Post by Varga on Apr 4, 2023 22:29:49 GMT
Takes place sometime after The Pirates of Sky and Sea
Co-written with the true thicc bois Ghesh and Tom M and took me forever twice to put up (apologiiies!
)
After her outing with Tazmuck and his bae, Varga wasn't quite sure why she asked the latest member of the Thicc Bois out. Well, there were of course the obvious reasons. Keros sure looked like a formidable fighter. With that physique... Maybe he reminded her of Cory? Did she miss the Kul'Goran accent? Unlike the aerotaur bard, Keros's muscles were clearly meant for a fight, not just for aesthetics, which was certainly a factor. In the end, she thought it wasn't worth it waiting out to figure out how she felt - didn't work out with Iorveth, did it? So she did what she did best: forged ahead without thinking. That's how she found herself in the Three-Headed Dragon, sitting across the table from Keros, with Ghesh putting a large glass in front of each of them and sitting back in his chair with a tankard of his own.
"So, uhm," Varga says, raising her beer in a toast. "Welcome to Dawnlands... Been here long?"
Keros gently folds the white apron he was wearing to help clean up after recent incidents and matches the gesture with his own beer. "Just a few weeks, although it feels longer. Like I was meant to come here, you know? How about you?"
"Over a year." Varga shrugs, strong shoulders rolling with unease. "Thought it was time for far-away conquests, and, well, ended up here." She gestures around and takes a healthy swig of her drink. "How were you meant to be here?" She frowns in confusion. "Like your War Lord sent you?"
The minotaur grunts with a slight smile. "Nothing like that. I left the legion to figure some anger related stuff out. Meditation did... something, but I don't think that's what I needed." His eyes light up. "If you came for conquests I imagine you have many great tales to tell by now?"
A slight blush creeps on her stone-colored cheeks. "Well, yeah," she begins, eyes jumping a bit as she's listing through memories picking which ones would be more impressive to share. "That one time we were fighting a manticore, and it tried to fly away. I threw a javelin and it died in the air and fell on me. That was a great fight!" She drinks a bit more of her beer, eyes glimmering with pride in the light of the candles in the room. "And recently I've been on the seas a lot. We rammed a pirate ship with our ship, and killed the whole crew. Got this sword from the captain," she pats the hilt of the Undertow on her belt, and catches Ghesh's approving glance. She's not sure if he's approving of the weapon or the story, knowing him it could be both. "Also we once went to the Witching Court, and there was a dragon, we killed it three times, and each time it was a different dragon, but in the end it ended up just being a rat who ate something to turn into a dragon. So, ended up a bit underwhelming, that one." She shrugs and looks back at Keros. Suddenly, she feels very self-conscious, and touches a dragon claw on her neck. "Oh, but I did catch a real dragon, too. In the Beastlands. Got Gruumsh's blessing for it! On this thing!" She lifts up the rune-covered claw as if Keros was somehow doubting she was telling the truth. "We shipped the rest of the dragon to Acheron. My dad wanted to ride it in an eternal battle. It looked pretty cool..." She grins at the fond memory. "I betcha you've got a lot of fun memories from the time with your warband... erh, legion. Any glorious battles?"
Keros listens enraptured, remembering his drink just as Varga finishes and downing half of it to catch up. "Nothing quite so impressive. I was merely a soldier, but I loved those I fought alongside..." He trails off and takes a sip as he avoids eye contact. "Many didn't make it out of Avernus. I think we all thought that was going to be our moment of glory." He sits silently for a few seconds and takes a deep breath before he raises his tankard and his voice "May they rest with their ancestors!"
His cup raised, Ghesh joins in the toast. “They were a great crew, I met some just before the invasion. That whole fight was… well, there were some very heavy losses.”
"They were indeed, and we shall remember their names," Keros responds with a grateful smile.
Varga raises her glass. “I didn’t know them, but if you both say they died honourably in battle… may their souls triumph on the Eternal Battlefield!” She takes a long thoughtful swig of her beer. “Our clan has a good wake song for honoring fallen warriors, I can teach-“ she catches herself, and pretends to clear her throat. “Anyway, did you enjoy fighting in Avernus? I was in Hells several times, and every time had great fights there!”
"I barely remember it to be honest with you," the minotaur shrugs, his eyes glazed over with much less exciting memories. "The press of the shield wall made the stifling heat worse. I kept focused on the enemies in front of me. A spell broke our formation and I was quickly caught out of position. I woke in a field hospital."
He drains the dregs in front of him and fishes some silver from a pouch on his belt. "Another round?"
Ghesh rises with a speed that, to people who haven't met Ghesh, would be surprising for a creature of his size and inebriation. “I’m happy to keep getting it, the years of adventuring have paid well.”
"That is much appreciated and good to hear," Keros nods, excitement replacing melancholy on his features just as quickly. "If the rewards are as great as they have been so far then leaving the legion was the right choice!"
“I’ve made a lot from it, both in gold and weapons.” He leans his head to his back where there’s a whole host of assorted weaponry. “But also in friends. You know who you can rely on when you get in the strangest and most dangerous places, and you come across a lot of those when adventuring!”
"You understand!" Keros laughs. "The siblinghood of battle is the greatest of bonds. To put yourself in danger for the person to your side is the ultimate expression of love. I have seen this among the Dawnlanders so far and it warms my heart."
The half-orc rolls her shoulders. She knows raiding warbands work somewhat different from the army, so has little to contribute to the emotional side of the argument. "Dunno, I just take the hits cause otherwise it'd look like I'm afraid to die, Bahgtru forbid," she mutters with a shrug.
"I am... sorry," Keros catches himself. "I have been called 'a little intense' in the past."
Varga's eyes snap up. "Oh, sorry to hear that! Must be really unpleasant," she says, eyes full of a rather unexpected empathy. She leans forward, extending her hand almost unconsciously in a comforting gesture. She doesn't even notice as her hand covers Keros's larger one on the table. "If it matters at all, I think you look like a person who's very intense," she says in the same voice in which she usually inspires her party to kill their enemies in the name of whatever they believe in.
Keros mistakes the gesture and grips Varga's hand. "Oh yes, we were supposed to be arm wrestling!"
She grins in delight and changes her grip on his hand in a heartbeat. "Thought you'd never ask!" Her eyes sparkle with just a bit of red. "Give me your worst!"
“I’ll count you in," Ghesh says with a chuckle. "Get ready, both of you.”
Taking his words like an old soldier would take an officer's command, Keros leans forward, the tips of his horns pointing toward Varga and waits for the count.
Varga takes a deep breath, preparing for her first arm wrestle in a while. She feels every muscle in her arm go tense, and allows herself just a moment to admire Keros's bicep flexing. Yep, clearly not-just-for-show muscles...
As soon as Ghesh, a fresh beer in his hand, counts to three, both barbarians push their hands against each other with a force that, if the table was between their hands rather than under their arms, would certainly crush the thick wood like a twig.
Keros's arm slams into the table, and he smiles broadly.
"Impressive! You must teach me your technique," he says with a hearty chuckle, and looks from his own hand to Varga. "Again?"
"Huh, you should train with Kavel the next time you're in Fort Ettin. That'll improve your technique!" She winks and offers her hand. "I'm game if you are. Like the ones that don't quit," she says, grinning wider.
Ghesh looks between both of them, but either isn't noticing anything out of the ordinary, or keeps it to himself.
Meanwhile, Keros repositions himself for round two. This time, he takes a few deep breaths beforehand, and a few of the shadows in the bar begin to lengthen ever so slightly.
The struggle is longer this time, and Varga has to work for her victory. In the end, it's a feinting maneuver that lets her get Keros's arm out of balance and slam his knuckles against the table, leaving a small dent in it. She chances a quick look at her opponent. Keros seems to be getting competitive and quite possibly a bit angry, but he clearly doesn't want to admit that.
"Well played again!" He says out loud, letting out a brief gust of smoke from his nostrils.
Varga, enraptured with everything, including the smoke, offers her hand coyly.
"Third time's the charm?" She winks.
"If that's your clan tradition" Keros shrugs, moving just a little bit too fast to grab her hand.
The next thing the whole bar hears is a Kul-Goran accented "YES!" so guttural and decisive it makes other patrons spill their drinks.
"Umm... I mean, well played," Keros says, catching himself a moment too late.
Maybe she's getting tired, maybe she's not trying as hard as she should. Varga doesn't care much at this point. She chuckles heartily and points at Keros. "That's our clan's tradition. Try again and again against the opponent who you've got no way of beating until you find that way or die trying. Suicidal feats, ridiculous odds - that's Crushin' Boulders, true warriors of Bahgtru," she says proudly.
Keros grabs his drink and stands up, "Cheers to that!"
Varga's eyes follow him. The minotaur's emotions aren't hard to read: he's clearly impressed with her as a warrior and with her ethos, but doesn't seem to be in what would call… dating mood.
Still, the half-orc joins Keros in a toast with much vigour. In fact, she hits his glass with hers with such force it shatters both cups, showering them both with healthy pints of beer. The minotaur bursts out laughing at this and cuffs her roughly around the shoulder with his fist. Varga stares in confusion at the handle in her hand, attached to nothing now with the glass pulverised, and joins in the laughter a moment later. Ghesh chuckles, cleans the stray droplets from his hat and walks to the bar to get yet another round, while his drunker companions calm down from the amusement.
"A proper celebration, too! Totally could have happened back home," she manages in between fits of laughter. "Hell, happened a lot back home!"
“I can imagine so if they have arms like you do!”
Varga shrugs, a bit embarrassed to boast of something she hasn't earned herself. "Well, I'm sort of a golden girl, to be honest. Most of my clan are full-bloodied orcs, they tend to be smaller... Is everyone in your legion... like you?" She gestures around Keros's large frame.
"In the legion I was considered... above average." He pauses in contemplation for a moment. "Tell me Varga, do you miss your clan?"
She frowns, deeper in thought than she's used to. When she starts speaking again, it's slow at first, almost doubting. But her tone becomes more and more certain as she goes on. "Not really, I guess? I get homesick sometimes, sure... But overall I'm doing what I'm supposed to, following my path, listening to the gods. Becoming the best raider I can be. That's the best way for me to honor our traditions. Like if I stuck with them it would have been just raiding dwarf caravans all the time. Which is fine, because that's the best they can do. And if I stuck with that and chose that instead of fighting dragons and cosmic horrors... That would've been an offence to my clan. How could one foresake the gifts of strength and toughness? That's like forsaking Bahgtru himself!" Her frown deepens. "Why? Do you miss yours?"
"My people are a lot nearer by than yours! But I suppose I thought that I did. I think what I'm starting to realise is that I actually missed was having people that I care about to fight alongside. Brothers and sisters to shed blood alongside. I miss my unit, but perhaps more I miss being part of a unit… Your reverence of Bahgtru clearly brings you great comfort. I envy the strength of your relationship with him."
To his surprise, she only shrugs at that. “Ah, well, us and gods are… rocks fall wherever the winds blow,” she states simply. “Anyway, now you’re part of Thicc Bois, aren’t you? So not alone anymore!” She grins and slaps his strong shoulder. Varga pauses briefly and looks behind her with a seeking gaze. Ghesh is coming back with new beers for the three of them, and she promptly turns back to Keros, meaning she doesn't have that much time. “There’s something else I wanted to ask… you know… you’re pretty great, actually. I don’t meet many people like you here,” she prattles, striving to get it out as quickly as she can. “Most think that running into battle with no armor is stupid, or jumping off a cliff is stupid, or following a god is stupid… and you don’t. So I wanted to ask… do you want to… you know, go out another time? Just the two of us, date like? I mean, usual date like, not orc date like,” she gestures towards the dents their knuckles left on the table, painfully aware of the uniqueness of her cultural background.
Keros looks puzzled for a second and then his eyes widen suddenly in genuine fear "OH! I thought this was... wasn't this... is this club that kind of club?"
“What? No!" Varga jumps in her seat. "I just… that’s the best way to know people, by fighting, isn’t it?” She asks with a genuine doubt in her voice. “But no, I don’t think any other Thicc Bois are interested in each other… Like Kavel has a girl in Feywild, and Ivan is sleeping with an incubus… to each their own.”
"I'm sorry if I misunderstood - I am still getting used to Dawnlander customs and please I mean no offense." Keros lowers his voice until the huge minotaur is speaking as softly as he can manage, with sadness in his eyes. "I came here just trying to make a friend."
“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m the same. The mates you make here will be great, and even better if they also wanna spar for fun, like we do,” Ghesh butts in, maneuvering around the dented table to his seat.
“I had a feeling that might be the case,” Varga says with a sad chuckle, only now noticing how much more appreciative Keros looks at male patrons than at her. She briefly sees Taz’s smiling face in front of her, and shakes her head to get rid of the memory. She grins and slaps Keros’s other shoulder. “Well, consider having made two friends today,” she says cheerfully.
“Absolutely, you seem like a great addition!” Ghesh nods, passing round the tankards he was holding. “And we all come from so many different places that you don’t need to worry about offending us by not knowing a custom. We learn from each other, as long as you are happy to do that we’ll all see each other right.”
"Always happy to learn new things. Thank you, both of you, for this," the minotaur says with the gratitude and warmth that make him resemble a young calf.
“Sure thing! Oh, and neat trick with the lights there,” Varga gestures to where the shadows formed as Keros was trying to defeat her in arm wrestling. “You know, me and Ghesh here exchanged some gifts in our time, so I’d like to give you this,” she says, producing a small stone out of one of her pouches. “It doesn’t do much, but I think it will fit you very well.” She taps the stone and a small ghost carved on it lights up in faint green. “It also summons some ghosts. They don’t do much, but maybe that’s just cause they’re intimidated by me. Maybe they’ll like you better?”
“I still have that scarf you gave me-“ Ghesh turns round and rummages for a bit before producing a purple scarf and slightly clumsily wrapping it around his neck. “Any more interesting trips recently? I’ve not been doing much travelling since the gith attack, it’s nice to hear what else has been happening…”
As Varga prepares to start her tale, Keros still looks hesitant to accept her gift.
"Oh uh yeah... this is why I left the legion. That's happened ever since Avernus. Hopefully one day I will be able to control it."
"Oh," Varga’s face falls. "You don’t want it then?" She sits there awkwardly with the stone in her palm.
"No, no, I am sorry, I mean the lights thing!" Keros says quickly, suddenly looking very awkward. "I of course graciously accept this very thoughtful gift." He takes the stone from her almost reverentially. "Thank you, it is much appreciated. Perhaps the ghosts and fiends will bother each other instead of me?"
“Do you not want that?" Ghesh frowns. "Or just wanna have a handle on it? Learning to control this kinda thing can be hard but often works out better than trying to get rid of it completely.”
Keros sighs and his mighty shoulders loosen a bit. "Well that's the thing. The legion tried to help me get rid of it, but a lot of Dawnlanders seem to think the way you do. I'm starting to agree with them. Do you have any ideas?" He looks between Ghesh and Varga.
The dragonborn barbarian looks at the beer in his jug with a thousand-mile stare, his mind clearly far away. “I don’t know much about the shadows and fiends, but I did have to learn how to control my own fighting when I was younger. While I was still made to fight in the pits in Kundar they never wanted me to have control, it was a better spectacle if I was let loose in the arena to fight wildly. But that started to change when I got a little older and could notice the build-up in training a bit better. If I knew it was happening I could let my body relax into it but keep my mind clearer.”
While Varga nods to Ghesh’s story, she huffs as soon as he finishes. “Pf. Yeah, Dawnlanders. They sure know what’s best for you!” She waves the thought off as an annoying fly, and turns to Keros. “If you listen to them, you’ll be ploughing fields and hiding behind a rock. Not this rock though, this one is too small," she nods at the stone Keros is now holding. "Got it on a job. We just found a bunch of weird stuff, and that was the best of it.” She looks at Ghesh. “There’s a lot of fun things in the shadows! Have you been to Shedowfell? Such a beautiful place! And their queen? Best Fey Queen out there. Fights with her squad, not ordering people from behind the lines. Gave me this cool tattoo,” she points at a dark shadowy butterfly fluttering in lacy pattern across her skin. “And have you seen Taz’s new armour? Looks like he’s about to conquer the world. And do you know how we got it? By marching into the trap in hell, and nearly dying fighting nightmares on a wobbly bridge across the lava river,” she hits the table with her finger, full of confidence. “Cause that’s how you get cool things! I mean, dealing with fiends is pretty dodgy, but other than that… shadows are sometimes the best thing out there.”
The dragonborn shrugs, the broad gesture threatening to spill some of his beer. “I’ve been to the Shadowfell a few times, but I haven’t met any commanders or monarchs there. More stealthy missions generally, even though I was more there in case the quiet approach didn’t work. Can be quite a depressing place though, makes me feel kinda sluggish, but if it is your vibe then that helps if you ever need to go. As for the hells and fiends, the main things I’ve learned about them is, first, never agree to any deal without being completely sure of the exchange, and two, they don’t notice if you hit them with fire.”
"You talk as if you disagree, but you seem to be saying the same thing," Keros offers, clearly just a little overwhelmed with information. "What I need is to experience the world around me... right?"
Ghesh nods. “Yeah, if you don’t know how you want to go forward, explore. It can make things clearer, or give you something else completely to look at. I have different opinions and skills to some others but I don’t regret making friends with them one bit.”
“Neither do I," Varga says, swallowing a mouthful of beer. "What I’m saying is you don’t have to get rid of something just cause other people think you should, or cause it’s usually bad. I’ve known a couple of fiends, and they weren’t all that bad. Made friends with one even,” she sighs heavily, and shakes her head again. “So yeah, wait and see how you feel about your ghosts,” she says, poking Keros in his left pec. It feels a bit like prodding a hairy boulder.
“I think culturally we’re still coming to terms with what made us. For all I know these are my ancestors coming to aid me in battle,” the minotaur murmurs and shakes his head to get out of his heavy thoughts. “In any case, perhaps I could introduce you to some members of my old unit some time? You might have… less in common with them. In a good way.”
Varga frowns at that. “I know plenty of people I have nothing in common with. That’s kind of the problem.” She downs the rest of her drink. “But that’s interesting…” she says, concentrating her gaze on the ceiling and following the pattern of wood there with her eyes. “Like I didn’t know that Gruumsh was going to send me a blessing. Hoped, but didn’t know,” she lowers her gaze to Keros. “How do you know your ancestors are coming to help you?”
“Well these fiends appear around me when I become enraged. We now know that Kul Goran was created by fiends. It does not take a scholar to think there might be a connection.”
"Huh!" Varga leans back in her chair, clearly slightly inebriated at this point. "You know, back home when like your parents or your grandparents come to help that means you're a kid. Like you can't do this shit on your own yet. I remember when I was 13 my dad wrestled a bear I was hunting. In front of my raid party! So embarrassing!" She sniggers. "So, anyway, maybe if you show the ancestor ghosts that you can do stuff on your own, and that you can lead the warband, and not just take orders, you'll be able to control them? You know, like your very own family warband? When I got my blessing I was leading my dad into a fight. And he's a War Lord! Cause you know, just cause they're older than you doesn't mean you can't be in charge when it's about your life choices!" She slurs the last part of the sentence, but still manages to look very confident.
Keros, who is actually quite measured with his drinking and not anywhere near as tipsy, takes a while to think about that.
“You might… have a point there,” he finally manages. “I did not expect to be meeting with a philosopher today!”
Varga waves him off. "Oh, please! You want philosophy - you should talk to Cleaver! He got so inspired by his 'grandfather Faust' that he got into reading! Like, really reading! I'm just telling stuff that happened to me."
"I look forward to it. You certainly find yourselves in good company here."
"Cheers to that!" Varga raises another glass that might or might not be hers.
As they all down their last glass, Ghesh and Varga bang their empty jugs on the table. Keros attempts to do the same, but loses balance and flops on it himself.
The midnight peacefully rolls over Daring Heights as two inebriated barbarians help the third one walk down the street.
And, at least for now, all things go as they should.
Vaguely continued in Rage River of Kantas
Co-written with the true thicc bois Ghesh and Tom M and took me forever twice to put up (apologiiies!
)After her outing with Tazmuck and his bae, Varga wasn't quite sure why she asked the latest member of the Thicc Bois out. Well, there were of course the obvious reasons. Keros sure looked like a formidable fighter. With that physique... Maybe he reminded her of Cory? Did she miss the Kul'Goran accent? Unlike the aerotaur bard, Keros's muscles were clearly meant for a fight, not just for aesthetics, which was certainly a factor. In the end, she thought it wasn't worth it waiting out to figure out how she felt - didn't work out with Iorveth, did it? So she did what she did best: forged ahead without thinking. That's how she found herself in the Three-Headed Dragon, sitting across the table from Keros, with Ghesh putting a large glass in front of each of them and sitting back in his chair with a tankard of his own.
"So, uhm," Varga says, raising her beer in a toast. "Welcome to Dawnlands... Been here long?"
Keros gently folds the white apron he was wearing to help clean up after recent incidents and matches the gesture with his own beer. "Just a few weeks, although it feels longer. Like I was meant to come here, you know? How about you?"
"Over a year." Varga shrugs, strong shoulders rolling with unease. "Thought it was time for far-away conquests, and, well, ended up here." She gestures around and takes a healthy swig of her drink. "How were you meant to be here?" She frowns in confusion. "Like your War Lord sent you?"
The minotaur grunts with a slight smile. "Nothing like that. I left the legion to figure some anger related stuff out. Meditation did... something, but I don't think that's what I needed." His eyes light up. "If you came for conquests I imagine you have many great tales to tell by now?"
A slight blush creeps on her stone-colored cheeks. "Well, yeah," she begins, eyes jumping a bit as she's listing through memories picking which ones would be more impressive to share. "That one time we were fighting a manticore, and it tried to fly away. I threw a javelin and it died in the air and fell on me. That was a great fight!" She drinks a bit more of her beer, eyes glimmering with pride in the light of the candles in the room. "And recently I've been on the seas a lot. We rammed a pirate ship with our ship, and killed the whole crew. Got this sword from the captain," she pats the hilt of the Undertow on her belt, and catches Ghesh's approving glance. She's not sure if he's approving of the weapon or the story, knowing him it could be both. "Also we once went to the Witching Court, and there was a dragon, we killed it three times, and each time it was a different dragon, but in the end it ended up just being a rat who ate something to turn into a dragon. So, ended up a bit underwhelming, that one." She shrugs and looks back at Keros. Suddenly, she feels very self-conscious, and touches a dragon claw on her neck. "Oh, but I did catch a real dragon, too. In the Beastlands. Got Gruumsh's blessing for it! On this thing!" She lifts up the rune-covered claw as if Keros was somehow doubting she was telling the truth. "We shipped the rest of the dragon to Acheron. My dad wanted to ride it in an eternal battle. It looked pretty cool..." She grins at the fond memory. "I betcha you've got a lot of fun memories from the time with your warband... erh, legion. Any glorious battles?"
Keros listens enraptured, remembering his drink just as Varga finishes and downing half of it to catch up. "Nothing quite so impressive. I was merely a soldier, but I loved those I fought alongside..." He trails off and takes a sip as he avoids eye contact. "Many didn't make it out of Avernus. I think we all thought that was going to be our moment of glory." He sits silently for a few seconds and takes a deep breath before he raises his tankard and his voice "May they rest with their ancestors!"
His cup raised, Ghesh joins in the toast. “They were a great crew, I met some just before the invasion. That whole fight was… well, there were some very heavy losses.”
"They were indeed, and we shall remember their names," Keros responds with a grateful smile.
Varga raises her glass. “I didn’t know them, but if you both say they died honourably in battle… may their souls triumph on the Eternal Battlefield!” She takes a long thoughtful swig of her beer. “Our clan has a good wake song for honoring fallen warriors, I can teach-“ she catches herself, and pretends to clear her throat. “Anyway, did you enjoy fighting in Avernus? I was in Hells several times, and every time had great fights there!”
"I barely remember it to be honest with you," the minotaur shrugs, his eyes glazed over with much less exciting memories. "The press of the shield wall made the stifling heat worse. I kept focused on the enemies in front of me. A spell broke our formation and I was quickly caught out of position. I woke in a field hospital."
He drains the dregs in front of him and fishes some silver from a pouch on his belt. "Another round?"
Ghesh rises with a speed that, to people who haven't met Ghesh, would be surprising for a creature of his size and inebriation. “I’m happy to keep getting it, the years of adventuring have paid well.”
"That is much appreciated and good to hear," Keros nods, excitement replacing melancholy on his features just as quickly. "If the rewards are as great as they have been so far then leaving the legion was the right choice!"
“I’ve made a lot from it, both in gold and weapons.” He leans his head to his back where there’s a whole host of assorted weaponry. “But also in friends. You know who you can rely on when you get in the strangest and most dangerous places, and you come across a lot of those when adventuring!”
"You understand!" Keros laughs. "The siblinghood of battle is the greatest of bonds. To put yourself in danger for the person to your side is the ultimate expression of love. I have seen this among the Dawnlanders so far and it warms my heart."
The half-orc rolls her shoulders. She knows raiding warbands work somewhat different from the army, so has little to contribute to the emotional side of the argument. "Dunno, I just take the hits cause otherwise it'd look like I'm afraid to die, Bahgtru forbid," she mutters with a shrug.
"I am... sorry," Keros catches himself. "I have been called 'a little intense' in the past."
Varga's eyes snap up. "Oh, sorry to hear that! Must be really unpleasant," she says, eyes full of a rather unexpected empathy. She leans forward, extending her hand almost unconsciously in a comforting gesture. She doesn't even notice as her hand covers Keros's larger one on the table. "If it matters at all, I think you look like a person who's very intense," she says in the same voice in which she usually inspires her party to kill their enemies in the name of whatever they believe in.
Keros mistakes the gesture and grips Varga's hand. "Oh yes, we were supposed to be arm wrestling!"
She grins in delight and changes her grip on his hand in a heartbeat. "Thought you'd never ask!" Her eyes sparkle with just a bit of red. "Give me your worst!"
“I’ll count you in," Ghesh says with a chuckle. "Get ready, both of you.”
Taking his words like an old soldier would take an officer's command, Keros leans forward, the tips of his horns pointing toward Varga and waits for the count.
Varga takes a deep breath, preparing for her first arm wrestle in a while. She feels every muscle in her arm go tense, and allows herself just a moment to admire Keros's bicep flexing. Yep, clearly not-just-for-show muscles...
As soon as Ghesh, a fresh beer in his hand, counts to three, both barbarians push their hands against each other with a force that, if the table was between their hands rather than under their arms, would certainly crush the thick wood like a twig.
Keros's arm slams into the table, and he smiles broadly.
"Impressive! You must teach me your technique," he says with a hearty chuckle, and looks from his own hand to Varga. "Again?"
"Huh, you should train with Kavel the next time you're in Fort Ettin. That'll improve your technique!" She winks and offers her hand. "I'm game if you are. Like the ones that don't quit," she says, grinning wider.
Ghesh looks between both of them, but either isn't noticing anything out of the ordinary, or keeps it to himself.
Meanwhile, Keros repositions himself for round two. This time, he takes a few deep breaths beforehand, and a few of the shadows in the bar begin to lengthen ever so slightly.
The struggle is longer this time, and Varga has to work for her victory. In the end, it's a feinting maneuver that lets her get Keros's arm out of balance and slam his knuckles against the table, leaving a small dent in it. She chances a quick look at her opponent. Keros seems to be getting competitive and quite possibly a bit angry, but he clearly doesn't want to admit that.
"Well played again!" He says out loud, letting out a brief gust of smoke from his nostrils.
Varga, enraptured with everything, including the smoke, offers her hand coyly.
"Third time's the charm?" She winks.
"If that's your clan tradition" Keros shrugs, moving just a little bit too fast to grab her hand.
The next thing the whole bar hears is a Kul-Goran accented "YES!" so guttural and decisive it makes other patrons spill their drinks.
"Umm... I mean, well played," Keros says, catching himself a moment too late.
Maybe she's getting tired, maybe she's not trying as hard as she should. Varga doesn't care much at this point. She chuckles heartily and points at Keros. "That's our clan's tradition. Try again and again against the opponent who you've got no way of beating until you find that way or die trying. Suicidal feats, ridiculous odds - that's Crushin' Boulders, true warriors of Bahgtru," she says proudly.
Keros grabs his drink and stands up, "Cheers to that!"
Varga's eyes follow him. The minotaur's emotions aren't hard to read: he's clearly impressed with her as a warrior and with her ethos, but doesn't seem to be in what would call… dating mood.
Still, the half-orc joins Keros in a toast with much vigour. In fact, she hits his glass with hers with such force it shatters both cups, showering them both with healthy pints of beer. The minotaur bursts out laughing at this and cuffs her roughly around the shoulder with his fist. Varga stares in confusion at the handle in her hand, attached to nothing now with the glass pulverised, and joins in the laughter a moment later. Ghesh chuckles, cleans the stray droplets from his hat and walks to the bar to get yet another round, while his drunker companions calm down from the amusement.
"A proper celebration, too! Totally could have happened back home," she manages in between fits of laughter. "Hell, happened a lot back home!"
“I can imagine so if they have arms like you do!”
Varga shrugs, a bit embarrassed to boast of something she hasn't earned herself. "Well, I'm sort of a golden girl, to be honest. Most of my clan are full-bloodied orcs, they tend to be smaller... Is everyone in your legion... like you?" She gestures around Keros's large frame.
"In the legion I was considered... above average." He pauses in contemplation for a moment. "Tell me Varga, do you miss your clan?"
She frowns, deeper in thought than she's used to. When she starts speaking again, it's slow at first, almost doubting. But her tone becomes more and more certain as she goes on. "Not really, I guess? I get homesick sometimes, sure... But overall I'm doing what I'm supposed to, following my path, listening to the gods. Becoming the best raider I can be. That's the best way for me to honor our traditions. Like if I stuck with them it would have been just raiding dwarf caravans all the time. Which is fine, because that's the best they can do. And if I stuck with that and chose that instead of fighting dragons and cosmic horrors... That would've been an offence to my clan. How could one foresake the gifts of strength and toughness? That's like forsaking Bahgtru himself!" Her frown deepens. "Why? Do you miss yours?"
"My people are a lot nearer by than yours! But I suppose I thought that I did. I think what I'm starting to realise is that I actually missed was having people that I care about to fight alongside. Brothers and sisters to shed blood alongside. I miss my unit, but perhaps more I miss being part of a unit… Your reverence of Bahgtru clearly brings you great comfort. I envy the strength of your relationship with him."
To his surprise, she only shrugs at that. “Ah, well, us and gods are… rocks fall wherever the winds blow,” she states simply. “Anyway, now you’re part of Thicc Bois, aren’t you? So not alone anymore!” She grins and slaps his strong shoulder. Varga pauses briefly and looks behind her with a seeking gaze. Ghesh is coming back with new beers for the three of them, and she promptly turns back to Keros, meaning she doesn't have that much time. “There’s something else I wanted to ask… you know… you’re pretty great, actually. I don’t meet many people like you here,” she prattles, striving to get it out as quickly as she can. “Most think that running into battle with no armor is stupid, or jumping off a cliff is stupid, or following a god is stupid… and you don’t. So I wanted to ask… do you want to… you know, go out another time? Just the two of us, date like? I mean, usual date like, not orc date like,” she gestures towards the dents their knuckles left on the table, painfully aware of the uniqueness of her cultural background.
Keros looks puzzled for a second and then his eyes widen suddenly in genuine fear "OH! I thought this was... wasn't this... is this club that kind of club?"
“What? No!" Varga jumps in her seat. "I just… that’s the best way to know people, by fighting, isn’t it?” She asks with a genuine doubt in her voice. “But no, I don’t think any other Thicc Bois are interested in each other… Like Kavel has a girl in Feywild, and Ivan is sleeping with an incubus… to each their own.”
"I'm sorry if I misunderstood - I am still getting used to Dawnlander customs and please I mean no offense." Keros lowers his voice until the huge minotaur is speaking as softly as he can manage, with sadness in his eyes. "I came here just trying to make a friend."
“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m the same. The mates you make here will be great, and even better if they also wanna spar for fun, like we do,” Ghesh butts in, maneuvering around the dented table to his seat.
“I had a feeling that might be the case,” Varga says with a sad chuckle, only now noticing how much more appreciative Keros looks at male patrons than at her. She briefly sees Taz’s smiling face in front of her, and shakes her head to get rid of the memory. She grins and slaps Keros’s other shoulder. “Well, consider having made two friends today,” she says cheerfully.
“Absolutely, you seem like a great addition!” Ghesh nods, passing round the tankards he was holding. “And we all come from so many different places that you don’t need to worry about offending us by not knowing a custom. We learn from each other, as long as you are happy to do that we’ll all see each other right.”
"Always happy to learn new things. Thank you, both of you, for this," the minotaur says with the gratitude and warmth that make him resemble a young calf.
“Sure thing! Oh, and neat trick with the lights there,” Varga gestures to where the shadows formed as Keros was trying to defeat her in arm wrestling. “You know, me and Ghesh here exchanged some gifts in our time, so I’d like to give you this,” she says, producing a small stone out of one of her pouches. “It doesn’t do much, but I think it will fit you very well.” She taps the stone and a small ghost carved on it lights up in faint green. “It also summons some ghosts. They don’t do much, but maybe that’s just cause they’re intimidated by me. Maybe they’ll like you better?”
“I still have that scarf you gave me-“ Ghesh turns round and rummages for a bit before producing a purple scarf and slightly clumsily wrapping it around his neck. “Any more interesting trips recently? I’ve not been doing much travelling since the gith attack, it’s nice to hear what else has been happening…”
As Varga prepares to start her tale, Keros still looks hesitant to accept her gift.
"Oh uh yeah... this is why I left the legion. That's happened ever since Avernus. Hopefully one day I will be able to control it."
"Oh," Varga’s face falls. "You don’t want it then?" She sits there awkwardly with the stone in her palm.
"No, no, I am sorry, I mean the lights thing!" Keros says quickly, suddenly looking very awkward. "I of course graciously accept this very thoughtful gift." He takes the stone from her almost reverentially. "Thank you, it is much appreciated. Perhaps the ghosts and fiends will bother each other instead of me?"
“Do you not want that?" Ghesh frowns. "Or just wanna have a handle on it? Learning to control this kinda thing can be hard but often works out better than trying to get rid of it completely.”
Keros sighs and his mighty shoulders loosen a bit. "Well that's the thing. The legion tried to help me get rid of it, but a lot of Dawnlanders seem to think the way you do. I'm starting to agree with them. Do you have any ideas?" He looks between Ghesh and Varga.
The dragonborn barbarian looks at the beer in his jug with a thousand-mile stare, his mind clearly far away. “I don’t know much about the shadows and fiends, but I did have to learn how to control my own fighting when I was younger. While I was still made to fight in the pits in Kundar they never wanted me to have control, it was a better spectacle if I was let loose in the arena to fight wildly. But that started to change when I got a little older and could notice the build-up in training a bit better. If I knew it was happening I could let my body relax into it but keep my mind clearer.”
While Varga nods to Ghesh’s story, she huffs as soon as he finishes. “Pf. Yeah, Dawnlanders. They sure know what’s best for you!” She waves the thought off as an annoying fly, and turns to Keros. “If you listen to them, you’ll be ploughing fields and hiding behind a rock. Not this rock though, this one is too small," she nods at the stone Keros is now holding. "Got it on a job. We just found a bunch of weird stuff, and that was the best of it.” She looks at Ghesh. “There’s a lot of fun things in the shadows! Have you been to Shedowfell? Such a beautiful place! And their queen? Best Fey Queen out there. Fights with her squad, not ordering people from behind the lines. Gave me this cool tattoo,” she points at a dark shadowy butterfly fluttering in lacy pattern across her skin. “And have you seen Taz’s new armour? Looks like he’s about to conquer the world. And do you know how we got it? By marching into the trap in hell, and nearly dying fighting nightmares on a wobbly bridge across the lava river,” she hits the table with her finger, full of confidence. “Cause that’s how you get cool things! I mean, dealing with fiends is pretty dodgy, but other than that… shadows are sometimes the best thing out there.”
The dragonborn shrugs, the broad gesture threatening to spill some of his beer. “I’ve been to the Shadowfell a few times, but I haven’t met any commanders or monarchs there. More stealthy missions generally, even though I was more there in case the quiet approach didn’t work. Can be quite a depressing place though, makes me feel kinda sluggish, but if it is your vibe then that helps if you ever need to go. As for the hells and fiends, the main things I’ve learned about them is, first, never agree to any deal without being completely sure of the exchange, and two, they don’t notice if you hit them with fire.”
"You talk as if you disagree, but you seem to be saying the same thing," Keros offers, clearly just a little overwhelmed with information. "What I need is to experience the world around me... right?"
Ghesh nods. “Yeah, if you don’t know how you want to go forward, explore. It can make things clearer, or give you something else completely to look at. I have different opinions and skills to some others but I don’t regret making friends with them one bit.”
“Neither do I," Varga says, swallowing a mouthful of beer. "What I’m saying is you don’t have to get rid of something just cause other people think you should, or cause it’s usually bad. I’ve known a couple of fiends, and they weren’t all that bad. Made friends with one even,” she sighs heavily, and shakes her head again. “So yeah, wait and see how you feel about your ghosts,” she says, poking Keros in his left pec. It feels a bit like prodding a hairy boulder.
“I think culturally we’re still coming to terms with what made us. For all I know these are my ancestors coming to aid me in battle,” the minotaur murmurs and shakes his head to get out of his heavy thoughts. “In any case, perhaps I could introduce you to some members of my old unit some time? You might have… less in common with them. In a good way.”
Varga frowns at that. “I know plenty of people I have nothing in common with. That’s kind of the problem.” She downs the rest of her drink. “But that’s interesting…” she says, concentrating her gaze on the ceiling and following the pattern of wood there with her eyes. “Like I didn’t know that Gruumsh was going to send me a blessing. Hoped, but didn’t know,” she lowers her gaze to Keros. “How do you know your ancestors are coming to help you?”
“Well these fiends appear around me when I become enraged. We now know that Kul Goran was created by fiends. It does not take a scholar to think there might be a connection.”
"Huh!" Varga leans back in her chair, clearly slightly inebriated at this point. "You know, back home when like your parents or your grandparents come to help that means you're a kid. Like you can't do this shit on your own yet. I remember when I was 13 my dad wrestled a bear I was hunting. In front of my raid party! So embarrassing!" She sniggers. "So, anyway, maybe if you show the ancestor ghosts that you can do stuff on your own, and that you can lead the warband, and not just take orders, you'll be able to control them? You know, like your very own family warband? When I got my blessing I was leading my dad into a fight. And he's a War Lord! Cause you know, just cause they're older than you doesn't mean you can't be in charge when it's about your life choices!" She slurs the last part of the sentence, but still manages to look very confident.
Keros, who is actually quite measured with his drinking and not anywhere near as tipsy, takes a while to think about that.
“You might… have a point there,” he finally manages. “I did not expect to be meeting with a philosopher today!”
Varga waves him off. "Oh, please! You want philosophy - you should talk to Cleaver! He got so inspired by his 'grandfather Faust' that he got into reading! Like, really reading! I'm just telling stuff that happened to me."
"I look forward to it. You certainly find yourselves in good company here."
"Cheers to that!" Varga raises another glass that might or might not be hers.
As they all down their last glass, Ghesh and Varga bang their empty jugs on the table. Keros attempts to do the same, but loses balance and flops on it himself.
The midnight peacefully rolls over Daring Heights as two inebriated barbarians help the third one walk down the street.
And, at least for now, all things go as they should.
Vaguely continued in Rage River of Kantas