Drinking

[Noa]

Korg Ironhand
Guest
Posts: 27
(6/10/02 3:08 am)
Reply | Edit | Del All  Drinking
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Korg sat in the back of the tavern, staring at nothing in particular. The barkeep kept looking over at him with a small grimace, and Korg kept glowering back at him.

"Bah. Let him complain about having to deal with customers who bring in their own brew." What Korg had in front of him was the good stuff. Caladril double distilled it, and it had the kick he was looking for to ease the pain.

"What pain?" He kept shrugging his right shoulder, trying to work out the kink. No. Quea had healed that during the battle. What pain? Must be a ghost wound, as Kylan called it. Still seems there, even though it isn't. "Doesn't matter. Take another drink."

The mood he was in kept coming back to him, even if it was a little doused everytime it came. he scowled at himself again. "What am I so off about? The day started good. It got better. Ended great. Even got us a cleric of sorts for our little group."

Korg took another swig. Even Renth, the Wolf o' the North who normally took up that part of the tavern, decided to make his place somewhere else. Renth could take Korg, and Korg knew it, but everyone in Halas knows what kind of mood one of their own could get into when going on a binge. Korg didn't give him a second glance. If he did, it would have been a glowering one. The day replayed itself, regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

**********

Korg came out of the hovel in Firona Vie that the barbarians occupied. Good of them to let him sleep there, since he couldn't fit into the elven huts. he decided to take a small break from battle today. He wouldn't really admit it to anyone, but he was sore from swinging that heavy sword about all day. Remembering the jokes and teasing he got from the hobbits of the guild, he thought he'd spend the day learning some craft or other. Fletching. Good to have arrows with bite, and cheaper then starting up something like smithing. Looking around, he was sure that whatever ranger in the port was selling fletching supplies, he wasn't about to come out of his hovel to sell with a "barbarian". Bah. Forget them. His own kin would treat him better than any. A long trip, but it would be good to see his homeland and kin again.

Then came the voice on the wind. Siffo was laying out a string of curses. Very polite ones, for anyone else but a halfling, but curses just the same. All the way from the moon, too. He was in his own proud way asking for help with grimlings. Bah. Fletching can wait. Battle called. Korg felt the rush of Zek's Calling through him, and he responding with contained enthusiasm. Contained, because his family Saga may not understand the difference between the love of battle and battle lust. Siffo responded in another string of curses at the grimling he was chasing, and ask if he and Quea were going to get there anytime soon. Ah, the druid was coming. Good.

**********

Korg grabbed the dark red jug in front of him and took another gulp. Then another. He could even feel the stuff softening the edges of his consciousness as he drank. "Good. Keep drinking." He shrugged his shoulder again. "Take the pain away."

**********

The battle was not going well. Siffo and Korg did what they could, trying to beat down the Grimling chieftain and his casters, but Quea kept drawing too much attention to herself with her spell. The only saving grace of it all was the satisfaction that the druid was able to get away safe. He would have wanted Siffo safe, too, but the crusty old rogue had too much warrior in him. Kept staying 'til the end. Korg always wished the bands he took up with would understand his views on what a warrior's job was, being the last stand between them and the enemy, but he just could not -not- admire people who had too much courage to leave another behind. Siffo has earned Korg's respect in that fact alone. Still, he wished he would retreat, and let the warrior do his job.

Caladril was a good enough friend to come and collect him twice from Firona Vie. Seems the Grimlings swatted him a bit too hard, because twice he forgot to bind somewhere close to the Hollowshade Moore. Now, after the third attempt to overcome the Chieftain, the warrior, the rogue, and the druid sat by the druid ring in the East Karanas, and tried to find a way to victory. The answer was obvious. They needed more people. One more to help with one aspect or another. They began to run down the list of friends in the guild, and friends of the guild. Finally, Korg gave the request for someone, anyone, who could help out. And Daxtor the cleric answered the call.

**********

Korg grabbed the jug a little bit clumsily this time, but without missing his stride upended it. It was empty. With a scowl he simply threw it at the nearby wall. He didn't even look up when the barkeep complained about something He couldn't make out. Didn't want to make out. He took the next jug over, and undid the cork. "Double distilled. Quite a kick. Kill the pain."

**********

The four now sat at the edge of the grimling camp, watching with eagerness. Korg could feel it in the others. Even the good cleric Daxtor. The intensity of the upcoming battle was in their blood, and pulsing through their veins. They had laid their plans. They had taken the proper steps. All was going well. If the strategy they had laid would work, then they had a chance of victory.

Quea was the one having to lead the way. it was her spells that held the enemy captivated while the others drew its friend away. And she had to take the hurting blows of the Grimling bastard chieftain as she stepped forward, if only for a few moments. Korg's first instinct was to protect her as soon as the first blast hit. Siffo was someone Korg was always sure could find a way out of danger, but the hobbit woman, he was not so sure of. He shook his head, trying to stay with the plan. Besides, Daxtor was there, too. He had seen the cleric sitting close to the druid. What was happening was more than obvious. What better way to protect her than for him to heal while Korg and Siffo drew the enemey away. The grimling spiritualists came after her. The plan had worked. The band of adventurers knew the chieftain wouldn't have the courage to step off of his tent stakes, and so he deprived himself of his healers, the only thing keeping him alive. They made short work of the casters. Korg raining down blows on the ones attacking the druid especially hard, trying to draw back the attention from her wave of spells. The grimling casters went down, and the chieftain stood alone.

Korg and the others took a gleam of retribution to their eyes. Whether they knew it or not, the pride of Zek was setting fire to them. In the end, the chieftain lay dead at Korg and Siffo's feet. Korg looked up, beamed a triumphant smile at Siffo, and saw the casters dancing a jig and hugging each other happily.

**********

Renth was trying to say something to Korg, but anything he said was a jumble that sounded far off. He sat in the other chair across the table, hand on the jug, over Korg's hand. Korg's only concern was he take another drink. Abruptly, violently, he pulled his hand and the jug away, a word or two of incoherent growling coming out as he drew the jug to the general area of his lips again. Renth turned and muttered something to the barkeep, and the man stepped through the front door, calling for someone out in the street. Through the entrance Korg saw a few foriegners turn, assess the situation, and decide to run off in another direction. Before the door swung shut fully, he saw the barkeep sprinted over to the neighboring building.

**********

A great day. A great victory. A good addition to the group. They all thought Daxtor would make a fine part of their band, if they could only help him up a bit more on level with them. As the group began to disband, Siffo decided he wanted to stay the night in the Cat City. The others felt the need for a more familiar place. Quea spoke the words, and the three of them were headed home.

Daxtor was the first to leave the three near the Druid ring of the West Commonlands. He said his good byes. Politely to Korg. A bit more for Quea. He did not leave until the druid threw up the portal wall, and the others vanished. And they were alone by the ring in the Northern Karanas. Korg said his farewells to the young woman, and she opened another portal door to somewhere unknown.

Back to what he originally set out to do. He made his way to Halas, listening to the conversation over the wind. Daxtor was asking questions. A few of the group were more than happy to oblige him with answers to his innocent questions. A good fellow. A fine fellow. One that Korg was glad to have asked into the band, so to speak. He listened to the conversation carry on as he found the fletcher and began to study his newfound craft. Some failures, but he steadily rose in skill. The part that eluded him most at first was tying the fletch to the shaft. If not done right, the arrow wouldn't fly. But as he sat and listened to the voices on the wind, he became steadily better at it. After a good run of thirty steps into the lesson, he threw the kit into the rack of goods on the wall, and stormed out yelling out profanities. A drink. A drink would settle things. He had just the thing. Caladril gave him a good stock for double distilled.

**********
Renth and the others dragged the now unconscious barbarian to his old hut. He put up a good fight. Of course, when drunk, it takes at least three or four to subdue a kin. But in the end, when the others had Korg held down, he simply passed out, like they all do. Must have been strong drink, to get him so fired up. They laid him out on the mat, and took the heavier pieces of armor off of him, and took some mercy and cleaned off the fantastic sword of his before setting it somewhere safely away from passing thieves. the others walked out first, and Renth took one last look at the warrior.

"Should've kept yer mind on what ye loved best when ye left us, Korg McMannus." He rubbed the sore spot on his jaw from an unexpected blow earlier. he shook his head, then muttered as he stepped out into the cold. "Should've kept yer mind off women."


Edited by: Korg Ironhand at: 6/10/02 8:39:38 pm

[Noa]

Quea FV
Port a Party
Posts: 38
(6/10/02 12:33 pm)
Reply | Edit | Del  Re: Drinking
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Quea sat down heavily onto her chair. She had chosen a table in the middle of the bar, a spot that allowed her to sense if anyone was approaching from any direction. She smiled wearily at the barmaid as the bottle of brandy and shot glass were placed before her. No coin was exchanged in the transaction. Quea's bar bill here was paid well in advance. She had saved the barkeep's son from the hands of Innoruk and brandy was the barkeep's gratitude.

'My aching feet, ach they are so hot and sore. Why do those horrid Grimling Chieftains have to cast a spell which makes my feet hurt so.' Quea poured and tossed back a shot of brandy. Under the table she kicked off her boots and softly rubbed her feet together. 'Siffo is right, no self-respecting Halfling should wear boots. She was a fool for being so fashion-conscious'.

Quea quickly downed two more shots then seemed to relax a bit and settle more comfortably into her chair with her feet resting on the chair beside her. 'Why had Korg looked at me that way?'

***************
Daxtor had made no secret of his attraction to Quea. He whispered to her of her beauty and his desire to protect and take care of her. Quea worried that his attentions might place the entire party in danger. If he was healing and protecting her instead of the warriors, all could be lost. Without the mighty Korg and the clever Siffo, they had no hope of defeating the Grimlings. Daxtor affectionately teased Quea and promised he would take care of the others if she agreed to a date. The deal was struck and not unwillingly with the handsome dwarf.
***************

Quea smiled, the days final glories still fresh in her mind. 'They had worked it out perfectly, her, Siffo and Korg. It had taken them longer to devise an effective plan then it would have taken Caladril but still they had done it. Daxtor was their missing key and once he had joined them the Chieftain was easily defeated.' Quea laughed at the look on the Chieftains face when he realized his body guards and healers were no longer at his side. Korgs blows and Siffos stabs had laid him to the ground in short order with that look frozen on his face forever.

When it was time to disband and port the others to their places of choice Quea had faced a new dilemma. Take Korg to his destination first and be left alone with Daxtor or vice versa? Quea mused over her choice. 'Daxtor wanted me to take him last. Why didn't I? Was I afraid of what might happen if I am alone with him? Why are my thoughts so confused when he is around? I find myself barely saying a word at times, unsure of myself.' Quea sighed 'I am so much more comfortable with Korg, I know he would not see one such as me, as nothing more than his battle companion. Yet, he had said the strangest thing when I told him of the date. He nearly cursed me, admonishing that I made his thoughts turn to women. And that look he gave me, I had felt butterflies in my stomach thinking perhaps he was jealous. Korg and me?' Quea shook her head. 'He must have meant something else. Perhaps he just longs for his own romance.'

Quea looked around the room wondering if anyone had noticed she was sitting here blushing over her own thoughts. Quickly she tipped her bottle to her lips, foregoing the formality of the shotglass. A long hard swig on the bottle would clear her mind. She thought of the hot bath and soft bed that awaited her upstairs. She had seen young Jedgar run out upon her arrival and return with fresh flowers for her room. She knew everything had been prepared and she need only go upstairs when ready. Quea pushed the cork back in the brandy bottle placing the bottle under one arm, scooped her boots up under the other and headed to her rooms. She hoped there was enough brandy left in the bottle to send her to sleep.