined for the same place and as luck would have it, he arrived in one piece, the nearest inn being regaled or perhaps regurgitated upon by a grand story of how a heroic human had triumphed over a great black orc, how shortsword had defeated axe, how-

The minstrel eeked a sound, the story -now far more elaborate than the last ten times- ceased in his throat, and with the practiced speed of someone who regularly bedded those he should not, the gold was scooped from his hat and donned wishing everyone a swift farewell before vanishing down between a pair of houses. The reason for his quick getaway more than clear as the group who had gathered to hear his story (not that there were many remaining in the town) was knocked aside by a fast-moving mass of muscle and tusks. Moghahk rounded the building in pursuit with a mighty thud against the far wall, vanishing between. A moment or two later, the sound of a startled cry rung forth, and out came the minstrel, somehow faster than he had entered, hurtling through the air and slamming full force into a fruit stand. It exploded in a stunning spray of juices and fragmented fruits.

_____

By Noonlate an unfortunate detachment of four town guards had been dispatched to watch the orc, who had stolen two loaves of bread, a slab of ham, and wrecked a nearby wagon for (presumably) having a long word on it in the short time he had been in the town. However, his arrival was both a blessing and a curse, as the local Mayor saw a potentially easy way to deal with two problems in one fell swoop. For he knew this was no ordinary orc, his breed being rare enough that it could only be a handful and with the rather striking black-iron great-axe even fewer still. The Mage-Eater. What better creature to clear a den of foul magically risen monsters that had been plaguing the recent expansion of the town's Abbey. He just needed someone else, another wanderer in the town.

Word spread fast from the silver-tongued mayor, "Adventurers needed to clear ancient crypt, payment to be paid in full after the duty is fulfilled, spoils included." What more enticement could a sellsword need? It was foolproof, not only did it clear the problem, but it removed the vagabonds from his streets and taverns, the brutish black orc included.
_____
Farzad Oldsummer

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

There once was a woman,
With eyes made of red,
Heart made with the storm,
and a tongue-like whiplash.
​

The clouds rolled like a thick flood of molasses, slowly thick waves rolling atop another cloud in the mess of thick grays, some dark promising good crops, some bright, promising the sun twinkled behind it. Beneath it traveled a small caravan, thick furs spilling over and bouncing with every bump as if the spark of life still beats inside them. And long behind them was a patch of color that moved. With the same pace as a man, the size of a man but the odd peculiarity of the singing skill of a dead mallard thrown into a compression machine.

It was passionate to say the least, the way he sang with such little care and enthusiasm. It was a surprise to say he wandered alone, simply following the trodden path of the caravan. He wasn't particularly sure where he was going, but things like this tended to all pan out. He rarely bothered trying to self-direct a course these days.

It wasn't until he made it to the city, where the Caravan was pulled over and a few guards gathered that he had learned his course. A crypt? Jeez, always sunshine and rainbows wherever I go huh? He mused to himself, cracking his knuckles as one of the guardsmen tried to stop him. Farzad put a hand to his chest. "Good sir. Guardsman. Honorable si- Oh nope those." He quickly pulled his hand back, there was a beat as the guardswoman flushed with anger and Farzad soothed them. By putting his hand on their shoulder. "Those. Were breasts." He spoke as if he had some insight this guardsman had never realized. "It's hard. You do your makeup to look like it's a pencil mustache. Odd choice but you do you sister." His free hand-rolled his quarterstaff over his shoulder to allow his hand the freedom to snap a finger gun. "I. Am here to help. I am the legendary adventurer, King Applewine." He lied rather passionately. And the guardswoman wasn't to figure it out as he quickly side-stepped them, his back hunched over a little as he made a few quick steps backward. "I know, I know. Taken aback by my greatness, don't worry soon your town will be saved and I can give you some advice on makeup!" He yelled rather loudly before turning on his heel. There was a smell, thick musk-like an ox that had somehow managed to permeate and then rot for a few days.

It was a long-drawn-out turn on a heel, almost more like a low kick as his quarterstaff hugged his shoulder blade and he slowly rose up like a dance move. Before the dance shuddered to see it.

It was massive.
An Urcgais.​

Farzad, of course, had seen larger things in his life. Dragon's, that one mountain and that one mirror that showed one's ego. But this was an Orc. A big. Nasty. Black-looking thing tied down with chain, rope, and the weight of anxious guards. His body was so massive one might mark it in demesnes rather than foot. Its arms like thick trunks curled over with vein-like roots sprawling outwards. Its face like poison ivy, leaving behind an itch to leave it alone. And his legs like the weight of falling branches, leaving thick marks in its wake. "Fan-tastic." There was always weight to dealing with specimens that seemed to push the envelope of their race. And this thing did that. So much so like Poison Ivy, Farzad made like a leaf only to turn around and bump into a long-eyed, sickeningly smiling man who one could pin the word mayor to like a fly to shit.

"Hello I'm hired."​

 

[J'Darak Moghahk]

The man sprawled thin lips across yellowed teeth to Farzad in a smile, nasal voice carrying words laced with a thinly veiled distaste for someone he deemed a common man.

"As I expected, hmhm," he almost sneered straightening the sleeves of his robes, tailored in the finest cotton and draped in gold medallion, he ushered the town guard aside from the black orc which caught a look of absolute disdain from him, "enough of that, we would not wish to insult our future saviours now, would we? I expect you speak the common tongue orc?" He asked chin lifted a fraction higher when talking to the beast as it rose, shrugging off rope and chain that had barely accomplished anything at all. Moghahk rolled his shoulders one by one, beady golden gaze regarding the puny human man up and down, weighing him up.
Firstly he had matters to attend to, turning to the nearest town guard the black orc balled a fist and swatted the man before he even had a moment to react. Sprawled out, blood pooling from his shattered nose and busted teeth the other guards quickly raised their weapons. It only drew a ringing chortle from the supposed mayor, who lifted a hand and took a step forward. "Enough now orc before I have you charged with the crimes you have so recklessly committed upon this helpless, sleepy little town of ours."

Moghahk grunted and narrowed his eyes beneath heavy brows, jaw rolling and savagely jagged tusks grinding. He steeled himself from swatting this one too and folded his arms, to the best of his ability.

"Yes, speak common little man, understand common too. Threaten more and Gja'Tok will bite, crush you like brittle bone." J'Darak warned, lips pulling back to reveal almost black gums housing each jutting tusk. The threat only elicited another chortle as the man placed his hands behind his back and strutted with the confidence of a male peacock in full display.

"I am Judge Dimont, aid to this lovely towns Mayor, I deal with the day to day problems of this place, I maintain quality, stability, law and order. So I would suggest, orc, that you maintain some decorum around me if your kind even can." Dimont said, offering another smile laced with venom and the confidence of someone who knew he had every card in hand. He turned to Farzad, having largely ignored him up until now.
"And you my good sir, the both of you will take on this most important task, together you will clear the crypt of the unholy abominations that seek to muddy the purity of our home and you will do so thoroughly, professionally, once you are paid, you will then leave. We have no place for vagabonds and, well... Savages." He cast a look to Moghahk who simply snarled, saliva rolling in ropes down his knotted beard. "Oh yes and if you happen to find a boy on your travels into the deep dark, he stole something of great importance to me, kill him. You will save me a trial." With that, Judge Dimont dipped his head, regarded the two with one last warning look and left with a swish of his cloak.

There they were left standing, the Mage-Eater and the Wizard Farzad, two peas in a pod.

---

Farzad Oldsummer

 

[Farzad Oldsummer]

There was a feint in Farzad's disposition. He held himself a little bit straighter, a long exhale as if passing away his fears in a gust and his feet turned a little further apart. His opera mask covering his feature. He turned to look at the massive orc as chain and rope snapped like sewing thread to a club. Slowly turning back as the massive thing breathed down with the force of a small typhoon. Its teeth smelled rotted and the distinct smell of carrion seemed to waft with it.

If not for Farzad's mask, the terror would be palpable.​

Instead, he seemed defiant in his posture, like some child standing up to an abusive father. Though in this case, he felt the abuse more so from the judge than the Orc. It was strange, normally the lion tamer put its head in the mouth of a lion. In this case, he felt more like a slave boy being bid by his master to put its head in a lion's maw, all the while the tamer prodded its genitalia with a sharp stick.

"The payment being how much?"​

Straight and professional Farzad that's right. Don't let it know you are terrified.
​

Do you think you can maintain the ruse tho'?

Not a good time conscious.
​

I'm just saying ya about to fly headfirst into a crypt wi-

Don't tell me the risks.​

Less a risk and more an assessment of the situation.

He bargained with his own thoughts, maybe this thing liked money? More so than it liked killing. Though the display of brute force and swatting a human away like a mosquito didn't do much to alleviate Farzads impending sense of dread. "Oh, and the child. Did... What now? I'm sure me and my new friend Gja'tok would like to know." Farzad continued, hoping easing the muscle monstrosity into the conversation might endear each other.