Midnight RPG - Chapter 19.121

Andrew/Durgaz

This scene would take place the evening before Durgaz departs with the Arrows to head north (or the morning, if we are to travel at night.) I can't remember how much detail we went into on where and how Radagug was being held; I had imagined it as being fairly comfortable quarters, but with guards stationed outside the door to make sure he did not go anywhere. In any case, that is where Durgaz goes, walking past the guards and into his brother's room.

Durgaz: "I go north with the albai tomorrow, Radagug. I will not return to this place for a long time, if ever. Are you coming with us?"

RADAGUG

Somewhere deep within a thicket of brush columned within the tree-top cottages of the elven Hamlet, the 'cell' that was given to the orc Radagug stands seperate from the main community of the denizens of the Hamlet. By his very nature, as docile as the 'Freedom' could make him the orc that is Durgaz's brother still inspired fear and danger when brought into the elven community. Durgaz has been heralded a hero within the Hamlet - Radagug is neither a hero nor a willing and welcome guest.

Though at Durgaz's suggestion he has not been held in chains, his cottage is of less compliment than those of the pathwalkers. The tree hollows that would normally look out onto the prominade of the Academy of Whispers is barred over with the vines of the forest. Natural bars - but bars none-the-less.

Outside the grand oak along the massive branches looming some 75-100 feet over the forest floor stand the Maudre, the Summer Guard of the Elven people. Regal and solumn in nature, these warriors fear nothing but letting their people fall. That they will not see happen, if their armor, bows and spirit will have it.

the MAUDRE

As Durgaz walks closer to the elven guard, he can see their knuckles whiten... The natural way of things when faced with such a brute. This readied position is quickly overtaken by nods to the orc warrior that has been acclaimed by the Witch Queen herself. Knowingly the left guard reaches in pushing open the natural door to the cottage in which Radagug presides. Once open, Durgaz's eyes adjust to a darkened open room. The colors fade as a blackened room turns into the grayed interior illuminated by Durgaz's darkvision. His elder brother slumps in the crease of wall and floor directly to the opposite of the room as the door gapes open. Durgaz steps in and the door clasps behind him as the bark of the tree locks them inside.

Claw marks grind the wooden floor. Radagug doesn't sleep in trees, this is obvious. There is no dirt or mud for his feet and finger claws to grip into when the dreams come... The 'Freedom' gave way sometime in the night. The elder orc shivers on the floor, a slight white foam oozes from his lip. The smell of the room is a mix of urine, bile and fecies. You can hear the dry scrapes of your brother's finger nail-claws as they rake up and down his groin, an extreme rash from his alergy to "something elven" you would imagine...

Radagug is a discusting site. But this is the way of things. Orcs are not meant for this hovel within the trees. You know this because of the difficulty you've had 'adjusting' to what the others consider luxury. The bed (like yours) in Radagug's cottage has gone unused, save the rips and tears in the quits in search of nesting materials... A broth still bubbles in the cauldron of the fireplace from the day you put Radagug in this cottage, he hasn't eaten any of the "elf food", he's refused everything not to mention the Elven Teas.

The old orc gurgles. The gurgle slips into a lite growl as his dry voice cracks at you... "... n...norrrth?..." he questions... "...what is north to you deer bruther? Have you remembered you are not of the fairies amoung these filthy trees? Have your senses come back to you? No? Do you still ignore the Shadow Wives bruther? Tell me... what is it you creep toward the crack of doom for deer bruther? If it's guidenance you seek deer bruther, I can give you that - just give me a blade... huhuhuh...."

Radagug, almost playfully jests with you - as he would when you were children. Taunting but at the same time looking for answers that he never had. You always did have the answers he would say. You always thought you knew the way... So... brash... so... hateful. You finally see his eyes as your older brother looks up - his face is withered and tired, he can't sleep in this place. His cravings for the drug seem strong - but he won't ask you for more... that would be weak. He won't show weakness... not... again...

"huhhuh... coming WITH you bruther? Tell me where you're going... Tell me who these albai you go with are... My mind is my own even still, little bruther. Is yours?"

Durgaz

Radagug: "...what is north to you deer bruther? Have you remembered you are not of the fairies amoung these filthy trees?"

Durgaz: "You are correct. I do not belong here. The pollen in the air irritates my eyes; the bright lights and strong smells of plants in bloom make my skull ache. I cannot sleep in these beds of elf-make, and their food is bland and lacking in the flavors relished by our kind. But I am not here to enjoy myself. I am here to bring the Vile to justice, and to find out where I must travel next. I have done these things, and now I will be leaving."

Radagug: "Have your senses come back to you? No? Do you still ignore the Shadow Wives bruther?"

Durgaz: Durgaz pauses, staring intently into Radagug's beady black eyes. "I am no slave to the Shadow Wives any longer ... brother. And neither are you, if you only had the strength and vision to realize it. How many days have you been here, Radagug? How many hours have you slept? And how about your dreams?"

Radagug: "Tell me... what is it you creep toward the crack of doom for deer bruther? If it's guidenance you seek deer bruther, I can give you that - just give me a blade... huhuhuh...."

Durgaz: Durgaz reaches behind him, his left hand drawing a one-handed vardatch from a sheath at his waist and his right hand drawing the mighty vardatch he claimed from Talûn-karkû from its place across his back. Holding the one-handed vardatch by its blade, he extends the hilt to Radagug. Speaking in a low growl, in Orcish: "Watch yourself, Radagug the Dog. You could not hope to best me in a fair fight under the best of circumstances. If you wish me to give you a blade, so that you might give me 'guidance', take this one; and I will use my own to add your blood to the filth in which you you wallow."

(Consider that an Intimidate check, if necessary.)

Radagug: "huhhuh... coming WITH you bruther? Tell me where you're going... Tell me who these albai you go with are... "

Durgaz: "I will tell you nothing more than you need to know, and you need to know nothing. Do I understand that you would rather stay here, in this dingy prison of elf-make, and die in your own filth?"

"The albai I travel with are scouts, forest guards, wielders of bow and sword. From what I have seen, their tactics are not unlike the ones you yourself have made your own. Maybe there is something you could learn from them. Or they from you."

(This is a quasi-attempt to goad Radagug; comparing his wildlander technique to that of the Arrows is probably somewhat on par with telling your brother that he could play basketball for the WNBA. Sure, it's professional basketball, which is good, but my suspicion is that most guys would still take it as a backhanded compliment at best. In Durgaz's case, it should be clearly that he genuinely respects the Arrows' skills, but brings it up knowing that Radagug will probably not appreciate being compared to elves of any type.)

Radagug: "My mind is my own even still, little bruther. Is yours?"

Durgaz: "Is it? Good. Then any decisions you make are yours as well, and the consequences yours to suffer. So I will offer you this choice once more; travel to the north with me and the albai, or stay here in your hovel until I return to offer you another choice, knowing that that day may never come. I took you from the Vile's camp to offer you options, and here is your first one. If you do not choose to take it, it is not my place to force you."

RADAGUG

[on bringing the Vile to justice, and to finding where to travel next]

A patronizing grin creeps across the pathetic orc's mug...

"...justice?... justice?? bruther... What more justice is there than crushing your enemies and seeing them driven before you? You offer no orc-made justice bruther. You give out elf-made pity. You give me a choice to be free but I have never asked for freedom, all I wish is to die in battle and kneel before the lord in hopes he saw my death strong enough to warrent entrance into the Scar. Where will you find your worth now bruther? now that you have divorced the wives?"

[on being a slave to the Shadow Wives]

"...dream... sleep... I cannot in this land, in these fey-made hovels. I am not a bird, yet you sit me in a tree. I am your prisoner, yet you offer no pain so that I can find my way back to the wife whores of my dreams... You make a mistake little bruther... you place your misguided ways on me, when I have not asked for them. I do not have the visions as the tribe mothers say you do, if I did I would have used them to become strong. I had nothing in life but beatings for being the lesser of the cubs our mother spit out. You speak with bluster bruther, you can afford it - I was neither granted your vision or your strength, yet you preach to me to change? How very patronizing you are bruther. How arrogant! It is only in these times that I know you are orc and not fairy-make... little bruther...."

Radugug's breeding continue his defiance. Moment to moment Durgaz can see a glimmer of hope for change in the flesh of his elder brother, but his words spit and hiss venom mixed with more questions to understand the choice of Durgaz and how to make it for himself... if he were to do so...

[On offering Radagug the vardatch...]

ROLL: Durgaz (Intimidate +21) ROLLED: 12+21 = 33
With this roll...

The orc, large for the elven-made cottage - yet small to his orc kin, pulls his knees up under his chin shaking slowly. If it's fear that makes him do so, the need for the drug masks it well. Either way, Radagug buries his head beneath his crossed arms on his knees, turning his head slightly - enough to spat a spew of bile and foam onto the elven floor...

"...huhuhuh.... 'the Dog', you talk down to me bruther as though you ascended to a higher plain. The heavens were cut off long ago little orc and you cannot fly - that I am aware. So don't look on me as a lesser, little bruther! I have made my way in the world with what I have been given. You should look to me as your elder and better, but you and the others never saw the benefits of my ways... Until you need 'my ways' that is. Me and my 'dogs' found the Vile in the open planes without the aid of visions or prophecy. Me and my 'dogs' took your place at the head of the line in the Talûn-karkû when you ran from us. You speak large little bruther, you taunt and hiss, but all you can do is prove that you have no mind of your own. You continue to rub your superiority in my face. I don't deny you could best me in matched arms bruther... So take your trophies and find another pedestal to preach from. I never asked for a 'fair fight' little bruther... because I was never given one to begin with."

[On learning something from the elves...]

Radagug looks up to Durgaz again, still slouched in his bile... and he begins to laugh...

"...learn... LEARN how to catch fire and burn? Learn to bathe and primp my goldy-locks? Learn to die for a cause that offers no reward...? Little bruther, have those visions driven you mad? You are a fairy aren't you? Did they polymagic you into an elf? Did they cut your orchood from you? Did you cry into your elven pillow last night little bruther, hoping and wishing that I would profess my undying gratitude to you... follow you to the ends of Aryth? Be loyal to a traitor? Little bruther, you are mad..."

It's quite obvious that Radagug continues his passive agressive pushing on Durgaz, to see just how far he can go. To see if his brother is still ORC. At the same time, leaving openings to understand...

[On Durgaz's offer to travel North...]

....pushing his meaty hands against the elf-treewall Radagug's claws sink into the old Oak, if it could sheirk from pain it would - as Durgaz sees the holes made in the wood as the elder orc clamps his toe claws into the floorboards to prop his way to a croutched stand leaning against the wall... He reaches out, at first looking as though his paw was going for the vardatch offered seconds ago. But the slow hand motion makes known his intention. Up and down the insides of Radagug's arms and legs are the track-marks of dozens of dead. The Scar Marks denoting his kills. No orc yet lies on his rank of kills, only elf, halfling, elfling and a smatter of humans marks his might. The orc scout must have three dozen such marks, the majority elf - and he seems proud of it.

Radagug reaches his hand forward...

"I will travel with you North bruther. Today is a good day to die."

Durgaz

Radagug: "...justice?... justice?? bruther... What more justice is there than crushing your enemies and seeing them driven before you? You offer no orc-made justice bruther. You give out elf-made pity. You give me a choice to be free but I have never asked for freedom, all I wish is to die in battle and kneel before the lord in hopes he saw my death strong enough to warrent entrance into the Scar. Where will you find your worth now bruther? now that you have divorced the wives?"

Durgaz: Durgaz spits. "You speak of things you know nothing about; if you are intent on proving yourself a fool, go right ahead. Did you not know that the Vile wanted us to kill him, so that he would be reborn in a new body? No, of course you did not, and neither did the Worm, for neither of you knows anything more than whose who hold your leashes deign to tell you. It would have brough me great pleasure to slay the Vile, to tear out his heart and drink his lifeblood, but to do so would have been to play right into his hands. So I spared his life, and now he faces an eternity of solitude and impotence as his earthly shell rots around him, his whimpers unheard by his master and unheeded by his guardians. If that is pity, Radagug, pray that I do not grant you the same courtesy."

"You never asked for freedom, Radagug, because you know nothing of freedom. Neither did I, before my eyes were opened and my manacles smashed. If a day comes when you have seen what you might be without the Shadow's yoke and you still choose to reject it, I will gladly send you to your lord myself, and you can kneel and mewl at his feet and beg that he might show you the great honor of letting you into his kingdom. I, though, will die on my feet, fighting for a cause of my own choosing, and should my spirit come before the All-Father, I will spit in his face and have my soul torn to pieces a thousand times before I kneel before him. A slave is merely unfortunate; a slave who scrapes and bows and loves his master in spite of everything is a pathetic creature, worthy only of disgust. It is not befitting of our people, Radagug, and if you are too weak and blind to see that, then I have clearly judged you too highly."

Radagug: "...huhuhuh.... 'the Dog', you talk down to me bruther as though you ascended to a higher plain. The heavens were cut off long ago little orc and you cannot fly - that I am aware. So don't look on me as a lesser, little bruther! I have made my way in the world with what I have been given. You should look to me as your elder and better, but you and the others never saw the benefits of my ways... Until you need 'my ways' that is. Me and my 'dogs' found the Vile in the open planes without the aid of visions or prophecy. Me and my 'dogs' took your place at the head of the line in the Talûn-karkû when you ran from us. You speak large little bruther, you taunt and hiss, but all you can do is prove that you have no mind of your own. You continue to rub your superiority in my face. I don't deny you could best me in matched arms bruther... So take your trophies and find another pedestal to preach from. I never asked for a 'fair fight' little bruther... because I was never given one to begin with."

Durgaz: "Oh, spare me your tears, brother. Poor little Radagug, born too small and weak to lift a durvardatch by himself. Nobody cares for Radagug until they need someone to skulk in the shadows, to fight from hiding, to take on a task worthy only of goblins. Does wallowing in self-pity make you feel stronger, Radagug? Does imagining yourself some put-upon victim make your own failings less painful? Listen to me, and listen well. I did not come here to seek your approval. I see you as a 'lesser' only because you insist upon clinging so strongly to such a pathetic existence. You think yourself a warrior, an orc of his own mind, and yet you blindly follow the orders of your superiors, never considering that other paths might even exist. You do not need to ascend to a higher plane to realize this truth; you need only open your damned eyes."

"Could I have found my way out of the Shadow's grasp without the sight, the visions that plague my dreams and waking thoughts alike? I don't pretend to know. I doubt it. If you can, maybe you are stronger than I. But I don't see any strength here; all I see here is a beaten prisoner squatting in his own filth, too beaten and frightened to leave his cell even after the door is opened for him. If you are your own orc, and not a 'lesser', prove it. Not to me, for I have neither the authority nor the interest to judge you. Prove it to yourself, brother."

Radagug: "...learn... LEARN how to catch fire and burn? Learn to bathe and primp my goldy-locks? Learn to die for a cause that offers no reward...? Little bruther, have those visions driven you mad? You are a fairy aren't you? Did they polymagic you into an elf? Did they cut your orchood from you? Did you cry into your elven pillow last night little bruther, hoping and wishing that I would profess my undying gratitude to you... follow you to the ends of Aryth? Be loyal to a traitor? Little bruther, you are mad..."

Durgaz: "You ... judge me by the company I keep? That's rich, coming from one who trucks with goblins, the lowest of the low, the shit-scrapers and blood-sniffers of the Kranklobûrz. I respect these albai not for their soft beds and combed hair, but for their prowess in battle and their willingness to fight for their cause, even when vastly outnumbered. Their customs may seem foppish and weak to such as you and I, but recall the tales told about the ghosts of the Veradeen, those who strike from the forest and leave nothing but slashed throats and pierced eyes where once stood the Shadow's most brutal footsoldiers. I have seen these albai in combat. They are as brave and fierce as any orc, and much moreso than the misshapen little beasts in whose company you have spent the past eight years.

"And do you really think you can discomfit me with your little crèche-taunts? Should I flee from this place in tears, so wounded am I by your witty wordplay? Or do you wish to make me angry, perhaps enough to beat you bloody, break your nose and possibly a few fingers as I did so many times when we were younglings, so that you can curl up in a ball, here in your own waste, and feel sorry for yourself some more? Poor Radagug, who was never given a fair chance at life, but was too afraid to take one when it was offered to him. You think I seek your gratitude? Your loyalty? I don't give a damn about those. What I seek is a reason to believe that my own people, my own blood, might be strong enough to break free from the influence of that great stain in the North that used them as playthings, making promises it would never deliver, whispering to them that they were his special children but granting dominion over them to the weakest of his human servants. What I seek is a future for the Kranklobûrz that does not involve dying by the score for a cause that will destroy them all in its execution. What I seek is a glimmer of hope that my own people are not all stupid enough to continue servicing the very machine that will mean their deaths. This is not about you or me. This is about standing up when you did not even realize you were on your knees."

....pushing his meaty hands against the elf-treewall Radagug's claws sink into the old Oak, if it could sheirk from pain it would - as Durgaz sees the holes made in the wood as the elder orc clamps his toe claws into the floorboards to prop his way to a croutched stand leaning against the wall... He reaches out, at first looking as though his paw was going for the vardatch offered seconds ago. But the slow hand motion makes known his intention. Up and down the insides of Radagug's arms and legs are the track-marks of dozens of dead. The Scar Marks denoting his kills. No orc yet lies on his rank of kills, only elf, halfling, elfling and a smatter of humans marks his might. The orc scout must have three dozen such marks, the majority elf - and he seems proud of it.

Durgaz: Durgaz's eyes narrow, his lips curling back slightly over his tusks. Without breaking his gaze with Radagug, he reaches into his shirt and pulls out a long leather strap, adorned with fragments of bone. Hanging between the bone are two orcish fingers, mostly mummified with the hot sun and passage of time. He lets the amulet drop onto his chest, then raises his left hand, slowly curling the fingers into a fist so as to reveal a number of the very same rings that left Radagug's brands. The intention here should be clear.

Radagug: Radagug reaches his hand forward... "I will travel with you North bruther. Today is a good day to die."

Durgaz: Durgaz pauses for a moment, staring into Radagug's face. (Sense Motive check to see if he's planning on doing anything sneaky if I reciprocate. If not...) Then he slides his vardatch back into its sheath across his back, extends his right hand and drags Radagug to his feet. "It may be. It will be a good day indeed when we find something worth dying for."

He pauses, glancing back down at the floor. "Pick up that vardatch. It once was mine. Now it is yours. Earn it."

(Note: That is the vardatch that Durgaz has been carrying with him since he began crafting it around session 2. It is a masterwork/crafted vardatch, but is otherwise unremarkable.

RADAGUG the DOG

ROLL: SECRET Diplomacy check for Durgaz vs. Radagug.

The ragged orc has nothing to spew back at his kin on the points of his whining... He knows it to be true. He hates himself for the pity he cannot help but seek. He isn't even aware of it, this is how he has learned to survive.So many times Radagug the Dog has hated himself for not lunging into the face of those that treated him as such. So many times he survived by thinking first and cowering. So many times he should have died. So many times another has assumed him too pitiful to die.
...just as his brother has done this day.

Being pulled to his feet the elder orc cannot remember a time that another has helped him to his feet. He cannot remember a time his own brother has touched him in a way not meant to harm... His arm dangles as Durgaz lets go.

Beyond the tree door Radagug watches as Durgaz leads from the room, the elf guards long gone from when Durgaz entered the cottage. Durgaz can hear a solid "SHUNK" ... "SHUNK" and out from the former prison Radagug the Dog steps... his forarms glistening in his own scarlet blood - skinned with the gift of the vardatch... He looks up, as his former skin adorned with the elf scars drops behind.

"...a clean slate is it then Brother?... I've been told to be the best scout this side of the Eren, maybe I can help you find that thing worth dying for..."

Durgaz

Durgaz takes a long look at Radagug as he emerges from the room, then slowly raises his own arms, twisted and scarred with self-inflicted burns, and nods slightly. His expression is still somber and blank, but in his brother's eyes, Radagug can see something indicative of ... repect? It's not an expression he's overly familiar with, to be sure.

"A clean slate, if you wish it. And a skilled scout would be invaluable where we are headed. Your offer is welcome, and accepted."

KEVIN

Wow... neat and cool stuff.

I like where you're going with this. A question and a thought:

• What do you have in mind for Radagug exactly? Do you really want him to turn? Would you be disappointed if he did? Or if he didn't?
• To be sure Radagug will still maintain his "asshole" personality no matter what he does. He will likely confront, taunt and argue with the other PCs and NPCs. I'll be interested to see how far he can get without getting his head cut off. It's kinda like, you're trying so hard to HELP him and he's fighting all the way. Hope you like that. Thoughts?

ANDREW

Yep. I liked it too.

In response to your questions: Durgaz most certainly wants to see Radagug turn. As to what happens after that, Durgaz probably hasn't planned that far ahead, but as a player, I could see him being very useful to any future effort we might make to recruit additional orcs to 'the cause'. Perhaps he could serve as a missionary of sorts ... stealing into orc encampments, spreading dissent/'the word'/Freedom, and then disappearing before word gets around to the higher-ups. That is, after all, his MO.

Would I be disappointed if he did, or if he didn't? I'd leave that up to you; whichever you think fits the story better. I am definitely in favor of Radagug maintaining his own personality no matter what; although he might 'come around' eventually, he's certainly going to be a general dick to the other PCs and NPCs for the time being, especially the elves ... because that's just who he is. Even if he does 'come around', he's still probably still going to be a general dick ... desperately overcompensating for his perceived shortcomings, always trying to show other characters up, etc. Your earlier assessment of him as poster boy for 'short man syndrome' pretty much nailed it.

I would like to see his character develop as time goes on, driven by what happens to and around him, but I certainly don't want him to instantly become 'good', or even remotely likeable, right away. It's more interesting to see him progress. Or not, depending.