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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Enk&amp;D'Shai" data-source="post: 2287884" data-attributes="member: 7569">Dinner is ServedD'Shai and I are busy watching Ice Pirates. Feel free to insert mindless drivel from D'Shai here.An unbelievably witty retort from me here.An equally mindless non-sequiter from D'Shai here.And finally a Tip of the Day here.Tip of the Day: ______________________________*****“…and I present to you, Wyrm of the North, Tor’s highest honor. For your bravery and cunning in slaying the Ogre which has plagued our fair city for far too long, I give you Trennor’s Crest!” The king bowed before the half-orc, placing the heavy, bejeweled medallion in the young warrior’s hands. Worm grinned, his lower tusks jutting past his lips, and raised the crest high above his head. “People of Tor,” he roared, “Let it be known that I, Wyrm, am your Champion, now and forever!” The crowd cheered in response, chanting incoherently. And as he placed the medallion’s chain around his thick neck, Worm saw his adopted mother Lizon and brother Pack in the front of the crowd, both crying in joy at the warrior’s great deed. The applause started at the back of the throng, slowly moving its way forward as it followed a string of scantily clad dancing girls. When they finally set foot on dais, swirling around the new Champion in a flurry of silk ribbons, feathered fans, and curvy flesh, the applause became a beat, as if one huge hand kept time for Worm’s personal entertainment.Then, a single voice cut through the noise. It began softly, almost a whisper, “Faker. Charlatan. Knave. Rogue.” The applause faltered as the voice grew louder. “This is no Champion that stands before you. He is an imposter.”The crowd hushed as they melted away leaving only a thin woodsman standing next to Worm’s family. The newcomer continued to calmly spout his accusations in an accented tongue, “A play hero whose own brother helped best an ogre when he could not. He slew nothing. He is nothing.”“Shut up, Ander! You’re ruining everything!” The half-orc tried to leap at the smug southerner, but the medallion around his neck was suddenly a chain that shackled him to the stone dais near the king’s throne. “Come, Pack,” said the woodsman as he held his hand out to the halfling, “he’s not worthy to travel in the company of the Heroes of Icemist.” “Pack! Don’t!” For a long moment, Worm held his brother’s gaze, pleading silently for him to stay. Pack stared back, a tear on his cheek, and then reached up to take Ander’s hand. As he turned away the mob reemerged, armed with rocks and rotten vegetables as they called for the half-breed’s head.***Worm groaned and rolled over, not daring to open his eyes. The few streams of light that did seep through his clenched lids caused a dull ache in his swollen head. The pain in his temples, while drowning out the memory of his nightmare, reminded the half-orc of a morning after an evening spent drinking Ice Dragon, a barbarian mead known for both its chilled taste and a brutal hangover.“You didn’t tell me you brought food.”Worm leapt to his feet, the deep, sonorous voice a reminder of where he was. A heartbeat later, the wobbly warrior teetered and fell, his unsteady appendages losing their fight against Gea’s Grasp.“Easy, son,” the voice chuckled, “I bet your head feels like an ogre hit you.” The chuckle became a booming laugh that brought waves of anvil-pounding pain to the youth’s head. “Here, have some food.”The grisly slab of roasted flesh that the ogre shoved under the half-orc’s nose would have turned his stomach had his pain been mead induced, but surprisingly Worm found his mouth watering from the smell. With a wary eye on the cook, he took the meat and chanced a small bite. It was tough and stringy, yet savory in a way that reminded him of the barbarian feasts in the north. With a shrug, he set to devouring the meaty shank as he gave a more appraising look at his host. For the first time, he realized that his erstwhile opponent was not an ogre at all, at least not fully. Pack had described a misshapen and hunched monstrosity with skin the color of bile; Worm saw only a hint of that sallow color, and judged his host to be well proportioned and postured. Even his graying hair was braided and clean. The only truly ogrish feature he possessed was an oversized and overly square jaw complete with tusks, an exaggerated mirror of Worm’s own. He too was a half-breed. “Mmm, oh excuse me, where are my manners?” the half-ogre snorted between slurps on a marrow-filled rib. He tossed the bone in his mouth with a crunch, taking a moment to grind it down and swallow, and finished the display by wiping greasy hands across his leather jerkin before extending one out in a standard greeting. “My name is Grogger and this is my home.” “I came here to kill you,” said Worm, setting his own meal aside, “and you give me dinner and talk as if we are friends.”The half-ogre smiled, displaying a set of fangs that Worm knew would have melted his smaller sibling. “Lots of people come here to kill me. None of them has survived my answer. You did, so I’m impressed.” The large man-beast pulled another haunch from the spit and tore into it. “Plus, there’s the other similarities we possess. I like you.”“You don’t even know me.”“Doesn’t matter,” he said, juice running down his chin. “Mmmm, - you bring good meat.” He swallowed heavily and continued, “My ogre blood gives me strange and magical powers.” He leaned in conspiratorially, “I get to choose who I like and who I don’t.”Worm answered, annoyed. “That’s ridiculous. Just because I am a half-breed and possess strength like yours doesn’t necessarily mean that I am someone you should choose to like.”“Why not? You chose to think poorly of me…”“Poorly?”“What else would you call deciding to try and kill someone? And based on rumors and lies no doubt. At least I gave you the courtesy of meeting you face to face before I made my mind up about you.”Worm’s head started to ache again, and he suddenly became aware that he had begun unconsciously clenching his fists. It’s like arguing with Pack. He paused a moment, and finally changed the subject. “So you’re not really a murderous, thieving beast that has the city locked in terror.”“I don’t even consider myself a beast,” said Grogger. “You know, it’s obvious that you’re not a local. Where are you from? No wait, let me guess…” The half-ogre gave Worm a visual once over, a huge hand on his equally huge chin. “I’d say you’re from the east. Galen, maybe. I bet you just got here.”“This morning.”“And already trying to kill me? Who was it that sent you here, son?”“Just some thugs. Said I was trespassing on “Trident territory.” “Hmm. Those Tridents are quick,” he said. “Been after my place for years, but I’ve busted enough of their heads that they’ve left me alone for a while now. Guess they thought you might do the job; either that or I’d put you down. Looks like you’ve been hornswoggled, son. Happens to everyone new to Tor.”“I don’t think…” Worm started indignantly. “Don’t let it worry you. This city might have won the first round, but you look like a quick wit. Just don’t let your guard down,” Grogger said more seriously. “Remember this, son: Tor – oh, spit – really anyplace full of people, is going to have its share of deceits. It doesn’t matter if it’s a baron, a bishop, or a beggar, its all about politics or power, and sometimes both.”Worm mulled over the half-ogre’s words. “Hmrph, I can see that. I know of a couple people who fit that description back home. One’s the sheriff, and one’s even with my…” Worm stood and dusted himself off. “Thank you Grogger, but I need to get back to my brother and his friends. I’ve still got to find somewhere for us to stay the night.”“Why don’t you stay here? I could use some company, and nobody’ll bother you unless they want to deal with me.”“We might do that. Besides, I need to go find the fat thug that sent me here to die and explain to him why it was a bad idea.”Grogger flashed a warning stare, “Be careful what you wish for, son. This city can change a man, and those Tridents have been here a long time.” Then the half-ogre chuckled, “But we’ll talk about that when you return.”Worm shouldered his club and strode out with a wordless wave. As he neared the portcullis, he heard Grogger’s bellow.“And when you come back make sure you bring another donkey! This one is good eatin’!”</blockquote>

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