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Vrok was looking for adventure.... Well, not really adventure.... He just wanted some money for food and was hoping to find a few little baubles or trinkets....
As Vrok came over a hill, he saw a dwarf running around chased by goblins. Vrok took cover and hid. He already knew he could not fight goblins. Those nasty little critters would chew him up and spit him out. Not that it would have been any different if they ate him....
Still, that dwarf was in trouble. Vrok reasoned that goblins he could not face alone, he could face with someone else attracting most of their attention. So, still hiding, Vrok worked his way closer while drawing his bow and drawing an arrow from his quiver. He rose to his full height (impressive even by orc standards) and let his arrows fly.
Of course, the goblins noticed him then, but they were most intent on the dwarf that had angered them. Vrok managed to get off eight arrows, killing one and wounding two more. The dwarf finished them all off.
Vrok, of course, expected to be thanked for his help. Well, he didn't really expect that, but a little courtesy would go a long way.... After all, most people just rejected him on sight, as if they'd never seen a half-orc before, and after he had travelled so far to escape such prejudice.
Instead, the dwarf faced off against him! Not only did he not thank Vrok, he challenged Vrok like some strange animal!
Vrok hastened to reassure the dwarf that he only wanted to help, since the dwarf was set upon by so many goblins. Finally, the dwarf grudgingly accepted that Vrok truly wanted to help. He allowed that Vrok could accompany him in seeking out these goblins and eliminating their menace.
Vrok was overjoyed! It was far from the thanks he should have gotten for his help, but he was being invited to help another civilized (how little he knew that dwarf) being in battle against creatures that were pestering other civilized beings.
This was far different than the way Vrok was usually seen by other people. Just a bit earlier that very day, an elf had threatened to attack Vrok on sight! And this for no other reason that Vrok was half-orc. Did it occur to no one that Vrok was also half not orc?
Vrok gladly agreed to accompany the dwarf, even though the dwarf warned roughly that, if Vrok hit him with any arrows, Vrok was next. Vrok was sure of his skill, so he ignored that warning.
After a few hours wandering about and killing goblins two or three at a time, the dwarf announced that he was bored. Vrok should have seen the warning signs. He should have slipped away while he had the chance.
Instead, he followed as the dwarf led him in a great circle, getting many goblins to chase them before turnng to fight. Vrok was not worried. He knew the dwarf could handle that many goblins, as long as Vrok stood behind with his bow. Else, the dwarf would not have roused so many.
Vrok was plying his bow with a vengeance when he noticed that all the goblins were turning their attention to him. He spared a glance to see what the dwarf thought he was doing. The dwarf lay dead in a pile of his own blood.
"That damn stuipid dwarf!" BVrok said as he reached for his sword.
He never completed that move. Six goblins with swords reached him while four others with bows peppered him with arrows. Everything went dark.
Suddenly, Vrok awoke on the Fugue Plane prepared to strangle that dwarf. That dwarf was not there. Either he had died once too often, dwarves went somewhere else, or he had left through some sorcery. So, Vrok was left to suffer alone.
Vrock was looking around for that dwarf, just in case that dwarf had sense enough to hide somewhere, when he encountered a moaning elven spirit. He looked strangely dangerous, although Vrok could not put his finger on the source of that danger.
After trapping Vrok on the Fugue Plane with a stone wall, the creature asked of him a service. The elf was trapped forever on the Fugue Plane because his gods did not like its armor. He wanted Vrok to take his armor.
After considering, Vrok agreed. After all, his gods did not care if he wore armor or what kind of armor it might be. So, he could do a dead elf a favor by releasing it to join its gods and gain some really good armor as well without paying even a single stag. As a parting word, the elf said that the armor should look even more imposing on Vrok.
Vrok accepted the armor. Leaving the Fugue Plane, he was resurrected in the Temple of Helm, a human god that seems to resurrect good people of whatever race. Of course, the first thing Vrok did was to put on that armor. It had some really great magic on it that enhanced certain of his skills. Vrok proudly pranced from the room he had been resurrected in, seeking a mirror to examine the effect to see just how imposing he had become. He wondered that priests and paladins turned away from him with grins or that the paladin in the corner guffawed and had o turn away, fighting to stifle his laughter.
Vrok finally found a mirror. He stared in horror at the armor now covering him. It had seemed so imposing on that elf.... Although, now that Vrok thought about it, that elf had been barely four feet tall. Vrok was nearer seven feet tall. The robe ended just below his knees, looking like a short dress. The cape, so long and flowing on that elf, did not quite stretch as far as the robe.
Still, Vrok could not get himself to remove it. It was much better than the othyer armor he had worn. But now he understood the elf's strange statement.... The armor was cursed, all right.
As Vrok came over a hill, he saw a dwarf running around chased by goblins. Vrok took cover and hid. He already knew he could not fight goblins. Those nasty little critters would chew him up and spit him out. Not that it would have been any different if they ate him....
Still, that dwarf was in trouble. Vrok reasoned that goblins he could not face alone, he could face with someone else attracting most of their attention. So, still hiding, Vrok worked his way closer while drawing his bow and drawing an arrow from his quiver. He rose to his full height (impressive even by orc standards) and let his arrows fly.
Of course, the goblins noticed him then, but they were most intent on the dwarf that had angered them. Vrok managed to get off eight arrows, killing one and wounding two more. The dwarf finished them all off.
Vrok, of course, expected to be thanked for his help. Well, he didn't really expect that, but a little courtesy would go a long way.... After all, most people just rejected him on sight, as if they'd never seen a half-orc before, and after he had travelled so far to escape such prejudice.
Instead, the dwarf faced off against him! Not only did he not thank Vrok, he challenged Vrok like some strange animal!
Vrok hastened to reassure the dwarf that he only wanted to help, since the dwarf was set upon by so many goblins. Finally, the dwarf grudgingly accepted that Vrok truly wanted to help. He allowed that Vrok could accompany him in seeking out these goblins and eliminating their menace.
Vrok was overjoyed! It was far from the thanks he should have gotten for his help, but he was being invited to help another civilized (how little he knew that dwarf) being in battle against creatures that were pestering other civilized beings.
This was far different than the way Vrok was usually seen by other people. Just a bit earlier that very day, an elf had threatened to attack Vrok on sight! And this for no other reason that Vrok was half-orc. Did it occur to no one that Vrok was also half not orc?
Vrok gladly agreed to accompany the dwarf, even though the dwarf warned roughly that, if Vrok hit him with any arrows, Vrok was next. Vrok was sure of his skill, so he ignored that warning.
After a few hours wandering about and killing goblins two or three at a time, the dwarf announced that he was bored. Vrok should have seen the warning signs. He should have slipped away while he had the chance.
Instead, he followed as the dwarf led him in a great circle, getting many goblins to chase them before turnng to fight. Vrok was not worried. He knew the dwarf could handle that many goblins, as long as Vrok stood behind with his bow. Else, the dwarf would not have roused so many.
Vrok was plying his bow with a vengeance when he noticed that all the goblins were turning their attention to him. He spared a glance to see what the dwarf thought he was doing. The dwarf lay dead in a pile of his own blood.
"That damn stuipid dwarf!" BVrok said as he reached for his sword.
He never completed that move. Six goblins with swords reached him while four others with bows peppered him with arrows. Everything went dark.
Suddenly, Vrok awoke on the Fugue Plane prepared to strangle that dwarf. That dwarf was not there. Either he had died once too often, dwarves went somewhere else, or he had left through some sorcery. So, Vrok was left to suffer alone.
Vrock was looking around for that dwarf, just in case that dwarf had sense enough to hide somewhere, when he encountered a moaning elven spirit. He looked strangely dangerous, although Vrok could not put his finger on the source of that danger.
After trapping Vrok on the Fugue Plane with a stone wall, the creature asked of him a service. The elf was trapped forever on the Fugue Plane because his gods did not like its armor. He wanted Vrok to take his armor.
After considering, Vrok agreed. After all, his gods did not care if he wore armor or what kind of armor it might be. So, he could do a dead elf a favor by releasing it to join its gods and gain some really good armor as well without paying even a single stag. As a parting word, the elf said that the armor should look even more imposing on Vrok.
Vrok accepted the armor. Leaving the Fugue Plane, he was resurrected in the Temple of Helm, a human god that seems to resurrect good people of whatever race. Of course, the first thing Vrok did was to put on that armor. It had some really great magic on it that enhanced certain of his skills. Vrok proudly pranced from the room he had been resurrected in, seeking a mirror to examine the effect to see just how imposing he had become. He wondered that priests and paladins turned away from him with grins or that the paladin in the corner guffawed and had o turn away, fighting to stifle his laughter.
Vrok finally found a mirror. He stared in horror at the armor now covering him. It had seemed so imposing on that elf.... Although, now that Vrok thought about it, that elf had been barely four feet tall. Vrok was nearer seven feet tall. The robe ended just below his knees, looking like a short dress. The cape, so long and flowing on that elf, did not quite stretch as far as the robe.
Still, Vrok could not get himself to remove it. It was much better than the othyer armor he had worn. But now he understood the elf's strange statement.... The armor was cursed, all right.