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Night 1
Many travelers come and go, many of which stop off at the local inn. It is sad to think that they have to bother me with their inane stories. They dont realize how busy I am, always having to stop my work because some chattering idiot with a sword wants to tell me his day. Bah!
In fact, just this day, the most strange creature arrived: he was a towering half-orc, garbed in a monk's outfit? Not only that, but the language he spoke was not grunting or mangled. He was, however, a complete and doddering idiot, but somehow wise, and quick to understand. Sadly, he wouldn't leave me alone: he obviously wanted to speak to someone, and didn't understand sarcasm.
He spoke excitingly about his past: Raised by half-orcs who brutalized him, captured by humans who tormented him, a sob story that fell deaf to my ears. Really, anyone who wasn't hugged and given sweets every time they scraped their ankles is some sort of charity bucket! When will people understand that I don't care?
After escaping humans, a group of monks, who he claimed were 'blind to race' or some sort of drivel, accepted him as one of their own. Pity, if they had just handed him over to the militia, I'm sure I might have been able to finish my meal in peace.
His experiences with the monks were boring, but his face light up when he described them. They traveled along the plains, planting food wherever they went so that when they came around, they would have something to eat. Bah! The idiots didn't even know how to stay in one place and tend a field! Letting nature do your gardening is like asking time to sharpen your blade.
I was relieved when he said he needed to leave, has some sort of 'project' he was working on. Bothered me enough to ask for some coin to help him, or if I knew of employment. I sent him half-way across the country to an imaginary lumberjack in the hopes he would get lost or eaten on the way. I can only pray!
Night 2
Business is going well. A few thousand more coin comes into my coffers now that stock has risen, which makes me a bit more tolerant to the bumbling idiots who come in and out.
But who would have guessed it? A half a week later, and who comes to see me but that moron of a monk half-orc! He greeted me as a friend, sitting next to me and ordering drinks for both of us. At first, I though he had gotten some money, but I was sadly mistaken when he asked if I could pick up the check. Damn beggar!
He seemed distrought after his first ale: apparently, on his way to the lumberjack (which he never found, and blamed his 'failing memory' and 'being naturally bad with directions') he encountered goblins in the hills. Apparently, he was able to make a bit of coin harvesting their belongings. Of course: leave it to an orc to realize killing means getting gold. I thought I had seen his true self, but after ordering a second round (much to my displeasure), he began to ask for forgiveness for what he had done. Why!? Am I the spokesmen for goblins?! Do I speak for them!?
He drulled on and on about an attack on the fields by orcs of two tribes. He spoke long enough to a Captain to learn that they were rival clans vying for land and power. Just learned! Maybe he should look in a mirror: he shares the blood of those cretins, why doesn't he just pick a side and die fighting for some bit of rock and make the world a better place without him and his ill-conceived brothers?
But you wouldn't guess what he told me next! Oh journal, it fills my heart with pleasure to recount the folly of this naive!
This monkish orc, drunk with ale and sorrow, told me that he wishes to bring peace between orcs and the rest of the world! I spat out my ale all over the C-492 business letter my assistant mailed to me! I knew I wrote last time he seemed wise, but after hearing that, I'm sure I must have ordered one too many spirits that night!
His 'plan' is to build a monetary to train orcs and half-orcs in the ways of the monk! He lamented about how hard it is for him to tell anyone, because of how they think of him, and that he trusted me! Aha! I nearly flipped my chair holding back laughter at this pathetic piece of vermin!
I agreed to keep a sharp eye out for willing employers to help with his 'noble quest' (I guess it is noble, as most noble people are gutter trash with sparkles in their eyes anyway), but let me tell you, Journal: The moment this, this Wilm Caiaso, makes friends with one of his green half-brothers, the militia will hear of his plans to create an orc army to overtake this land. I will get to see that cretin beheaded for his coyness in ordering a round of drinks on MY tab! He left in a drunken depression, seeking more work for his cause. Pity: I would have relished to see him thrown out by some of the inn's strong-hands.
Many travelers come and go, many of which stop off at the local inn. It is sad to think that they have to bother me with their inane stories. They dont realize how busy I am, always having to stop my work because some chattering idiot with a sword wants to tell me his day. Bah!
In fact, just this day, the most strange creature arrived: he was a towering half-orc, garbed in a monk's outfit? Not only that, but the language he spoke was not grunting or mangled. He was, however, a complete and doddering idiot, but somehow wise, and quick to understand. Sadly, he wouldn't leave me alone: he obviously wanted to speak to someone, and didn't understand sarcasm.
He spoke excitingly about his past: Raised by half-orcs who brutalized him, captured by humans who tormented him, a sob story that fell deaf to my ears. Really, anyone who wasn't hugged and given sweets every time they scraped their ankles is some sort of charity bucket! When will people understand that I don't care?
After escaping humans, a group of monks, who he claimed were 'blind to race' or some sort of drivel, accepted him as one of their own. Pity, if they had just handed him over to the militia, I'm sure I might have been able to finish my meal in peace.
His experiences with the monks were boring, but his face light up when he described them. They traveled along the plains, planting food wherever they went so that when they came around, they would have something to eat. Bah! The idiots didn't even know how to stay in one place and tend a field! Letting nature do your gardening is like asking time to sharpen your blade.
I was relieved when he said he needed to leave, has some sort of 'project' he was working on. Bothered me enough to ask for some coin to help him, or if I knew of employment. I sent him half-way across the country to an imaginary lumberjack in the hopes he would get lost or eaten on the way. I can only pray!
Night 2
Business is going well. A few thousand more coin comes into my coffers now that stock has risen, which makes me a bit more tolerant to the bumbling idiots who come in and out.
But who would have guessed it? A half a week later, and who comes to see me but that moron of a monk half-orc! He greeted me as a friend, sitting next to me and ordering drinks for both of us. At first, I though he had gotten some money, but I was sadly mistaken when he asked if I could pick up the check. Damn beggar!
He seemed distrought after his first ale: apparently, on his way to the lumberjack (which he never found, and blamed his 'failing memory' and 'being naturally bad with directions') he encountered goblins in the hills. Apparently, he was able to make a bit of coin harvesting their belongings. Of course: leave it to an orc to realize killing means getting gold. I thought I had seen his true self, but after ordering a second round (much to my displeasure), he began to ask for forgiveness for what he had done. Why!? Am I the spokesmen for goblins?! Do I speak for them!?
He drulled on and on about an attack on the fields by orcs of two tribes. He spoke long enough to a Captain to learn that they were rival clans vying for land and power. Just learned! Maybe he should look in a mirror: he shares the blood of those cretins, why doesn't he just pick a side and die fighting for some bit of rock and make the world a better place without him and his ill-conceived brothers?
But you wouldn't guess what he told me next! Oh journal, it fills my heart with pleasure to recount the folly of this naive!
This monkish orc, drunk with ale and sorrow, told me that he wishes to bring peace between orcs and the rest of the world! I spat out my ale all over the C-492 business letter my assistant mailed to me! I knew I wrote last time he seemed wise, but after hearing that, I'm sure I must have ordered one too many spirits that night!
His 'plan' is to build a monetary to train orcs and half-orcs in the ways of the monk! He lamented about how hard it is for him to tell anyone, because of how they think of him, and that he trusted me! Aha! I nearly flipped my chair holding back laughter at this pathetic piece of vermin!
I agreed to keep a sharp eye out for willing employers to help with his 'noble quest' (I guess it is noble, as most noble people are gutter trash with sparkles in their eyes anyway), but let me tell you, Journal: The moment this, this Wilm Caiaso, makes friends with one of his green half-brothers, the militia will hear of his plans to create an orc army to overtake this land. I will get to see that cretin beheaded for his coyness in ordering a round of drinks on MY tab! He left in a drunken depression, seeking more work for his cause. Pity: I would have relished to see him thrown out by some of the inn's strong-hands.
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