[Prompt] Well that's gross

Lore World's End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
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Well, this is gross. You’ve managed to fall into a pit of muk. Rancid, odiferous, vile, and viscous goop, gunk, and sediment. It is only waist deep, but that is still your lower half submerged into this grotesque mess.

How do you react? When you fell in, did you do every dancing motion possible to avoid such a fate? Did you fall in face first? Are you nauseated by the scent, texture, situation, taste, sight? Do you climb out with dignity or just rapidly remove yourself from the pit without any care as to the means? Once out of the pit, what is next? A simple cleansing or something far more vigorous?

Or are you so familiar with such revolting occurrences that it hardly phases you? Just another day, the stench isn’t that bad. In fact, this pit is almost like a warm bath!

Info

This is meant to be a fun exercise, so there aren’t many rules.

Prompts are fun little things meant to inspire. You don’t have to perfectly 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 the archive thread. Some prompts will be more thought provoking, some more whimsical. Respect your fellow writers.

Disclaimer: I cannot take full credit for every prompt. Some of these I create on my own, some are prompts I’ve seen that I’ve taken a WoW spin to, and some I’ve seen and used in the past, some are ideas spoken in passing between me and coworkers, or guildmates, or some are offered directly from folks on the forums. If I’ve been directly given a prompt from another person, I will credit them unless they do not want to. Otherwise, know some of these are gained through many means.

Archive: Kersia's Prompt Archive and Discussion

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Its probably not as bad as abominations stinch but my character would be furious.
She would have to dive deep into a lake to get this out of her fur.

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“Eugh… son of a *****…” Jon scowled at his predicament.

It was bad enough that he was going to have to wash this gunk out of his fur (and who knows how long that was going to take…), but the stench was absolutely atrocious. In a way, he was both fortunate, and unlucky to be a Worgen in this scenario - the sensitive canine nose and the understanding of various scents and smells gave new context to smells that might have nauseated him before, and yet it also meant he could smell it all the more clearly… and have some idea of what, precisely, the stench was.

He silently vowed to take a week-long bath as soon as he’d gotten out of this foul pit.

He had no idea how he’d ended up in this mess, either - but given recent history, he couldn’t help but suspect his murderous, and occasionally very petty father had something to do with it…

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“This is not the way I want to connect with the earth.” he grumbles while stomping out of the muck. Then he takes a bath in the closest river or lake.

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After a brief moment to check for injuries and broken bones, Tanthelara shrieked in absolute disgust of the situation he found herself in. She had slayed demons, fought armies of the undead, and tangled with horrors beyond comprehension in addition to her years as a healer. The shame that dwelt in the back of her mind was becoming tangible from her visceral reaction to this… this filth.

She struggled to gain a foothold, falling forward into the muck. Another shrill shriek exited her lungs - she couldn’t help it, the reaction was involuntary. The shame and contempt for herself grew and mixed with the disgust of the situation. “This can’t be happening!” she thought to herself, screaming internally.

Slowly, but steadily, she got back on her feet and flung the abject nastiness off of her arms. The vile aroma of death and decay permeated her nostrils and judging by its intensity, she figured her clothing would be forfeit from the contamination of this filth. The thought made her even more upset - these were her favorite robes!

Taking a minute to gather herself, she blocked out the stench and concentrated on casting a levitation spell. It only ever offered to lift her a few inches, so it would be useless in of itself to get out of this pit, but perhaps it would pull her out of this sludge she found herself wallowing in like the boars the orcs kept outside of Orgrimmar.

Sparks of arcane energy flickered around her fingertips as she began the incantation. Nothing. “The sludge must be too dense,” she thought. Then, as if fate itself had deemed its cruel joke to have gone on long enough, she began to lift out of the vile filth. Now hovering over the surface, she willed her way to the edge of the pit, searching for something she could use to pull herself out.

Over the edge of the pit a face peeked out at her. A troll - one of the Darkspear she had seen the other day. Judging by the creases in the warpaint around his eyes, he must have been laughing at her misfortune.

“Oh, my! Dat be quite da mess ya be findin’ ya self in, little elf!” the troll taunted as he threw her a rope.

Tanthelara snatched it in midair and glared at him, holding tightly onto the rope. “Yeah, yeah. Enough laughing, voodoo boy, and pull me out or I’ll smite that mohawk off your head!”

The troll laughed some more as he pulled her out of the pit. “I not be meanin’ any harm, blood elf. Besides, ya not be in any situation to be makin’ threats now, mon. Not with a smell like dat comin’ off ya.”

She growled as she continued glaring at him. It was her personal mission to keep an aire of poise and dignity at all times, and this… troll of all people, got to see her with her defenses down. Her cheeks flushed with humiliation, and the troll seemed to pick up on it.

“Ya not be worryin’, elf. Ol’ Sihi know how much ya kind value appearances. I be keepin’ ya secret safe.” the troll said with a smile

Tanthelara looked up at him and met his gaze with hers. Perhaps the Horde wasn’t as uncivilized as she had come to believe it was.

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