Public Service (IC)

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Talanall
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Public Service (IC)

30 Urthan, 973 IR
The Giggling Goblin
Foreigners' Gate, Floresta, Aureshan Empire

Voitto's note said to be back at the Giggling Goblin tonight, at midnight.

So here you are.

After two days of sunshine, the street outside of the tavern is somewhat drier, which is good. Less good, the street is still muddy, and two days without rain have really given a fresh coating of manure time to get well-incorporated into the mud. It's almost enough to make the druidic sects' periodic uprisings against the Emperor make sense—without the Empire there'd be no Floresta, and without Floresta the world would be a cleaner, better-smelling place. Sadly, without cities you don't get books, breweries, whorehouses, taverns, or the rest of the collection of poverty, exotic perversions, artwork, and politics that combine to make up what mortals choose to call civilization.

This late, even most die-hard alcoholics and whoremongers in Foreigners' Gate have made their way to bed, so as to be up with the sun to take up their day jobs as teamsters and stevedores. The street outside is deserted, and the front door is thrown open as is customary for taverns that are trying to attract business. You can see lamplight flickering inside, and a lamp outside the door illuminates the goblin sign that indicates the business's identity.

Inside, Voitto is leaning on the bar with his pipe clenched between his jaws, smoking lazily and paring his nails with a dagger. He doesn't bother to greet you—or even look at you—because the filth under his nails is more interesting.

Cronono
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Cragar returns to his chair by the fire. He begins grinding two stones.

Fixxxer
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Fricka finds herself a chair as well.

Obsidian_Spoon
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Faust finds a chair wherever is convenient.

deadDMwalking
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Gravington sets himself at the bar. "How about gravel two dick?" He doesn't expect anything other than abuse.

Cronono
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Cragar grunts. That's the closest he's been to laughing in a few days.

A curious observer would see he's holding two stones.

Talanall
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Voitto exhales twin jets of smoke from his nose, and replies, "You really are a whore for attention, Graveldick. Was your daddy emotionally distant, or something?"

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

deadDMwalking
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"I'm surprised you didn't guess that my mother was a whore and I never knew which of of several hundred men might have done the deed. But yes, I enjoy being noticed. Consider it a form of misdirection. Like your verbal barbs - people are so busy noticing what you're doing that they aren't noticing what you're hearing and seeing."

Talanall
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Voitto sighs, regretfully, and informs Gravington, "You really are an insufferable little cocksucker." He draws heavily on his pipe, blows a cloud of smoke in the gnome's general direction, and goes back to cleaning his nails.

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

deadDMwalking
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There's no point in antagonizing the man - Voitto has proven that he has connections and he's not afraid to use them to see someone is taught a lesson - and it wouldn't take much. Since silence seems to be wanted, Gravington obliges, keeping his mouth entirely shut until he is invited to speak again.

Talanall
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After a couple more minutes, Voitto puts away his knife and proclaims, "Pissmouth is late, but I guess that's no better than we should expect out of a savage. If he shows up before we're done here, maybe one of you can explain schedules to him. Use short words. Draw pictures if you have to. Whatever it takes."

Without waiting for a response, he continues, "This afternoon, you're going to be required to stand in for responsible, law-abiding citizens. One of our regular members is a junior officer of the Satrap's Guard, and he and a patrol are going after a crew of smugglers on the other side of the neighborhood. I want you to be in the right place at the right time to help him out, and make sure he gets the credit. We wanna burnish his fuckin' career, you get it?"

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

The door comes crashing open and Gruum's hulking form is briefly silhouetted by the street lights. He stalks into the room and casually pulls a chair back to sit, the chair creaking with his wait. Looking at the irritated faces, he replies, "What, you all pig-fuckers got one of those fancy water clocks or whatnot? It's fuckin' cloudy out, midnight is more of a guess than precise timing."

Talanall
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"Don't worry about it, Pissmouth," replies Voitto, genially. "I was just telling these other wonderful people about how they're going to use the virtue of fuckin' punctuality to assist one of the finest young officers of the Satrap's Guard in ridding our city of the scourge of smuggling. They'll explain later on about the idea of being slightly early for important appointments. Since you know what a clock is, you're already halfway there compared to the average tusker."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Fixxxer
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Fricka tries to hide a rolling of her eyes before asking, "Alright. So what is our role to be, specifically?"

Talanall
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"Lookit that professionalism from Miss Priss!" gushes Voitto. "I'm so glad you asked. Really. It's like my asshole's been pumped full of molten fuckin' joy. I'm just bursting with it. Because let me tell you, you're going to love this." He exhales a gout of smoke, and continues, "Over near the docks, there's a particular warehouse that belongs to a timber merchant. A lumber magnate. Whatever you call someone who deals in wood. Who really gives a shit, anyway? Whiteflower's the owner's name, and there's the sign of a white flower painted above the door. Anyway. Whiteflower spends most of his time doing rich merchant things, not watching over his affairs in this one warehouse of his. So his warehouse manager is using part of the basement space to supplement his income with a smuggling outfit. I want you to make sure the manager doesn't get away, because when our shiny little soldier friend kicks in the front doors and starts to tear the place apart looking for contraband, this manager's going to leg it out the back, and probably try to get himself aboard a riverboat."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Obsidian_Spoon
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Faust speaks for the first time of this gathering. "So we wait out back, stop the manager, and truss him up as a present for our shiny soldier friend?"

Talanall
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"Good job, Fusty! Got it in one," agrees Voitto, adding, "This is a cushy job because you're movin' up in the fuckin' food chain. So this time you can leave his cock alone, as far as I'm concerned. Or you can give him that hot, stormy look and do whatever comes naturally to you. Whatever. Only, don't let on that you're with the club. That's a special surprise for later!" He grins, showing a set of very even teeth that are marred only slightly by yellowing from the pipe he smokes so often, and adds, "Now, I reckon he's going to ask you five what you're doing together, because when I hear that an orc, a human, a dwarf and two gnomes walked down an alleyway, it sounds like the beginning of a really perverted sort of gang bang. So come up with a story. You're probably gonna have to pretend you like each other, so let's take a minute to do a little fuckin' exercise to help with that." Making a motion with his index finger, he instructs, "Stand in a circle."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

deadDMwalking
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Gravington joins the indicated circle. "Gang bang enthusiasts seems plausible. But I hope we can do better."

Cronono
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Cragar nods at Gravington. He puts his stones away and stands.

Obsidian_Spoon
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Faustus joins the circle with a small scowl.

Fixxxer
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Fricka's look makes it obvious she feels like this exercise is a waste of time, but she gets up and joins the others.

Talanall
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Voitto leers at Gruum, "Go on, now, Pissmouth. Don't be shy."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

Gruum grumbles as he rises, "This has got to be one of the dumbest..."

He stifles the rest of his objection as he takes his place in the circle.

Talanall
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Voitto grins like a jack-o-lantern.

"Right. Now, we're going to go around the circle and take turns, and you get to tell the person to your left something about yourself. And then you're to look your right and say something you like about the person on that side. Then that person goes next. You can start, Pissmouth. Since Graveldick is on your left," he waves his own left hand, in case Gruum has forgotten which side that is, "you'll tell him something about yourself, and then you can pay Little Miss Priss a compliment, because she is on your right." Another hand-wave for illustration.

"And then so on for Miss Priss, Fusty, Cragar, and Graveldick."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

Gruum looks to his left and right and then back at Voitto with a look that clearly says, "You have to be fucking kidding me."

Talanall
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Voitto blows smoke from his nose, dragonlike, and waggles his eyebrows at the orc.

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

Gruum sighs and turns to Graveldick, "About me... Well, I think this is fuckin' halfwitted and this pig-fucker," he gestures to Voitto, "is fucking with us."

He turns to Fricka, "You ain't to bad to look at. For a gnome."

Talanall
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The half-elf gives a thumbs up. "Yeah, that's the way! Good job, Pissmouth!"

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Fixxxer
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Fricka puts on a tolerant smile and looks at Voitto as she speaks. "I also feel this is useless and foolish. And that you're a pig-fucker." She looks to Faustus. "You're very tall."

Obsidian_Spoon
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Faust looks to Fricka and says, "I don't like pointless banter." He then nods at Cragar and says, "He doesn't pointlessly banter."

Cronono
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Cragar listens to Faust and takes a minute before speaking he is quiet but surprisingly chatty.

"We're supposed to feel animosity toward him," Cragar jerks his chin at Voitto, "but I think this is a clever way to unite us." Cragar turns to Gravington. "You were the first to see through that. Good job."

Cragar attempts to pat Gravington's shoulder. The motion is stiff and awkward, but sincere.

deadDMwalking
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To Cragar, Gravington offers, "My whole life I've tried to be a connoisseur of the finer things, but I hate fish eggs and I think there's nothing better in the world to eat than a street pie hot from the fryer." Gravington then looks up on his other side and says, "You throw javelins harder and more accurately than anyone I've ever seen." In the same spirit as the others he amends with a mumbled, "even if you weren't supposed to."

Talanall
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Voitto snickers softly, and directs, "Your turn again, Pissmouth."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

"Whut? Again? How about you tell us how this circle jerk's supposed to help?" Then to the side, "Street pies hot from the fryer are pretty good."

Talanall
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"You hear that? Pissmouth likes street pies, Graveldick. You got something in common," jeers the half-elf, before prompting Gruum, "Say somethin' nice about Miss Priss."

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold

Darker

"Uh, well, she's pretty good at pretending to be a whore."

Talanall
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"Maybe she wasn't pretending," theorizes Voitto, in a schoolmasterly tone. "Have you offered her work to see for sure?"

Wæs se grimma gæst Grendel haten,
mære mearcstapa, se þe moras heold