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Unread 1st of November, 2002, 08:06
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Black Plauge
PhD in Physics [Epic GM]

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Location: Old Town, ME
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"Who was at the door Trak?" Blarth asks as the door slams back on its frame.

"Some armor wearing freak who couldn't find his room. He looked drunker than hell and is probably going to have one hell of a headache in the morning."

"Brother, if he looks that bad surely some or your magics could help him."

"Not if I can help it. The powers of Gruumsh should be reserved for war, not to help a pitiful human who can't hold his liquor. Now, brother, you may play good samaritan if you want but I intend to go get drunker than that guy was, and you won't find me fumbling with my key."

With that Trak opened the door again and slammed it on his way out leaving Blarth alone in the room unsure of what to do next.

Some one really ought to go help that man. I don't know that anything I can do would help though. Getting up and going to the door Blarth continues to muse as he looks up and down the hall. Just because some one isn't like you doesn't mean you shouldn't help them. Trak may look like a full orc, but he isn't anymore than I am. His devotion to Gruumsh is admirable though. I wish I could find faith in something like that.

Hey... There's a door open down near the end of the hall. I wonder if that man who attempt to open our door forgot to close his. No one seems to be coming out of the room. Maybe I will just go close his door for him."

Still ruminating Blarth begins to head for the open door when Trak comes back up the stairs from the common room drink in hand.

"Hey, where are you going leaving our door open? You want people to steal all my stuff?"

"No, Trak," replies Blarth meekly, "I was just going to close the door down there for who ever left it open."

"By the eye of Gruumsh, you are a simple one aren't you? Did it even occur to you that the door might be open for a reason?"

"Not really. I just noticed that no one was going in or out of the room and thought I would close it as a favor to its occupants."

"You and your human sentiments. Its a good thing I forgot my coin purse. I swear if it wasn't for me you would have been a simple farmer. Now get back in this room and polish my armor."

Blarth winces at the mention of the word "farmer." That was certianly no profession for an orc. Then again neither was polishing armor but if thats what Trak wanted...

As he passed Trak, Blarth ducks out of habit to avoid the slap that Trak is sure to deliver. Sure enough it comes, and sure enough Blarth didn't duck low enough and ends up taking the smack on his crown.

Picking up his coin purse Trak stares at Blarth and says, "I am going out. The booze in this place is weaker than pigs' swill. You stay here until morning." With that Trak turns and leaves the room, again slamming the door on his way out.

Blarth sighs and begins to pick up the armor and a rag to begin polishing. Trak is always so bossy. Why can't he just leave me alone. He thinks he can order me around because he is bigger, smarter, and older than me. He knows damn well if it wasn't for me pulling that roof timber off him he would have died in that fire last year. He is lucky he only lost one eye. Sign of Gruumsh indeed.

As he sits there his grip on the greave he is pollishing tightens with each passing moment. Finally the greave can't take the pressure anymore and it bends. Oh, great now Trak is going to make me buy him a whole new set of armor. I better see about getting this fixed before he comes back.

Hey... That door is still open. I really ought to close it before someone gets any ideas.

Careful to look down the stairs for any sign of Trak first, Blarth heads for the open door at the end of the hallway and looks in. As he reaches inside to grab the door he sees the occupant sprawled on the bed with his arm drapped over his arm. Poor guy certianly looks like he's had a long night. Must be the same guy who tried our door earlier. Hey... This guy has the same kind of armor as Trak. Maybe.. If I just.. He wouldn't notice if..

As he steps towards the armor at the foot of the bed Blarth hesitates unsure of what to do. A moan from the figure on the bed makes up his mind for him and he quickly begins scanning the pile for the identical greave to the one he has in his hand. Spotting it under the breastplate, Blarth reaches for it and in his haste manages to disturb the enitre pile which falls apart with a noisy rattle. Blarth freezes and looks over at the bed.

Last edited by Black Plauge; 3rd of November, 2002 at 09:03.