RP:The King of Returns

Gualon City Gates

Tristram sat on a bit of broken wall, pulling off his typical black boat shoes and tugging on a heavy pair of black boots. He slid on a weatherproof coat, tugging the lapels up around his neck before he started down the repaired wall and toward the low-lying swamplands to the west. One of the orphans scampered up, rolling a barrel from the grogshop, which Tristram hefted and propped onto his shoulder as he began the trip into the orc encampment.


Iintahquohae arrived to Gualon in the same manner that she did before. As she hops off of the couatl's back, she asks Pinquettki to stay behind before heading for the city. As she walks, Iintahquohae nearly misses Tristram but stops midstep. She turns just a bit in order to greet him with a little wave. "Hi there, Tristram." Her eyes rest on the barrel he's carrying for a moment before asking, if he stops to listen, anyway, "How are you?"



Astrid had already been in Gualon for most of the morning, choosing to spend her down time at the orphanage getting to know the building at the children. After a few silly games, and numerous attempts at remembering names, Astrid finally left. Before she could make it out of the town, however, she spied Tristram and an orphan she had seen earlier that morning. "Where's that going to?" She asked, nodding her head towards the barrel while her hands dove into the pockets of her pants. Iintahquohae was regarded thereafter, and the rather tall woman received a warm smile.



Tristram turned to look Iintahquohae's way when she appeared at the gates, and he offered her a boyish grin. "Heya. I'll let you know in a bit." He winked and started off again, and nearly ran straight into Astrid. He patted the barrel with his open palm. "Peace offering for the orcs." Another few steps were taken toward the encampment before he stopped and turned back. "Actually, I need you," he pointed to Astrid, "--to come. You may as well meet some of the orc children. You'll probably be teaching a few of them." He turned back again, then stopped, looked over his shoulder at Iintahquohae. "Hum. Maybe you, too. They'll get a kick out of someone who makes clothes for a living." With that shaky invitation, he was off again, wading toward the swamp, through the tacky, sludgy lowlands. He tried to pick a decent path for the girls, while he offered them instructions between navigational directions. "Don't look anyone in the eye unless they speak to you. They're very … not primitive … tribally-influenced. You have to earn that right. Mind this dip here. And speak slowly. Don't use fancy words. Speak plainly to them. Watch this root." He stopped to offer each lady a hand to step over the jutting base of the tree. "It's important to be respectful, above all."



Iintahquohae 's response to Tristram's wink was to raise a curious brow, but it's lowered shortly after once she's heard and seen Astrid. The woman is greeted with a little wave, along with a little smile after overhearing Tristram say something about teaching. Oh. Maybe this is the lady that runs the orphanage. Iintahquohae made a mental note to consider speaking to her later. She hangs back a bit as they move through the swamp, mostly just to look around, but makes sure to remember Tristram's instructions. No eye contact would be easy, as she rarely made eye contact anyway. No fancy words? Done. Talking slowly was easy too, given that she took her time talking anyway... As always, the woman shrugged, and seemed relatively unphased. 



Astrid 's features took on a half surprised, and half curious expression at the mention of orcs; she'd heard about them, but never actually met one. Considering the gift he bore was a peace offering, she bid him farewell with a quick, "Be safe then." She was intending to head back to Frostmaw after her visit to the orphanage, but once Tristram stated his need for her to tag along, she stopped. Oh goodness. "Um... okay." Before Astrid could start after the dragon, Iintahquohae was asked to join them, and she waited for the other woman to fall in step before continuing after Tristram. As they ventured through the swamplands, and Tristram directed them on proper etiquette whilst in the presence of orcs, she exhaled a heavy breath. No eye contact might be doable, as would no fancy words, but she worried, just slightly, about how fast she'd talk. Not only was she in the habit of talking a lot, but when nerves set in, her words could flow a mile a minute. "Why a peace offering? Is the relations between Gualon and the orcs iffy?" A question merely to keep her mind off potentially blundering this meeting.




Orc Encampment West of the Swamp

Tristram helped the girls the rest of the way through the swamp until the ground started to harden underfoot again, offering a safer path. He answered Astrid without looking at her, concentrating on his surroundings, and the unusual quiet. "No, relations are good. Orcs and humans have been allied for at least a century now. Gualon is at peace. This a peace offering for me." Ahead, a village lay nestled between the sprawling trees, numerous huts constructed into the framework of the roots. Tristram started toward the entrance, but he paused when he felt a rock hit his leg. He glanced to his left and spotted a scowling orc child who hurled another rock. Ahead, there were more, rocks in hand, all wearing similar expressions of distaste. "Well sh-t," he muttered another his breath. After shifting the barrel on his shoulder, he glanced over his shoulder at the girls. "Stay close. They're not in the best of moods." He kept going, picking up his pace as the rocks started to pelt him a little harder, until he'd finally passed through the gauntlet of disgruntled children. Once in the village, he straightened and brushed his pants off with one hand as he headed for the Chieftan's hut. "Sirroc!" He lowered the barrel and set it upright on the ground. "Sirroc. I've come to see my brother orc." Orcs began to gather around, each of them scrutinizing the trio with narrowed eyes.



Iintahquohae held back a grimace at her clothes, which naturally had gotten a little bit dirty during the trek through the swamp. Instead of internally scolding herself for being unprepared, she instead focused her attention on what looked like a gang of angry little orc kids. Keeping to Tristram's instructions, she didn't look directly at them and instead vaguely caught glimpses of them through her peripheral, along with the other orcs that came into view as she followed Tristram and Astrid along. She's careful about keeping her head low, for fear of a stray rock whizzing by her head. The last thing she needed now was a pair of broken glasses or some kind of head injury. Otherwise, the woman is quiet and relatively still, and still seemingly unphased. She busies herself with wiping away at nonexistent dust on the front of her coat.



Astrid had become nearly an expert when it came to traveling through swamps due to the numerous years she spent living near one. However, that didn't exclude her from the muck that clung to the bottoms of her pants and shoes. What she wasn't an expert with was having rocks thrown in her general direction, and then also avoiding them; she counted at least three that pinged her in the legs. It was a good thing Tristram had warned her prior to this visit about orcs, because otherwise she would have certainly taken it upon herself to severely scold the children. As it was, she bit her lip and endured until they made it past the onslaught of abuse. As Tristram called for the chief, Astrid rubbed the spots where she was pelted, and looked toward Iintahquohae to ensure she hadn't taken a rock to the head or elsewhere. 


Sirroc emerged from his hut, by far, the largest orc in the encampment. He narrowed his eyes at Tristram and crossed his brawny, battle-scarred arms over his chest. "You. Again."

Tristram nodded. "Again, yes. How is my orc brother?"

Sirroc looked down at the barrel, and then over Tristram's shoulder to the girls. "Things for orcs?"

Tristram was quick to answer. "Yes. Er, the barrel." He reached for Astrid's hand and pulled her up next to him. "New teacher for the orphanage."

Sirroc stepped closer and leaned down to smell Astrid. He snorted immediately after his appraisal, maybe an approval, possibly just clearing his nasal passages.

Tristram stepped slightly to the side to reveal Iintahquohae. "Friend for me. She makes clothes." He picked at his coat. "Good clothes."

This was interesting to the orcs. They discussed this in a low rumble amongst themselves. Sirroc quieted them. "You come, you go." He sounded disapproving.

Tristram nodded.

Sirroc made a flying gesture with his hands.

Tristram answered, "Yes, like that. But I've come back."

Sirroc pounded his chest once. "I hear this before!"

Tristram held his hand up. "For good now. No more coming. No more going. Only here. I brought you this." He gestured to the barrel. "For my orc brother."



Iintahquohae kept her gaze cast downward, and strongly considered either voicing her dislike at the idea of being a gift for an orc or turning heel and running at the sounds of the words 'things for orcs'. Once she was certain her face would remain its usual blank slate and not betray her thoughts, her head lifts once again, just in time to see Astrid tugged over to Tristram's side. Poor girl, she thought to herself. When it's her turn to be presented, as she saw it, to the orcs, Iintahquohae kept still and tried to catch what exactly the orcs around the three spoke of. Unable to catch much, the woman merely nodded slightly and kept silent. 



Astrid found it beyond difficult to keep a stoic air about her, and fought valiantly against the urge to inform the orc that no, she was not a 'thing' for him. Before she could lose the internal battle and let loose a flurry of words, Tristram grabbed her hand and tugged her beside him. Next came the sniff test, and her gaze was fixed to the dragon's profile to avoid staring at the chief, in what she no doubt believed would be a scathing glare. After Iintahquohae had been introduced/presented as well, Astrid said aside, and quite under her breath, "I can see why you need a peace offering now."


Tristram remained still, passive and calm as Sirroc studied him. He looked up at the orc Chieftan and held his hands out to his sides to suggest sincerity. "Home now. For good."

Sirroc continued to study Tristram, weighing the dragon's candor, truthfulness. He must have decided Tristram passed muster because he pulled the human-disguised-dragon close to put his forehead to Tristram's. They stayed like that for a few minutes, breathing the same air, some silent rite or ritual perhaps, before Sirroc drew away and gestured to some of the orcs nearby. They stepped forward to pick up the barrel, perhaps bumping into Astrid or Iintahquohae in their haste and hauled the barrel off toward one of the large fire pits in the camp. Sirroc studied Tristram again. "Brother. Still--" He made the flying gesture again.

Tristram nodded once more. "Yes. Still."

It was Sirroc's turn to nod. He reached around his neck and pulled an obsidian dragon claw necklace from the assortment of trophies he wore there. He put it over Tristram's head and stepped back.

Tristram stepped back and put his hand over his heart before he took another step back. "Thank you, brother." There was a sudden commotion, orcs streaming around them toward the fire pit. Tristram took both girls' hands to keep them close in the crowd. "Well, he accepted it, at least." He grinned and led them toward the hub of commotion. "Now we celebrate. I hope you can hold your liquor. Also, if you don't try it, they'll probably kill you, so. Just a bit of friendly advice." He sat down on a large log when they arrived at the pit and waited for the orcs' favorite fungus ale to be passed around.

Iintahquohae continued to keep still for a little bit longer, even after being a little bit jostled by the passing orcs. Once they had passed by and she felt it was alright to move, she stepped toward Astrid and Tristram. The interaction between Sirroc and Tristram is noted, particularly the necklace - she recognized there was some kind of claw, noted the flying gesture and assumed it meant dragon…or griffin? Huh, must be some kind of tribal naming thing, she thought. The woman couldn't quite tell. As they walked, Iintahquohae carefully slipped her hand away from Tristram's, despite it being gloved this time around, and kept both hands in her pockets once she sat down. Whatever the orcs were passing around most likely wasn't wine, she assumed, and was probably something incredibly foul. Like always, she kept her composure. "Do you do this often?" Iintahquohae asked Tristram and Astrid. Once some of...whatever it was…reached her, Iintahquohae gave the ale a brief glance, considered not drinking it, then considered Tristram's warning, and took a drink. Whether or not she liked it was anybody's guess, but one might notice that one of her hands was slowly creeping up her leg to gently clutch at her stomach.

Astrid briefly watched the transaction between Tristram and Sirroc before turning her attention elsewhere and surveyed the encampment. It was one of the most primitive homesteads she'd seen,but she wasn't a judgmental creature, so any signs of haughty thoughts never registered about her person. She turned back toward Tristram and the chief in time to notice the transferring of the necklace, and she eyed it with obvious curiosity. Before she could question its origin, or what it might mean, the commotion spurred by the presence of ale stole away her questions. She thankfully managed to side step the orcs that came for the barrel, narrowly avoiding any bumpings that might occur. When Tristram gathered up her and Iintahquohae's hand, and mentioned she should drink what was offered to her, she glanced toward the barrel he had brought with him. "What exactly will we be drinking?" While she had no problem consuming alcohol, she knew that they wouldn't be imbibing whiskey. When they joined the group around the fire pit, and she was passed a helping of ale, a shudder ran through her. "I've never done this before," Astrid replied, answering Iintahquohae's question before taking a testing sip of the gifted drink. It certainly wasn't as terrible as she had assumed, but it was definitely an acquired taste.

Tristram settled in as the fire pit was set aflame with enough kindling that he could have sworn his eyebrows were singed after the initial burst of flames. The grog started being passed around, but it was one particularly large stein that had Tristram's attention. When Iintahquohae had taken a sip of it, he took it from her, had his own sip, and then passed it to Astrid. The orcs seemed to be watching this stein make its way around the fire pit. Eventually, it would wind up in Sirroc's hands. Tristram put his hands out to Astrid and Iintahquohae and discreetly forced them to lean back. A second later, the fire turned green as Sirroc tossed the stein into it, the flames licking at the feet and boots of those around the fire before it subsided again. Tristram lowered his hands and waited for a bottle to come around, which he snagged along with three cups. "Whiskey," he murmured to Iintahquohae and Astrid. "They keep it for me." He poured them each a few inches before pouring himself a glass, which he sipped from occasionally as he watched the festivities around him. "Well. The hard part's over, at any rate. Sorry about the, erm, slight misunderstanding there at the beginning. I probably wouldn't have let him keep you."

Iintahquohae leaned back as Tristram moved his hand in her general direction, and even more so at the burst of green flame. She nodded to Astrid and said, "Neither have I." It was an interesting, though uncomfortable experience. Iintahquohae fell silent again, and resorted to her usual habit of drumming a few fingers against the metallic octopus tentacle coiled around her neck. Once a cup of Tristram's whiskey is passed to her, she takes it in her other hand, but doesn't drink. Like she usually does with wine, Iintahquohae just gently swirls the contents of the glass, and gives Tristram a look. "Probably?" She takes a sip of the whiskey, then adds, "I appreciate that you didn't. I can't say that I've ever been offered to orcs before."

Astrid immediately checked her hair to ensure that no strands were harmed during the festivity the chief too part in; her hair was already curly enough for her own taste, and she didn't need it to curl any tighter. The moment the whiskey is passed her way, she quickly takes a mouthful, merely to wash the aftertaste out from the ale that had been passed to her prior. "If you had let them keep me, you'd might need more than just a barrel of whatever that was to fix the damage. Not only that, but you'd need to find yourself a new teacher." She offered him a somewhat jesting grin before finish the rest of her glass. "So why'd you have to give them a gift to begin with?"

Tristram immediately grinned at Iintahquohae, nudged her with his shoulder. "There's a first time for everything, Stitch …" He took a swig from his glass and stood when an orc approached to speak with him. They talked with a great deal of animation for a minute or so until the orc slapped Tristram on the back and the dragon sat down again, rubbing his shoulder. "He's happy to see me…" He settled on the bench and borrowed Astrid's glass after sparing her a rather convincing puppy dog look to have a sip of her whiskey since he'd lost his own glass in the jostle. "Fair enough, Ms. Beckette. Fair enough." He glanced toward the barrel that was rapidly being depleted as it was passed amongst the orcs. "I guess one thing you should learn is that you don't walk into an orc encampment asking for a favor empty-handed."

Iintahquohae took another sip of the whiskey at a poor time -just as Tristram nudged her- and tensed up just a bit. She quickly tilted the cup away from her just enough so the whiskey didn't slosh over the rim into her lap. Instead it spilled on her leg, which would've prompted a frown, but it was already dirty from swamp sludge. After setting the cup down, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief with the letters I and O monogrammed on one of the corners, and began carefully blotting some of the whiskey and swamp sludge away. "I'll remember to dress properly next time I'm in the area," she murmured to herself, then folded the handkerchief and tucked it away again.

Astrid watched the animated conversation between Tristram and the orc for a few seconds before turning to Iintahquohae, and sticking out a hand. "I'm Astrid by the way." Whether or not the other woman accepted her hand, she'd draw it back soon after, allowing Tristram to reclaim his seat. "You're gonna need to refill it." She said as she handed her glass over to the dragon. "What favor are you looking for? Was it just be accepted into their good graces again?" She was a rather nosy woman, for sure.

Tristram leaned back on the log, settling in to watch the fire, the celebration -- a celebration not for him so much as because of him. He glanced Iintahquohae's direction and offered her a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, Stitch. I know I kind of sprung this on you. If you want a clean change of clothes, I'm sure I can probably find something at my--" Well, not his estate, as that was still very much under construction. "Something … somewhere," he trailed off weakly, apologetically. He reached for the whiskey bottle to refill his and Astrid's glass, and leaned over to top off Iintahquohae's glass as well, even though it didn't seem like she'd had very much. "Well, it was more of a … political transaction, I guess. This is my city. Sometimes I have to … had to leave for an extended period of time. The mantle of leadership falls to the Chieftan--" He nodded toward Sirroc, "--in my absence. I was apologizing for being gone too long, this time. He accepted the apology." Tristram shrugged and touched the pendant around his neck. "I should get you back soon. Feats of strength are going to start and I'm not sure either of you are cut out for that, no offense."

Iintahquohae debated whether or not she'd shake Astrid's hand after her introduction. Deciding it would probably be appropriate to do so and that it would be quick, she extends her hand to quickly shake the other woman's. "Iintahquohae. It's nice to meet you." Her hand falls back to her lap, only to lift again and give Tristram's apology a dismissive wave. "It'll be fine. I can clean it. It's just uncomfortable." Feats of strength weren't exactly her cup of tea, if it meant physical strength. It only took a quick glance at the orcs to come to the conclusion that it was physical. The woman's gaze shifted skyward while she mulled over whistling for Pinquettki to get a ride out of the swamp, then figured it might not be a good idea. "I'd be game if we were talking mental strength," Iintahquohae said with a half-smile. "Physical, not so much." She peered over her shoulder and considered standing to leave, but wasn't sure if simply walking away from a gathering of celebrating orcs was a smart idea. "I should probably head back to my shop," she said to Tristram. "I got a few things in that need to be taken care of, and gather some things together for you, I think."

Astrid managed a quick, "It's nice to meet you too." while simultaneously thinking how much of a mouthful her name was. She'd never be able to pronounce it right. The explanation for the peace offering warranted a surprised lofting of brows and she nodded, "Well, I can see why he was upset then." Thereafter, Tristram's mention of leaving due to the Feats of Strength caused Astrid to snort and raise her left arm in a quick show of her practically non-existent upper body strength. "I think I could hold my own." Despite her jesting show of her musculature, she rose to her feet and wiped the back of her pants off to remove any clinging pieces of wood she might have gathered from the log. "So should I expect to have rocks thrown at me if I happen to teach a few of the orc children? Or am I in the clear?"

Tristram snorted in amusement at Iintahquohae's answer, tipping his cup, or Astrid's cup, to touch hers. "Unfortunately, my friends value physical strength over mental strength, though they seem to have a begrudging appreciation for the latter, at times." He stood and glanced at Astrid with a skeptical expression at her demonstration of her willingness to join the feats of strength. "Don't do that. They'll take it for a challenge." He grinned again as he watched an orc child scamper by en route to their own games. "They only throw rocks if they're mad at you. Don't get them mad at you, and you should be fine." He turned to Iintahquohae. "Here, give me your glass." He took it from her whether she gave it to him or not, and he slammed back the contents before shaking his head and handing the glass back. "Bphr. Wow. Okay. Throw your glass in the fire." He nodded to Astrid. "Finish yours and do the same." Once that particular demand was met, he held his hands out to the girls so he could guide them away from the fire and through the throng of orcs. At the outskirts of the encampment, he bid farewell to Sirroc with a lifted fist before he lowered it and resumed walking to the swampy lowlands again. "Well, that went better than I hoped, really."

Iintahquohae didn't seem to mind having the glass of whiskey taken from her hands. She stood, and as instructed, tossed the glass into the fire. Her hands conveniently found themselves tucked away in her pockets once again when Tristram offered his to her. "I'm fine without your hand," she murmured to Tristram, and began to walk alongside him and Astrid. Once they were away from the orcs, Iintahquohae glanced over her shoulder in their general direction before her gaze shifted to Tristram. "You don't think they'll come looking for me to make them clothes, do you?" The thought was an amusing one. She had never made clothes for an orc before.

Astrid lowered her arm the moment Tristram warned her against her action and looked toward the orcs to ensure she wasn't in danger of wrestling with one. So far so good. His mention of the children earned a nod, and the information was stored away for later use. When prompted to finish her glass and dispose of it, she did it quickly, and shuddered slightly at the burn. Clearing her throat, she tossed the glass into the fire and took hold of Tristram's offered hand, allowing him to lead her from the celebration. "I'm glad things went well, I don't want to know what would have happened otherwise." Astrid looked toward Iintaquohae at the mention of clothes, and quickly asked, "How much would it cost if I wanted something made by you?"

Tristram glanced sidelong at Iintahquohae. "Come looking for you? Probably not, no. Cenril isn't exactly … a place they visit often. But if you're in Gualon, they might come ask for your help, or ask you about what you do." He stepped into the sludge of the swamp and concentrated on helping Astrid and Intahquohae navigate it safely. He grinned sidelong at Astrid as he helped her over a submerged log. "The feats of strength would have come a lot sooner." When they reached solid footing and the city gates again, he walked casually, his hands in his pockets. "Thank you for your help. Both of you." To Iintahquohae, "Once my affairs are settled, I'll send for you about the suit." And then, to Astrid, "And I'm sure I'll be seeing you around. Unless you're staying here in the city?"

Iintahquohae 's thoughts switched gears from calling Pinquettki to clothes making, and Astrid is given a small smile. "The cost boils down to what exactly you want me to make, the time and work it'll take to make it, and materials really. Some…extravagant stuff, for example I guess, say like dragon scales. Those drive the price up a lot since they're a nightmare to work with and difficult to get hold of most of the time. …Unless we're talking blue dragons." She had far too many blue dragon scales, thanks to living on the coast and Pinquettki's apparent fondness for their taste. Before she went on a tangent about business-related things, Iintahquohae stopped herself and added a quick, "Feel free to contact me. My shop is in Cenril but I visit here occasionally." She turned from Astrid to Tristram, and gave him a slight nod. "Alright. You know where to find me so if there's anything you need, just let me know. You've got a way into my shop I think, unless the key didn't reach you." Her head tilts skyward again, and the seamstress lets out a sharp whistle. Some kind of serpentine hiss comes back to her after a moment, and within a few moments her winged, green-scaled couatl can be seen flying in the distance. "Nice meeting you, Astrid," Iintahquohae says. "And nice seeing you again, Tristram." She gives the pair a parting wave and heads off in the general direction of the airborne couatl in order to find a suitable place for her to land and for Iintahquohae to hop on and head home.

Astrid listened intently to Iintahquohae's explanation of the variance of prices and merely nodded. "I'm sure I'll think of something I need and might come for a visit, and it was nice meeting you too." She watched, curiously, as the other woman called for the beast who lurked in the distance, and a inquisitive expression rolled over her face as she eyed the couatl; there's another thing she's never seen before. When the seamstress had taken to the sky astride her mount, Astrid turned back to Tristram. "I'm actually going to stop by a shop and grab a new pair of shoes before I head home." Her present ones were covered in swamp sludge, and since they were slippers, her feet were filthy. It certainly wouldn't make for a pleasant trip home. "Thanks for taking me. It was an interesting experience. Have a good evening."

Tristram bid farewell to Iintahquohae with a two-fingered salute and watched the coautl until it disappeared from sight. He turned back to Astrid and grinned at her shoe predicament. "Right. Tell the shopkeep to put it on my tab, eh? I'm good for it." He shucked his coat off and tossed it on a torn down piece of wall, while he sat down to unlace his muck-and-mire-strewn boots, exchanging them for the shoes he had waiting nearby. "See you around, Ms. Beckette." He stood, picked up his alternate footwear, and headed back down to the city.