Unwanted Visitor

[Kenaz]

Shrugging off the huge iron breastplate, it fell to the mossy ground with a heavy thud, the sound somewhat cushioned by the surrounding flora. A huge green hand rose to an even larger green shoulder, rubbing the irritated area caused by the straps of the breastplate. A small grunt comes from the figure as he leans against a tree, rolling his head slowly from side to side to try and relax his neck and shoulder muscles. Muttering something in a foreign tongue he undoes the thongs securing his grieves and vambraces, letting the iron-plated leather pieces fall to the floor also, his mind still racing over the events over the past few days. He had been running. He had been running quite a while, for a day straight at least. He was tired. He felt the pangs of dehydration make his body and mind sluggish, a slight metallic taste at the back of his throat. It wasn't even like he had to run for so long or so far, as he now had no idea where he actually was. Turning his throbbing head slowly, his vertical-slitted eyes took in his surroundings, his training starting to kick in somewhat. Firstly he would need a drinkable water source, then to find a place of rest. Then he could set about getting some food, forcing the ache in his voracious gut out of his mind. He was pretty deep in a woodland of some kind. Sighing softly, a deep rumble stirs from his barrel-like chest, the green flesh resting beneath a light grey tunic.

He already knew he was in a woodland. The fact he was running through woods for several hours made that observation pretty redundant. His pointed green ears twitched slightly, trying to listen for sounds of running water. Closing his eyes, he remained still, his breath stopping and the loud pulsing of his heartbeat slowing as he searched the air for sounds... And there it was. A slight trickling sound, possibly a tiny brook or stream. Setting off slowly, he unlocked his aching leg muscles, forcing a scream of protest from them as they were tired and cooled down. He knew he shouldn't have just stopped running, should have kept walking for a time. Sighing again softly, he casually left his armour behind, not needing them. Not needing the memories that came with them. He was a free man now. A free half-man. Also a free half-orc. But such was the life of a slave.

(I'm guessing this is a setup for a roleplay with the stream being near the abandoned house/hut thing so if someone wants to RP someone already in there, that's cool. If not, it's also fine.)

[femalefred]

Eric had been travelling that day, in his small cart containing most of his belongings, with his shaggy little pony Tack pulling it to the best of her ability, and now here they were, in an open space in front of an abandoned house. The dwarf had stuck a short stake in the ground, to which Tack was now tied, the cart was covered over by an old tarpaulin and was resting under a tree, and a fire - apparently made of bits and pieces of furniture burgled from the apparently empty residence - was burning just on the little stream's bank, with a pot bubbling with a thick stew sat atop it on an apparently portable frame, attached together with hinges.

The dwarf himself was sat beside the fire, chatting away to Tack in a thick Dwarven accent, a pipe in his hand - empty, for he'd run out of tobacco long ago, but he still liked to hold and wave it around now. His pickaxe was lying beside him, just in case there was danger about, but, even with the abandoned house behind, he couldn't help but feel relaxed and happy about his travels. He wasn't going to return to the Dwarven city for a while yet, not until he'd set up a mine himself far from here, and he could return with his cart piled high with riches, and buy a field to put Tack out in so that she didn't have to spend half her life tied to a post.

Just as these happy thoughts were passing through his head, the sound of footsteps came from nearby - and heavy footsteps at that. Well, he wasn't about to be caught unawares talking to his pony, and his hand reached down, now resting on the pickaxe, ready to spring to action if, indeed, this other is a threatening presence.

"Who goes there? If this is your property, I aven't done nothing wrong!"

[Kenaz]

Smoke. There was definately smoke rising, and a thin trail of it at that. That means it was a small, controlled fire. Such as one made by a person. He continued to walk towards it, unsure of what to expect from the owners of the camp. Perhaps they had food they would be able to share, he knew he would definately enjoy some food. As if reminding him, his stomach growled angrily and painfully, and he winced ever so slightly as a pang of cramps slowly slid down his digestive system. And then, a voice...

He froze, his massive green brow furrowing. It didn't seem too loud, and the tone of it was more cautious than aggressive. Plus he could only hear one voice, his pointed green ears flicking and trying to pick up on the ambient noise. He also did not recognise the accent, the words being formed in a way he had never heard before.

(Quick note, I like to think of his accent as Russian, I think it suits his character and species.)

"I... I have no 'property' here, friend. I am called K'loch. K'loch Dravistol"

He speaks loudly and as clearly as he can, knowing his accent caused difficulty sometimes in being understood. He speaks his name with pride, like a badge being worn, his chest visibly puffing out as the words are spoken.

"I have travelled for many moons, friend, and would be glad for some company..."

He continues walking towards the sounds and the smoke, his pace now slow and cautious, his huge frame still being noisy as ever though. He keeps his movements slow and controlled, however, not wanting to startle whoever it was with the fire. He knew his appearance alone would be likely to startle, his arms up in constant supplication. He did not want to harm anyone, he hated hurting things. Ironic, as it was what he was almost created to do, he was a combat machine. But a strangely gentle one.

[femalefred]

The other's accent, as admittedly Eric's had been to K'loch, was a strange and new one, it was almost as if the words he spoke were not really his natural tongue. Of course, Eric's natural tongue was Dwarven, but he had spoken in the language of men so often that it might as well have been his first. Even so, at the mention of the word "friend" and the possibility of company, the dwarf's axe immediately dropped. This person, whoever or whatever they might be - and they were certainly large, by the continuing noises approaching him - did not want to cause trouble, and nor were they about to launch into a tirade because their furniture was being used for a fire.

"K'loch? Decent name, that. D'you want some stew? I've enough for two, and Tack's not eating any."

This all said whilst staring at said stew, poking gently at the pot with a rough spoon, stirring the thick contents gently. It was only when the half-orc entered the clearing that he looked up, and with a touch of shock - he did jump, and he did let out a little shout of either shock or dismay, but manners had always gotten the better of Eric, and the only creatures he had real quarry with was elves. And this one seemed to be somewhat intelligent, it knew its name and could speak in decent language, and so it was that Eric stood, forcing himself to slow the quickening beatings of his heart and stick out a small and sturdy hand for the shaking.

"The name's Eric, Eric Rothsbeard."

[Elrohir]

Sliding gracefully into a shallow pool of water that branched off of the main stream beside the abode, a shadowed panther carefully scanned the cool water, waiting patiently for its next meal to arrive. Indeed, fish was on the menu tonight, not her personal favorite, but it would have to do.

The panther was a female, an anorian female, carefully making her way back from Avalbane to Anoria andpausing every so often to rest for she was in no definite rush. Most knew her as Diren, cunning and mischeivious in both human and feline form but with definate weaknesses.

The site of two other beings approaching the clearing almost led the poor cat to jump out of its skin. The residence had not been used in what? Some twenty years or so. Reguardless, the sudden realization led her to swiftly change into her humaniod form, a panther in these parts was an almost certain clue that she was anorian, and she didn't quite feel like sharing that side of her yet.

Carefully making her way to the side of the embankment, she quietly pulled herself up to the somewhat high side of an enclosed side of the pool and proceeded to dress.

It was about five minutes until she found herself ready to greet the newcomers; though greeting the folk had not been her original intentions. She HAD planned to simply leave, but fate did not seem to want to run her way, and with a very low chance of having anything to eat for the evening meal; well, you get it. So here she was waltzing in front of them like she owned the place.

"So, what do we have here?" Diren announced with perfect foolishness. "Do you two live here? Or have I just stumbled upon you at an inconvienient time." She was not much for intro's but, that was about the best she was going to do. (Sorry guys, I'm a little rusty. Haven't really roleplayed in quite a while. )

[Kenaz]

His slightly worried face immediately spreads into a huge grin, his animal-like pointed teeth showing freely for a few moments before be closes his mouth almost ashamedly, once again putting his lips over his teeth uncomfortably. His initial happiness slowly morphs into a mixture of shock and suprise, not used to seeing people such as Eric, nor being accepted so readily into a conversation. Frowning slightly, he runs the name around in his head, testing the words.

"Eric... Rough... Beard... It is a good name, friend. Good, strong name."

He speaks the worlds akwardly, his large teeth and inhuman mouth and jaw making the pronounciation difficult and foreign, but he seems happy with it, a small grin forming on his green and almost feral looking face. He looks down apon the Dwarf, suprised at his height but not shockingly so, he was used to people not even matching his own size, and extends a huge arm, the hand itself probably able to engulf most of Eric's forearm. Grasping the hand carefully he gives it an almost tentative shake, his grip weak from hunger, but still very firm by human standards. As if in answer to the Dwarf's offer of stew, his stomach growls loudly, obviously loud enough for all around to hear, to which he snorts softly in amusement, patting his somewhat shrunken stomach.

"My stomach is not polite. It is good to shake hands with you, Eric Rough Beard."

He looks like he is going to say more, when suddenly he sees the woman walk in front of them and talk. Frowning slightly, thinking for a few moments he suddenly comes to a conclusion, extending his huge green hand to her to shake next.

"It is good to meet you also, Tack. Thank you for your share of stew."

[femalefred]

Rough Beard? Close enough. Eric was never all that picky about how his name was pronounced, and Rough Beard was probably about right. Tack was less enthusiastic about the appearance of this large and orc-smelling man, but she couldn't voice her opinions in any way other than a discontented whicker - and now there was another stranger here! And this one smelt of huge cats and sort of like elves. The little pony had never met any Anorians, and so wasn't entirely sure what this person was, but she simply didn't like it. She was hungry though, and so simply continued to browse the grasses.

"No, and I shouldn't think so. It's good stew. Seems to have attracted another new friend.. with pointed ears.." he was struggling to maintain his composure now. She might not be an elf. She could be some kind of... pointy eared being that wasn't an elf. Ignore it. Remain calm. Try to pretend she doesn't have pointy ears. Alright, moving on..

A light laugh bubbled out from the dwarf's thick beard as the half orc's assumption about the suddenly appearing young woman came to be known.

"No, lad, that's not Tack. Tack is my pony, over there, grazing at the minute. I don't know who this young lady is. And I don't live here, nor do I think does K'loch, but you're welcome to stew too. It's enough for a week's journey, but I can make some more later."

[Lazy Elrohir]

Diren eyed the dwarf wearily as she saw his dissappointed speculations, realizing his immediate thoughts of what she might be.

"I am no elf, if that is what you are thinking," she said briefly, sitting beside them on a large rock, "but I would be glad to have some stew. It is nice to meet you both, though I do not encounter many travelors in these woods. Tell me, where do you come from? "

(short post.... I am braindead today.)

[femalefred]

"Well, if you're not an elf, you're welcome to some stew then. But I'll have to get the other bowls from the cart," the dwarf replied, rather gruffly, moving towards the tarpaulin covered object even as he began to speak.

So, not an elf? What was she then? Hmm.. faerie wasn't really an option, seeing as they were just elves with wings anyway, and she didn't have wings, and though she had grey-ish skin, she couldn't be a drow because, though they hated to admit it, drow were elven. The only other beasties he knew of with pointed ears were Anorians, and she did have those funny looking purple eyes that that lot all had.. hrmm...

He'd reached the cart by now, and it was only a moment before he'd uncovered a set of four wooden bowls - one of them cracked right down the middle - and removed them from the small wagon, tossing the broken one back in among the rest of his possessions and moving back towards the fire, preparing to ladle the steaming stew into the bowls for his two guests with their odd species.

[Kenaz]

(Well, time to get this going again methinks! Whew.)

He nods his head slowly, trying to force the dwarf's words through his slightly dulled senses, fatigue starting to hit him heavier now that his brain was hooked on the thought of a hot meal. Watching the dwarf go to aquire some more bowls he slowly sets himself down on the floor, cross legged and facing the fire, allowing his body a small amount of rest as it heats his green-tinged flesh. What seems like a sigh comes out almost like a gutteral grunt, a short growl which gave the incorrect impression. He was free. He had met someone who was being nice to him. Eric Rough Beard, possibly his first friend outside of the slave pits. The smallest of smiles graces his beastial face as he grabbed both his elbows and forced his arms behind his head, stretching various muscles with two dull popping sounds as his shoulders relax.

[Arwen]

[Heh... dearest Kenaz... I'm afraid we've moved. Unfortunately, nobody is around here anymore. Freddy-dearest included. *il sigh*]

[Kenaz]

(Dangit. I just got an e-mail recently about this being moved to -here-. Ah well)

[arwen]

That's right. It's moved to Avidgamers. Not here. Heh. So if you join up at the other site, it'll all be good. It's kicking up over there. We're just closing this down though.