RP:Chasing Ghosts
Synopsis:: While searching for a missing friend, Trent winds up in the City of Ogres, where he meets a blue skinned Troblin named Dyzz.
Date:: 01/09/2018
Gamorg City of Ogres
The legends do not do this location justice. Straddling the dark hills of the Bad Lands is Gamorg the city of Ogres. Many ramshackle huts have been thoughtlessly thrown up onto the landscape by the rough hands of hundreds of ogre's troll's orc's and goblin slaves. There is no other place like this, the air is damp and foul smelling; filled with the stench of hundreds of years of decay and many thousands of tons of troll dung which is used as cement for many of the buildings. Standing defiantly on a hill to the North West is a large spiky rough square structure which is most likely a primitive fortification. Not much can be seen to the east but the smell suggests more trolls. To your infinite surprise in this obscenely foul and ruined place there is civilization the primary species of ogres and orc's appear to be bartering in the street, as well as fighting, arguing drinking swearing and other things too foul to mention, welcome to Gamorg homeland of the Ogres.
Dyzz fit in comfortably in Gamorg. It was a primitive, barbaric place. Goblins tended to be slaves here, but that could change. Certainly, none from the Muju tribe would be slaves. Not here, not anywhere. There was unlikely another tribe in Hollow that could compete with those goblins as they were now, among goblins, orcs, ogres or trolls. Dyzz was accosted often by ogres, still being relatively new to the area, but she left them moaning in the dirt behind her where she walked. The figure seemed to be making rounds of the city, being sure to be seen, as well as seeing what there was to see. She talked to certain ogres, to certain trolls, and though they'd once been dismissive, now they listened. Some of them. The others would come around... once she'd started proving herself, more publicly. It wasn't only herself that needed proving, though. The Muju tribe would demand respect, in its time. The little blue creature with a curtain of red hair concealing the whole of her frame wherever it rested stood on a small burrow, hair weaving through the winds as she surveyed this domain as though she'd conquered it already, little ruby eyes filled with confidence. Confidence... and little else, sadly. She was pretty stupid, after all. She was just doing this because her advisers told her it would be wise to be seen doing this. They were right, of course, not that she even knew why. It was important for her to put forward whatever image they needed from her. She crossed her little arms over her generous chest, and posed dramatically for all to see. All... five or so that glanced her way. There'd be more, later.
Trent maneuvered through the fog forest with caution; navigational skill doing no good in the thick mist that blocked his view in every direction. He had searched the main forefront of Rynvale Island as thoroughly as he might, but still found no trace of the blonde haired maiden he sought. He had heard tell through the grapevine that she had been missing, so he took it upon himself to search far and wide for any clues as to what might have happened. Instinct told him to start with the Island. It was the one place he had known her to venture to, having been working for a woman named Lita just a few years prior. When nothing came up in that venture, he decided to take a stroll North through the forest- A forest he had yet to even explore. A forest he did not bother to research. So here he was, lost and wandering in circles, until the thick fog began to thin out not far ahead. He entered into the City of Ogres with narrowed eyes, looking around carefully at the natives to try and figure out what sorts he might find. Being the only human currently passing through, he was surely getting a few nasty looks from those who really care for outsiders. Dyzz was found almost immediately with her strange pose upon the burrow, and she would be approached, given that she stood amongst those gathered. She seemed, from all appearances, to be some sort of leader. “Excuse me.” he stated, plainly.
Dyzz was certainly 'some sort' of a leader... the kind wise enough to listen to the council of those wiser than she. Which, by many estimations, is the best kind. Understanding one's limits was important. She smiled down at the man, the one odd, exotic man in a city of greenskins, and slid on her little feet down off the burrow. "This is danger est time to be in Gamorg, hooman. Lots locals goin' bananas. Vishdilub say is from God-curse. Dyzz not know much 'bout all that, but seems all the realm havin' troubles, diff rent ones. So, why don't we go inside?" She turned around and tried to open the door to the burrow, but it was stuck... probably from years of not being used at all. So, the little thing kicked in the very heavy door, arching her back and thrusting her foot forward, in a display that should have ended with the strange little goblin girl bouncing off the door. But no, it caved, nearly shattered under her blow. Then she brushed a slightly bloodied splinter off her thigh from the door's near implosion, and walked on in. It would be safer for them both out of the public eye, for the moment. It was dark and not too spacious in the burrow, and it smelled kinda... musty. But it afforded them privacy, and there was just too little light for a man to make out the less than tasteful decor. As near to perfect as they'd immediately get. "So, whatcha need mister?" She was certainly friendly enough, with a cheerful, carefree voice at odds with the overdramatic pose from before.
Trent was fairly relieved that this one spoke common; And quite well at that. He had met some of these ‘green-skins’ down in Gualon, and they were quite as vocal. Or polite. Given the blue skinned creature’s warnings, he figured that they weren’t exactly all that polite around here, either. “Curse?” he asked, tucking his gauntleted hand into the outer pocket of his jacket as a measure of safety. When he was invited inside, a blonde brow slowly crept upward. He wasn’t exactly sure it was wise to follow some stranger into a a burrow-home in some strange city. Town. Whatever this way. Then again, with the looks he was getting, it might not be best to stand around outside, either. The swift kick to the door was a little disconcerting, but he would still throw caution to the wind and duck inside. As his eyes adjusted to the fairly dim light, Trent settled those steel blue eyes over the troblin and answered calmly, “Two things I suppose. First, I would like to know where I am. Second, I am looking for a woman.”
Dyzz thought nothing of leading him into the hovel, save that it was defensible and private. "Curse? Oh, yeah. Yeah, rough skins not nice at best times. But, wow. Curse goes up, manners goes way down. Ogres, orcs, trolls, goblins. Destroy own homes. Fight own tribes. Like, uh... mad disease. Rubies." Close enough. "Same time, curses everywhere. Larket, babies grown up, overnight. Chart sends, plague. Sh... Sheze... birdie land, they's sun hurted. The snakey people scared of water. Weird curse stuff, mad juju. Somethin' to do with a jar. Anyway, you's in Gamorg. Is Ogre city. Trolls too, and some orcs, and goblins. Most goblins slaves, but that change soon." She grinned. She seemed very confident about that last part. "Dyzz dunno much womans, but maybe can help find people who do."
Trent furrowed his brow in concern. That was some curse. Most of these places, he had not been to, or even heard of, aside from Larket and the city of Schezerade. It appears that this one had no been affected by such curses, at least he hoped in the back of his mind. It was a good thing he ran into her, though. Who knows what sort of trouble he could have found himself in had he approached any of the other inhabitants. “Ga...morg? Interesting. I had not heard of this city before. I just happened upon it by accident. Terrible fog out in the forest.” When Dyzz mentioned goblins being slaves, and that confident grin he would briefly inquire: “Change soon?” As soon as the topic change, however, he had forgotten all about it and dipped his head forward in a nod. “That would be nice, yes. She is… human. Like me. Blonde hair. Has tattoos upon her arms.”
Dyzz thought to herself. "Mhmm. Blonde. Tattoos. Mhmm. Sorry, Dyzz unno. But, no worries! Not like to find in Gamorg. Maybe... ah, maybe Cenril. Finds real de... detec... people finders there. Hire good people finders, and then they help you, you know. Find the girl." She smiled, proud of herself for displaying her limited intellect in so efficacious a manner. She was, after all, smarter than your average goblin. Sort of. "If think she like boats and water lots, there's boats from Cenril to Rynvale, maybe there. Wherever is, hope not Larket. Bad place to be if hoomans thinks you's a witch. With tattoos... probably bad place to be. Scared hoomans will make up reasons to get violent with people they shouldn't. Kinda stupid, really." And this, coming from a goblin. So sad.
Trent rubbed at his chin with his free hand, the other still nestled away in the jacket pocket. There was the odd flinch here and there from that concealed arm, a jerk, but he tried his best to keep things under control. Fighting the urge to subdue himself, Trent tries his best to focus on the task at hand. “I have been through Larket. I did notice they were more heavy on the guard presence than previously. I have also just come from Rynvale’s mainland actually. And ...Cenril has turned up no leads. There has been no sign at all. I suppose I...will have to hire someone then. Someone with experience of this land. I do thank you, however, for the information you have gifted me.” Damn. No luck in Gamorg, either. Trent was beginning to worry more than he thought he should. The last time they spoke, if it was the last time they spoke, things had been a little tense. And now? No trace. The red-eyed troblin was kind and helpful however, so that would be at least some good to come from this trip. “Tell me, miss. Do you know of any names of these ‘people finders’ by chance? Someone I should be looking for?” He then looked out the door, toward the south. “Or do you know for how long the forest will remain thick with fog? Or perhaps a safer way of returning to the mainland?”
Dyzz scratched her head. She'd already expended her limited intellect to its limits. "Uh... Dyzz follow spirits. Not good find way without them, so dunno. And uh... not know 'bout fog. Easy enough hunt in for Dyzz. Sorry not so helpful. Dyzz unno no people finders neither. Learned about them while playing with the pixies. Pixie mafia, fun game. Dyzz can lend you yellow eye. Yellow eye goblins good scouts, help you find way better than Dyzz can. Dyzz wish could help more, and Dyzz hopes you find girl with the tattoos." She gave him a cheerful smile, as though to try and act supportive, and encouraging. She found his arm movements to be a little weird, but hey. He was a human. What do you expect from those weirdos?
Trent, despite his disappointment in not finding his friend, managed to offer up a smile toward Dyzz; Warm and thankful. “You have been more than helpful… Dyzz.” He would guess that is her name by the way she used it in a third person manner. Not really trying to offend, but more fit in with her style of speech, he tapped on his chest, “Trent thanks you. Very much appreciated.” When all was calm, the blonde man removed the silver gauntlet from his pocket, the talon-like fingers curled into a ball. He turns toward the door and offers, “Good bye, Dyzz. I wish you the best, and I hope things change for you and your goblin friends.” The man ducks out of the burrow and into the cool air of the night to see if he can find another way back toward the main land, while avoiding any of the more hostile citizens in this city of Ogres.