Oblivion short 8
Feb. 14th, 2007 07:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cmdr_zoomThe owner of the Five Claws, whose name sounded like "Witsydeucy" to most non-Argonian ears, was sweeping up the last of the mess in the common room when the two orcs entered. "... get a big surprise when he shows up tonight," Thag was saying to his companion. "We wait here 'till then, get some rest, go back a little before midnight."
"And then the Count will make us both knights," Mazoga said eagerly. It was all she'd talked about since they'd been tasked with eliminating the leader of the Black Bow bandits.
Thag nodded, and found himself staring at her again. By orcish standards, Mazoga was quite a beauty. Her smooth skin was the color of fresh cabbage; her teeth were sharp and even. Her short hair was gathered into a dozen small coup knots, leaving her crown mostly bare. She was tall and strong, gruff and demanding, and very stubborn - everything a warrior might desire in a woman. Thag had been smitten with her ever since his first visit to Leyawiin.
Fighter's Guild business had brought him back to this town on the edge of the Black Marsh. Some of his guild-brothers had been making trouble here in this very inn, for lack of anything better to do; Thag had set that right quickly enough, paying for their drinks and the furniture they'd broken (plus a few hundred to soothe the innkeeper's ruffled temper) and then going out the next morning to find them honest work gathering monster parts for the local alchemist. With that handled, he'd gone in search of Mazoga and found her in the same place as before: standing in the castle's main hall, waiting for a chance to prove herself worthy. Thag could sympathize with that, even if he hadn't been in love.
"What?" Mazoga snapped peevishly; she'd caught him mooning over her. Mumbling something, Thag turned away and went over to the bar, giving it a thump to get the Argonian's attention. "Need a room, for the rest of the day!"
Witsydeucy looked up from her sweeping, giving him a slow blink of her lizard eyes in place of a shrug. "You already paid for the bed," she informed him in her scratchy, hissing voice. "It's yours if you want it."
By his own reckoning, what Thag did next took as much courage as stepping through the first Oblivion gate at Kvatch. (Then, as now, he had no idea what awaited him on the other side.) Trying to act casual, he turned back to Mazoga and asked, "Want to share it?" As soon as he'd said the words, he tensed, bracing himself for the fist or the axe, or just a simple "No" and her walking away forever. He wasn't sure which would hurt more.
Mazoga took a moment to think about it, then answered, "Okay."
They didn't break any more furniture, but it was a near thing.
"And then the Count will make us both knights," Mazoga said eagerly. It was all she'd talked about since they'd been tasked with eliminating the leader of the Black Bow bandits.
Thag nodded, and found himself staring at her again. By orcish standards, Mazoga was quite a beauty. Her smooth skin was the color of fresh cabbage; her teeth were sharp and even. Her short hair was gathered into a dozen small coup knots, leaving her crown mostly bare. She was tall and strong, gruff and demanding, and very stubborn - everything a warrior might desire in a woman. Thag had been smitten with her ever since his first visit to Leyawiin.
Fighter's Guild business had brought him back to this town on the edge of the Black Marsh. Some of his guild-brothers had been making trouble here in this very inn, for lack of anything better to do; Thag had set that right quickly enough, paying for their drinks and the furniture they'd broken (plus a few hundred to soothe the innkeeper's ruffled temper) and then going out the next morning to find them honest work gathering monster parts for the local alchemist. With that handled, he'd gone in search of Mazoga and found her in the same place as before: standing in the castle's main hall, waiting for a chance to prove herself worthy. Thag could sympathize with that, even if he hadn't been in love.
"What?" Mazoga snapped peevishly; she'd caught him mooning over her. Mumbling something, Thag turned away and went over to the bar, giving it a thump to get the Argonian's attention. "Need a room, for the rest of the day!"
Witsydeucy looked up from her sweeping, giving him a slow blink of her lizard eyes in place of a shrug. "You already paid for the bed," she informed him in her scratchy, hissing voice. "It's yours if you want it."
By his own reckoning, what Thag did next took as much courage as stepping through the first Oblivion gate at Kvatch. (Then, as now, he had no idea what awaited him on the other side.) Trying to act casual, he turned back to Mazoga and asked, "Want to share it?" As soon as he'd said the words, he tensed, bracing himself for the fist or the axe, or just a simple "No" and her walking away forever. He wasn't sure which would hurt more.
Mazoga took a moment to think about it, then answered, "Okay."
They didn't break any more furniture, but it was a near thing.
