|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Oct 14, 2012 9:13 pm
 Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd Appearance: Marltok stands at 159cm or 5'2" on a good day or 2cm shorter on a bad day. His limbs are thinner than that of a humans. He has a wiry and flexible body, a normal shaped head, two little horns that are covered by his hair and an ear that would look big on an elephant. The other was ripped off in an inter-horde war. He has pale yellowish-green skin, golden eyes that flash in the night and brown hair that comes down to his shoulders. He keeps a wooden hair pin in it so it doesn't look like women's hair while still showing off his luscious locks. Any hair is luscious to a goblin so the term is rather comparative. He could probably stand to learn what conditioner is and what a brush is used for.
There are two main differences in appearance between most goblins and Marltok. The first is his face doesn't look like the wrong end of a bulldog. The second is his hair. He has hair. It started to grow on his head when he hit puberty. He even sold it as genuine goblin hair, a rare commodity. He has no hair anywhere else on his body.
Name: Real name, namesake, family name, horde name: that's how a goblin's name runs. Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd is his name. Most goblins gave their child a goblin hero to look up to. Marltok's mother chose his father as his namesake.
Age: He has lived for 98 years. The average goblin lifespan is 200 years but they live as many as 300 years. He ages a lot slower than the norm.
Parents: Werralimbahpükatea Mogimbii Nibulkin Bekkenüdd and Hefeielldaen Arfearn Aelorothi.
Biography: Before you can know who Marltok is you have to know what he is. Marltok is a half-elf goblin, meaning he identifies more as a goblin than an elf. He's one of a number of half-castes, cross-breeds and mixed-breeds living in secret in Alps, Carpathians, Ural Mountains and many other mountain ranges. With so many different species and races of people and their beastly companions, it's hard not to interbreed. Some of the greatest alliances of the mythical world have been sealed with the births of "mixies". In case you're wondering, yes, Marltok is a mixie.
We all know what elves are but what about goblins? Humans have so many conflicting reports on the creatures. What is the truth? Goblins are creatures of short stature. The largest stand eye level with a (human) woman's breasts and the shortest eyeball a man's knees. They have green, yellow, brown or grey skin and have arms and hands that are long in proportion to the rest of their body. Their teeth are jagged and made of diamonds because they eat rocks, bones and tree stumps among other things. If a tooth falls out it takes ten years for them to grow a new one so they are very protective of their teeth. Their eyes more like that of an animal's than a humans. This is because they have tapetum lucidum, a reflective membrane that helps them see in the dark. Just like trolls, goblins have a number of different ear, face, horn, body and tail shapes. In fact, if you go back far enough you'll find trolls and goblins are related. Just don't bring it up at dinner or you'll be chased out of town with an angry goblin hoard at our heels. Another distinguishing feature of goblins is that they don't have a single hair on their bodies. One of the ways, in fact, of telling a goblin from a troll is its lack of hair. In order to achieve the look of having hair they attach dried fox tails, horse tails and even human scalps to their head with a special type of tree sap they call "glue". When it comes to their apparel goblins do not wear scraps of clothing stolen from humans. It's called home made. Sometimes when you're a big fierce warrior protecting your hoard from a rival hoard you don't have the time to darn your tabard or knit yourself a new skirt. Really, the things people come up with. They see a battle angry goblin after a four day march, two week battle and another march and say it encompasses the entire culture. Really?
Little do humans know, goblins have a thriving culture, as do many creatures the foolish humans no longer believe in. A goblin community is called a hoard, not a clan, and it is overseen by the most fertile pairing in the community... that being considered the strongest child of the previous pairing and the strongest warrior of the opposite sex. The pair rule the hoard until one of their children manage to kill one of their parents. This may seem barbaric but you take a look at your own society and history. Can you say your ancestors ruled with righteousness without their kings and queens mysteriously dying in the night? At least goblins are honest and proper about killing their parents.
From the time a gobling is born, it is taught how to read, fight, dance, take care of itself and speak the predominant human language for their area. They also learn how to do a mating dance called the Dance of a Thousand Knives. We'll talk about that later. They do have the whole "men are strong, women are pretty" distinction but it is not as pronounced as humans or other creatures. Sometimes the men take care of the house while the women fight in inter-hoard battles. Sometimes both are warriors and a nursemaid is hired to take care of the young. Sometimes they're sent to non-species specific long care (Nesslock).
Courting is a complicated ritual. When one finally gets to the stage where they're engaged they must abstain from sex for an entire year. During this time they must use the time they've gained from not having sex to train for the marriage ceremony, which includes the Dance of a Thousand Knives. The Dance involves strapping double-edged blades to one's head, shoulders, elbows, knees and ankles; taking up two heirloom knives, then proving to your beloved and your hoard that you are strong enough to defend their honour. If one does not put enough effort into the Dance it is an insult to their partner's family and the ceremony is ended. If one overthrows one's partner too easily the loser is unworthy and the ceremony is ended. If one dies the ceremony is ended. Tragically, this is common.
Now that you know about goblins, it's time to tell you about the wider culture of the two sister societies residing within the Alps and Carpathians. Between the two mountain ranges there are three goblin hoards, one-hundred-and-twenty-eight kings of different species and/or races and two overarching councils. The councils represent the wider security, technology, justice, internal affairs and external affairs (including interactions with humans). They are made up of the wisest, smartest and most ambitious individuals in their community. Needless to say, the Alps where Marltok was born is a boiling pot of tension, culture and the arcane. It's the type of place one can find anything from the newest smartphone to an ancient soothsayer's pet intulo to the lost chalice of Jesus. It's the type of place that needs to be protected from humans. This is where Marltok and his team of clean-up operatives come into play. That is, came into play. He is forcefully and indefinitely retired.
Marltok's mother was a goblin and his father, Hefeielldaen, was a high elf. It's where he got his fascination of elves from. He was born into a goblin hoard so had very little to do with his father. When he was born Hefeielldaen could not believe he had spawned something so ugly. The baby was hairless, yellow and premature. Marltok's mother was much shorter than her unwed romantic partner so she had to have a C-section near the end of her second trimester. Goblins have trimesters too but they don't last as long as human trimesters. They don't take as long to cook. Upon his birth Marltok was placed into a magical sphere of protection that acted as an artificial egg until the time he was ready to be "hatched". His hatching day is when the midwives considered to be his birthday.
When Marltok hatched, he wasn't nearly as ugly as when he was first born and his skin took on a normal green hue. It was a great relief to his mother because she was a green goblin and his father had pale skin so a yellow skinned son would imply things that were not true. Alas, Hefeielldaen still considered him ugly and has since made no attempts to foster a relationship with his son. This never bothered Marltok. In such a vast and varied society there was no such thing as a normal family. He had his mother, his relatives and his hoard. Not getting along with his father was never a big deal to him. He did, however, wish he could get to know more about his ancestors and the elven blood in his veins. Studying them from afar, having sex with their women and reading about them isn't the same as immersing himself in the culture. It goes without saying he was never invited to join them. High elves are vain like that.
Marltok spent most of his time around other mixies rather than goblings. He practically demanded a school-based education rather than the traditional goblin home school and nurse maids. Goblins come in all shapes and sizes so he wasn't in danger of being picked on for being different. He wanted to be part of the wider Alps community rather than a goblin ambassador within the Alps community. Gods forbid if he remained just another mixie living within the goblin hoard, fighting other hoards and the dwarven clans. (This is where one shouts one's favourite anti-drawven slogan.) He had ambitions! He had dreams! He wanted to be one of the heroes who protected the entire mountain from the prying eye of those overbearing humans. Everything humans touched was soiled but they had become the dominant race. (This is where one shouts one's favourite anti-human slogan.) It used to be the other way around. The time of the gods had ended; the time of the humans was now. All the people of the hidden societies could do now was wait for the world to turn and the cycle to repeat itself.
Marltok grew out of his hero ambition somewhat early in his formal education. It was a childhood dream; not a reality. There were no heroes, there was no glory. What existed was a sophisticated security network that worked alongside the other four networks within the Alps and Carpathian societies (technology, justice, internal affairs and external affairs). Ironically, many of the systems and networks in place were adapted versions of theories set in place by humans. The technology network even had its own highly original, highly advanced "Mothernet" as well as secure, scrutinised and secret access to the world wide web. Humans used satellites; the hidden societies used scientific telepathy.
Marltok still followed his ambition of working in security but it didn't have the glamour of his youth. He did his time, he got a spot in the security network and worked his way up to the leader of an Attack and Resistance Clean-up Squad (ARCS). It's a locally based job that encompasses the entire Alps. His job was to secure the area when a threat or breakout occurred then hand control over to the other squads. He had succeeded in his dream in his mother's eyes.
Goblin law demands that any person trained in martial arts of able body and spirit must serve their hoard when called upon. This meant sometimes Marltok was called upon to fight in inter-horde wars. It was how he met the first girl he looked at for anything more than sex and friendship. It was a cliché case: boy meets girl, boy bashes girl's helmet off, boy admires girl, girl bashes boy to the ground, boy stabs girl in the v****a. It was the nearing the end of the battle and the battle horns blew from both sides. The fighting stopped, they helped one another up and the went back to their camps. End of story, right? If it was it would not have been worth mentioning.
As it was, the girl happened to be in the same bar several months later. She recognised him, called him the "p***y Puncher" and invited him over for a drink. She paid for his first, he paid for her second, she paid for his third, he paid for her fourth and then finally things got interesting. Rim and Marltok danced the Dance of a Thousand Knives, only without the knives. She invited him back to her apartment in the Rocks. He knocked her unconscious. Even though their hordes were still at war they repeated the outing... then again... then again... then again. After about six months of repeated encounters the two decided to get married. By that time inter-horde relations had eased enough to accept that idea. The next part was the most painful. Twelve whole months without either of them having sex! Practising the Dance of a Thousand Knives often turned from heated to sexually frustrated to aggressive to unconscious. It should not come as a surprise that this was common in goblin couples. It was enough to drive anyone mental, which was probably why the Dance of a Thousand Knives was so passionate and dirty. It was also probably why consummating marriage was considered the greatest f-... night in a goblin's life.
Alas, like so many horny, desperate and often enraged Dances, it ended in disaster. Even though they knew one another's moves so well, even though they'd practised so hard and even though their minds were so in sync he still managed to make one move that would end it all. His elbow-blade pierced her through the throat. She was dead in minutes. One could hear stories of such things happening but it was never as real as when it happened to someone close to them. Having it happen to him was a living horror. Unfortunately there's no such thing as a sickness leave for mating ceremony deaths. He had to cop it on the chin and get over it in his alone time.
Years came and years went. Wars came and wars went. Women came and women went. Some of them left beforehand when they realised he had next to no confidence in the bedroom. It turns out not all women like the ******** style.
It was another goblin-drawven war. A nexus of drawven mages had concocted a new attack spell and had coaxed two of the three goblin hordes into battle. It was a fine day for the goblin alliances for they had managed to unite together against a common enemy. (This is where one calls the third goblin horde a bunch of yellow-skinned whores with battle-bladders.) The tunnels were ambushed from both sides, the air had a sizzle of magic in it and everyone was waiting to see who would make the first move. The dwarves did. They charged like the tree-stumps they were, right into the goblin ambush. They were slaughtered. The goblins waited, expecting some sort of trickery on the dwarves part (as was common practice in such wars). Nothing happened. The goblins waited. Nothing happened. The goblins waited... and were decimated by a tsunami of arcane energy. The energy shot through the ranks and struck down every tenth man and woman as though their bodies had filled with lighting. Marltok was the tenth warrior. The surprise and horror of such an attack left the goblins outraged and bemused, a dangerous combination on the battlefield. Alas, Marltok could not continue. He was out cold.
It's been six months since the start of the war, which is still being waged, and still Marltok hasn't regained full function in his leg. The drawven mages are not letting out their secret and nobody has worked out how to cure it. Sure, Marltok can still walk but his right leg is strapped from waist to ankle. Every so often, at least twice a day, Marltok's leg seizes up and begins to jerk. It is painful. Dying is more painful. Dying only needs to happen once. He is content with a battle wound. He's a hardened warrior so he's worked out how to keep standing but it's likely he'll never get to work in the security network again. He's been placed into a forced and indefinite retirement. The proviso is if his leg ever heals he can reapply for a position within the network. He's one of the lucky ones. He forced himself into semi-rehabilitation. To the goblin hordes it means he's still "fit and able" to fight in the goblin-drawven war. He's giving his horde the big "******** you" by accepting the Trinity Castle invitation.
Personality: Keep it clear. Keep it sharp. Keep it together. There are three laws a warrior must live by. There are a bunch of other rules too but that's the essence of it. If a warrior can't keep it clear, sharp and together they're as good as dead. Remember that: clear, sharp, together. You'll be tested on it later. Marltok may not the best warrior on the battlefield but he embodies those three laws. It's how he's lasted this far.
Marltok does what he says he does. If he says he's going to learn to dance like an elf, he does. If he says he'll get over something, he does. If he says he's going to walk again, he does. It's all part of the three laws he lives by. One can't keep a clear head if one is wallowing in self-pity. That isn't to say he lacks emotion; he just puts himself in the mindset that he's going to do something about it. His friend dies in a car bomb explosion: he drinks to the man's name and goes back to work the next day he's required. He can't mourn while on the job.
Unfortunately, the warrior's mentality tends to slip away when it comes to one teeny aspect of his life: sex. He understands the mechanics, he knows what to do to make a woman happy but he lacks... the emotion and sensitivity. He has emotion but "clear, sharp and together" are not exactly the ideals of passionate intercourse. He's not used to letting his emotions rule him so when he does let his emotions free in the bedroom... it gets awkward. He tends to avoid sex for that very reason. He is incapable of making hot, steamy love to a woman. He lacks the confidence to be able to take control of the situation in an emotional sense. He doesn't get into it. He has to think of it as a battle for dominance. When he thinks of it that way he's hard, forceful and the most amazing night in you'll ever experience. He really comes alive when he thinks of intercourse as a battle. He takes the same approach to dancing, which he's damn good at. He loves twisting his body in time with and against his partner in a passionate display of martial arts.
Abilities/Powers: Marltok is actually ashamed of his "power". In all his official questionnaires he has denied having any form of arcane ability. He has never shown nor mentioned it to anyone. He can make a little ball of light the size of his palm. He can make it glow brighter or dimmer but it makes him nauseous to attempt it. The brightest he's ever managed was just enough to light his bedroom as well as two candles... after which he vomited up something that looked like a cow pat. He tried to hold it down but it came out his nose instead. What he doesn't know is it's because he never bothered to harness and work at it. He was too busy playing warrior boy. Why would a goblin need a light in the first place? They can see in all but pitch black.
Do you want to know a secret? The real reason (beyond the one already stated) he feels nauseous when he tries magic is because Hefeielldaen put a detrimental block on him, meaning even if he attempted to use his weakened magic it would cause ill effects. This block does not react with the drawven magic nor any other form of magic he's encountered. So far he hasn't been near anyone interested nor strong enough to pick up on the block but it is possible. If he works really hard at it he'd be able to break down the block himself but he has no reason to.
Hefeielldaen sensed the ability in Marltok when he was still a premature neonate. He didn't want it being picked up by other elves, especially high elves, so he waited until nobody was around and performed a little magic of his own. Can you imagine the shame of them inviting his ugly, half-caste goblin son to join their society as a mage? Can you imagine what it would be like to have a creature like that named after you forever in High Elf histories? His son was better off living with the goblins he grew up with.
What the Trinity Master Annex says on Marltok: Full name, age, gender, species and no magical abilities. It does not have his history but instead has his parents' full names and that he's a retired ARCS leader and warrior for his horde. He likes dancing and invites people to join him so long as they are fit and experienced. It states his three laws to live by, goblins are mostly vegetarian and his formal education (excluding security network education).
Marltok's daily routine: This is what Marltok will be doing every day in Trinity Castle. His routine changes every two months to accommodate his recovery. This one is adapted from one he made himself three weeks ago but due to Quilzar training with him he's decided to change it. It may look very rigid but he is capable of compromise. So long as he gets all he wants done, there is no stuffing around and no lateness he is willing to change things around. The best time to catch him is when he's walking because walking with him isn't affecting his training. All other times one will be expected to wait until he's finished what he's working on.
0555h: Alarm goes off.
0600h: Warm ups, core strengthening and muscle toning exercises.
0700h: Wash hands and face, tighten leg straps, get dressed and armed.
0715h: Power walking.
0845h: Warm ups and stretching.
0945h: The Dance of a Thousand Knives.
1045h: Martial arts.
1200h: Sparring (may change).
1500h: Warm downs, stretching and muscle relaxation.
1530h: Studying.
1830h: Swimming.
1930h: Dinner and slow walking.
2030h: Weapons maintenance.
2230h: Massage.
2300h: Bedtime.
Current pets: Quilzar Torviir written by Azaurmyth.
Current injuries: Right leg is crippled with an arcane attack. He has got it to a level where he can walk on it and fight with it while using a leg brace. The muscles all work and the physical damage has mostly healed but the arcane energy still lingers, most likely affecting his nervous system. Sometimes his knee gives out and sometimes his muscles from his gluteals to his feet will start twitching, convulsing or jerking about. All he can do when a seizure hits is hold it down so it doesn't do more damage. The seizures happen when he tenses too hard or from jarring actions. Sometimes the seizures happen with no known stimulus.
He was stabbed in the right thigh by Quilzar when he was cutting off the drow's hair. It required a few stitches and bandaging but he's been in enough wars to not be bothered by it. The seizures hurt more by comparison.
The inner ankle of his left foot is bruised and swollen.
He has a slice wound down the lateral side of his left thigh. It cut into the muscle and required stitches. It isn't very long but it went deep.
Current location: Quilzar's quarters.
What were those three words? If you get it wrong you will go back to the start and read it again. Clear, sharp, together.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 4:04 pm
The entire quarters are smaller and more closely-packed than most. His quarters are bigger than his entire house. He didn't actually put much effort into what he wanted his rooms to look like. He'd never designed such things before. The result is something that looks a bit mixed up. He's lived in enough places not to feel the need to complain about it. It's the bed is comfortable enough, it's not infested with anything and it's dark enough. He tends to keep the lights dim or off. What little light comes through the heavily curtained windows is enough for him.
General room: The first thing that catches the eye is a large bookshelf full of ceremonial weapons. There are all manner of weapons ranging from mundane/mechanical, arcane, electric or a mix of all three. One such weapon is a gilded trapped-katar. There is a triangular blade that comes out from the fist and another that protects the forearm. This second blade, along with two spikes, swings into place when activated. In this way it can be turned into a trident dagger. One should not touch any weapon without Marltok unlocking them. There is another weapon on the sideboard that looks a lot different to the other weapons. It's an elven made mace with three ornately engraved blades. This one took a lot of effort to get hold of because it's his great-great-uncle's on his father's side. Another weapon is an arcane ice-whip. It looks like a black cylinder 6cm in diameter and 15cm long with an adjustable knob and safety button on the side and longitudinal grooves to act as grip. When activated, the arcane reserve sends a concentrated beam through the weapon and out through a nozzle to create a whip-like beam of energy. The stands the weapons come on are all trapped in different ways so one should always ask before touching any. The stone ledge in front of the fire has a four-foot, silver pony tail laid out along it. It was given to him by his pet drow, Quilzar. On the other side of the room from the photograph there is a heavyset, stone table; a stone sideboard running along the back of the room; the door to the bathroom, and a wooden staircase with stone steps. The steps are different lengths and heights, just like in goblin grottoes, so it is harder for attackers to climb them. Marltok even worked them loose slightly so they creak. Currently they're more of a hindrance but at least there are rails either side he can help himself up with.
Bathroom: It has a spa rather than a bath because Marltok likes to relax into a heated spa when his leg his giving him trouble. Goblins don't traditionally bathe unless they're dirty but Marltok bathes about once a week. Swimming counts as bathing. The toilet is more heavy-duty than a human toilet, since he can literally s**t bricks. There is a small closet (80cm wide) that contains bathroom supplies, a 300km medicine chest and and a toilet scrubber. The toilet scrubber that looks more like a weapon than a cleaning product, along with a toilet scrubber scrubber. There are no windows in this room so it has a ventilation system to get fresh air in. Don't worry, goblin manure doesn't smell as bad as one would imagine. A 300km medicine chest is a first aid kit designed for people travelling from 200km to 300km out to sea or 300km from the nearest town. Everything else is as above.
Bedroom: This room is the smallest and simplest. Marltok was adamant to have no refinery in this room. It is practically a box with a larger than normal wardrobe and a staircase down to the rest of his quarters. Inside the wardrobe is a weapons locker. The front of the weapons locker is a puzzle, one which you must know the combination to open. The hard, metal shafts must be pushed along in the correct order and finish in the correct formation. One false move and it will magically lock itself up and be unable to be unlocked unless another combination is used first. It will also leave the thief's hands cursed so that their fingers will turn black. The blackness will grow through the person's flesh and eventually poison them. There is an antidote locked into the back inside wall of the locker. Obviously the weapons locker is full of weapons but it also contains other valuables he doesn't want stolen. It also contains a pistol with a magazine of five healing charges. He only has five bullets to last him six months in a castle full of magic users, vampires and gods. He's reluctant to use it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 11:30 pm
 Quilzar fiddled with his uniform, as he was used to calling it. Though, this was the modest version. The one where he wasn't showing skin at every inch. The black structured half shirt stopped at just above the bottom of his ribcage, letting way to a few layers of transparent midnight blue fabric that swished every time he walked. The bottom half were of the same hues, a structured band at the waist and flowing waves down to the top of his boots. The over skirt was segmented into two halves so that they separated as he walked, so that if he didn't have matching flowing pants underneath, quite a bit of him would be exposed. Over the entire thing, there were delicate silver threads tracing light designs; the structured parts held webs in silver, and the flowing fabrics had tiny spiders that grew in mumbers and density until the bottom hems took a shimmering blue-green sheen. The only thing marring the asthetics of the ensemble was his wrist brace.
For a few moments when he reached the door to Marltok's room, he wondered if this would be appropriate. He wondered if he would be allowed to eat in the same company. At least, this time, he knew what the boundaries were. He would be sure to only push up against them, and not flat out break them. His fist stayed poised at the door for a moment or two, knowing that he wouldn't be able to go back. With a shrug, he knocked lightly at the door. How would his Master's room look, he wondered. Would it be cave like, like his own? Would it be minimalistic, like he expected of a warrior? He could only hope the goblin opened the door in better spirits than before.
Suddenly, he laughed to himself. How interesting was it that his Blooded-Family used to deal in goblins and the occassional elf as if they were nothing but rothé? And now, he was a slave to a mix between the two races. The Master made a slave, how fascinating. No wonder Lolth called him useless.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 10:42 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd Finally the jerking subsided. Marltok leaned back against the door and sighed. ******** elves. What was he going to do with this pet elf of his? He didn't identify as an elf and was obviously defective. Marltok tightened the straps on his leg again and pushed himself up. The drow would have one chance - one - to prove he had any worth in him. If he turned out to be nothing more than a limp-wristed whore in a man's body Marltok would break the man;s face and send him on his way. In fact, it might be worth looking through that annex for a better candidate, since the draw was unlikely to know much about proper elves. He'd have a look out for any real women too. Curse him for choosing without inspecting the goods first!
Now that Marltok's body was back to relative normality, he had to go for that warm-down walk he hadn't completed earlier. He'd be able to get his shirt and water bottle as he inspected the gardens. They were somewhere in the bushes beside the path. After that he'd see what these Trinity women called a forest. He was sure it would be nothing like the forests he grew up under. Few places could amount to the great mountain ranges of the Alps and Carpathians. He'd only been to the Carpathians once, when a large-scale human invasion had called for Alps aid, but he'd approved of what he'd seen.
The water by the dojo was flowing well and looked mostly undisturbed by humans. He knew it was most likely artificial but it didn't look artificial. There were probably even fish and tortoises in the water. Marltok had to admit, the water was almost as tempting as the thought of a newly opened sparring area (which would be much better than training on a path). Marltok leaned against a tree to unstrap his leg and remove his weapons, all bar one ironwood dirk the length of his hand and forearm. His belongings were placed in a hole and covered with rocks in a way that blended in with the rest of the clearing. He kept his clothes on. Like hell he was going to get undressed! Normally he would have swum naked but he was not risking the possibility of that drow spotting him.
It was only a short swim, but it was good. The water was just warm enough to be bearable and he was able to do enough laps to feel sufficiently at ease. It did his leg good to move about without having to rely on it to hold up his body weight. After that pathetic excuse for a fight his leg needed that swim. He'd be doing it again to be sure. Marltok waded to the shore and limped over to the edge of the clearing where he'd buried his belongings. After strapping his brace back on and reattaching his weapons he walked out into the sunshine to dry off. His hair was still wet so he hadn't put his hair pin in yet. By that time the evening air was starting to cool so he went back up to his quarters. Weapons needed polishing and he wanted to give his leg a bit of a rub before he went out for dinner. On his way he passed by the "den" to see what passed as hard liquor in the human world. He'd never really bothered to learn about human culture. That was for diplomats and interrogators. Shitty job, diplomat, having to be around humans and pretend to care about them - or worse, a diplomat who enjoyed human culture. Diplomats were a needed and yet disapproved of bunch.
Marltok hadn't even been back half an hour before there was a light rap at the door. The goblin grunted. He knew who it was likely to be. Marltok wiped the oil off the one-handed skull crusher he was polishing and wiped his hands on the rag. He supposed he'd better clean himself up so after he'd put the weapon back in the locker he went downstairs and checked himself out in the mirror. The elf could wait. After washing his hands he ran them through his hair well enough to look like it had been brushed. He rubbed his face: which hairpin should he use? He only had two so it wasn't much of a choice: the fancy one or the plain one. He twisted his hair up so it fanned out over the back of his head and stuck the fancy one in. It was polished ebony wood with a tiger's eye inlaid with a ruby. One second thought he went back to the plain one. He wasn't dressing up for a date. On that note, Marltok didn't bother to change clothes. Under his shirt, about half way down his torso, he strapped a weapons harness and tucked in a pair of well-sharpened bladed skull crushers. He also had his ironwood dirk attached to his leg brace and a kris strapped to his good leg. The drow was too injured to put up a good fight he didn't trust the drow not to try something. He was actually hoping the man did so he'd have an excuse to punch the elf's nose in.
'You're early,' the goblin said after he opened the door. What he saw in front of him did not impress him. He didn't look it either. He was used to elvin clothing but he wasn't expecting such finery. He knew what women were like, taking hours to get ready for the big night out so Marltok was certain the man must have spent the greater part of the evening preparing for this. Now it really did feel like a first date. That was an uncomfortable thought. Marltok was very glad he hadn't bothered to dress accordingly. He'd fanned his hair, that was enough.
'You dressed up. Oh,' the goblin grunted. He then deliberately let his gaze wonder over the man's arm and eye. The man's countenance was more interesting to him than his get-up. Only then did the goblin walk back inside his quarters. The door was left open for the drow to follow suit.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 11:54 am
Quilzar didn't mind waiting; after earlier today, he actually expected to be completely ignored. But when the door opened, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. An amused smile crossed his face, oh look, Marltok even did his hair for the occasion. Quil, though he was still somewhat testing the boundaries, did the Drowish male thing and avoided Marltok's eyes. He bowed his head lightly when Marltok acknowledged him before looking inside his rooms. It was comfortably dark, though the change in light from the slightly darker hall still hurt his eyes. When the goblin walk into his rooms, leaving the door open. Quil didn't waste any time walking in and closing the door behind him.
Once inside, he looked around, avoiding the light fixtures. Well, it certainly was a mix of what he expected. Slight underground feeling, which comforted Quil considerably. Minimalist, like a warrior, reminding him of a good soldier. He noticed that Marltok had been polishing his weapons before Quil had arrived. Sounded like his own personal morning routine. Once he'd finished, he folded his hands behind his back, almost waited. He wasn't sure if Marltok would be forthcoming about anything. He wondered how he was expected to act now that he'd pushed the boundaries to the absolute limit. He realized that they still didn't know each other's names.
"Master, considering that I am to be yours for an indefinite period of time, what will you be expecting of me?" He asked this in Seelie, his eyes were pointed down, and his head slightly bowed. If he ever looked in Marltok's direction, it was at his shoulder, or at the wooden pin in the man's hair. He kept his breathing carefully measured and calm. It wouldn't do any good to show any sign of anxiety. That would show weakness. And weakness was a punishable offense. At least where he came from.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 12:50 pm
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd Marltok's expression went from one of disappointment to disgust. That pathetic, drivelling attitude was beyond anything Marltok had ever seen in all but the lowest of slaves - and it most certainly did not suit what he'd already seen of the elf. ******** hell! Elves were meant to be arrogant and sophisticated, not this! Marltok didn't even know how to describe this. It had to be fake, it had to be some trick. The man had behaved like a condescending elf earlier. Marltok walked around the drow, searching out any form of concealed weapon, especially up the man's sleeve. He actually grabbed the man's good arm and twisted it up to look at it, none too kindly either, though it wasn't entirely deliberate.
'First, you can stop acting like a limp-wristed coward. Stand properly man!' he ordered, he was right behind the drow too. He sounded like a drill sergeant about to beat down on some lowly recruit. After what he'd seen of the man earlier he had no doubt it was an act. For what reason, he had no idea.
'Second, what makes you think I even want you? You go soft in a fight, practically orgasm in front of me and now you give me this? Give me one good reason why I should bother with you or I'll make your eyes symmetrical!' he said, waving his hand up and down the drow's body as he came around from the man's injured side. Pathetic! It's all Marltok could say about the defective elf in front of him. The man dressed like something between an elf, a whore and an arachnid. It had to be some disturbed personal statement. And his behaviour! That was what annoyed Marltok the most. He knew the man had some sort of backbone in there, he knew the man had the body of someone who'd trained so why was he acting so... pathetic?
The goblin stood in front of the elf again and eyed it off, taking a deep breath. Unless the man had something more to offer he'd be sent away with another black eye. If that was the case, the drow would find himself sporting new injuries every time he attempted to approach Marltok again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 1:24 pm
Quilzar took a sharp inhale when Marltok grabbed his good arm, but he made no noise. At least he had the brace on to protect his mostly healed wrist from being twisted again. A limp-wristed coward huh? Who was he to degra...heh, nevermind. When he was told to stand properly, he straightened his back a little more, and stopped looking at the man's shoulder. Instead he kept his gaze slightly above Marltok's head, or just to the side of it so it looked like he was keeping his head up. Once Marltok had let go of his hand, he put it back to where it was behind his back. This was no different than any other master he'd had. He felt comfortable being back in his place.
For a few moments, he didn't know what to say. What could he say? His normal responses would certainly not apply here because Marltok was not a female. Though he did seem to share some of the same bloodthirsty qualities as they did. Quilzar was suddenly horribly conflicted, not that he showed it very much on his face. The only indication of it would be the slight wrinkle between his brows and the tense set in his jaw. What in the Hells could he say to please this man?! This encounter was thus far going against everything he was raised to believe. He opened his mouth a few times, as if he were going to start speaking, but he was at a complete loss for words. His eyes went to the floor as he found that he couldn't keep his eyes on any one point in the room. That was the last thing he wanted Marltok to see; his eyes darting around nervously as he combatted the core values he was raised with.
"Forgive me, but I was raised to act like this, Master. Is it not customary for slaves to test the boundaries of the relationship with their Master on the first meeting? I will admit, I acted deplorably during our sparring match, but no one has been that hard on me since I left the Underdark. It was refreshing to say the very least, and I will admit it was a very erotic experience for me," he said all of this with a cool and collected voice that belied his internal state of being. With a sigh, and a lift in his head so he was looking at the air beside Marltok's head once again, he said, "However, now that I know the boundaries, and the consequences for over stepping them, I will be sure to act more appropriately in the future. Please accept this humble one's oath, and apology," he said this last part with a slight bow, keeping his silver orbs locked on the spot he'd chosen beside Marltok. He straightened up, and waited for Marltok's answer.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 2:32 pm
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd The man didn't have anything hidden up his sleeve. Good. That meant this wasn't some kind of insult. It could still be trickery but he wasn't being offensively obvious about it. Elves always liked wearing things up their big, flowing sleeves just to mock people and show they could. It was the first place an idiot would look for a weapon. There was the possibility he had weapons on him elsewhere but Marltok's purpose was not to remove the elf's tools of self defence. He silently listened to the man talk and for the most part accepted it. There was just one tiny problem Marltok had to, by his own rules, respond to.
As the drow sighed and raised his head, Marltok punched him in the face. It was as simple as that. Hopefully the man would have a second black eye, the same darkness as the partially-healed one. He'd ask about the man's healing abilities when they were finished with this introduction. He'd told the drow he would punch him if he didn't give a reason and he hadn't. The goblin was well within his rights to punish his slave.
'I told you to give me a reason, drow. I respect your explanation but every time you do not me answer me I will repeat the punishment' Marltok warned. He sighed. The man had shown more substance in their first encounter.
'Last chance, elf. Answer me honestly and clearly. Are you educated? ... Do you know history and culture? ... What do you know of elves? ... What martial arts do you know? ... Do you have any talents or knowledge I would at all be interested in?' the goblin demanded. He paused between each sentence because he wanted to make sure it sank in. So far the man still hadn't answered that one, decision making question. He was sure it was because the man was defective. Fancy that, beating a defective slave. Marltok wasn't sure on the rules about defective slaves. He'd never been around a slave before. Still, he thought he'd covered all the bases. If the man had any other skills beyond what he'd asked he didn't care to hear them.
'Apology accepted,' he grunted, then rubbed his face. This one? Yes, he'd knocked the man about a bit but it wasn't like he'd beaten the man senseless for no reason at all. How was he to demonstrate to the idiot he didn't have to act like, well, a slave? 'For ******** sake look me in the eyes and stop acting like a beaten slave. At ease man!'
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2012 10:58 pm
Quilzar registered the hard punch, this one to his cheek on the other side. Duly noted, he thought when Marltok stated the first rule of punishment. Answer questions, don't d**k around, and don't beat around the bush, got it. His eyes flashed red for a half second when he was called elf again, but he decided that for the time being, he was going to let it go. He felt the heat in his cheek grow warmer; yep, it would bruise. There was no way he was going to beg another favor from Lolth though. He was sure he had something back at the room. He listened to the questions, giving himself something to focus on a little better.
He opened his mouth to begin answering when Marltok's last command broke his concentration. His silver eyes flicked quickly to Marltok's own golden ones. Besides the fighting, he hadn't planned on being allowed to look at his new Master in the eyes. Even before the fight, he hadn't planned on it. Suddenly, he remembered that he had indeed looked into the goblin's eyes whilst he lay on the ground. Then, he wasn't feeling much except for an unyeilding need for release. His brain had taken a back seat. However, now that he knew exactly what he was doing, he felt the familiar unnerving feeling at the eye contact. He couldn't help the memories that were running through his mind. He'd never been slapped apart from once, but he'd been caned plenty of times in his youth for unpermissible eye-contact.
Almost disappointed in himself, he removed his silvery orbs from the goblin's golden ones, training his gaze once again to the floor. He sighed again, and thought of what his answers for Marltok's questions were.
"Master, I am educated. My Blooded-Mother made sure of that, as did my Matron Mother. I know history and culture of the Drow, and only some on the elves. I fear that my information concerning elves will be outdated. I know many martial arts; I was taught by the Weapons Master of House Arabafin personally. I am also proficient in the crafting and administering of poisons, and in the crafting of very minor healing potions, if that would be of any use to you." He lifted his head to look at the space besides his Master's head. He supposed that he should explain his reluctance to meet Marltok's eyes.
"And please forgive me Master, for averting my eyes. There were very few times that I was allowed to make eye contact with any one person, and anytime I had not permission, I was caned. It may take me a while to become comfortable with it."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 1:24 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd
'It seems there is some worth to you after all,' Marltok said approvingly. 'You will be my sparring companion and tutor.'
'Very well, no need to force yourself, so long as you don't start acting all repressed and slave-like,' the goblin said.
'Rules, if you disobey them I will break something. First I will eat your ears, then your nose and your fingers and toes. If you do not submit to your punishment it will be doubled. If you do not understand why you were punished you may ask for clarification. If you think a punishment is undeserved or too harsh you may explain yourself and I will take it into account next time. I have no desire to beat you for the sake of it. If you truly believe you do not deserve to be punished you'd better make a good case and you'd better to it fast. Understood?' Marltok paused to make sure the drow understood.
'First rule: obvious I know but you will obey my orders when and how I give them. There are direct orders and indirect orders. A direct order is anything I demand of you that I expect you to obey. If I give you an indirect order I do not expect you to obey but it would be best not to push me. An indirect order would be me telling you to ******** off or shut up.
'Second rule: when we spar you will do it properly. It is an offence to go soft on your opponent and you will be punished for it. When I tell you to state your rules you will do so. If you have no rules you are to state that but if I state any rules you will obey them. Fail to obey and I will punish you.
'Third rule: you will speak this language and only this language in my presence. The only exception is if we are speaking with someone who does not know it. English is a human language. You should already know it is distasteful.
'Fourth rule: when I ask you questions you will answer me promptly, truthfully and clearly. I want none of that dancing around the subject or convoluted sentences.
'Fifth rule: when you are working for me you are on my time. What you do in your own time is entirely up to you but you will not act like a horny little b***h around me. Do you have any questions? Do you understand what is expected of you?'
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 2:58 am
Quilzar's head twitched in surprise when he heard "tutor". Now there was a new one. Sparring partner was fine, and mostly expected. Tutor was a brand new one. He was relieved when Marltok told him that he didn't have to make eye-contact. In fact, he was so relieved that he smiled lightly and exhaled lightly. He lowered his head again, where it was normal for him, so he could listen to Marltok easier. One listens with their ears, not their eyes, he was always told.
At the first pause, Quil nodded, showing that he did understand. Not that he thought there would be any misunderstanding about punishment. He wasn't used to being able to ask for clarification on punishments or ask even why he was being punished. After each rule, he nodded, being more than slightly amused with the second and fourth rules. Rules and clarity weren't exactly in his everyday vocabulary. Amused couldn't describe how he felt about the last rule. A horny little b***h huh? Well, Marltok certainly had a way with words, didn't he? That might be a hard habit to break out of, but he could only assume that given practice...Rule three, he was not fond of at all. He hated the Seelie language if only for the elven association. Of course, the first rule was a major dur. He would have little to no problems following that one.
"I do understand in complete clarity, Master. However, I do have but one question, about rule three. Would it be permissible to speak in Goblin perhaps? I am much more comfortable with it, and I dare say that you would be as well."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 9:18 pm
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd The goblin watched the drow's behaviour. He still though it to be a trick of some sort and probably would until the man proved himself. Originally he had kept an open mind but the change in attitude was too much for him to believe in. His opinion of the drow wasn't fast though. It would take a watchful eye and time for him to make his final decision on the man. Studying people's body language so intently wasn't particularly a goblin's best quality, nor were academia and traditional forms of intelligence. Goblin's were not shining conversationalists like elves, which had always made Marltok's quest for knowledge on them so difficult. Elves didn't like sharing their information. They were as bad as dwarves in that regard.
'You may. How is it you know this language?' Marltok asked in the language of his people, as he would from this point forth. To him drow were one of those secretive elven societies who hated sharing their information and culture with anyone. They didn't interact with other races that much either. Marltok had only ever seen a drow once before this and it was across a cave of crowded people. This drow looked more like a High Elf than the drow he'd seen.
'There is no need to keep calling me master. My name Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd. You may address me as either my first name or full name but you may not give me a nickname. Shortening one's name is disrespectful and will get you punished,' Marltok explained, then thought a moment. What else did the elf need to know? Rules, name, duties and probably his leg too. It wasn't like he could completely hide it. The splint was light weight and didn't show up through his pants but if one took notice they would see he never bent his knee. It was better to forthcoming about it rather than try to hide it. 'You will spar with me in the dojo three hours a day and study with me for another three. The rest of your time is yours unless I call upon you.'
Marltok paused and glanced at his pet before deciding to lift his pants. He didn't particularly like the idea of the man perving on him but he'd behaved himself during their meeting thus far. He bent over and pulled his calico pant leg all the way to his hip. He had a good leg: strong, lean with no hair on it. Other than the arcane wounds it had no scars on it. Most of Marltok's scars were on his upper body, particularly his arms. On this leg there were two wounds. The first was a large one on his upper, outer thigh where the bolt of arcane energy had entered and the other was a smallish one of the centre of his shin where it had exited.
The leg brace he wore was made of wood and leather. The two wooden beams were carved to exactly the same shapes as the sides of his leg so they could press against his leg without being too bulky. It was very plain wood, chosen for strength and flexibility rather than prettiness and there were no carvings. It was a very simple, ergonomic affair. They went from just above his ankles to the inside of his though and the top of his hip joint. They had a width of 2cm to 3cm depending on where they were needed most and a width of 5cm. The strap around his hip joint went all the way around his body and the rest of the straps wrapped around the leg itself. Each of them had a special goblin buckle that was easy to pull open with one firm tug yet strong enough to withstand the convulsions he experienced. The whole contraption was built to stop his leg from moving about while still being able to move his ankles and hip while he walked.
'This is why I am here. I was part of an ambush in the war between gobins and dwarves. Ten per cent of our troops were struck down with an arcane attack. They were all declared crippled or dead,' Marltok explained then lowered his pant leg. He watched the drow intently to see how he'd react. 'When we fight you will not take the leg into account or go easy on me. Is that understood?'
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 21, 2012 11:34 pm
Ra Ra Rumpleteaser Good grief! Sorry for the insanely long post >< Guess good things happen when you're bored out of your mind XD
Three hours to teach? Great Lolth, he had hated even taking his classes on elves. How in the Hells was he going to teach Marltok without losing his patience? Besides, didn’t the goblin hear him properly when he said that his information concerning elves would be outdated? Not to mention that his lessons would be horribly bias towards the misdeeds and evils of the race. Elves were overall a disgusting race without their faults. With their faults, they were worse than evil. Perhaps he could teach Poison Craft. That was a worthy subject indeed, and not to mention it was his most favorite of subjects. And it was one of the only subjects he’d kept up with during his time on the surface. Or, perhaps, he would educate Marltok on Drowish culture, considering how little the goblin seemed to know.
The glance towards the Drow did not go unnoticed. Quil’s head jerked quickly towards the new movement, when both of his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Little did he expect the goblin to expose any skin, particularly after this afternoon. Much less all the way up to the hip. His attention went immediately to the two scars on Marltok’s leg. And he took in every detail. It was no wonder why the goblin couldn’t bend his knee. Though, why Marltok was showing him this bit of weakness, he had absolutely no clue. It was painstakingly obvious beforehand that Marltok had no knowledge whatsoever about Drow culture or society, now it really transcended painful. Quil couldn’t help but think of how easy it would be to give the bad leg a few well-placed kicks and set the healing process back weeks. Maybe more if he did it well enough. He would certainly have to exploit this in the future.
After hearing Marltok’s statement, and query, Quilzar couldn’t help but smile. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he said very simply in Goblin-Tongue, “Of course I understand, Master Marltok. Why should I show any measure of kindness towards your injury? Your enemies would not grant you anything more than malice during battle. It would do you no good for me to go easy.” He straightened up, and watched Marltok lower the pant leg.
Now to consider the first question.
“As for your first question, I am sorely afraid that you won’t like the answer one bit. But in an effort to avoid ‘dancing around the subject’ and thus avoid punishment, I shall give you, how do they say? The ‘short and dirty’ version?” Now, how to give him the short, and far less painful version, tactfully? Glancing over Marltok, without making eye-contact of course, he could see so many goblin traits. Except for the hair, of course. But then, he never did see goblins dressed as they usually would do so before they made it to the Arabafin House. Usually they just came in chains and a loin cloth. The loin cloth was if they were lucky.
“My Blooded-House was in control of the slave trade in and out of the Arabafin House. We dealt in many races, however, we dealt in goblins most. They were easy to find, both underground and above it. They were easy to control, and they are most prolific. At least the wilder ones are. Mother Torviir demanded that all of her children, females and males, know the Goblin Tongue so we could easily command them when we had need. Not that the concession lasted for very long. They, of course, were required to learn basic Drowish commands in two tendays.” Okay, so there was some elaboration. So what? He was proud of his family, and what better way to state that than to state their methods. At least he and Marltok didn’t have to go through any of that, considering that Quilzar was particularly well versed in several languages. Come to think of it, they had dealt in the occasional Surfacean elf. How he hated it when Mother Torviir would force him to communicate with the dreadful creatures.
At the moment, he stood and waited for Marltok’s reaction.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 22, 2012 2:08 pm
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd 'Indeed,' Marltok replied, pleased with the man's response. Judging from the look on the man's face Marltok was going to have his work cut out for him defending his leg. Marltok knew his limits. He knew that if he'd remained with the goblin hordes he wouldn't have lasted the day in battle. Two seizures a day left a lot of room for attack. He just hoped he wouldn't have a seizure while sparring, though logic demanded it was likely to happen. It happened without warning too. In some cases he'd have to fall back and actually focus on protecting it. Good grief! The glint in the elf's eyes told him the creature would likely take the opening if he saw it. Elves may pretend to be honourable but they were altogether just as nasty as any other race. The thought of yielding to the elf did not taste sweet but only slightly less than having his leg regress and not be able to fight.
On second thought, he didn't know which was the better option. He'd take the plays as they came.
'I see. Which clan were these goblins from? How did they come to be in your hands? What other races did you enslave?' Marltok demanded. He folded his arms and his eyes trailed over the wrist brace as he considered whether to increase the break. He walked up to the man, eyeing him off like a piece of meat but made no action to harm him. He walked around him like a drill sergeant inspecting a disobedient recruit. He was not going to punish the man for the crimes of his people but what of the crimes this drow had inflicted? He decided he would hold judgement until he had learned more. He had six months, or however long he chose to stay, to find out what he could from this creature. Marltok was not versed in methods of interrogation but he would try. He would extract every bit of useful information from the slave on this subject and others. If the man did not answer his questions the goblin could always break the drow's face in. When Marltok left Trinity Castle he would bring the drow with him and hand him over to his horde. They'd want to know about this.
'From now on you will speak in Seelie and only Seelie when you are working for me. You have no right to speak the Goblin. Your tongue defiles the language, elf,' he said in Seelie, standing close behind the slave. He was sure he did not need to warn the slave what would happen if he ever spoke the Goblin within earshot.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 22, 2012 9:45 pm
Marltok's response pleased the Drow greatly. It was a good thing that he knew Quil would play dirty if given the chance. He wasn't sure that even if it was in Marltok's rules, that he'd be able to follow them. For Drow, it was second nature to play dirty and sneaky, whether in the front or in the back. About the slaves, Quilzar knew Marltok wouldn't like his answer; when the goblin began to pace around him like a predator, he knew this for a fact. Once Marltok had asked the questions, he answered almost immediately.
"Frankly I have no clue. Probably from all over the region, both underground and above it. They usually came at the hands of mass slavers after having gone through the First and Second Houses for apprasal and choosing. Mother Torviir was the one who dealt with the slavers most of the time. As for races, as I said before, it was mainly goblins. The Higher Houses prefered the orcs, trolls, and other such stronger creatures. We had a few hundred of the stronger ones at any one time. The family that dealt with debt owed to the Arabafins would often bring us Drow and darkdwarves to train as slaves because they could not pay. Occassionally a raid brought Surfaceans, a human or so, or some elves. Though, being light-living creatures, they never lasted very long." Once done, he looked up in thought. Yes, he thought that was it for those questions.
All of a sudden, he wasn't sure, but he felt a bit of a foreboding feeling. His brow furrowed as he listened to Marltok, and felt him close in behind him. Quil's jaw tensed up as he tried to control his anger at being told that his tonuge defiled a slave-language. How dare he! It was an honor for him to stoop to that level! It showed his willing level of submission to this half-breed, and yet he was being told that it was an insult?! He knew he should say anything except for 'Yes Master', but he suddenly had lost control of his mouth. He took a few angry steps before turning to face Marltok to look at his shoulder-level.
He continued to speak in the Goblin Tongue. "It should be nothing less than an honor for a Drow to speak any language they please. In your case, it is to show my respect and submission to you. And to think that I stoop to speaking a language we can both agree to! A Drow could never defile any tongue, goblin!" Quilzar simply stood there, fists at his side, shaking slightly with anger, his eyes as red as his mood.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
