Welcome to the Yellow Quarter. Part 2

Posted by gotrek860 on February 7th, 2008 filed in Fan Fiction and tagged as , , , , .

Hail Wesnothian! If this is your first visit you may want to subscribe to our RSS feed. Enjoy!

“Come git your Ogres!! Saurians and ‘rolls! You ask i’ I goot i’!”

Good, he is before the customers arrive. The sand slows down the wheels of his heavy carriage but soon enough it is in the middle of the market square. Only three of us are interested in his wares. Two orcs looking for saurians slaves grab the iron bars and push their fanged faces,  snarling at the lizards.

“You got what I asked for?”

But my question is quite rhetorical, it’s obvious he got what I wanted, they are sitting in a wagon separate from the other slaves gnawing at a bunch of bones,three huge creatures. No , two big creatures larger and taller then any orc I’ve ever seen and one even taller then the others, he is so big in fact he looks like an adult amongst youths.

“Aye I goot it… The big one is yours, as arranged.”

“Send your wife and daughters whenever they see fit, they’ll get the material and silk for the wedding.” That thief knows how to haggle but he hasn’t tricked me on the merchandise.

He takes his whip, steps down and moves towards the cage. Now all eyes in the market square are on us. Even the Beast seller seems impressed,  good that’s just what I wanted.

“Come on you , get out.” The creature grumbles and gets out, it seems to accept is sorry state. No resistance, very surprising for a being his size, he could kill us all in an instant, even the orcs wouldn’t hold him more than a few seconds. As he stands up his shadow covers those behind him as even a storm had suddenly appeared in the sky. He is as strong as a bull , with a huge belly, but he doesn’t seem fat, his whole presence radiates with pure natural strength.

“Once you manacle them and get them away from their homeland they don’t resist anymore, they get lost easy you see.”Explains Grimrog as he hands me the rope that the ogre is attached to.  How in the Far North, am I going to control such a behemoth…

“Needn’t worry, feed him often…and he won’t rebel, you don’t even have to chain him. I tell you they get lost.” Is that supposed to reassure me? I can’t gather the courage to even look at the Ogre’s face… I turn round, pulling slightly on the rope and move back to my tent without uttering a word. Gweldyn says something as I pull it in side my tent, but I don’t hear it.

Four days have passed, the Ogre seems quite content with his lot. He just stands by my tent and grunts menacingly at customers when I tap the table twice. It’s a code I taught him. Very effective. he understands simple things, but can’t talk. When you look into his eyes it’s likeseeing a child. He seems innocent…no retarded. Such a brutal being can’t be innocent for sure. No more than a wolf or a bear. I’m not even sure he has a soul…

I consider him more as a pet than a bodyguard. I don’t see him as a slave, that’s for sure, he is never tied to anything, and free to go. But like Grimrog said, he seems always lost, and never ventures far. The only place where he seems at ease is in the “mountains’ pebbles”, a group of hills a couple of miles away from the mountain, near the guild’s mercenary garrison. It’s like a miniature mountain , it looks like an offspring growing a little distance away from its tree. Festog really is a fascinating place…the sooner I can leave it the better. It’s the kind of city you like to visit for exotic scenery but fear to live in…survive in I should say.

“Marcellino, you worthless crook! have you got my fabrics?”

Oh, it’s that pompous captain again, the Ogre groans at his sight. I think he doesn’t like him, nor do I. Especially since that incident in the park when he and his men chased the ogre on horseback for fun and when they caught up with him , they whipped  him with the flat of their swords…Sometimes I wonder who is the monster.

“Yes , Captain, bright red like you ordered, you’ll make a grand cape with this.”

“Ah! fine quality….calm your beast down or I’ll have to calm it myself.” He said that, without even looking at the Ogre, in a tone of  voice so cold I could feel a shiver running down my spine. The ogre didn’t catch it though, nothing scared him.

“Hush! hush! Bad Ogre!” I’ll definitely have to give him a name…

That greedy captain hands  reluctantly his gold and moves away with a malevolent smile on his face…goodness that man makes me feel uneasy.

“Marcellino! It’s aperitif time!” Good old Gweldyn , he comes with the butcher from the left stall they have their glasses ready. It’s my moment of relaxation. I take out the bottle from under my table and place it on the a napkin. The Grappa, I get sent here every year, the caravans bring it with out delay . The brew they make here is alright by orcish standards, but I like my drink better.Every drop reminds me of home.

“Ah Marcellino that captain is your customer? What an upstart asshole.”

“Yes Gweldyn but he pays well…”

“I hear the city guards have had to deal with a riot in one of the border quarters. This mercenary captain doesn’t see much action, a little riot might put him back in his place.”

Gweldyn and I laugh at the remark.

“Ain’t no riot here, this is the Yellow quarter, the merchants hip gold so high here, a thief has trouble stealing an apple without being shot before he even gets his hand out of his pocket.”

“True Gweldyn, but you never know , those swamp slums gangs might get powerful…We’d lose our sleep then.”

The butcher’s remark made us silent, there were rumours of successful gangs in the slums. Even successful enough to compete with the orc clans.

“I see our two other neighbours got some young ogres, too, they are feeling edgy… you have started a fashion Marcellino!”

“Yeah mine seems to hang around with them when the market is closed. As long as he keeps an eye on my stuff I don’t care. I have come to trust him…”

On that, we separated for our day’s business. But that afternoon business would be cut short.

To be continued…