Three Bodies Problem Write Up - 10.09.19 - Gegrun & Menace
Sept 13, 2019 8:49:42 GMT
Milo Brightmane, Ian (Menace), and 1 more like this
Post by Imp (Dan L) on Sept 13, 2019 8:49:42 GMT
Three Hands, Four Eyes, Two Hearts
(Three Body Problem - 10.09.19 Session writeup) Gegrun & Menace
“So… wait. He had three hands? And two were his?”
Gegrun leans forward on the edge of the table, brow furrowed, gruff mountain drawl reverberating in the surroundings. The beer-stained wooden tabletop tilts, and Menace’s full mug of ale slides toward the edge of the table. The red tiefling reaches out and lets it slide into his palm and takes a beleaguered swig, gesturing in the air with his other hand. The Three-Headed Ettin is particularly abuzz with conversation, and the two contrasting figures go unheeded in their corner of the bar.
“No,” Menace says, with the expression of a man treading ground that has previously already been trodden quite thoroughly, several times, with limited success, “he was taking them for his experiments.” Menace sits back with a wry grin, comfortable with jumping to that particular conclusion. He steeples his fingers for a few minutes before he’s satisfied entertaining that particular cliché, and leans back forward into the table.
“And… the four eyes? And the two hearts?”
“Also for the experiments.”
“Right,” Gegrun nods, eyes gazing into the middle distance, plumbing previously unexplored depths of intellect. He adjusts his weight on the stool, eliciting a load creak, and strokes the uneven stubble on his chin.
“So… what were those things under there with him? His experiminents?” Gegrun stumbles over the unfamiliar word.
“Yes. No, wait, maybe… Perhaps?” Menace ventures, surprised by his own lack of conviction. “Those abominations did look like they were stitched together, but if that mysterious gnome who stole,” Menaces pauses for a second, mind drawing a blank, “what was his name again?”
“Keith,” Gegrun said with a beaming smile and conviction.
“I’m sure it wasn’t. Anyway, if this gnome who stole the other gnome’s face has been carving up his victims solely for hands, eyes and hearts, then he is clearly a few parts short to make a full abom-” he pauses, as he notices Gegrun’s puzzled look, ”-monster. So, the best he could do is create a monster that consists entirely of hearts, eyes and hands, ahaha!” Menace chuckles, then as the mental image of the horror just described fully forms in his mind, reaches for his ale and takes a deep draft, turning pensive.
“He might be doing many things. Maybe he has killed before, escaping notice, and he is now only harvesting spare parts? Maybe he needs these for another, novel, even bolder creation yet? We just don't know… What Corporal Danes told us is that people have gone missing, their bodies turning up mutilated, always in groups of threes. They have nothing in common, except their bodies being dumped near the Red House. That led us to Vas’ and the beggars’ hideout, and from there to the spooky house next to Nerry’s pie-shop, where we found this knave and his experiments. Given that we may have disturbed his operations now, yet failed to apprehend him, the gnome, or whatever he truly is, may change up his pattern. This isn't over yet.”
Menace puts his mug down on the table, puts on his winning smile that shows his incisors, and pats Gegrun’s massive hand. Even while sitting down, the orc towers a good two heads above him. Gegrun hunches a little in the chair, which squeaks in protest again.
“But you have done very well today, Gegrun! I am very glad I met you and can now call you my friend.” he says smiling, carefully pronouncing the word.
“You seem like a good orc Gegrun, a good man. Someone who can do much good here. Yes, I think you will do smashingly!” He winks, leaving the massive orc to wonder if a fly had buzzed by too close for comfort.
“The big sky voice tells me to be nice. I try to be nice,” Gegrun says, nodding in agreement. He stares for a second, wondering if the big sky voice had something to do with the weird vision he’d had once he’d killed that scary creature with the big cleavery-thing.
“You know,” Menace continues, “I am always looking for such a good, smashing man myself. I could use your help. I come from a town further that way,” he says, pointing in the general southern direction behind him, his red finger so happening to be observed by Coll the barkeep, who interprets it as a refill order, “and I do much good there myself. I look out for people. The children especially, those who don’t have parents anymore, no clan of their own. I give them a clan. I make them my clan.” he pauses, letting this sink in, hoping that the words will have stirred something in Gegrun, an orc who must be far from his home. One of the waitresses arrives with the two fresh mugs of ale; unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome, and Menace pushes one of the mugs into Gegrun’s hand. Gegrun smiles.
“That’s nice,” he says, uncomfortable in the limelight.
“Would you like to be part of my clan?”
“Well… you did say smashing a lot,” Gegrun says, wringing his hands, “and ma always did say I was good at smashing.” He smiles again.
“That you certainly are! Your ma must have been a very smart woman to see that!” Menace says laughing. “I will be here in Daring Heights for another week or so before I return to my home. Much work, adventure and smashing still to be done! But I hope you will come with me then. I can already tell, this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.”
(Three Body Problem - 10.09.19 Session writeup) Gegrun & Menace
“So… wait. He had three hands? And two were his?”
Gegrun leans forward on the edge of the table, brow furrowed, gruff mountain drawl reverberating in the surroundings. The beer-stained wooden tabletop tilts, and Menace’s full mug of ale slides toward the edge of the table. The red tiefling reaches out and lets it slide into his palm and takes a beleaguered swig, gesturing in the air with his other hand. The Three-Headed Ettin is particularly abuzz with conversation, and the two contrasting figures go unheeded in their corner of the bar.
“No,” Menace says, with the expression of a man treading ground that has previously already been trodden quite thoroughly, several times, with limited success, “he was taking them for his experiments.” Menace sits back with a wry grin, comfortable with jumping to that particular conclusion. He steeples his fingers for a few minutes before he’s satisfied entertaining that particular cliché, and leans back forward into the table.
“And… the four eyes? And the two hearts?”
“Also for the experiments.”
“Right,” Gegrun nods, eyes gazing into the middle distance, plumbing previously unexplored depths of intellect. He adjusts his weight on the stool, eliciting a load creak, and strokes the uneven stubble on his chin.
“So… what were those things under there with him? His experiminents?” Gegrun stumbles over the unfamiliar word.
“Yes. No, wait, maybe… Perhaps?” Menace ventures, surprised by his own lack of conviction. “Those abominations did look like they were stitched together, but if that mysterious gnome who stole,” Menaces pauses for a second, mind drawing a blank, “what was his name again?”
“Keith,” Gegrun said with a beaming smile and conviction.
“I’m sure it wasn’t. Anyway, if this gnome who stole the other gnome’s face has been carving up his victims solely for hands, eyes and hearts, then he is clearly a few parts short to make a full abom-” he pauses, as he notices Gegrun’s puzzled look, ”-monster. So, the best he could do is create a monster that consists entirely of hearts, eyes and hands, ahaha!” Menace chuckles, then as the mental image of the horror just described fully forms in his mind, reaches for his ale and takes a deep draft, turning pensive.
“He might be doing many things. Maybe he has killed before, escaping notice, and he is now only harvesting spare parts? Maybe he needs these for another, novel, even bolder creation yet? We just don't know… What Corporal Danes told us is that people have gone missing, their bodies turning up mutilated, always in groups of threes. They have nothing in common, except their bodies being dumped near the Red House. That led us to Vas’ and the beggars’ hideout, and from there to the spooky house next to Nerry’s pie-shop, where we found this knave and his experiments. Given that we may have disturbed his operations now, yet failed to apprehend him, the gnome, or whatever he truly is, may change up his pattern. This isn't over yet.”
Menace puts his mug down on the table, puts on his winning smile that shows his incisors, and pats Gegrun’s massive hand. Even while sitting down, the orc towers a good two heads above him. Gegrun hunches a little in the chair, which squeaks in protest again.
“But you have done very well today, Gegrun! I am very glad I met you and can now call you my friend.” he says smiling, carefully pronouncing the word.
“You seem like a good orc Gegrun, a good man. Someone who can do much good here. Yes, I think you will do smashingly!” He winks, leaving the massive orc to wonder if a fly had buzzed by too close for comfort.
“The big sky voice tells me to be nice. I try to be nice,” Gegrun says, nodding in agreement. He stares for a second, wondering if the big sky voice had something to do with the weird vision he’d had once he’d killed that scary creature with the big cleavery-thing.
“You know,” Menace continues, “I am always looking for such a good, smashing man myself. I could use your help. I come from a town further that way,” he says, pointing in the general southern direction behind him, his red finger so happening to be observed by Coll the barkeep, who interprets it as a refill order, “and I do much good there myself. I look out for people. The children especially, those who don’t have parents anymore, no clan of their own. I give them a clan. I make them my clan.” he pauses, letting this sink in, hoping that the words will have stirred something in Gegrun, an orc who must be far from his home. One of the waitresses arrives with the two fresh mugs of ale; unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome, and Menace pushes one of the mugs into Gegrun’s hand. Gegrun smiles.
“That’s nice,” he says, uncomfortable in the limelight.
“Would you like to be part of my clan?”
“Well… you did say smashing a lot,” Gegrun says, wringing his hands, “and ma always did say I was good at smashing.” He smiles again.
“That you certainly are! Your ma must have been a very smart woman to see that!” Menace says laughing. “I will be here in Daring Heights for another week or so before I return to my home. Much work, adventure and smashing still to be done! But I hope you will come with me then. I can already tell, this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.”
