RP:A Fair Trade

Summary: Molgar and Red Eyes travel to Frostmaw with three slaves in tow as bargaining chips to try and obtain new exotic food for Gamorg.

Frozen Throne

Molgar follows a pair of heavily armed Frost Giants through the sleek corridors of the Frostmaw palace. He seems quite happy to be able to navigate through the environment without discomfort due to the larger frame of the locals. Disarmed with no argument his whip and warhammer are held by one of his escorts as the rattling of the cast iron chain connected to his wrist echoes down the halls. As they enter the throne room, he is allowed to pass the duo and comes to a stop at the center allowing him to be examined closely. The previously mentioned chain runs down to a trio of dirty creatures - an orc who stares defiantly at any of look his way, a human woman who is sniffling from tears and the frost biting at her cheek and a dwarf who looks like he's in the midst of a massive hangover. Before the three of them and by Molgar's side is a drow elf who wears similar shackles on his wrists but they are unbound and while the others wear burlap sacks the drow has a wonderful fur coat keeping the cold at bay. The behemoth grumbles as he searches the room for any sign of royalty and upon spotting Hildegarde at the throne he can't contain a guttural chuckle, a creature this small leads an army of giants? "Red Eyes..." he calls, the room quaking from his deep vocals as the drow perks up. "Lady Silver? Queen of Frostmaw? Master Molgar and I have traveled very far from the island of Rynvale in hopes of a brief audience." His tone much more polite and educated than the Ogre's as he moves to kneel, his master following suite soon after.

Hildegarde was upon the throne, having just finished up some other business. Molgar and his entourage had entered before she could descend the throne and forage some food, given that ruling was hungry work! Indeed, the ogre is given a very examining look: he is being assessed as are his colleagues, if they can be called that. “Does he speak or does he require you to speak for him?” she asked the drow who had initially addressed her. “Do you need some refreshment?” she asked those who were bound, not yet extending such hospitality up to Molgar. Slavery was not smiled upon in Frostmaw and right now, Molgar looks like a slaver.

Molgar remains knelled and looks to Red Eyes to follow his example further, the behemoth seemingly confused by Hildegarde's initial question. The drow smiles as Hildegarde's reply seem to confirm her identity, "Oh, Master Molgar can speak, quite well for his kind even. However, due to some communication barriers that may arise from in-depth conversation I act as his mouth and ears when on official business." Perking his ears at her questioning, Red Eyes steps to the side to allow the slaves to be addressed properly. The woman and orc stare and her and shake their heads in refusal while the dwarf chimes in "Aye, I'll be havin' a tall glass o' ale if ye' got one on 'and. This fat bastard has had us walkin' through all this damn cold without anythin' to keep our bellies warm!" Molgar doesn't react to the accusation, instead keeping his brown eyes fixated on the queen.

Hildegarde nodded at the reply of Red Eyes, “And what is your name? Is it Red Eyes, as your master called? Or do you have a name you prefer?” With a wave of her hand, Hildegarde indicates she has no need for kneelers, “Rise, rise, no need for that,” she tells them. As the dwarf spoke up about desiring ale and something to keep their bellies warm, Hildegarde cannot help but smile. “Of course, master dwarf,” she rose from the throne and descended the steps in order to grasp a tankard of ale before passing it to the dwarf. A guard from the throne room makes his way out and traverses the fort on some silent order, perhaps to find more refreshments for their guests. Hildegarde resumes her seat on the throne, evidently waiting for more to be said.

Molgar picks himself up the way any lumbering oaf would and Red Eyes follows, the drow maintaining his smile as he nods in assurance to her assessment "Red Eyes I am! That is me, delightful as can be!" he's tickled by his own rhythm. "Oh, lass, you're an angel in disguise. Never seen such a beautiful woman carry a tankard with such grace, bless ye' bless ye'" the dwarf decrees before chugging the drink, liquid dripping through his beard follow by a loud belch. Red Eyes a bit appalled by the behavior before returning his attention to Hildegarde apologetically. "Master Molgar and I have come in hopes of making a trade deal with your people your highness. The people of Gamorg are in need of food..." he pauses before correcting himself "Well, not in need per say, but in -want- of more exotic dishes. I'm afraid goblin brains, rats and human legs only go so far before becoming bland". "Gamorg hungers." Molgar chimes in while licking at his lips and rubbing his belly. "Yes, Gamorg hungers indeed! Master Molgar here even hopes to bring back some fresh ingredients for the working races, y'know, to cut back on the cannibalism!" Ever peppy Red Eyes is grinning ear to ear as if his statement doesn't carry repulsive imagery. "We've come in hopes of procuring some of your native game or delicacies to bring home with us and do not believe for one second that we've come without a wonderful offer!" Motioning to the trio of slaves with an open palm, the drow elf presents them as a fine prize. "In tow, we have three of our hardest workers! Beskin the dwarf in one of our greatest miners and puts the goblin force to shame! Kolgor the orc gives the most wonderful sponge baths to all the giant races and Melissa is a wonderful, wonderful maid, she's always sure to pick even the largest chunk of flesh out of the teeth of the masters! For just three crates of game, we will happily part with any of your choosing to help the gracious kingdom of Frostmaw flourish even further!" Red Eyes lifts the back of his hand to his mouth in a mock whisper towards Hildegarde though his volume hardly changes "I would take Beskin. He's an excellent lover and after that recent civil war, I'm sure he could ease any remaining tension here!"

Hildegarde has a considerable amount of disdain for this exchange, but that’s politics for you. As Red Eyes continued with the spiel of Molgar and his people, Hildegarde looks over at the slaves and wonders what their fate would be if she turned them away. “I can provide you with three crates of game and other Frostmawian fineries, our best food and drink as selected by our men of the land,” that was the strong term for farmers, “but I want all three of them,” she told Molgar and Red Eyes.

Molgar looks down to Red Eyes who in turn looks at him, the duo having a silent conversation before the Ogre decides it's his turn to speak to the queen directly. "No. Too much. Three for your offer and five gold.", "Five hundred gold, Master", "Five hundred gold. Please." Odd for an ogre to be so polite but he seems intent on striking a deal with Hildegarde, his journey well wasted other wise. To show his good faith he reaches down to unbind the chain from his wrist and staggers over to Hildegarde, leaning forward to hold it out to her in offering "Please." He repeats, his breath sure to ruin the appetite she previously carried. Red Eyes pitching in, "The gold would be used in good faith of course. Just to help cover travels and food along the way home. Master Molgar can get by with eating griffens and other creatures raw but I'm afraid my appetite is a bit more sensitive."

Hildegarde is now quite conflicted. Part of her is shrewd and counsels threatening to call the deal off unless she gets her way, seeing as she has something that Molgar and his people want. But that other part of her counsels her that five hundred gold is not much at all, in the grand scheme of things. “Seeing as you asked nicely,” she said in reply, accepting the chain from the ogre and gesturing to Lisbeth who swiftly stepped in to relieve her Queen of the chain and set to freeing the orc, dwarf and woman. “Come this way, we shall feed and clothe you. Once you are ready to go, you may do so. You are free men and women of Frostmaw now,” Lisbeth tells them, directing them to the kitchen. “I will have the supplies sent to you, if that suits?”

Hildegarde gave Molgar 500 gold.

Molgar is pleased with the deal and immediately releases the slaves into Hildegarde's custody, the Ogre taking the gold before handing it to Red Eyes. As he corrects his posture he shakes his head in refusal to her offer to have the supplies mailed to them, "No. Molgar will wait and carry" he turns to reveal a make shift tote of wood and rope strapped to his back easily big enough to carry three crates worth of supplies. Red Eyes slides in between the two of them, "Erm, your majesty, if I may be so bold, would it be acceptable for Master Molgar and I to request something to eat? A celebration of the deal of course! Hehe!" His smile twitches as he eagerly awaits her reply. Molgar grumbles and rubs at his stomach again, "Molgar eat." Red Eyes waves his hands to dismiss any thought of her being taken advantage of, "Of course we don't mean to intrude! We are guests in your home after all. If the request is too much we will wait outside of the city for however long it takes to gather the things."

Molgar gave 1 dwarf slave to Hildegarde. Molgar gave 1 human slave to Hildegarde. Molgar gave 1 orc slave to Hildegarde.

Hildegarde nodded her head, “The hospitality of Frostmaw is yours. But advise your master that he is to bring no more slaves to Frostmaw. It is not smiled upon here,” it was courteous advice. “The food will not be ready for some time, Master Molgar, as it will be freshly caught, prepared and cured,” she explained. “In the meantime, you may enjoy the hospitality of the fort. We will find quarters for you and your associate.”

Molgar keeps his attention solely on Hildegarde and though he understands her perfectly he doesn't become offended by her direction to keep his trade out of Frostmaw. Unlike most of his race, he contained enough foresight to know berating or questioning the woman in her own palace would be a bad idea. Besides, he'd already gotten made his bargain, maybe he could find something more suitable to trade next time - like a keg of goblin blood! Molgar nods, "Molgar understand", Red Eyes is clapping again "Yay! What a wonderful occasion! We thank you for your excellent leadership Lady Silver! No wonder you sit at the throne! So kind! So gracious! So powerful!" The drow steps into the Ogre's palm and he lifts him to onto his shoulder and waits to be directed.

Hildegarde has little love for such extreme praise. It reeks of falsehood and it’s what some might call brown-nosing. Hildegarde descends the throne and leads the way out into the main hall, taking a right (west) to head towards the kitchen area and pantry. “If you have any specific needs, they can be met here. I have some more business to attend to, but once you’re ready to settle down for the night, seek out Lisbeth. She’ll keep you right.”

Molgar :: She wasn't wrong, Red Eyes was a performer by all definition but not by choice. The man had been enslaved to Molgar for so long that'd he'd forced himself to cope by becoming a personal pet, something that led to him genuinely loving the life he led. Once he accepted the fact that his family was gone and he was destined to live a life of service everything became so simple and pure - he honestly meant the words he said to Hildegarde but it was because the man was insane. The duo follow her until they reach their destination and listen to her instructions carefully, the Ogre looking down to address her before she makes her leave. "Gamorg thank you Queen. Molgar thank you." His hand clutches into a fist and raises up to press against his chest. "Molgar pass word to show same kind ways to people of Frostmaw who enter Gamorg. Gamorg no eat Frostmaw."

Hildegarde mirrors the fist gesture, “Frostmaw no eat Gamorg,” she said in return. Tribal monarchies were blunt people and Hilde had no problem with being like that. “Time for business. Aramoth keep you,” a typical blessing to those who worshipped the god of war.

Molgar nods in return, "May he not hunger" a reply wishing Hildegarde a spared life in the eyes of Gerathog as well as a moment of peace from Aramoth's call - of course, where the hell is the fun in that?