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[Out of the Frying Pan] The Story of Ratchis (Concluded 10/28)
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<blockquote data-quote="Ratchis" data-source="post: 1363450" data-attributes="member: 5004"><p>Nikar was largely made up of humans but there were significant racial minorities including gnomes, dwarves and halflings. These different races all seemed to live together in relative harmony, but, despite this, my large form still attracted unwanted attention. I always kept the hood of my cloak up when out in the town, and I did not leave Jetta and Narcell’s house very often except when I would leave the town to relax in a sparse woods a few miles from the mountain face. </p><p></p><p>The weeks passed slowly, and it was some time before I realized my training had begun. I listened to many stories and was encouraged to convey many of my own. I learned of Ra’s pantheon, Set’s betrayal, Nephthys’ struggles and Fallon’s ascension. I remember fondly the spirited debate we had whether or not the other god’s really were trying to exclude Grumsch and his people from the world. We agreed that it was possible though, if so, magnified many times by the orc god’s paranoia and hatred of Corellon. Jetta and Narcell were already the best friends I ever had, and I was happy to just be in their company, feeling wanted for the first time in my life.</p><p></p><p>I busied myself with chores around the house as well as cutting wood and gathering water. As the months passed, I grew more comfortable with my command of the common language of the land, as well in the town itself. I would often take strolls with my cloak left behind when the sun was strong enough. I was not warmly embraced but neither was I being chased from the town by an angry mob.</p><p></p><p>One fine spring day, Jetta informed that she and Narcell had business to attend to and that they might be away for as long as several months. I was saddened that they were going, but their faith in me to watch their home and possessions as well as the idea of making my own way in the town for a while heartened me. Jetta hugged me goodbye and kissed me on the cheek. I am not embarrassed to admit this simple gesture almost brought a tear to my eye. I wondered if holding in my tears for so long had made me more like a human woman than an orc in that regard.</p><p></p><p>The first few weeks passed pleasantly enough. I cleaned and kept the house in perfect shape while still finding time to enjoy the woods when I could. I repeated the stories of Malar every day. His tales were my favorite, and I knew I had to learn them, whether to impart their wisdom to another or to call upon their inspiration in times of need. It also helped me continue to improve my common.</p><p></p><p>Eventually, I grew anxious. I had too much energy and not enough release. I figured then that I could find something structured to do with my time while getting to know the citizens of the town a little better. Since the salt mine was on the same tier as the house, I headed there one morning before dawn to talk to one of the burly men I saw at the entrance of the mine each morning. I was too big to work inside the mine itself, but I got a spot as a stacker, loading wagons with bundles of salt ten hours a day. </p><p></p><p>For weeks, no one spoke to me, and then one day, a short, fat miner invited me to the tavern after work. I went though I stayed silent the entire time. I started going with the other workers a few days a week, drinking a little but never to excess. Though I never discussed it, they knew I was a half-breed. I was often the butt of jokes, but this did not bother me since the men spent much of their time mocking one another. When tales of the wilds or outdoors came up, they would badger me until I would tell some story or another from my days in the wilds. I often found myself leaving gaps in the tales because I did not think it appropriate discussion, but self-censorship was a small price to pay for the camaraderie I came to know.</p><p></p><p>One strange occurrence was the presence of a human woman who would watch me working several days a week. She looked to be neither young nor old for a human. She was as tall as many human males with black hair and a face I found fascinating. Working alone had a decided advantage, and I began to look forward to her “visits”. I assumed she was just fascinated with what I could possibly be, but the hint of supple form beneath her dress nearly made my head spin at times. On a particularly hot day, she brought me a water-skin. I thanked her and drank deeply. She introduced herself as Madeline. I told her my name and that I was pleased to meet her.</p><p></p><p>She continued to come by and would often speak with me a bit on my infrequent breaks. She almost always brought some water with her, and I was very appreciative of that.</p><p></p><p>“How can you stand working in this heat?” she asked me, her voice very much as I had imagined it.</p><p></p><p>“I am used to hard work. It is tiring but also satisfying,” I answered quietly, unable to make eye contact.</p><p></p><p>“It’s rare to hear that these days. I bet you need a home-cooked meal. Perhaps you would like to be treated to one at my house sometime?”</p><p></p><p>“I do not know,” I answered feebly.</p><p></p><p>“Do you think I am a bad cook?” she asked.</p><p></p><p>“No,” I mumbled. “It’s just …” I trailed off, having no good reason to name.</p><p></p><p>“So, it is agreed. I will expect you tomorrow evening,” she decided, giving me instructions to her place and making me repeat them back to her. I was terrified and elated at once.</p><p></p><p>The next evening I found myself in a two-story house in the middle of a clean, orderly neighborhood. Madeline instructed me to enter in the rear which I assumed at the time was due to my sweaty and grimy appearance. She sent me to clean myself as she set the table. I washed myself, upstairs in the house. I had never seen such opulence before. When I got back downstairs, a beautiful meal was laid out for us. I know my table manners did not impress, but we passed the meal in pleasant conversation. Well, it was passed with me listening to her monologues about various subjects, but I found this to be completely satisfactory. </p><p></p><p>We went into her sitting room, drank some sort of strong wine and talked for several more hours. She was fascinated by life in the wilds, asking for every detail of different places. As the room seemed to darken and my head swim from the liquor, Madeline came and sat in my lap. I froze as my stomach tied itself into a knot. My mind refused to contemplate this situation, and I don’t know how long I would have sat there if she didn’t kiss me. Suffice it to say it was some time before we reached her bedroom, and my disgust that came with my first experience long ago among the orcs was replaced with a stupidly blissful joy. I slept like a human baby that night.</p><p></p><p>Shouting awoke me.</p><p></p><p>“Get out of that bed you half-breed freak!” </p><p></p><p>Groggily, I looked up to see a thin man pointing a very large crossbow at me. Madeline was holding up her ripped nightdress in front of her nude form.</p><p>“Madeline, are you alright?” I asked, revealing my own naked form as I rose from the bed.</p><p></p><p>“How dare you use her name? You stay where you are, monster, before I end your miserable existence here and now!”</p><p></p><p>I didn’t know what any of this meant, but I knew I was in grave trouble when Madeline mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry.’</p><p></p><p>The small, cursing man brought me outside. He thought I had raped his virtuous wife, and I knew the time for arguing was not then. Instead of a constable, I was brought to a nearby tavern.</p><p></p><p>“Garrick, get out here!” the man called.</p><p></p><p>Garrick came out with several of his friends, and it was then that I heard Madeline’s story for the first time.</p><p></p><p>“I-I had brought him water … He looked so thirsty. I didn’t think he would take my generosity as a sign to vi-vi-violate me!” Madeline sobbed. We all heard real fear and real tears, but I knew they came from her fear of her husband’s wrath.</p><p>Garrick turned his back from me and then spun back, hitting me heavily in the side of my head. The other men that had come outside joined in and soon, I lay on the ground trying to cover myself as I was stomped unconscious.</p><p></p><p><strong><em>. . . to be continued. . .</em></strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Ratchis, post: 1363450, member: 5004"] Nikar was largely made up of humans but there were significant racial minorities including gnomes, dwarves and halflings. These different races all seemed to live together in relative harmony, but, despite this, my large form still attracted unwanted attention. I always kept the hood of my cloak up when out in the town, and I did not leave Jetta and Narcell’s house very often except when I would leave the town to relax in a sparse woods a few miles from the mountain face. The weeks passed slowly, and it was some time before I realized my training had begun. I listened to many stories and was encouraged to convey many of my own. I learned of Ra’s pantheon, Set’s betrayal, Nephthys’ struggles and Fallon’s ascension. I remember fondly the spirited debate we had whether or not the other god’s really were trying to exclude Grumsch and his people from the world. We agreed that it was possible though, if so, magnified many times by the orc god’s paranoia and hatred of Corellon. Jetta and Narcell were already the best friends I ever had, and I was happy to just be in their company, feeling wanted for the first time in my life. I busied myself with chores around the house as well as cutting wood and gathering water. As the months passed, I grew more comfortable with my command of the common language of the land, as well in the town itself. I would often take strolls with my cloak left behind when the sun was strong enough. I was not warmly embraced but neither was I being chased from the town by an angry mob. One fine spring day, Jetta informed that she and Narcell had business to attend to and that they might be away for as long as several months. I was saddened that they were going, but their faith in me to watch their home and possessions as well as the idea of making my own way in the town for a while heartened me. Jetta hugged me goodbye and kissed me on the cheek. I am not embarrassed to admit this simple gesture almost brought a tear to my eye. I wondered if holding in my tears for so long had made me more like a human woman than an orc in that regard. The first few weeks passed pleasantly enough. I cleaned and kept the house in perfect shape while still finding time to enjoy the woods when I could. I repeated the stories of Malar every day. His tales were my favorite, and I knew I had to learn them, whether to impart their wisdom to another or to call upon their inspiration in times of need. It also helped me continue to improve my common. Eventually, I grew anxious. I had too much energy and not enough release. I figured then that I could find something structured to do with my time while getting to know the citizens of the town a little better. Since the salt mine was on the same tier as the house, I headed there one morning before dawn to talk to one of the burly men I saw at the entrance of the mine each morning. I was too big to work inside the mine itself, but I got a spot as a stacker, loading wagons with bundles of salt ten hours a day. For weeks, no one spoke to me, and then one day, a short, fat miner invited me to the tavern after work. I went though I stayed silent the entire time. I started going with the other workers a few days a week, drinking a little but never to excess. Though I never discussed it, they knew I was a half-breed. I was often the butt of jokes, but this did not bother me since the men spent much of their time mocking one another. When tales of the wilds or outdoors came up, they would badger me until I would tell some story or another from my days in the wilds. I often found myself leaving gaps in the tales because I did not think it appropriate discussion, but self-censorship was a small price to pay for the camaraderie I came to know. One strange occurrence was the presence of a human woman who would watch me working several days a week. She looked to be neither young nor old for a human. She was as tall as many human males with black hair and a face I found fascinating. Working alone had a decided advantage, and I began to look forward to her “visits”. I assumed she was just fascinated with what I could possibly be, but the hint of supple form beneath her dress nearly made my head spin at times. On a particularly hot day, she brought me a water-skin. I thanked her and drank deeply. She introduced herself as Madeline. I told her my name and that I was pleased to meet her. She continued to come by and would often speak with me a bit on my infrequent breaks. She almost always brought some water with her, and I was very appreciative of that. “How can you stand working in this heat?” she asked me, her voice very much as I had imagined it. “I am used to hard work. It is tiring but also satisfying,” I answered quietly, unable to make eye contact. “It’s rare to hear that these days. I bet you need a home-cooked meal. Perhaps you would like to be treated to one at my house sometime?” “I do not know,” I answered feebly. “Do you think I am a bad cook?” she asked. “No,” I mumbled. “It’s just …” I trailed off, having no good reason to name. “So, it is agreed. I will expect you tomorrow evening,” she decided, giving me instructions to her place and making me repeat them back to her. I was terrified and elated at once. The next evening I found myself in a two-story house in the middle of a clean, orderly neighborhood. Madeline instructed me to enter in the rear which I assumed at the time was due to my sweaty and grimy appearance. She sent me to clean myself as she set the table. I washed myself, upstairs in the house. I had never seen such opulence before. When I got back downstairs, a beautiful meal was laid out for us. I know my table manners did not impress, but we passed the meal in pleasant conversation. Well, it was passed with me listening to her monologues about various subjects, but I found this to be completely satisfactory. We went into her sitting room, drank some sort of strong wine and talked for several more hours. She was fascinated by life in the wilds, asking for every detail of different places. As the room seemed to darken and my head swim from the liquor, Madeline came and sat in my lap. I froze as my stomach tied itself into a knot. My mind refused to contemplate this situation, and I don’t know how long I would have sat there if she didn’t kiss me. Suffice it to say it was some time before we reached her bedroom, and my disgust that came with my first experience long ago among the orcs was replaced with a stupidly blissful joy. I slept like a human baby that night. Shouting awoke me. “Get out of that bed you half-breed freak!” Groggily, I looked up to see a thin man pointing a very large crossbow at me. Madeline was holding up her ripped nightdress in front of her nude form. “Madeline, are you alright?” I asked, revealing my own naked form as I rose from the bed. “How dare you use her name? You stay where you are, monster, before I end your miserable existence here and now!” I didn’t know what any of this meant, but I knew I was in grave trouble when Madeline mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry.’ The small, cursing man brought me outside. He thought I had raped his virtuous wife, and I knew the time for arguing was not then. Instead of a constable, I was brought to a nearby tavern. “Garrick, get out here!” the man called. Garrick came out with several of his friends, and it was then that I heard Madeline’s story for the first time. “I-I had brought him water … He looked so thirsty. I didn’t think he would take my generosity as a sign to vi-vi-violate me!” Madeline sobbed. We all heard real fear and real tears, but I knew they came from her fear of her husband’s wrath. Garrick turned his back from me and then spun back, hitting me heavily in the side of my head. The other men that had come outside joined in and soon, I lay on the ground trying to cover myself as I was stomped unconscious. [b][i]. . . to be continued. . .[/i][/b] [/QUOTE]
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[Out of the Frying Pan] The Story of Ratchis (Concluded 10/28)
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