RP:An Ogre's Request

From HollowWiki

Gualon Grogshop

Mughrak grunts loudly and wipes a slather of mucus spit from his immense jaws as he drags his hulking form through the tavern door. Chunks of metal and slabs of wood, not to mention many years’ worth of dirt, grind, scrape and creak against each other as massive muscles slowly propel the Ogre across the surprisingly sturdy floorboards. The Ogre looks as most Ogres do; a mess, clad in a menagerie of old and mostly salvaged armour from countless crushed foes who dared or foolishly tempted to battle such a formidable creature. For now, Mughrak slumps onto a suitably large tree trunk bench and gives signal for a barrel of something potent to be brought, then casts a non-too-discerning look around the pub and its inhabitants.


Meri was minding her own business in the far corner of the Grogshop, trying to keep to herself and mind her own business. As is usual for the tattoo artist, a sketchbook is laid out before her and a piece of black charcoal held between two fingers, skin black from the artistic utensil rubbing off on her fingers. Mughrak’s hulking form does well to call Meri’s attention to him, the tattooed blonde instantly cringing in disgust at the sight of that mucus spit. Yum. Mughrak seemed like one of those characters that you should ignore, yet they are so unsightly you can’t help but steal a stare no matter how hard you tried. That was Meri’s problem currently.


Mughrak notes the few patrons in a sweeping glance and sees little in terms of interest or threat. And no Orcs, thankfully. The great beast’s fingers extend around the barrel, which had been courteously deposited by a couple of able-looking bar workers, and he lifted the wooden vessel of vile liquid to his lips, greedily slurping down the harsh liquor with what could pass as a look of satisfaction. His gaze then drifts again, languidly, not particularly intending to spy out those who are looking at him, however his beady brown eyes spy the woman through his thick strands of matted black hair, staring at him inanely. “Wha’jer want, eh ‘ooman?” he growls at her, taking another sip of his massive tankard, though now keeping his gaze firmly in her direction.


Meri releases an awkward cough in response to Mughrak’s question, quick to answer with a defensively instant, “Nothing. Nothing!” By all accounts, Meri appeared to be human. Tall. Blonde. Not unarmed but still not wanting to chance angering an Ogre. It’s this reason that Meri is quick to avert her gaze back to her artwork, busying herself with working on whatever her current project is. The tattooed woman was so intent on not looking at the Ogre that she reached into the back pocket of her pants to fish out a tarnished cigarette tin, producing a hand-rolled cigarette and going about the motions of lighting up. Anything to keep busy and to keep from gawking like a fool.


Mughrak laughs hoarsely to himself as her reply comes in that typically weak human voice, not a hint of aggression or strength at all. He knew all too well from past encounters that smaller foes could be dangerous, but this thin gangly looking creature was clearly nothing to the Ogre but a passing entertainment as he imbibed his toxic mixture. “Iz yer ‘fraid ov da big monster, paleskin? Bwahaha!” He let out his cackle loudly and freely, bringing a gnarled fist hammering down onto the table and startling a number of other drinkers, some of whom appear to be giving great thought to leaving. “Mayhaps you’z draw’d a perty piktur fer ol’ Mughrak, hmm?” the Ogre chuckled at the woman, indicating her scribbling book that she had hastily put down and seeing the ‘perty pikturs’ she had adorned herself with.


Meri squints at Mughrak’s initial question. Afraid? There was a chance. The human was not used to seeing such creatures like Ogres and the like. These were all notions that she was still growing accustomed to. Afraid or not, Meri was not about to admit said fear. Red lips are pursed together cautiously when Mughrak slams his fist on the table. “A picture?” Meri repeats, trying to keep her cool in the face of it all. “And what sort of picture would you like me to draw?”


Mughrak was taken aback somewhat by the calm response from the lightly framed woman and the hulking, green-skinned goliath changed his demeanour, now a little curious. Normally these little creatures scuttle off or start mumbling, like bugs away from a disturbed rock, but not this one. This one did make him curious, but then an Ogre finding you curious might not be a great reason for celebration. “I azn’t got brainz enuf fer finkin’ ‘bout pikturs, ‘ooman!” he blared out across the room, but paused momentarily whilst his tiny grey matter caught up with him, “Drawz us sumfin’ ‘bout smashin’ fings!” he called out, giving a hideous and childish grin of brown stained gnashers as he triumphed at thinking of an artistic topic for the woman to accomplish for him.


Meri made no move to actually go any closer to the ogre. If he wanted himself a pretty picture, she would deliver this from a safe distance. Well at least she thought it was safe, that maybe there was some hope that she could get up and bolt out the southern entrance should this encounter go sour. Of course, she did not want the ogre’s attention on her but she was not sure which was the lesser of two evils....Running at the risk of being chased or playing it cool. “Okay....” Cigarette was balanced between her red lips, the woman setting about working on a quick sketch. It was a sketch of Mughrak smashing up a bear with a club. I mean, Meri thought bears were fierce at least!


Mughrak gave a great huff as he realised that he couldn’t see what this woman was now doing in her little book. The Ogre, in his interest, had now risen from his makeshift bench and trundled his way across the room towards her, scraping his loosely fitting armour behind him and dragging idle arms at his sides. It was difficult to garner interest from this brute, but if you were able to then the interest was very earnest, very simple and quite complete. Such was the situation now as the lumbering demi-giant now leaned fully over Meri’s table, with no account given for personal space or courtesy. Casting his eyes over her quick and subtle movements, the brutish squinted eyes began to relax as to his wondering sight appeared the picture as the girls dainty hands dictated, each stroke bringing about the creation of this fantastic scene of some great Ogrish warrior setting about a great bear. “Iz a grizzler!” Mughrak pointed out, clearly fascinated, “ ‘an iz a gurt big Ogre too!” he clarified, just in case the woman was in any doubt, and continued to watch until she had finished. That was brilliant! His own picture drawn by this puny human. “Youz drawz lotza fings, eh ‘ooman?” he enquired, his large and mottled face now quite uncomfortably close to hers, assuming there’s ever a comfortable distance from an Ogre.


Meri was inwardly hoping that not of Mughrak’s mucus-drool ended up on her or any of her belongings. When Mughrak puts his face uncomfortable close to hers, Meri tenses just slightly an holds her breath. It was an involuntary response, that breath probably stinks! Even if it was not rank, Meri was in no rush to find out. “Uh huh, yup.” is the simple version of her answer. Normally there was a pitch for ‘come out to SoulsKin! I do tattoos!’ but who wants to pitch that to an ogre? “I draw all sorts of things.” The sketch of the ogre battling the bear was a quick one, no details were put into any sort of background scene. It focused just on Mughrak, the bear, and the club. This sketch is carefully pulled out of her sketchbook. The piece of paper then levitates toward the Ogre. “Here. You can keep this one.”


Mughrak had abandoned his previous aggressive behaviour and was now firmly fixated by this little creatures amazing talent to make pictures at will. This was blatantly helped by the fact that Mughrak wasn’t drunk yet, despite the barrel of deathly substances, and had already decapitated a random cow on the way to the bar, which always took the edge off of his mood. Taking the scrap of paper in his oversized hand, the great beast pulled it right up close to his eyes and looked hard at it for a few more seconds, seeing no likeness of himself in it because he rarely caught his own reflection and even rarer still bothered about what he looked like. He then scrunched the paper into something that acted like a pocket so that he might look at it again sometime and then looked again at the human female. She looked so frail and vulnerable, regardless of the weapon she had slung across her back, plus the fact that she had far too much skin showing. Provocative and attractive to some, but tactically foolish in the eyes of the brawler. Surely she couldn’t hope to face her foes like that, it was silly. But it did allow for her tattoos to be displayed for all and this is what now caught the Ogre’s eye. “Whuzzat? ‘Owd yooz get pikturez on yer meat?”


Meri cracked something of a grin at Mughrak’s description of her tattoos. Pictures on her meat. It’s a short-lived grin, though, Mughrak was still an ogre. No sense in letting her guard down. “Us paleskins call them tattoos.” Meri begins to explain, still not wanting to anger the ogre. “And we draw them on our skins with needles, inks and dyes. It’s a very painful process, depending on where you get them. But that is how they got there, piercing my skin with a needle over and over again and infusing ink into my meat. Some of them take several days to complete.” Meri shifted about in her chair. The conversation with the ogre had gone smoothly thus far but Muhgrak’s prolonged interest in her was a little disconcerting.


Mughrak gave a low grunt and winced. He vaguely knew what she meant, but it was tricky things and he couldn’t stand tricky things. Or wizards, for that matter. But these small beings were so good with tricky little things and he often wondered what it would be like if he could do these intricate tasks, before remembering how much he enjoyed pummelling stuff and disregarded his wild fancies. There were also some words she used that he didn’t know, so he ignored them and got the gist, picturing her sat there stabbing herself repeatedly with a large needle. He wasn’t sure how that made pictures on skin, but then he didn’t get paintbrushes or charcoal either, so it had to make sense to someone. It also changed the Ogre’s mind about this little blonde thing in front of him, thinking that she literally sat there and stabbed herself for several hours and caused herself considerable pain was highly laudable to Mughrak and he sat himself down on the floor, convinced that he had found something quite fascinating in Meri. “Yooz likes pain?” he enquired, quite innocently, not in the least inferring that he was about to cause her any himself. “Howdz I get Ogre an’ grizzler on Mughrakz meat, eh?”


Meri lifted a tattooed hand to rub the side of her tattooed neck as she considers Mughrak’s request to get the picture she just drew for him permanent on his skin. “I don’t -like- pain, no, but I can tolerate it. Especially since I do like tattoos.” There is a pause. “....I have never tattooed an ogre before. Your skin might be quite thick, too thick for my needle, to thick for the ink to take. I’m not really sure.” Those blue eyes squint a bit, studying Mughrak’s skin, trying to determine how leathered it was. “But the place where I do these tattoos? It is out in Rynvale. Do you ever go out there?” Meri imagined not. “And you would have to pay for the ink, the ink can get quite pricey. I can’t afford to do tattoos for free....but I’m not sure it would even work. I’d need quite the needle...”


Mughrak listened carefully and thought for a short while before he answered, “I’z don’ go ter Rynvale too much. ‘ikkle elfs don’ like uz comin’ in an eatin’ theyz fings, hur hur hur!” he chuckled again, remembering well the day he had pretty much rampaged through a quiet Rynvale farmstead and drawn the attention of the city guards, shrugging off arrows and crossbow bolts as he devoured whole chickens and ripped a goat in half. “But oi loikz grizzler an’ Ogrez an’ oi haz big big sharp fings fer stabbin’ meat.” He gesticulated emphatically with his hand in a stabbing motion against his own arm, indicating that he too had a fair tolerance for pain, as the Rynvale guard would attest to, and could acquire large pointed objects. What was the other thing she said? Oh yes, coin, “Oi pikz up lotsa goldz frum offa smashed fings, speshully elfs. Oi can pikz up more fer pikturz on meat?” he asked, obviously unaware of the cost of things, as most things were free for Ogres who battered everything and took what they wanted. But this was entirely different. If he battered her… he couldn’t get what he wanted, so he needed to play this whole technical payment game.


Meri had trouble understanding everything that Mughrak was trying to tell her but she played along, trying to do her best to decipher his butchered common just as he was having trouble understanding some of the words she used. Tattooing an Ogre? Meri never thought she was see the day. “Okay, you get the coin and you tell me where you want it...then I will try and ink it.” Emphasis on the try. She would try very hard at that! In her mind, she had gotten herself into quite the sticky situation. Tell Mughrak no and risk being battered by the ogre...deliver an unsatisfactory piece...more battering! “When you get some coin, I’ll do the inking. We can even do it down here, since you don’t go out to Rynvale....” Meri didn’t seem to pleased with this business deal.....but what’s a meager little human woman to do?


Mughrak gave another shocking grin, airing his stained teeth, littered with Aramoth knows what between the sharp tusks and releasing a vapour of sickening breath into the air. “Good!” the gargantuan thing bellowed, quite satisfied that he had garnered the services of this small woman to work her magic somewhere on him at some point. A frown then furrowed his brow and he turned back to the woman again, “’Ow much goldz is pikturz? I iz’n gud wiv countin’ ‘em.” He said, quite matter of factly, as it was no secret that Ogres are thicker than boulders. He pondered going to Rynvale to try and make this easier, but quickly waived the idea as being too tricky. They weren’t keen on Ogres and he certainly wasn’t sly enough to dodge the attention of the city guard.


Meri gestures toward Mughrak’s shoulder with a wave of her arm. “How much depends on where and how big. You get me what you can get me.” That’s how badly she didn’t want to upset the ogre. “And we will work out a deal. Even if you find things that are not gold...things that a human like myself might like that you would have no use for.” Who knows what sort of things Mughrak might find in his smashing and bashing for gold. “But if you say...want it on your upper arm and to take up most of the space...” Given how much space there was. “I would say a thousand gold, if the tattoo turns out well.” Said gold transfer can be all RP of course! Meri’s player is not a stickler.


Mughrak stood suddenly up and again bellowed, “Good!” nice and loudly, filling the room with his deep booming voice. “Oi’ll getter goldz an’ bitz from smashin’ an’ oi findz yooz when oi’z ready, mhmm.” The lumbering oaf was more than happy with the arrangement and felt quite pleased with himself that he had not only gained a great picture, a tattoo booking and something to do for the next few days, but had also managed not to cause carnage, injury or destruction in the process. A thousand gold was just a number to him, he had no real concept of the amount, but this was some achievement for the humungous brute and he muttered contentedly to himself as he trundled back across the creaking floor and took his seat back at his original table, whereupon he crudely summoned a further barrel of whatever putrid concoction they had dragged to him previously. “An’ getz ‘ikkle ‘ooman drinkz too, or oi smashes facez onna floor!” Mughrak barked threateningly at the bar staff, indicating Meri at her table. It made sense that if Meri tolerated pain, then she must tolerate alcohol in large quantities also. Such was Ogre logic.


Meri’s jaw goes a little slack when Mughrak threatens the barkeep on her behalf. She didn’t even want alcohol, having given it up awhile ago. Oh what to do, what to do. “Hey....!” Meri said, hoping that she has impressed the ogre enough with her artistic talents that she might be able to weasel her way out of this one. “I am good. I don’t need anything to drink. But you know...thanks!” The woman attempted to steer the topic on to other things, away from the notion that she needs a drink. “I don’t think I got your name, though? Seems silly that we have this arrangement and I don’t even know what to call you. My own name is Meri.”


Mughrak looks very confused for a few moments and throws a peculiar glance in Meri's direction, "Don' drink do 'ee? Fine!" he hollered across the room, looking perplexed. "Bringz it 'ere an' oi drinkz it. Namez Mughrak. Oi makez lotsa noize, so 'ee knowz whur t'find uz, hur hur hur!" the large creature rumbled amusingly to himself, lifting the fresh barrel to his open mouth to quaff another large swig of horrendous liquid.