You are walking through the streets of your faction’s town (Boralus or Dazar’alor). There is a small gathering. Upon investigation, you see someone standing on a crate. They are preaching something your character is absolutely against. What is it and how do you respond? Do you engage in debate or just keep your thoughts to yourself?
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This is meant to be a fun exercise, so there aren’t many rules. I ask that posts be limited to two or three, as much longer is more like a short tale probably befitting it’s own thread.
Prompts are fun little things meant to inspire. You don’t have to perfect match the prompt. Just let it inspire a thought.
I’m going to try and post these weekly, sometime between Saturday and Monday probably. Feedback and prompt ideas are welcome, so feel free to post them in here as well. Some prompts will be more thought provoking, some more whimsical. Respect your fellow writers.
"Oi, Syddy. Lookit that." Lux's eyes were narrowed curiously to a small cluster in front of them. The narrow street was just about covered in people, rough accents and different languages all clustered into a mumbling group, staring to something in front of them.
To her left, Sydessin was already frowning. Her long ears twitched, and she sighed. The elven hearing was apparently letting her hear something that Lux couldn't. "It isn't worth getting into," she muttered, slipping her hand into Lux's. She turned away, tugging lightly. "Come on."
This only prompted her to free her hand, pushing into the group. "S'cuse me, sorry, outta the way..." she continued the mumbles, breaking through the group as she finally reached the center to see a box, with a human standing on it. From behind her, she could hear Sydessin muttering something in Darnassian at her. There was a soft brushing of Sydessin's robe against her leg, and then the elf became visible from the corner of her eye.
"...then, the cannons fired!" The first man roared, his hands waving about wildly. "Flames and ash sprang to life, lighting the water below as they flew through the glaring sky." This came with noises of fascination from the Kul Tirans about them. The children sitting in front of the two were watching with glistening eyes at the story.
Sydessin tugged on her sleeve. "Lux, come on." There was urgency in her voice that made her all the more suspicious. "It's not worth getting into, Wedg." Sydessin tugged again, more firmly. "We should be leaving."
Lux didn't move. Her eyes were narrowed into auburn slits as the man continued, "The first cannons started hitting. Fire cracked, the earth groaned as sparks flared and bark began to catch." He waved his hands upward, "The clouds darkened in the sky, the heavens watched as the water reflected the growing colors like the sun." More sounds of amazement rumbled through the group.
He took a breath, preparing to continue the story as Lux finally spoke up, "S'cuse me, sir, jus' curious. What're you even tellin'?" Her voice was icy. I swear to Elune, if this forsaken little rat-tailed bastard even thinks of saying what I think this is... From beside her, once again, Sydessin was tugging on her sleeve. She finally shot her a glare, hissing, "Will you piss off with doing that for a second?"
Sydessin only sighed at her, arms crossing. She knew she'd have an earful from her the second they walked away, but it hardly mattered as the man finally spoke up, "Ah. Storytelling, y'see, miss. Inspiring our Kul Tiran allies with a few stories."
Lux's arms crossed. "Yeh. Can see that. Mind specifyin' a 'lil bit more?" From beside her, Sydessin sighed. "I'd love t'know, get a bit more of a feel for what the story's s'posed ta be."
"One of the rather unfortunate happenings in recent times, miss. the tragic ending to the War of the Thorns, I think they've taken to calling it," the man explained, casting Sydessin a sympathetic glance. Lux forced down the urge to scowl.
"...Oh. Right." Lux's hands were already beginning to clench and unclench. She shifted on her feet, eyes falling away from the man as he continued speaking. The words were lost onto her for a few seconds, too distant to hear and too blurred to discern. She nearly jumped as something touched her hand, icy and wet.
"It's just me," Sydessin muttered, leaning towards her. "...Ice." Lux nodded blankly as she took it into her hand, shifting it with her fingers as the cold shot slight pain into her palm. Sydessin continued, "Remember to focus on the noise around us. Don't give me that look, I already know you're going to speak up no matter what I say. Focus on the sights. The details." She let out a bit of a sigh, "I still have peppermint with me, as well, if you'll need it."
Lux glanced to her, a reluctant smile creeping over her face as Lux nodded. "What would I do without 'ya." Sydessin returned the smile, eyes still slightly narrowed at her, though without the warning look they had vanished. Lux looked up, eyes narrowed towards the human on the crate. His words were taking on a coherent form once more as she spoke up, "What's even the point of it, then?"
The human blinked. He glanced back to the two, head tilting. "...Excuse me? The point...? It's... it's to tell a story. To inspire our Kul Tiran allies?" He said it slowly, with a curious tone in his voice. He almost seemed confused as to the fact that she asked.
To her left, Sydessin was already frowning. Her long ears twitched, and she sighed. The elven hearing was apparently letting her hear something that Lux couldn't. "It isn't worth getting into," she muttered, slipping her hand into Lux's. She turned away, tugging lightly. "Come on."
This only prompted her to free her hand, pushing into the group. "S'cuse me, sorry, outta the way..." she continued the mumbles, breaking through the group as she finally reached the center to see a box, with a human standing on it. From behind her, she could hear Sydessin muttering something in Darnassian at her. There was a soft brushing of Sydessin's robe against her leg, and then the elf became visible from the corner of her eye.
"...then, the cannons fired!" The first man roared, his hands waving about wildly. "Flames and ash sprang to life, lighting the water below as they flew through the glaring sky." This came with noises of fascination from the Kul Tirans about them. The children sitting in front of the two were watching with glistening eyes at the story.
Sydessin tugged on her sleeve. "Lux, come on." There was urgency in her voice that made her all the more suspicious. "It's not worth getting into, Wedg." Sydessin tugged again, more firmly. "We should be leaving."
Lux didn't move. Her eyes were narrowed into auburn slits as the man continued, "The first cannons started hitting. Fire cracked, the earth groaned as sparks flared and bark began to catch." He waved his hands upward, "The clouds darkened in the sky, the heavens watched as the water reflected the growing colors like the sun." More sounds of amazement rumbled through the group.
He took a breath, preparing to continue the story as Lux finally spoke up, "S'cuse me, sir, jus' curious. What're you even tellin'?" Her voice was icy. I swear to Elune, if this forsaken little rat-tailed bastard even thinks of saying what I think this is... From beside her, once again, Sydessin was tugging on her sleeve. She finally shot her a glare, hissing, "Will you piss off with doing that for a second?"
Sydessin only sighed at her, arms crossing. She knew she'd have an earful from her the second they walked away, but it hardly mattered as the man finally spoke up, "Ah. Storytelling, y'see, miss. Inspiring our Kul Tiran allies with a few stories."
Lux's arms crossed. "Yeh. Can see that. Mind specifyin' a 'lil bit more?" From beside her, Sydessin sighed. "I'd love t'know, get a bit more of a feel for what the story's s'posed ta be."
"One of the rather unfortunate happenings in recent times, miss. the tragic ending to the War of the Thorns, I think they've taken to calling it," the man explained, casting Sydessin a sympathetic glance. Lux forced down the urge to scowl.
"...Oh. Right." Lux's hands were already beginning to clench and unclench. She shifted on her feet, eyes falling away from the man as he continued speaking. The words were lost onto her for a few seconds, too distant to hear and too blurred to discern. She nearly jumped as something touched her hand, icy and wet.
"It's just me," Sydessin muttered, leaning towards her. "...Ice." Lux nodded blankly as she took it into her hand, shifting it with her fingers as the cold shot slight pain into her palm. Sydessin continued, "Remember to focus on the noise around us. Don't give me that look, I already know you're going to speak up no matter what I say. Focus on the sights. The details." She let out a bit of a sigh, "I still have peppermint with me, as well, if you'll need it."
Lux glanced to her, a reluctant smile creeping over her face as Lux nodded. "What would I do without 'ya." Sydessin returned the smile, eyes still slightly narrowed at her, though without the warning look they had vanished. Lux looked up, eyes narrowed towards the human on the crate. His words were taking on a coherent form once more as she spoke up, "What's even the point of it, then?"
The human blinked. He glanced back to the two, head tilting. "...Excuse me? The point...? It's... it's to tell a story. To inspire our Kul Tiran allies?" He said it slowly, with a curious tone in his voice. He almost seemed confused as to the fact that she asked.
"Can't inspire them if you're sugarcoatin' everythin'," she pointed out, head tilting slightly. Her hand tightened on the ice once more as she continued, "Sounds like some flowery drudgery instead of the tragedy it was." The wind was picking up slightly in the street they were in. She could feel it passing through the group. "There's so much bloody prose that it's makin' me wanna hit'cha with a book."
The man seemed genuinely confused. "All right... well, how would you tell the story without it being scarring to the children?" He nodded to the small group of young humans. "It was a tragedy, I won't argue, but don't you think we should at least give it some respect in such a way?"
Lux's scowl worsened. She could hear Sydessin sigh from beside her, and from the corner of her eye, she facepalmed. "Respectin' it is tellin' it like it happened. This is disrespectin' all that whole war was." She gestured at him, taking a few steps forward to the box as she nodded. "Move it. I'll show you how to respect these stories the right bloody way." She didn't even give him a chance to move. She lightly brushed him off of it, turning to the group. "You wanna know what 'appened, without all of the flowers?"
She didn't wait. The words came rolling in a mix of anger and built-up grief, "There was fire everywhere. It wasn't like the sun beamin' down, it was overwhelmin'. Screams echoed from ev'rywhere, cries and grief and prayers to the goddess who watched them burn. Families torn apart, minds ruined, lives lost. So... so many lives." Lux drew in a shaky breath. Her eyes narrowed once more as she looked around, ears sharpened to the heavy breathing from the group and a somber murmurs that traveled through. The faces of the people were drawn into horror, to grief. They were understanding slowly.
"Children, civilians, elders, entire families burned away with an entire way of life. Those who survived now? They sleep in the streets of the Alliance's capital, Stormwind. Cryin', mournin', shattered minds and grievin' spirits who never deserved any of this." She turned immediately at the man, jumping down from the box. "And YOU have the NERVE to speak of this like it's some story to be told with tea. You have no bloody right to sit here 'n tell the stories of the dead like poetry. I don't. These people don't. None of us do." She turned back to the group, eyes smoldering. "You should all be bloody ashamed of yourselves. Now get out of my sight."
Before any of the group could react, Lux pushed past them, stalking off without another word. Sydessin trailed after her quietly, letting the silence ride for a few minutes as they continued. When they were well out of the street, Sydessin spoke up, "Ira would be so proud of you for all of that, you know." As Lux looked at her, she dipped her head. "She would have been speaking with you."
Lux only nodded. "I know," she murmured, going quiet. "S'why I did it, honestly. Would've meant a lot to her. She was always real passionate about that sorta thing..." she trailed off, letting out a sigh. "...By Elune, I miss 'er."
There was no response from Sydessin, only a nod. As the silence continue to grow between them, Lux glanced towards the darkening sky with a faint incline of her head, eyes focused to the moon. Andu-falah-dor.
(( Bit of an obscure preach-y thing, but honestly it's one of the things that Lux has the worst reaction to whenever it happens and was the first idea I had upon seeing this prompt. ))
The man seemed genuinely confused. "All right... well, how would you tell the story without it being scarring to the children?" He nodded to the small group of young humans. "It was a tragedy, I won't argue, but don't you think we should at least give it some respect in such a way?"
Lux's scowl worsened. She could hear Sydessin sigh from beside her, and from the corner of her eye, she facepalmed. "Respectin' it is tellin' it like it happened. This is disrespectin' all that whole war was." She gestured at him, taking a few steps forward to the box as she nodded. "Move it. I'll show you how to respect these stories the right bloody way." She didn't even give him a chance to move. She lightly brushed him off of it, turning to the group. "You wanna know what 'appened, without all of the flowers?"
She didn't wait. The words came rolling in a mix of anger and built-up grief, "There was fire everywhere. It wasn't like the sun beamin' down, it was overwhelmin'. Screams echoed from ev'rywhere, cries and grief and prayers to the goddess who watched them burn. Families torn apart, minds ruined, lives lost. So... so many lives." Lux drew in a shaky breath. Her eyes narrowed once more as she looked around, ears sharpened to the heavy breathing from the group and a somber murmurs that traveled through. The faces of the people were drawn into horror, to grief. They were understanding slowly.
"Children, civilians, elders, entire families burned away with an entire way of life. Those who survived now? They sleep in the streets of the Alliance's capital, Stormwind. Cryin', mournin', shattered minds and grievin' spirits who never deserved any of this." She turned immediately at the man, jumping down from the box. "And YOU have the NERVE to speak of this like it's some story to be told with tea. You have no bloody right to sit here 'n tell the stories of the dead like poetry. I don't. These people don't. None of us do." She turned back to the group, eyes smoldering. "You should all be bloody ashamed of yourselves. Now get out of my sight."
Before any of the group could react, Lux pushed past them, stalking off without another word. Sydessin trailed after her quietly, letting the silence ride for a few minutes as they continued. When they were well out of the street, Sydessin spoke up, "Ira would be so proud of you for all of that, you know." As Lux looked at her, she dipped her head. "She would have been speaking with you."
Lux only nodded. "I know," she murmured, going quiet. "S'why I did it, honestly. Would've meant a lot to her. She was always real passionate about that sorta thing..." she trailed off, letting out a sigh. "...By Elune, I miss 'er."
There was no response from Sydessin, only a nod. As the silence continue to grow between them, Lux glanced towards the darkening sky with a faint incline of her head, eyes focused to the moon. Andu-falah-dor.
(( Bit of an obscure preach-y thing, but honestly it's one of the things that Lux has the worst reaction to whenever it happens and was the first idea I had upon seeing this prompt. ))
Rain poured from the sky to the earth below. A cold relentless torrent that sought only to wash away the port city of Boralus. The sky roiled with dark grey-lit clouds that blotted out the evening light. Yet the city remained undeterred and resolutely stood in defiance against it. The buildings rebuffed the endless flow of water and the citizens mildly disregarded it, continuing their business as usual.
A lone figure swathed and hooded in a black raincoat strode through Mariner's Row, a long street of rundown inns and shops for travelers and fishermen. Her boots splashed through the river of water flooding half the road. Asana didn't dislike the rain. On the contrary, it could be quite peaceful and refreshing! But this, she glanced up at the sky again, is a bit much. Honestly, did it ever stop raining here? Tanaris was sounding more and more like a pleasant vacation spot now.
Holding her coat tighter against her chest for warmth she pressed on, weaving through people who were similarly wrapped up. Voices came from the next street over, loud enough to catch her attention. Curious, she cut through an alleyway and emerged to an interesting scene. A small crowd of perhaps a dozen people were gathered around a man standing on a wooden crate.
The man was clearly not from the common populace. His robes were too finely made. Some sort of greenish-blue color and definitely familiar...ah a tidesage! She nodded to herself in recognition. Wondering what he was saying she stepped closer.
"...and praise be to the Tidemother, for she has given her verdict!" He spoke clearly with his arms outstretched. Asana could barely see his face under the shadows of his hood. "We are the children of the sea and to the sea we shall always return. However, the sea can also bring our doom with it! Usurpers, interlopers. The Horde come with the tide and seek to end us all!"
The crowd murmured in agreement, nodding enthusiastically to his words. Oh great, she thought sarcastically, another anti-Horde sermon. She was getting tired of this stupid rhetoric already. Her growling stomach was calling her attention more.
The tidesage continued his speech. "Their incursions have already caused untold damage. Our villages are being raided, our roads are no longer safe. When will it end, I ask you? The Tidemother tells us! The only answer is retribution! They must be destroyed at the source, and the Alliance can help us do so!"
Asana was about to turn and leave, but stopped at those words. She didn't like the direction this sermon was going. Destroyed? This wasn't a speech to comfort the people in troubled times, it was just a hate speech! Damn it all, she stepped forward and spoke up to the man. "And where will such destruction end? What will it solve?"
All eyes instantly focused on her like she was some unusual creature. The crowd parted as if to disassociate themselves from her. The sage looked down, giving her a view of a scarred face with dark eyes. "And who...are you?" he asked.
"Ellie is my name, just a passing traveler," she said the first fake name that came to mind and kept her associations vague. Best to be on the safe side.
He sniffed at it dismissively. "Well...Miss Ellie, destruction is a necessary endeavor. Whoever you are, wherever you may have come from, surely you've seen what those monsters have done. Peace is just a false hope. Like the tides that flow in and out, conflict will always continue unless we stem it entirely."
She smiled at the analogy, he was quite poetic. Even if vaguely irritating. "Peace is always possible, you just have to be willing to seek it. And the Horde aren't monsters, they're people! No different from us."
(1/2)
A lone figure swathed and hooded in a black raincoat strode through Mariner's Row, a long street of rundown inns and shops for travelers and fishermen. Her boots splashed through the river of water flooding half the road. Asana didn't dislike the rain. On the contrary, it could be quite peaceful and refreshing! But this, she glanced up at the sky again, is a bit much. Honestly, did it ever stop raining here? Tanaris was sounding more and more like a pleasant vacation spot now.
Holding her coat tighter against her chest for warmth she pressed on, weaving through people who were similarly wrapped up. Voices came from the next street over, loud enough to catch her attention. Curious, she cut through an alleyway and emerged to an interesting scene. A small crowd of perhaps a dozen people were gathered around a man standing on a wooden crate.
The man was clearly not from the common populace. His robes were too finely made. Some sort of greenish-blue color and definitely familiar...ah a tidesage! She nodded to herself in recognition. Wondering what he was saying she stepped closer.
"...and praise be to the Tidemother, for she has given her verdict!" He spoke clearly with his arms outstretched. Asana could barely see his face under the shadows of his hood. "We are the children of the sea and to the sea we shall always return. However, the sea can also bring our doom with it! Usurpers, interlopers. The Horde come with the tide and seek to end us all!"
The crowd murmured in agreement, nodding enthusiastically to his words. Oh great, she thought sarcastically, another anti-Horde sermon. She was getting tired of this stupid rhetoric already. Her growling stomach was calling her attention more.
The tidesage continued his speech. "Their incursions have already caused untold damage. Our villages are being raided, our roads are no longer safe. When will it end, I ask you? The Tidemother tells us! The only answer is retribution! They must be destroyed at the source, and the Alliance can help us do so!"
Asana was about to turn and leave, but stopped at those words. She didn't like the direction this sermon was going. Destroyed? This wasn't a speech to comfort the people in troubled times, it was just a hate speech! Damn it all, she stepped forward and spoke up to the man. "And where will such destruction end? What will it solve?"
All eyes instantly focused on her like she was some unusual creature. The crowd parted as if to disassociate themselves from her. The sage looked down, giving her a view of a scarred face with dark eyes. "And who...are you?" he asked.
"Ellie is my name, just a passing traveler," she said the first fake name that came to mind and kept her associations vague. Best to be on the safe side.
He sniffed at it dismissively. "Well...Miss Ellie, destruction is a necessary endeavor. Whoever you are, wherever you may have come from, surely you've seen what those monsters have done. Peace is just a false hope. Like the tides that flow in and out, conflict will always continue unless we stem it entirely."
She smiled at the analogy, he was quite poetic. Even if vaguely irritating. "Peace is always possible, you just have to be willing to seek it. And the Horde aren't monsters, they're people! No different from us."
(1/2)
There was a notable shift in the crowd. No one moved, yet she felt a hint of suspicion in their moods and didn't like it. A rumble of thunder split the air that resonated in her bones. The man sneered at her. "Not monsters, eh? Did you hear what happened at Brennadam? An unprovoked attack on civilians, children even!"
Asana nodded in agreement. "Yes, I'm aware. But you're saying we should do the same to them. How are we better than them if we do? That only continues the cycle!"
"The cycle began the moment they invaded all those years ago!" His tone was getting heated now, clearly he wasn't used to opposition. "And it can end only with an absolute victor. We Kul Tirans sought to hide away from it, but once again it has come to our shores. There is no escaping it any other way!"
She rested her hands on her hips and continued speaking calmly. "There's a difference between fighting to win and fighting to destroy. I'm not defending the Horde's actions, they were obviously wrong. But you can't light a fire to put out another fire!"
His clenched fists gave away his own anger, she noted. "Enough of this nonsense! You are no one, a foreigner. The dominoes have already fallen and cannot be stopped. I am a voice for the Tidemother. She speaks and we listen. If we are to survive we must fight. The crashing waves can end any inferno!"
Inwardly, she sighed in exasperation. How on earth did she end up in a debate with this idiot? She just wanted food and to get out of the rain. Although it was strange that a tidesage was being so aggressive. The other few she had met were much more likable and friendly. She had likened them to priests from other regions.
"But that's ridicul---" Asana cut off as she glanced at the crowd. All were glaring at her with open dislike and wariness. Oh boy, this wasn't ending in her favor. Deciding it wasn't worth it she stopped and just turned to leave. "Excuse me," she mumbled as she passed between a pair of burly men who made no effort to move.
She could feel their stares on her back and spared one last glance towards the sage. A flash of lightning illuminated the street and in that instant she paused. He was smiling at her, a cruel victorious grin, but most notably his eyes changed. They were dark before, but now glowed yellow and watched her with barely restrained hunger.
The light faded as quickly as it came and so did the unnerving image. Her foot hovered over the ground locked in mid-stride. What was that? A trick of the light, perhaps? Her instincts weren't so sure. With the next boom of thunder the spell was broken and she regained her stride, pulling her hood lower over her face.
The debate was frustrating, some people just never listened. First and foremost, she wanted a warm meal before hunger and cold claimed her. But her thoughts were uneasy, something felt wrong back there. She wanted to know more.
(2/2)
Asana nodded in agreement. "Yes, I'm aware. But you're saying we should do the same to them. How are we better than them if we do? That only continues the cycle!"
"The cycle began the moment they invaded all those years ago!" His tone was getting heated now, clearly he wasn't used to opposition. "And it can end only with an absolute victor. We Kul Tirans sought to hide away from it, but once again it has come to our shores. There is no escaping it any other way!"
She rested her hands on her hips and continued speaking calmly. "There's a difference between fighting to win and fighting to destroy. I'm not defending the Horde's actions, they were obviously wrong. But you can't light a fire to put out another fire!"
His clenched fists gave away his own anger, she noted. "Enough of this nonsense! You are no one, a foreigner. The dominoes have already fallen and cannot be stopped. I am a voice for the Tidemother. She speaks and we listen. If we are to survive we must fight. The crashing waves can end any inferno!"
Inwardly, she sighed in exasperation. How on earth did she end up in a debate with this idiot? She just wanted food and to get out of the rain. Although it was strange that a tidesage was being so aggressive. The other few she had met were much more likable and friendly. She had likened them to priests from other regions.
"But that's ridicul---" Asana cut off as she glanced at the crowd. All were glaring at her with open dislike and wariness. Oh boy, this wasn't ending in her favor. Deciding it wasn't worth it she stopped and just turned to leave. "Excuse me," she mumbled as she passed between a pair of burly men who made no effort to move.
She could feel their stares on her back and spared one last glance towards the sage. A flash of lightning illuminated the street and in that instant she paused. He was smiling at her, a cruel victorious grin, but most notably his eyes changed. They were dark before, but now glowed yellow and watched her with barely restrained hunger.
The light faded as quickly as it came and so did the unnerving image. Her foot hovered over the ground locked in mid-stride. What was that? A trick of the light, perhaps? Her instincts weren't so sure. With the next boom of thunder the spell was broken and she regained her stride, pulling her hood lower over her face.
The debate was frustrating, some people just never listened. First and foremost, she wanted a warm meal before hunger and cold claimed her. But her thoughts were uneasy, something felt wrong back there. She wanted to know more.
(2/2)
Great tales so far :D
Dhormir sat on one of a dozen crates in front of the store where he and a young human had been sent to pick up supplies for the Pig’s larder. Root vegetables ready to be canned, pickles stuffed in straw, crackers, nuts, salt-cured meats, and other items waited for the wagon by which they’d be transported. In the meantime, Dhormir and the man spent their time playing cards on a barrel of ale sitting between them. The dwarf did not know the man’s name, and had taken to calling him Milk. The others in the Company assumed it was because of the young man’s usual drink, but, in truth, it was because Milk looked young enough to still be on the teat. Dhormir heard the boy was a fourth-born son of some backwater noble family somewhere and was looking to earn by sweat that which had not been granted him by birth. The Dark Iron could appreciate the sentiment, though he worried if the boy would even live through the winter.
“You were in that group that went to Deadwind, right? Sent after some missing gem shipment?”, Milk asked as he fingered through his cards. “Yeah.” Dhormir tossed two cards into the pile and drew one. “What happened?”, the boy rearranged his hand while trying to sound disinterested. “We got the gems.” The dwarf continued looking at his cards until the silence got the better of Milk. “And?! Did you have to fight to get them back? Kill some undead? Or demons?” “Had to fight a mound of ogres. Didn’t check if they were undead or demons.” “Ogres? Oh, wow, I didn’t even know ogres lived out there! How many were there?” "Dhormir shifted his cards around, then took a bite from a roasted turkey leg sitting beside him. “Fifteen, I think.” “Fifteen? You guys fought fifteen ogres? Why in the world did you fight that many at one time?”
The dwarf shrugged and motioned his partner to play. “Ask the guy who was leading the mess.” The boy held out a card to drop in the pile, but hesitated. “How many did you kill?” “I told you; fifteen. Play your cards, Milk.” “No, no, I mean how many did you kill? You know. Personally.” The card settled atop the others, each a tombstone to slowly passing minutes. “I don’t know. I shot my rifle and put an axe to anything that got close. Wasn’t keeping score.” Dhormir discarded one, drew two. “You should work on your storytelling.” “Trust me. The good jobs are the boring jobs.” He patted his crate for emphasis.
“Hey, what’s going on over there?”, Milk asked in a conspiratorial hush as he leaned over the barrel.
Across the steet and some distance further up, a robed figure spoke to a growing crowd from a pallet throne. The hustle and bustle drowned out most of what he said, but the occasional emotionally-charged outburst trickled down the cracked cobblestones. The speech, whatever it was, had gone on for over an hour. More recently, a Draenei woman in battle-plate took to arguing with the speaker. The crowd parted around her, with words being thrown back and forth. She offered rebuttals from a large warhammer. Her arms rested on the butt as if it were a pulpit.
“Something about Titans, the Light, and Shadows. Didn’t catch most of it.” Milk’s hand drifted out of sight. “Looks like trouble. Think we better go sort them out?” “Take your hand off your sword or your danglies or whatever you’re grabbing down there. We ain’t being paid to break up crowds. That’s the Guard’s job. This is our job.” He jabbed a finger into the top of the oaken barrel. Milk protested, “But aren’t we supposed to make the Company look good?”
“We are making the Company look good, by guarding food for the Pig and not stepping on the Guard’s toes. First thing to learn about being a sellsword, Milk, is you don’t touch your sword unless it’s been sold. If they get riled up and come over here, we’ll rough them up and boot them down the street. Until then, we sit here and mind our business.” Dhormir lifted up the turkey leg and ripped off a piece of meat, motioning to his partner with an exposed bone while he chewed. “Now play your cards. Wagon should be here before long.”
The argument up the street grew more heated, with various folk taking sides with the robed and hooded speaker or the bright, shining form of the Draenei. With one eye on the crowd and most of his attention in the same place, Milk played slow. It made the waiting stretch on even longer. Dhormir finished off his roasted leg and tossed the gristly bone over his shoulder, where it clattered down the street until a dog snatched it up and ran out of sight. The dwarf sucked the juices from his fingers, and wiped his hand on the front of his tabard. From the cloth’s appearance, it was not the first time. “Milk, if you’re not gonna play you could at least…” “Gadgetzam.” The boy put his cards on the barrel, face-up, without looking back. The little bastard was sandbagging. Still, Dhorm preferred losing to waiting through slow hands.
“Do you think that’s true?”, Milk asked as the Dark Iron collected cards and shuffled. “What’s true?” “What that guy’s saying; that we’re slaves to the Light.” The glowing embers of the dwarf’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he shrugged. “We’re all slaves to something.” That didn’t seem to satisfy his companion, so he added; “Pick the master you can live with.” Milk looked back across the way at the crowd, which buzzed like a swarm of bees. “Looks like things are turning against her.” “Yeah”, Dhormir agreed as he dealt fresh hands, “It does.” As he picked up his cards and arranged them, his partner fidgeted on the crate. “Still think we shouldn’t go help?”
A leading question, with a leading tone.
Dhormir glanced across the barrel. “What do you got?” Milk folded his cards close to his chest, “We just started playing! I’m not telling you my hand!” “No, I mean weapons. What do you have on you?” “Oh, uh, my sword. I have a dagger, and I think I brought some brass knuckles.” “And?” “That’s it, I guess.” “Right. I’ve got my messer, my tool axe, and a dagger. How many people are over there?” “I didn’t really…” “27 in the crowd. Plus two agitators. If the whole crowd’s against her, that’s 28 of them against two of us with maybe six weapons between us. How many people you going to fight off at one time with you gear, Milk? You gonna have a good story when the Guard shows up to lock everyone up for the night to sort in the morning?” “I wasn’t, I mean, I didn’t really think…” “I know you didn’t think. Neither did she.” Dhorm jerked his head toward the crowd. “That’s why she’s stuck in a mess and we’re sitting here playing cards.”
The next few hands passed quietly, with Milk shifting more as the crowd’s aggression grew. Dhormir occasionally passed a hand through his fiery mohawk and pretended not to notice. Milk was discarding when he broke the quiet. “I’ll give you half.” “Of?” “My week’s pay.” The dwarf glanced over at the young man with a suspicious turn of his head. “In exchange for?” “Helping out the lady before she gets hurt.” “Pfft!”, some spray spittle spattered the cards, “Milk, she’s bigger than the two of us put together. I doubt she needs anyone’s help, let alone our’s.” The boy shuffled his hand, mirroring his racing thoguhts. “Please, Dhormir. She… I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
Dhorm’s eyes widened, and a grin cut across his ashen face. “Oh, I see. Look, lad, if you want to bed something with hooves, the stable is down that way and it’ll cost you a lot less than half a week’s pay.”
Milk jerked away as if he’d been bitten. “That is not…!”, his voice came out louder than expected and he leaned across the barrel in whispered tone. “That is not what this is about! Now, I’m going over there to help. You can either come with me and make some extra money, or you can sit here and twiddle your thumbs while the wagon gets here. But, I’m not going to sit here and watch someone get torn apart!” The young man gripped the rim of the barrel and half-raised from his crate, full of all the fire and fury and naivety only youth can give. To his credit, he held Dhorm’s gaze with a challenge for a long time before the dwarf’s hard stare softened his partner’s ire. He flicked the corner of a playing card while the seconds ticked by.
“How much do you make a week, anyway?”
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