It's on my radar, but no noise.
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Gus stands, looking confused, or maybe just the same as he always looks as the exchange occurs. Goat keeps bleating at him, until he scratches her on the head absent-mindedly.
"Ah ain't made me mind up 'bout hurtin' 'em or not, missy!" Gus stares at the orc. "WHY DON' YOU UNNERSTAND ME?"
"Why ya kneelin', halflin'? Ain't nothin' a bully respects more'n strength." He turns back to the orc and unslings his morningstar, waving it around wildly. "LEARN TA SPEAK A PROPER LANG'GE." He adds in exaggerated tones.
Gus spits again. He scratches his crotch idly. "Ah don't s'pose none ya speak Goat, do ye?" Goat bleats angrily and lowers his head.
Gus spits. He nods to the half-orcs and speaks in Common, because it's all he can barely speak. "Ayup, pleasure ta meetcha, too."
Gus shrugs. "Reckon me n' Goat can go be hospit'ble. Say hello 'n such." He stands up, brushes himself off, whistles to Goat and goes walking boldly toward the building as if he was meant to be here.
Gus looks around, spits. He scratches himself. Then he shrugs. "Ah jes' flipped a switch. Don't never mind where or when it brought me. Reckon we should still find yer cousin, right?"
Gus and Goat don't so much sneak as walk. They try to emulate the slinking wolf, but it doesn't seem to translate as well to Gus as Goat.
Gus frowns and spits. "Ah flipp'd a switch. If that dun this... Ah better not flip anymoor."
Gus spits, staring at the talking doll. "Huh. Ah'm Gus. This's Goat. Goat, don' be eatin' the little man. Now. Bout dem orcs?"
Gus makes a harumphing noise in his throat. "Orcs. On the ship. Huh."
Gus stares out at the ship, then to Goat, who stands idly munching on a sliver of wood.
Gus stares at the clean(?) sewer. He bends down, sniffs his own boots, then sniff's Goat's hooves. "There's a sewer here, right? Ah'm not dreamin't, ami?"
"Huh. Welp, if'n this's the end o' the road, then the halflin' ain't here. Ah guess Ah'm headin' back up." Gus whistles to Goat and turns to head back to the surface since this was obviously a dead end.
"Magic. Makes things dark. Not useful." Gus mutters and lights a torch.
Gus peers around, but the strange room unnerves him. With a loud "BAAAA!" and a raucous fart, the Goat agrees.
"Interlock? What interlocks?" Gus turns around to stare at the halfling and the talking wolf.
Gus spits to get the minty aftertaste out of his mouth. He picks up and pockets the strange little metal pieces. Feeling a bit out of place and awkward, he walks to the strange runes and stars prodding them with his morningstar.
Gus sniffs the pieces, stares hard at them, and finally, put it in his mouth and rolls it around a bit. He spits it out and picks up the rest of the pieces. "ain't nothing special."
"Huh." Gus says, idly scratching his bum. He shrugs and slouches into the room, moving to the curved metal scraps and picking one up.
Gus stares into the room, noting the strange carvings. "What is that then?"
"Ain't no expert in traps 'n such, least not like this." He peers into the chamber as much as he can and inspects things.
Gus shrugs. "If'n its alive and it ain't talkin', Ah got no time ta mess wit' it." He tosses the doll to the halfling and continues down the path.
Gus looks hard at the halfling, shakes his head, then walks over and picks up the child's toy. "If'n it ain't respondin', Ah ken give it to Goat fer a treat." He starts to offer it to the tender mercies of Goat, who bleats happily.
Gus suddenly stops and peers back toward the way they've came. "Did som'un forget they have a toy soldier? Cause there's some sort o' tiny metal man follerin' us back there."
Gus murmurs something in a low voice that sounds remarkably like a goat bleating and the head of his morningstar glows with faint light. He holds it up and moves cautiously forward, Goat at his heel, bleating softly.
"Ah'm Gus. This's Goat. Ah dunno nothin' bout that dog thar."
Gus chews on his stalk of wheat thoughtfully. Except you can see no thoughts in his eyes. The Goat bleats and steps forward, and Gus shrugs. "Ah reckon if you need some'un to find the li'l guy, Goat and me'll help. Yep. Don't much mind sewers. Never saw the problem with a little odor."
Overhearing the directions, Gus nods slowly, whistles for Sheep and begins ambling toward the Town Hall.
The goatish looking fellow in the goatskin armor with his pet goat stands alone, mainly because everyone he stood next to made gagging sounds and moved swiftly away. He waits, one hand on his morningstar, the other on his goat, who chews at a tapestry that obviously was much more valuable just a few moments before. He mutters to the goat as he stands, "Ah reckon Ah met Cruril once. Short feller. Didn't much care for the way 'e looked at me. But if'n his people wanna pay fer some'un ta go find him, Ah reckon we can. Been a might bored since them owlbears et the herd. Yep."
"Ah don't reckon it's anyone's biz'ness what a consentin' adult and a consentin' she-goat gets up ta when the night's lonely and the mead's fermented..."
Skald is also a common tongue in Irrisen.
Gus never meant to be a hero. He meant to be a shepherd, but sheep hated him with a burning passion. After nearly being mauled by a herd he was demoted to goatherd. And the goats LOVED him. And he loved the goats. But not in a carnal fashion. At least not often. Over the next five years he spent most of his time with the goats, living in lean-to's or small shacks in moonlit fields, eating what he caught (mostly quail) or what he could fish (mostly trout) or what he could gather (mostly dandelions.) But he learned about nature. And goats. And he became attached to one of the goats, a fierce fellow he creatively named Goat. Gus grew to be a man. A shaggy, ill-mannered man. Who reeked of goats. Women tended to avoid him. Children tended to throw things at him. But the goats? The goats loved him. And their's was the only opinion that mattered. And then came the lucky day. While moving to a new pasture, Gus came across a body. The man was dead, having been devoured by one of the local monsters that frequently tried to steal his goats. But what the man left behind was magical. A beautifully made morningstar, good for whacking things with. A wooden shield of a fine darkwood, good for hiding behind. A magical bead that turned into a campfire! And oh so many jewels. With his new fortune he had a set of beautiful goatskin armor made, with a matching goat horn helm. Gus the Goat was born! And then everything went downhill...
"Ah reckon Ah'm ready t'go. If'n you don't mind mah hayseed speakin' ways."
Gus the Shepherd is now kitted out. Gus was fortunate enough to come across the body of a dead adventurer and procured his masterwork morningstar and darkwood shield. He commissioned the goatskin hide armor with his findings. Also, he has a prized campfire bead, the envy of all the other goatherds. Gus is a happy, happy man.
I'd like to throw a hat in the arena with the great Hero, Gus the shepherd! And his goat.
"Oh, mate. 'Tis a sorrow when a loved one dies, tain't it? Best not to run off 'alfcocked, tho'."
"You mean there's folk who'll go and kill this thing without us? Where are they then? I just came 'long to fetch me sheep, is all." Gus pulls Louise Mae's leash closer.
Lunch was brought out; a feast by anyones reckoning. Sheep steak, boiled potatoes, and roasted beans. "Oh. Look away, Louise May. It's nae anyone you ken."
Gus never wanted to be a hero. In fact he just followed the group to the Ogre's cave because his prize prettiest sheep Louise May chased after them and like Da always said, 'When a pretty one goes running, you ken bet the boys'll be chasin'.' And Louise May WAS his prettiest sheep and oh so friendly, so he went along with the group, just to get 'er back. Then Bob got et. He liked Bob. Bob was kind to 'im, on account of Bob was a serial horse buggerer. Can't look down on a man for lovin' his sheep when you bugger horses, Gus reckoned. So 'ere 'e was, with his sheep on a string finally and sittin' in the pub gettin' toasted and blasted and off to see that Ogre run off. His courage was just about fired up when the waitresses took away the beer and the lot of them marched out of the pub. "Well," Gus said to his prettiest sheep, Louise May, "This adventurin' life bain't so bad, is it?" |