Experimental "role/roll playing" Drama thread Setting -------- Abna is a guard in the (Tolkeinesque) village of Doomsmere, a small, walled town on the border between Orcish and Human owned territory. There is an uneasy peace in the area, and there are strict penalties for anything which could cause tension between the neighbouring territories. There is a small token Orcish population in Doomsmere, and a steady trickle of Orcish tourists (spies?) through Doomsmere. very StarTrek Action ---------- It is midday and Abna has been on patrol for about one and a half hours, his feet are hurting and he cannot wait for his shift to end. Very little has happened so far.. but that may soon change. As he passes the local Inn, he hears a shout and narrowly avoids being knocked off his feet by an Orc, thrown out of the inn... he hears an angry rumble of discontent amongst the Inn's clients. > What happens next ? Edited by - Ketchaval on May 31, 2001 4:15:52 PM

Hey Ketch, you know I normally reply to just about everything ... but this thread has me head scratching...

I''m not sure where you mean for it to go, or what you wanted to discuss. Sorry.

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Just waiting for the mothership...

Abna tried to help the Orc get up, but the Orc furiously pushed him away, jumped up on his feet, and, threatening with his fists, shouted : "You are all fools ! Before the sun rises three times, the maggots will eat yer eyes out ! I''m only sorry I wont be here to see it !" Then he turned his backed on Abna and got away in a rush, screaming orcish insults.


Puzzled and curious, Abna decided against following the Orc, and entered the Inn. "Alright, people, whats the story ?" he asked, like the dutyful guard he was. "Why dont you have a drink, Abna ?" asked back the innkeeper after a moment of silence. "I am not allowd to drink on patrol, you know it." then in a stronger voice "Who is responsible for that trick ? You all know the rules : No fighting, especially with strangers from over the border !". After few seconds of silence, he went again, this time even louder "I said wh..", as he was interrupted by a large brute of an Orc, who must have been amaisingly ugly before he got a huge scar across his face. "I kicked him out." he went on in a threating but very calme tone, standing up almost a head higher than Abna, but way bigger all over. "He made me angry". Abna''s pondering as to what he is supposed to do now was interrupted by the Innkeeper "Abna, dont make such a big deal out of it ! This things happen. And I''m sure letting those from beyond the border deal their bussiness among themselves is wont cause any trouble. Youre new here, you have a lot to learn. Besides, that poor idiot you''ve seen thrown out is just an old nuisance. The poisoned mists of the forest he lives in must have gotten to his head. Last year he told us huge rains would come, here in the desert, and that we should build boats to survive. And now he expects us to believe him, because he "feels" something is very wrong. Why, I''d have kicked him out miself, if it wasnt for Butch here." Looking again at the gloomy staring figure of Butch, Abna gave up on the rules, and with a mumbled "Yeah, I guess youre right", he got out of the Inn and went on on his patrol.


He was soon caught up by a little man he noticed at another table in the Inn, who told him :

"You know, you shouldn''t always believe what you see and hear...Butch may have said that he was angered by the other orc, but I could have sworn he looked baffled before he started to look angry.
Sometimes the maddest have the clearest view."

With that, the little man turned and walked out into the street, disappearing in the crowd in seconds. There was something strange about him, perhaps the fact that for all the shortness of that person, he seemed a little crammed into his body, as if his mind and body fail to match up.

He shrugged, and decided that after his shift ended, he''d head to the guardpost and inquire about the people that were involved in this strange business.




People might not remember what you said, or what you did, but they will always remember how you made them feel.
Mad Keith the V.

[CAST LIST SO FAR]
Butch - large surly Orc
Hermes - the Orc who was kicked out, possibly mad? prophetic?
Innkeeper = the main witness of the tension.
Abna = new guard.
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Abna was relieved that his shift was finally over, not much had happened but he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the strange events in the Inn. He Stopped to buy some meatloaf before he entered the guard-house, then entered the station determined to find Chief Stoker and find out what he could about these miscreants.

ABNA- "Chief there was an incident at the inn, there were some Orcs fighting amongst themselves. Butch and Hermes had a disagreement of opinion I think it is worth investigating. Do we have any files on these characters?"
STOKER- "Were any humans involved, and was anyone hurt?"
ABNA- "No, only the Innkeeper saw this, the Inn was mainly full of Orcs at the time."
STOKER- "Well, there was no harm done. Don't worry about these drunkards, tomorrow I'd like you to watch the Karmack's farm they have been complaining that something has been stealing their livestock and requested some help with the case. I think that it is just some poachers, but they complain about strange noises in the night."

(Abna, wondered why he had been transferred from his usual shift.. and remembered that he hadn't mentioned the small man. But having faith in Chief Stoker he put the events of the day to the back of his mind.).

Next: What happens at The Karmack's Farm.

Edited by - Ketchaval on June 1, 2001 7:25:26 AM

After a good night''s rest, Abna got up before dawn to make it to the Karmack''s farm early. There were two reasons for this: firstly, they [strong]had[/strong] complained about noises in the night, so any evidence would be freshest early in the morning, and secondly, the sooner he started, the sooner he could go home. No reason to spend the better part of his waking hours babysitting a cabbage farm really.

He passed the city gates as the first glimmers of sunlight started to break over the horizon, and a few minutes later he approached the old wooden gate of the Karmack farm. As he neared it, the wind carried battle-noises to his ears. He quickened his pace to a jogging run, drawing his mostly ceremonial guard''s club out of its belt loop. This was the first time he''d drawn it with the very real prospect of needing to use it.
The noises were coming from the back of the farm, where the sheep-pens were. As he rounded the farmhouse, he could see Karmack himself and two of his workers defending the pen against a very large, very mean, and very hungry-looking wolf. He bellowed something nasty, both to scare the wolf and to warn the farmhands of his arrival.
The call distracted the wolf just long enough for one of the farmhands to find an opening, and he pinned the wolf down with a mighty lunge of the pitchfork he was holding.
A few bloody moments later the wolf was dead next to the pen, skull smashed. Grinning at the adrenalin rush and the blood on his club, Abna looked around, noting several sheep''s carcasses with their throats ripped out, and also noting a very peculiar fact about the large, wolf...

it was collared and bridled...



People might not remember what you said, or what you did, but they will always remember how you made them feel.
Mad Keith the V.

Abna was feeling good after Karmack''s and Mary Sue''s hospitality, in reward for helping defend them, Mary Sue had fed him a choice lamb pie that she had been made for Karmack''s lunch. With a proper meal inside him, Abna felt ready to return to the Doomsmere. It was warming to meet country folk, and watching Karmack''s young son Jared Karmack pretending to kill a wolf made him chuckle "Well young man, one day you will be able to join the City guard like I did..."

Feeling that he had made a difference, Abna investigated the harness that the wolf had been wearing, and found a strange writing on the leather he memorised the markings for further investigation, maybe asking the local cleric if he had encountered anything like it in his studies. Back to the city..

Checking into the Guardhouse, and finding it in a state of agitation he ran to find out the cause of the disturbance. Roger his immediate superior told him that the local Inn was on fire and that everyone had to help fight the fire:

All the long way to the city, Abna was worked by thoughts about the big red eyed wolf with collar and Hermes and Butch and the innkeeper and the strangeness of all this. But now he pushed his thoughts aside, and like all the others, rushed towards the inn.

Halfway there, a thought hit him, with the force of a sledgehammer. The wolf was collared.. By someone. The fire.. Someone started it. In such a boring town, chances are that the same one did it. One that would want to see Karmack dead. But why would anyone want good ol'' Karmack six feet under ? Afraid he had proof concerning some vile act ? But what vile deed was vile enough to justify murder ? Proof that Hermes''s story was true after all ! But why the fire ? To scare the innkeeper ? To delay the daily workers that go to the Karmack farm every day ! To give that one enough time to ..

He slowed down his pace, and when he remained some 50 feet behind his mates, he rapidly changed his direction. Forgetting every single rule he was supposed to follow, he jumped on a horse noone was guarding, and ran like the wind towards the Karmack place.

"I bet that someone has a big scar across his face" he thought.

As he got near the farm, he was distracted by thoughts of stopping whatever was going to happen. The very end of a branch snagged on his armour and he tumbled off his horse.. thankfully very little was broken, (even though the fall could have killed him maybe he was born under a lucky star ).

Getting up he checked his condition, he had broken two fingers on his right hand .. thanking god that he hadn''t broken his neck or any ribs, he proceeded to run towards the farm.

He spotted two large Orcs corralling the farmhands into the sheep pens.

He approached the farm stealthily:

RAISING THE THREAD FROM THE DEAD


Abna crept forward, staying low to the ground, all the while looking frantically for cover. He spotted a pile of grain sacks near the corner of an outbuilding, and dashed in the shadows towards them. He pushed aside the rough burlap of the bags with his uninjured hand, and hid beneath.

From his new vantage point, he could clearly see what was going on - though that hardly made him understand it any better. The two orcs, their backs turned to him, were tying the fieldhands up, one by one, as one would hobble a horse, binding the wrists and ankles together with strong rope, and shoving them into the crowded pen. The lumbering orcs did this slowly and clumsily, but the fieldhands didn't dare move for fear of provoking their brutish captors. Those who were not yet gagged feared to speak at all, let alone conspire with their fellow prisoners. Thus the process continued through the afternoon in eery silence.

After about two hours of waiting and watching, Abna's patience was beginning to wear thin. "If I had known they were going to be here so long," he thought, "I could have gotten a few guards from the fire to come help." Unable to see from his angle how many more fieldhands remained to be tied, he had no idea how much longer this would take. Stifled beneath the sacks in the noonday sun, he felt the sweat trickling down his brow and could only hope exasperatedly that the orcs would finish.

Abna couldn't bear to wait any longer. He got up carefully, looked to make sure the two orcs were still facing away from him, and darted across the farmyard towards the house. As he ran, he saw the farmyard as a blur: the stalls and coops contained nothing but bloody bones and feathers. He thought to himself, "Something more than just those orcs must have been here."

Abna reached the house, sidestepped across the hard-packed dirt, peeked uneasily through the kicked-in door, and stepped inside.

His eyes quickly scanned the modest dwelling, before settling on a small rough-hewn chest in a corner, hidden in shadow beneath a window. "The orcs must have missed it when they ransacked the place," he thought. He pulled gently on the drawer, then firmly, and it did not budge. Frustrated, he yanked on it a third time, leaning into his effort. This time the drawer was reluctantly wrenched open. In it, he saw a small folded piece of parchment. Remembering the orcs, he realized he didn't have time to read it. He stuffed the parchment in the pocket of his sturdy pants and stole across the yard toward his hiding place in the burlap...

[edited by - TerranFury on March 31, 2002 6:47:01 PM]