Timestamp: Brightening 14, Cryxatum; Era II of the Celestial Mandate
Secrets :
Just east of the Great Hall Enclosure is an odd collection of structures scattered atop a small, plateau. This plateau is the entertainment center of the city and is named after the largest and most important structure on it, the Beer Tent. Ragged tents and dilapidated wood structures circle a larger, more elaborate stone and wood structure sitting directly in the center of the plateau. Goblin squatters have made temporary homes all over the plateau. These squatters simply sit in one spot and create a small fire to stay warm until the Pardahun Votar shoo them away. In the meantime, they scavenge, steal, and squabble over scraps of food or a silver or two a passing orc or other may throw at them (more to try striking them than out of sorrow for them).
The ragged shacks around the main structure are private inns and food/entertainment shops. The main structure is known as the Beer Tent. This is the main spot in the city where one can meet and blow off a little aggression. This tavern hosts a variety of clients from every social class above and below ground. There are several small rooms built into the side of the structure where one can mingle without being mobbed by drunken orc warriors. The Beer Tent is a rough place but if one keeps his head down, weapon at the ready, he may just find others in decent spirits and a break from the ever-present violence of the city.
The lower half of the walls are build of stone and the upper halves and roof of wood. There is one bar immediately on the right as you enter. Several wood tables and chairs are lined up around a small pit (a small version of the main pit in the west of the city) in the center of the room. Orcs yell and laugh at the orcs that play orkish games within the pit while they eat and drink large amounts of alcohol.
As you enter the Beer Tent, only a couple orcs look up and notice that you have entered. The others are far too entertained to pay you any mind. On the right wall is a long bar with stools. One orc is passed out on a stool with his head lying on the bar. Behind the bar is a busy-looking orc. The owner and barkeep is an old orc named Phlog. Phlog is nasty and brutish even by orkish standards. It is said that working for him is worse than working on the work crews.
Female orcs emerge from the back rooms some being escorted by clients, others have their hands full of plates stacked with meat and mugs of orkish ale. The females deliver their loads and speak sexually to the orc clients in the room.
Carved upon a wood sign above the bar is a menu though the menu never changes day or night.
Quote:
4 crowns: stew with meat (grain optional)
6 crowns: specials (talk to female)
5 crowns: dark ale (mug)
8 crowns: angry brew (pint)
(Scribbled below the menu on the same board is an additional sentence)
Crash tent 20 crown a night
You stand in the doorway marveling at the rowdy on-goings. Finally, a voluptuous female orc approaches you. “What ju wan’ ?” she asks politely. The orc pauses, “…or who ju want?” she says winking to you with a seductive look in her eyes.
Glanos entered the rowdy beer tent, a favorite stop of his during his time in Orckon. The crowds were lively this brightening, as always, and the noise of the place could be heard through all of the adjacent quarters surrounding the establishment. He had come for another pint of Angrybrew, the city famous drink of the Orcs.
Stepping past rowdy tables, beer maids, and Orcs, Glanos made his way inside until the female Orc had greeted him. Being a regular, he was known to the establishment by most, except for those that didn't pay attention or were new. "Angrybrew and fast." He said with a grin. His stiletto was concealed but handy incase anything happened. As this establishment, entertainment was the order of the day, but preparation for anything was required for the Orcs that knew the place.
He sat at the bar area, watching the crowds and laughter, waiting for his drink.
Ogrim entered the beer tent and his senses were greeted with familiar sounds, smells and sights. Everyone in the beer tent spoke as if they were in the middle of a hurricane, shouting and gesticulating wildly to get their point across as they fought the volume generated from hundreds of other greenskin throats. In retaliation every other orc within their close vicinity would raise their voice. This sparked many a confrontation and alcohol being what it was, acted the part of catalyst in the reaction and soon yet another localised fight broke out. These wild knots of flailing fists and feet were common but often brief and rarely fatal but they served a purpose; it was a natural release for pent up aggression.
Shouldering through several groups to get at the food and alcohol, Ogrim growled at those that voiced any complaints, his sheer size and scar matted hide lent credence to the fact he was not an Orc to take issue with. Eventually reaching the bar and pushing aside a pair of younglings, Ogrim found himself seated next to an orc who was shorter than himself but equally as stoutly built. Nodding and grunting a greeting, the one eyed greenskin bellowed out to the familiar bar tender.
”Phylog! Stew and a brew!”
Phylog scowled and nodded in return, flicking his head at an idle female as she scurried off to get what Ogrim wanted.
Glanos looked up to see a taller Orc than himself. Being raised in Orckon, he had seen this Orc plenty of times, being such a member of the Skull Hammer Clan, though they had never met. He was a fierce warrior and an equal among the great fighters of Orckon. Glanos heckled at the younglings and small Goblins that had been pushed out of the way. They arose in anger but knew that they couldn't mess with the big Orc.
Glanos grunted in reply and said, "Ang Gijak-Ishi", a common Orcish compliment meaning 'Iron in the blood'. One of the female Orcs brought a mug of Angrybrew to Glanos and set it on the bar. "Get another one. Dis one won't last long." Glanos ordered as he took a large chug of it.
Glanos peered over at the lumbering Orc again. "Da names Glanos. Ju 'ere fer da war?"
Ogrim received his own pot of Angrybrew and drained it by half in one long draught. Wiping the froth from his jaws with the back of his hand, he looked over at the other orc and rumbled the traditional orcish greeting, ”Ashdautas Vrasubatlat.”, before taking another deep swallow.
A moment longer the bowl of stew he ordered was dropped in front of him with little in the way of courtesy. Ogrim slid over the appropriate payment as was required before lifting the wooden bowl to his face and pouring in some of the thick broth. Though the stew was not what other races would consider fine culinary fare, it suited an orc’s palate well. The meat was well aged (some would say rancid) and the flavorings added were all robust in taste, it was very satisfying.
Turning to the other orc, Ogrim jabbed himself in the chest and rumbled. ”Ogrim. I’m here for da war, and other things.”
The Orc had noticed an increased surge among the city's denizens due to the ever-growing rumors of war. Then again, in such a place as Orckon, there was always rumors of war since thats what Orcs lived for.
"Me too." Glanos responded. "But I'm also 'ere for other reasons. Got a spot in Portshire where I'm working on dis slave market and smugglin' business. Least, I'm tryin' to start it." He took another chug of his Angrybrew and called for another.
"Dis war.. do ju think da pansy imperials are really goin' to come again?" Glanos asked with a laugh.
At the mention of a slave and smuggling racket Ogrim’s interest was aroused. He had been the slave of a Vysstichi household once and the memories were bitter still. The dark elves were a sadistic race; they enjoyed inflicting pain on the helpless. Nevertheless, his enslavement was not without its benefits chief among them was Ogrim’s ability to understand the Vysstichi.
His opinion on enslavement was a curious juxtaposition. The Orcish race was a great proponent of slavery yet being a victim of the trade gave him a unique perspective, he reviled it but knew its high intrinsic value to the race as a whole.
”Best not go jaw boning about that. You’ll get knifed in the back if yer competition, if any, gets wind of it.” Ogrim drained his vessel and requested another. Weighing the question as to whether the Imperials would come against Orckon, Ogrim answered as accurately as he could. ”The Empire will be stingin’ over losin’ Narim. If they decide to come knockin’ on our door I say it’ll only be after they re-take Narim, if they can. Are they strong enough? Who knows.”
Glanos snarled. "I intends on finding dis competition an' knifin' dem anyways, so it dun matter if dey 'ear. Probably save me time finden dem." He looked around the motley group surrounding the bar with disdain. It wasn't uncommon for someone to hire some goblins to do their dirty work in smashing competition, or better yet do it themselves. But Glanos needed some additional funding and manpower from Orckon before he could attempt the operation.
"Ogrim, ju looking to raid anytime dis month? Wit' Narim out of da way, da manling villages north of Orckon and east of Narim have no allies to call upon. Make easy pickin's fer da likes of us." Glanos took another swig of his brew. "All dese mobs goin' out and gaining wealth while da lot of us sit 'ere makes me sick."
Ogrim nodded his understanding as Glanos explained he lacked concern as to whether his business rivals discovered his plans. The one eyed greenskin was obviously unaware of the particular details surrounding his erstwhile companion’s situation in Portshire, but Ogrim had always thought the less information your enemy knew about you and your machinations, the better.
”I’m always lookin’ ta raid. But whether I get out or not is another matter. I know of the villages, I was at Narim when it was conquered and skirted them afterward but they would’ve been raped by now, picked clean by the more canny mobs’ll and have nothin’ to offer.” Ogrim took a swig of brew to wet his throat, he was not used to talking and his voice grew ragged quickly. ”You gotta cast your eye further a field to find the real fat marks. Towns closer to human cities that think they are safe from attack. Course, traveling that far from Orckon can be a risk, but it can pay off.”
"Yeah, I knew dey would be." Glanos said with a hint of regret in his voice. "Da Horde would 'ave made sure da other villages near Narim were swept." Glanos looked down into his empty mug.
"Da risks are minimized when ju got some help. Say, dat tattoo of yers. Yer a Skull Hammer. Perhaps yer clan would let me join dem in a mob raid when ju go out next. I'm lookin' to add more battle scars to me name... and a little gold wouldn't hurt neither."
A raid would be good but Glanos knew that it would take some planning beforehand, which could take cycles. For now, matters in Orckon were the business of the day, and Glanos turned to the pits where some angry mobs were always flying fists. Glanos gave a grunt in amusement and then turned to more pressing matters.
"Phylog!" Glanos roared. "How many times must I tell dose half-wit servers!? Brew and step on it!"
At the mention of his tattoo, Ogrim looked down at his inner forearm as it guarded his mug of brew. The skull and hammer were vibrant in color and stood out starkly against his dark hide. Looking over to Glanos from under a heavy brow, Ogrim replied.
”I was a Skull Hammer. I haven’t been one of their uruks for a long time, but I’d never betray them. I sensed war brewing and I came to lend my arm to their cause, and the cause of Orckon.”
Ogrim would visit the Skull Hammer stronghold in the morrow. He would offer his service to them again whether it be as a simple ushatar or a bolg. As former bolg of the rog shati he knew that his return would likely cause a stir in the ranks, the current bolg of the rog shati would likely be threatened.
”When I speak to them, I’ll see what I can do for ya, if they’ll have me.”
Normally Ogrim wouldn’t even bother helping another orc unless he gained something of equal or greater value. But when war was on the doorstep, it would’ve been foolish for him to turn away another strong arm.
Glanos nodded with a grunt. All clans gave first dibs on raids to their clan members, but sometimes they allowed others to join them.
The beer wenches finally brought Glanos another brew, along with an extra, and continued about their work. The fighting in the pits had caused more excitement and laughter as the groups in the tavern yelled curse words at the ones they did not want to win. Glanos took a large gulp of his brew, watching around the tavern for anything particularly interesting.
Goblins and other creatures scurried around the floors, picking up scraps, while Orcs yelled and cheered throughout the tavern tables.
Ogrim drained his tankard of brew and ordered another before tossing one of the serving staff a handful of coin as payment. Watching the fights in the angry pit he spoke at the Orc without taking his eye off the gladiatorial arena.
”If I can get ya a place in a raidin’ mob, where can you be found?”
Waiting for his reply, Ogrim continued to eye the scuffles in the pit. Normally they were nothing but half drunk wrestling matches, the alcohol blunting any combat prowess and orc possessed. Still, even though the angry brew had not begun to touch him, he contemplated picking a fight for the pure pleasure of spilling blood.
Glanos shrugged. "All over, really. But probably find me around dis piece o' junk joint. Or maybe near da Great Hall. I got some business to conduct der. Either way, I hear deres a raid goin' from Skull Hammer and I'll come." Raids were big business and usually a mob didn't go out without the whole fortress knowing.
"Ogrim. I buy ju next angrybrew if ju go down and show dose kids hows its done." He said with a wry grin. Challenges were almost never refused, and of course, a fight in the pit was what Orcs loved.
Ogrim bobbed his head in understanding. If he was accepted back into the Skull Hammer Clan he could use their network of spies and informers to locate Glanos if need be.
At the suggestion he climb into the pit for a mere flagon of ale, Ogrim merely smiled. It had been a long time since he fought for sport. The blood soaked sand of the AFCL seemed like a distant memory to the veteran Orc. They had been good times and he had enjoyed great success. The greenskin had only a single regret stemming from that period of his life, that it was inconclusive as to who was the better fighter out of he and Avanthar, their bout had ended in mysterious circumstances with neither combatant clearly the victor.
”A mouthful of brew is far too little reward for me to waste my time with those younglings. And besides, it’s not even fair, there is three of them and one of me, they wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Ogrim’s smile grew evil at his comment, though it was not idle or boastful, it was plain and matter of fact.
Glanos shifted in his seat, having downed another angrybrew. He looked down into his empy mug, and decided to call it a day in the tavern, as he had some business to attend in the Great Hall.
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