2006-04-10 13:16![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
digitaldiscipline
digitaldisciplineDay 22: Can You Smell What the Grok is Cooking?*
First things first - I need a goddamn nap, and my fucking arms are tired. At least the house is pretty much cleaned and furnished, so I can kick back and maybe rent that girl again once I've slept. More on that later. I've already gotten dirty looks for putting my feet on the table during dinner.
* For anyone who cares, it's a spicy melange of dog, goblin, bug, and humanoid with a smoky flavor and surprising finish. Most of Iaria's (fine, thanks for asking) slums could probably smell it. Not too many of them looked hungry. Ingrates.
First things first - I need a goddamn nap, and my fucking arms are tired. At least the house is pretty much cleaned and furnished, so I can kick back and maybe rent that girl again once I've slept. More on that later. I've already gotten dirty looks for putting my feet on the table during dinner.
First, there was shopping (since everyone seemed to realize that we're actually getting paid), and I did some quick recon with Mister Wizard (whose name is apparently Al, or some Elven equivalent), Fritter, and Big G to finally discover where all the creepy-crawlies had been coming in from. Drunken Master was nursing a hangover, Sybs was doing some sort of devotional vision quest thing, and Stumpy was making friends at the Fighter's Guild with his fishing techniques or something, and we left without them. Probably not the brightest move in hindsight, but we'd look weird with eyes back there.
Appetizer: Blackened Spider Salsa; serves six.
Recommended Drink: Ale.
Recommended Side: Lots of napkins.
"Let's head south, where the cavern seems nice and wide" (this is translated from "Garg want go that way"). South was a mere appetizer, consisting of some spiderwebs, a quickly-squashed pile of the spiders responsible, and a handful of well-nibbled bones in an otherwise closed cavern.
Note to self: Spiderwebs are flammable, but don't smell particularly good when put to the torch. Neither do squashed spiders.
Okay, north it is!
Salad: Goblin Kebabs
Recommended Drink: Mead
Recommended Side: Things that don't burn
Fritter got to play in the shadows and discovered an agitated bunch of goblins... clearly, they didn't care for the aroma of the appetizer. Amazingly enough, he didn't go charging in, and Pinky & I hit them with a one-two combo of thunderstone (me) and web-on-a-stick (her) to tenderize them. As we'd previously discovered in our encounter with the asshole elf wizard (not the goody-goody in our group, the one who set me on fire), magic webs burn real nice, and we quickly had ourselves a bunch of very unhappy (and, subsequently, dead) goblins around a roaring bonfire.
Unfortunately, that's when the main course showed up.
Entree: Barghast Souffle
Recommended Drink: Healing Potions
Recommended Side: Body Bags
Okay, a big, bluish wolf-thing came howling out of a side cavern and jumped on me. *Whack, whack*
What do you mean, this thing is just barely bleeding, and is now really pissed at me? Oh, shit.
Things got a little crazy; Garg smacked the shit out of it with that big stick of his a couple times, Pinky and Mr. Wizard were zapping it with everything they could think of, and Fritter whipped out the Scimitar of Eternal Whiffing and took a whack at it, which accomplished exactly one thing - it got the critter's attention, and it proceeded to lay him open from nose to knees (which sounds impressive until you remember that Fritter's like two-foot-six).
I (barely) manage to save his sorry ass, and the wolf-thing takes another bite out of crime (read: my ass) before I manage to toss Fritter to safety behind Fugly G. "You're bleeding and almost dead, but you're fine." I swear, that little dipshit mutters and moans and makes whining noises when he's unconscious and dying than he does when he's wide awake.
Mr. Wizard grabs the S.o.E.W. and charges in like a madman while Wolfie is distracted.
His head is promptly bitten clear off his fucking shoulders. Ho.Ly. Shit.
The fucking sword's cursed, I swear.
We finally manage to knock it down, and I'm walking up to the huge mass of smoldering webs we've practically buried this thing in when Garg heals the fucking thing.
Oh, no you di'n't, you big green simpleton.
I then have to kick Garg's ass so he doesn't do anything -else- stupid, and I manage to put the puppy down for good, but it got weird in there, like it was shifting out of existence to try and get through the webs and fire before I stuck my axe in its head.
Then it was just me, Pinky, and a whole lot of smoldering dead shit.
Pinky starts doing some kind of celebratory gnome shuffle, and I joined in for a moment, which she probably would have found to be cuter if I wasn't covered in five kindsof dead things' blood. Hey, it works for me.
I collect heads (sorry, Al, but you look like just another corpse, and your noggin was pretty well toasted, and that's ten GP for the rest of us to share), and then realize that I need to tie Fritter's unconscious-but-nattering sorry ass to my axe while I drag Garg's traitorous carcass back topside (Pinky talked me out of killing him, but just barely. I have no idea how or why. She was pissed at the bastard).
Let me just say that six hundred pounds of nearly-dead ogre are a real bitch to haul around, especially up a ladder. I didn't feel too bad for "accidentally" smacking his head against the door frame on the way out.
[the journal switches to Orcish here]
Just Desserts: Misdirection Meringue
Recommended Drink: The Sweet Wine of Deceit
Recommended Side: Partner in Crime
At this point, Pinky and I were the only ones left standing. Sybs healed me up and brought Fritter back from the edge of death (though he was still unconscious and muttering and whining incoherently), but she was shot for the day, and looked pretty shaken up.
We stepped outside and made a decision - the fucking sword had to go. It's cursed, chill wind or not. Lamia, the Slumlord Wizard (and general apothecary) gave us five grand for it, and the name of a good metalsmith, because we (mostly Pinky; she's devious when she wants to get her way) had a plan.
As far as anyone else knows, here's the official story of what happened, and what the bards will sing about: After Fritter was struck down, Al (the wizard) took up his magic blade and drove home the killing blow; there was a tremendous magical explosion as the blade pierced its foul heart as the Barghast slew him, and both the blade and the wielder gave their lives for victory.
The truth is: Pinky and I sold that fucking sword for beaucoup coin, bought Fritter a sword more his size (masterwork is some nice stuff - more on that later), and he tossed in a busted shortsword which "is" all that's left of the Scimitar of Eternal Whiffing, and as part of our re-negotiated deal with the mayor (who was pretty dismayed when I tossed Pinky up through a side branch of the tunnel that opened right into the fountain in front of his office), we commissioned the bards to start telling the tale (as well as convinced him to double our reward and post some guards in the slums, since we've made them safe for the common folk; I hope this boosts the property value of our house).
It's our little secret. I wanted to keep the money between just the two of us, but she said it ought to be shared around everyone who made it through, and I suppose she might be right, but, still.
If Fritter finds out, I'm afraid he'll whine as much when he's awake as he does when he's nearly dead.
[the Journal resumes in Common here]
Two thousand gold each (after *ahem* adjustments) buys a guy a really nice set of masterwork full plate armor and his own masterwork double axe (grand-pere's is hanging over my bed; it's time I started seasoning a blade of my own with the blood of my victims).
I'm going to enjoy some R&R and let somebody else save Fritter's ass next time. Those caverns let out in a pretty nasty part of town, and I want to take some time getting friendly with my new toys at the Fighter's Guild... and a couple of working girls who like a big guy, if you know what I mean. Even if they're not Pinky, but they don't need to know that.
Appetizer: Blackened Spider Salsa; serves six.
Recommended Drink: Ale.
Recommended Side: Lots of napkins.
"Let's head south, where the cavern seems nice and wide" (this is translated from "Garg want go that way"). South was a mere appetizer, consisting of some spiderwebs, a quickly-squashed pile of the spiders responsible, and a handful of well-nibbled bones in an otherwise closed cavern.
Note to self: Spiderwebs are flammable, but don't smell particularly good when put to the torch. Neither do squashed spiders.
Okay, north it is!
Salad: Goblin Kebabs
Recommended Drink: Mead
Recommended Side: Things that don't burn
Fritter got to play in the shadows and discovered an agitated bunch of goblins... clearly, they didn't care for the aroma of the appetizer. Amazingly enough, he didn't go charging in, and Pinky & I hit them with a one-two combo of thunderstone (me) and web-on-a-stick (her) to tenderize them. As we'd previously discovered in our encounter with the asshole elf wizard (not the goody-goody in our group, the one who set me on fire), magic webs burn real nice, and we quickly had ourselves a bunch of very unhappy (and, subsequently, dead) goblins around a roaring bonfire.
Unfortunately, that's when the main course showed up.
Entree: Barghast Souffle
Recommended Drink: Healing Potions
Recommended Side: Body Bags
Okay, a big, bluish wolf-thing came howling out of a side cavern and jumped on me. *Whack, whack*
What do you mean, this thing is just barely bleeding, and is now really pissed at me? Oh, shit.
Things got a little crazy; Garg smacked the shit out of it with that big stick of his a couple times, Pinky and Mr. Wizard were zapping it with everything they could think of, and Fritter whipped out the Scimitar of Eternal Whiffing and took a whack at it, which accomplished exactly one thing - it got the critter's attention, and it proceeded to lay him open from nose to knees (which sounds impressive until you remember that Fritter's like two-foot-six).
I (barely) manage to save his sorry ass, and the wolf-thing takes another bite out of crime (read: my ass) before I manage to toss Fritter to safety behind Fugly G. "You're bleeding and almost dead, but you're fine." I swear, that little dipshit mutters and moans and makes whining noises when he's unconscious and dying than he does when he's wide awake.
Mr. Wizard grabs the S.o.E.W. and charges in like a madman while Wolfie is distracted.
His head is promptly bitten clear off his fucking shoulders. Ho.Ly. Shit.
The fucking sword's cursed, I swear.
We finally manage to knock it down, and I'm walking up to the huge mass of smoldering webs we've practically buried this thing in when Garg heals the fucking thing.
Oh, no you di'n't, you big green simpleton.
I then have to kick Garg's ass so he doesn't do anything -else- stupid, and I manage to put the puppy down for good, but it got weird in there, like it was shifting out of existence to try and get through the webs and fire before I stuck my axe in its head.
Then it was just me, Pinky, and a whole lot of smoldering dead shit.
Pinky starts doing some kind of celebratory gnome shuffle, and I joined in for a moment, which she probably would have found to be cuter if I wasn't covered in five kindsof dead things' blood. Hey, it works for me.
I collect heads (sorry, Al, but you look like just another corpse, and your noggin was pretty well toasted, and that's ten GP for the rest of us to share), and then realize that I need to tie Fritter's unconscious-but-nattering sorry ass to my axe while I drag Garg's traitorous carcass back topside (Pinky talked me out of killing him, but just barely. I have no idea how or why. She was pissed at the bastard).
Let me just say that six hundred pounds of nearly-dead ogre are a real bitch to haul around, especially up a ladder. I didn't feel too bad for "accidentally" smacking his head against the door frame on the way out.
[the journal switches to Orcish here]
Just Desserts: Misdirection Meringue
Recommended Drink: The Sweet Wine of Deceit
Recommended Side: Partner in Crime
At this point, Pinky and I were the only ones left standing. Sybs healed me up and brought Fritter back from the edge of death (though he was still unconscious and muttering and whining incoherently), but she was shot for the day, and looked pretty shaken up.
We stepped outside and made a decision - the fucking sword had to go. It's cursed, chill wind or not. Lamia, the Slumlord Wizard (and general apothecary) gave us five grand for it, and the name of a good metalsmith, because we (mostly Pinky; she's devious when she wants to get her way) had a plan.
As far as anyone else knows, here's the official story of what happened, and what the bards will sing about: After Fritter was struck down, Al (the wizard) took up his magic blade and drove home the killing blow; there was a tremendous magical explosion as the blade pierced its foul heart as the Barghast slew him, and both the blade and the wielder gave their lives for victory.
The truth is: Pinky and I sold that fucking sword for beaucoup coin, bought Fritter a sword more his size (masterwork is some nice stuff - more on that later), and he tossed in a busted shortsword which "is" all that's left of the Scimitar of Eternal Whiffing, and as part of our re-negotiated deal with the mayor (who was pretty dismayed when I tossed Pinky up through a side branch of the tunnel that opened right into the fountain in front of his office), we commissioned the bards to start telling the tale (as well as convinced him to double our reward and post some guards in the slums, since we've made them safe for the common folk; I hope this boosts the property value of our house).
It's our little secret. I wanted to keep the money between just the two of us, but she said it ought to be shared around everyone who made it through, and I suppose she might be right, but, still.
If Fritter finds out, I'm afraid he'll whine as much when he's awake as he does when he's nearly dead.
[the Journal resumes in Common here]
Two thousand gold each (after *ahem* adjustments) buys a guy a really nice set of masterwork full plate armor and his own masterwork double axe (grand-pere's is hanging over my bed; it's time I started seasoning a blade of my own with the blood of my victims).
I'm going to enjoy some R&R and let somebody else save Fritter's ass next time. Those caverns let out in a pretty nasty part of town, and I want to take some time getting friendly with my new toys at the Fighter's Guild... and a couple of working girls who like a big guy, if you know what I mean. Even if they're not Pinky, but they don't need to know that.
* For anyone who cares, it's a spicy melange of dog, goblin, bug, and humanoid with a smoky flavor and surprising finish. Most of Iaria's (fine, thanks for asking) slums could probably smell it. Not too many of them looked hungry. Ingrates.
