Thanks for the prompt. These are always fun to think about.
Think I’ll start using the hide details dropdown feature to spare others the oppression of the notorious text wall.
Post: "Tails"
The waiting was always the hardest part; the interminable moments of aimless time between the bouts of action and chaos that this war had promised. Soon, very soon, something would happen, and Arron would be called to service yet again. But not soon enough.
Kialdrys and Steamratchet were embroiled in their latest ridiculous argument that Arron could not be bothered to heed. It was likely something involving the latter’s manners in public places, or lack thereof. Or perhaps it was something deeply political or couched in questions of serious moral dilemmas. It might have been interesting if Arron could afford to lend a more acute ear, but he had learned well enough by that point that remaining in the vicinity of such a verbal bout had the tendency to threaten the well-being of innocent bystanders, as any mundane or rudimentary object within arm’s reach would eventually turn into a lethal projectile. As these two were having their current battle in the middle of Dazar’alor’s biggest inn, complete with eating utensils and a plethora of sharp bones, it was probably in his best interest to excuse himself halfway through eating his turtle soup. Besides, the looks he had been receiving from the tortollans seated at the table beside him had put him in an off mood for the past half-hour anyway.
And so out he went into the lush green jungle of Zuldazar with nothing but his bow and a satchel of golden coins slung over his right shoulder. Perhaps there would be something interesting to kill out there, like an Alliance spy or a particularly bold raptor. He kept his eyes and ears alert as he traversed the treacherous jungle, aimlessly fingering a single golden coin in his pocket and taking care to remain where the jungle foliage was thickest so as to not be caught unawares by a more seasoned predator.
He had traveled a few miles or so before he heard a series of strange, bestial noises, as if they were somewhere between a fierce growl and a restrained grunt. Moving swiftly to the sound’s source, Arron beheld a large pale cat with a dark mane being wrestled to the ground by a particularly buff-looking orcish hunter. The cat already had its legs tied together and its snout bound. It struggled for a few more moments before laying helpless and immobile before its captor, its big brown eyes growing wider in fear and darting left to right in search of any possible means of escape. The hunter seemed to take particular joy in the helpless nature of his victim, as he let out a greasy snicker and drew a large hunting knife with which to gut the prey and silence it for good.
Aside from from the orc’s rather large stature he wasn’t much else to look at. His armor was clearly patched together with whatever materials he could find from his hunting trips in the jungle, and all of it looked like it was designed to favor functionality over aesthetics, but even then it didn’t necessarily look all that stable. Arron did take particular note of what the orc had attached to the rear of his vest, however, for it was an intricate and dazzling bow of bright teal that seemed to periodically crackle with electric power. The orc had obviously not constructed such a handsome-looking bow, for it was clearly of Zandalari or even sethrak design. Perhaps the orc had broken the necks of a traveling band of snake-men, presuming he could find their necks to snap.
The knife drew closer to the petrified feline’s abdomen as the orc prepared his lethal thrust, all while Arron watched from the safe seclusion of a nearby bush. With a sigh he pulled the coin from his pocket, tossed it up into the air, caught it, glanced at it, and re-pocketed it.
“Afternoon, noble orc.” The hunter stopped cold and jerked his head immediately at the unwanted newcomer, who was now stepping from his cover and fully revealing himself. “That’s a mighty fine beast you’ve caught there.”
The orc’s expression soured instantly. “Yes, it mine,” he said threateningly. “Go find your own.”
“Oh don’t worry,” came Arron’s reply. “I am many things, but a thief is the last thing I consider myself.” The orc, almost instinctively, started reaching for his bow. “And I don’t intend to claim it from your corpse in the name of conquest either,” said Arron quickly, seeing the orc’s suspicious movements.
“Then leave,” said the orc, again inching his knife closer to the cat’s stomach. Arron could feel the beast’s eyes trained upon him, silently pleading for aid.
“Actually,” said Arron, “I was hoping to play a little game with you.”
The orc stared directly at Arron and raised an eyebrow. “A game?”
“Oh yes. Merely a slight challenge between us men of the bow. Winner claims the cat.”
“I already claim cat,” said the orc dismissively.
“Indeed you have,” said Arron, “which is why we’ll need to sweeten the pot a bit.”
“How?” The orc was clearly aggravated by Arron’s presence, but he was, at least, nibbling on his offer just the slightest bit. He could use that.
“Well, how about this… You throw in that fancy looking bow you’ve got on your back, and I’ll throw in all the gold I’ve got in my pocket. We put ‘em all in a pile with that cat and the winner takes the lot of it.”
The orc was quiet for a second. “How much gold in your pocket?”
“I’m not telling you until you agree to the terms.”
The orc scowled. “No. Could just be one piece.”
Arron couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled out the lone gold piece. “Alright, you’ve got me! My pockets were quite empty indeed. I suppose this is a good lesson in the specificity of words, eh? Any other orc would have been easily fooled by such a proposition.” At this, the orc bared his teeth in visible anger.
“But not you!” Arron continued. “For you are a rather bright breed of your people! And so, for you, I will amend my terms! Forget the gold that’s in my pocket; you shall have all the gold that is in this very satchel if you win!” As a show of good faith, Arron started reaching his hand into the satchel and pulling out handful after handful of gold pieces, showering them upon the ground on which he stood. “And I assure you these offerings are no deceit!”
The orc stared at the puddles of gold pieces, then returned his gaze to Arron. “No,” he said bluntly.
“No?”
“That what I said.”
“Alright… if gold is not enough, I suppose I can sweeten the pot even further.” Arron rubbed the back of his head as if to mimic the act of deep thought. “I do have this rather pretty elf friend I could introduce you to, should you win. I’m sure it’s been long enough since you’ve last been on a pleasant social outing with a fair companion.”
“Elf?
“Yes, she is an elf.”
“No like elf. Who likes elves?”
“I imagine most people do.”
“Not smart people. Not me.”
“Alright, alright, you strike a hard bargain, but I’ll let you set the terms. What is it you’d like?”
“Nothing. Go away.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.” The cat started fidgeting once again, making terrified mewing noises in a rather pathetic fashion.
“Not even this?” Arron reached into the satchel one last time and pulled out a spherical object before tossing it over to the orc. The brute shifted it in his hands for a few moments, running his thumb over the ornate, deep, and visually jagged carvings that adorned it. His eyes seemed to light up, and Arron knew it was like nothing he had ever seen.
“What this?” asked the orc.
“A personal project,” said Arron. “But a brilliant person such as yourself would know that something like that would fetch more than a pretty piece of copper if they sold it to the right collector.” The orc didn’t even seem to listen to Arron anymore, for his eyes were firmly locked on the object and his hands continued to toy with it as if driven by automated mechanical gears.
“What name of game?” said the orc, still not looking up. “I no agree to prizes until we agree on game.”
“Ah, yes! Of course, of course! I would think less of you if you did otherwise!” said Arron, feigning the best smile he could muster. “The game is quite simple.” Arron quickly grabbed the three largest leaves from whatever tree branches were currently in reach. He then sat down a few feet away from where the orc was currently squatting and set the leaves down in a horizontal line between them. Arron then once again brandished the gold coin from his pocket, held it up to the light by his index finger and thumb for the orc to see, and then slid it underneath the middle leaf.
“When we begin the game I will shuffle the leaves and you will guess which one hides the golden coin. Guess wrong three times and the game ends. Guess correctly once and the game ends. If the game ends with you looking like the fool, I win. If you avoid looking the fool, you win. Simple enough, yes?”
The orc began stroking the black stubbles of hair on his chin, clearly tempted by the offer, yet still deeply untrusting of the rules Arron had laid out.
“I have to find gold coin from your pocket?”
“Yes.”
“Specifically that gold coin?”
“Oh, what a marvelous word for you to know!” Arron sneered. “Yes, yes, you must specifically find that gold coin.”
“And it only be under these three leaves?”
“Another great question! Yes!”
“And I get three chances? And I only have to guess right once?”
“Yessir!”
“Why give those odds?”
“Who knows? Maybe I’m just really certain that I can make a fool out of you despite the challenge.”
“And if I guess right once, I win?”
Arron laughed. “Well, your objective is to end up not looking the fool. After you start playing, winning the game certainly wouldn’t hurt you there.”
The orc again started stroking his face in contemplation; a process of thought that Arron swiftly broke with his own question. “Just to be clear, we are both playing for the gold currently showered across the floor, the antique orb that is currently in your hands, the life of the wild cat you have currently tied up beside you, and the bow you have strapped to your back?”
“Yes…” came the hesitant reply.
“And you concur that these are appropriate descriptions of all the prizes we are playing for?”
“… yes.”
“Then, it seems we’re clear on the terms. All that remains is for you to accept the deal.”
The orc stared at Arron’s faux-sweet smile, and then looked down at the leaves. In any legitimate game such a means of covering the gold coin would not ever be used, and the orc saw immediately that Arron had neglected to select leaves that were identical in appearance. Not only did they vary in both size and shape, but one was significantly darker in color and had frayed slightly on one of its edges, perhaps after having been nibbled on by a member of the local fauna. This meant that all the orc had to do in order to win the game was take note of the appearance of the leaf under which Arron would place the coin. But what if the wily undead was somehow able to slip the coin underneath a different leaf in the midst of the shuffle? The thought of the potential trick gave the orc a moment of pause, but he soon noticed that, regardless of which leaf was used to cover the coin, they were all incredibly poor choices on a fundamental level. They were bent, with their edges propping themselves up off the floor, thus exposing portions of the coin to an astute observer. Even now the orc could see the faintest sign of the coin Arron had placed underneath the middle leaf, and he was certain he would still be able to detect it even after the shuffle.
He would be a fool to turn down a series of rules that so obviously aligned to ensure his victory over his smug adversary. He thought hard of a potential catch to all this, yet could come up with none.
“Deal,” said the orc at last.
“Very well, then!” Arron said magnanimously. “It begins!” With a smirk he lifted the middle leaf high so that the orc could see the gold piece underneath. He trained his eyes upon the target, never peeling them away for a moment to see neither Arron nor the leaf. Arron replaced the leaf atop the gold piece, but the hunter could still see its glimmer underneath. Then, slowly, very slowly, Arron moved both coin and leaf in the center and swapped it with the leaf on the right-hand side. Then right swapped with left, and left middle, and middle right, and right middle again, and left middle, and left right. Throughout it all the orc expected Arron to pick up the pace, to attempt to use speed as a tool to deceive his opponent, but he never did. The orc could see the position of the gold piece the entire time, and it never traveled fast enough for him to lose its position even if it wasn’t entirely visible. At last it settled to the right of the orc, and Arron removed his hands from his makeshift game board.
“Now, find the gold piece!” said Arron. The orc simply shot him an incredulous look, as if in disbelief it could have actually been this easy. He scanned his face in an attempt to discern any clues as to his foe’s true intention, but Arron simply wore that same sickeningly fake smile that he had the entire game. The orc removed the right-most leaf and underneath it, sure enough, was Arron’s gold coin.
“Congratulations!” said Arron.
“Do… I win?” asked the orc, as if uncertain of the reality of the matter.
“The game is over.”
“So I win!”
“No. The game is merely over.”
The orc tired of Arron’s trickery by now. He clenched his fists in anger and rose to his feet, murderous intent in his eyes. “You said-“
“I merely outlined the circumstances under which the game would end. It was your job to prevent yourself from looking the fool by its end. And, unfortunately for you, you were the fool the moment we began playing.”
“What-!”
“For only a fool would play for a false prize.” Dumbfounded, the orc could only watch in silence as Arron reached over and tore away the rope that bound the great cat’s muzzle. “Go on,” he said, “you have both time and ability to speak now.” To the orc’s astonishment he saw the jaws of the beast fidget as if trying to string patterns together, although most of the attempts resulted in guttural growls or mews. Eventually, after many arduous attempts, the cat seemed to be making noises that the orc could have sworn sounded like a simple sentence…
“D o n ‘ t e a t m e.”
Arron snickered gleefully as he stood up to meet the orc. “He’s a novice, for sure, but definitely a druid. Tauren, no doubt, judging by his fur patterns.”
The orc simply stood, frozen, staring at the ‘cat’ in a new light. Arron took notice of his adversary’s horror and continued; “Definitely still learning the ropes, like how to speak in that form and, most likely, how to get out of it. Yeah… little idiot’s probably stuck looking like that.” The druid merely lowered his head to the floor in shame.
“Oh boy, can you imagine what would have happened if you killed him?” Arron said, patting the orc on the back as he did so. “Slaughtering a poor innocent Horde druid out in the open for no reason? In the middle of a war? Boy… that would have caused some problems, wouldn’t it?”
The orc did not respond.
“You wouldn’t even be able to claim it was just a simple misunderstanding. I mean, really, what hunter worth their salt would think that they would naturally come across a cat in Zuldazar?”
“Could… have told me….” the orc said quietly.
“True, but then I wouldn’t have won that fabulous bow off you, would I?”
At this, the orc seemed to snap back to reality in a surge of violent rage. “You tricked me!” he bellowed.
“You wound me, sir!” said Arron with a crescendoing bravado, “I have been nothing but honest! Why, if that cat had indeed turned out to be a cat, I would have let you walk away with his corpse, your bow, my gold, and my precious orb with nary a complaint! Speaking of which, I’ll need that back, by the way…” The orc looked down to see the orb was still clutched in his left hand. Strange, he had hardly been conscious of its presence. It could have truly been his to own, were it not for the lies spun by the corpse that now stood before him within his arm’s reach.
In a flash the great orc raised his meaty fist to strike down the offender, but Arron was prepared for this reaction. Dodging the blow was but second nature, and now, with his face mere inches from the orc’s forearm, he had but to take one hearty bite.
In shock the orc recoiled and stared incredulously at the gruesome bite. The sight of it made him sick to his stomach.
“Oh dear,” said Arron, casually wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “You seem to have been bitten by the undead.”
“What going to happen to me!” There was clear terror in the orc’s voice now, and his body was shaking violently.
“Don’t know,” said Arron with a shrug, “I’ve only ever bitten into people that were dead or… soon to be dead. Maybe it’s just a flesh wound. Maybe you’ll get rather sick after a while. Or maybe… you’ll turn into me. You know how those stories go.” The orc staggered backwards in horror, eyes trained on the wound. It seemed to fester already, as if its very presence threatened his life. “It’s probably best to go see a priest regardless. Can’t be too careful, after all. Just let me have what I am owed and I’ll let you do that.” Arron folded his arms behind his back and grinned maliciously, clearly pleased with himself.
The orc took one last look at the orb and then, in a fit of anger, tossed it to the ground. He then unlatched the bow from his back and tossed it down as well. Jabbing his index finger on the unwounded arm at Arron, he simply said “you regret this!” before turning and running back towards the pyramid of Dazar’alor, Arron’s cruel, raspy laughter following him as he ran.
When he was finished with his fun, Arron quickly re-pocketed the single gold piece he used for his game, refilled the satchel with the gold he had strewn around him, threw the orb in with it, and held aloft his new prize bow. Then, at last, he finished untying the poor feeble druid that had lain so helpless throughout the whole ordeal.
As Arron turned to leave he could hear the novice druid attempt to speak once more.
“T h a n k y o u.”
“Yep,” said Arron, without turning around. He simply reached into his pocket and discarded the gold coin beside him. “There, use that for a flight back to the city. Because I know you have no idea how to fly there yourself.” The hapless druid approached the discarded coin, glinting in the sunlight, before taking one last look at Arron before he was completely consumed by the jungle.
“And I suppose you should thank it for landing tails-side up, as well.”
And with that, he was gone.