Melrick

When Foe began speaking with one of the orcs in orcish, Grim feigned ignorance of the language, which wasn’t as odd as some people might think. Not all half-orcs speak orcish. Many who live surrounded by non-orcs and wish to be accepted into the community as ‘one of them’ will go out of their way to act as least orc-like as possible. This would mean parents not teaching their children orcish, and so it took a very few generations for half-orc families to be just as clueless of orcish as the standard human.
Both Foe and the other orc didn’t seem to question his ignorance, which suited Grim just fine. Living in a community populated predominately with humans had taught Grim quite a few lessons. One of them was to stand out as little as possible. Another was to allow them to think him as dumb and non-threatening as possible. That meant, apart from his immediate family and his best friend, Brenvan, no one in Highburn ever knew of his night vision abilities, and – since he never spoke it within earshot of anyone – his ability to speak orcish. The result was that keeping things hidden from strangers had long become a habit, and he was good at it.
But all that mattered now was there was going to be a fight, and Foe was going to help, which was fine with him. As soon as the bell rang, Grim began to charge forward, until he felt pressure on the back of his neck… and then woke up on the floor sometime later.
“What the… what the fuck happened?” said Grim, hauling himself to his feet.
“I knocked you out,” said Foe matter of factly.
“You what?” Grim bared his teeth and growled at Foe.
“Sorry, I probably should have mentioned earlier that those fights are free-for-all’s,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Grim clenched his fists, feeling rage bubbling up within. But instead of letting it consume him, he turned the anger inwards. It was his own fault, after all; he’d made an assumption. He’d made the stupid mistake of trusting someone he’d just met and turning his back on him in a fight. Grim had assumed Foe would have his back, and assuming something like that regarding someone he’d just met had been foolish. Sure, a free-for-all situation like that mitigated it somewhat, but he’d clearly deliberately failed to mention that little nugget of information in advance so he could get an advantage over Grim. This was a mistake Grim would not make again, not with Foe, not with any of them.
Grim walked away without saying another word to Foe.
“So you can’t speak orcish,” said Kassie, sidling up to him. “That’s… surprising.”
“Not as surprising as you might think,” he said as calmly as he could manage.
“Really? It’s just that it seemed like you might have been following the conversation between the orcs earlier, that’s all.”
Grim studied her face. He didn’t like thieves. Thieves – the good ones, at least – could learn a surprising amount about a person by using their two favourite body parts: their eyes and their ears. That’s why places like this were often their favourite hang-outs, because people tended to let their guards drop with an ale or two under their belts and reveal even more about themselves to a skilled thief than they would have otherwise done. A thief willing to use their third favourite body part could learn even more.
“Nope, just watching them, that’s all,” he finally said.
“Oh, I see,” she said, smiling.
Did she know he was lying? He didn’t think she’d known him long enough to work out when he lied, especially given how adept a liar he was. But did she suspect it? Probably. He’d have to keep a close eye on her. Good thieves could be a real problem. Bad thieves ended up dead. Time would tell which one she was.

Maybe it can be tweaked so that Foe assumes Grim doesn’t understand, and Grim lets him think that?
 

With the previous versions of the forum software, you were able to see everyone’s status updates quite easily, but now with the new version, they’ve done a fine job of burying this information.
Yes, I know it was better the way it was.  No, I don’t know why they thought this was an improvement.  No, we can’t go back to the previous version.
And with that out of the way, I’m here to tell you how you can still see everyone’s status updates.
The first step is to mouse over the “Activity” tab up the top.  Click “My Activity Streams” just below it.  A drop-down menu will appear.  Go down to the list until you see “Create New Stream”.  Click that.

On the page that loads next, enter a name where it says “Stream Title”.  My recommendation would be “Status Updates” but you can name it whatever you wish.  Just make sure you understand what it is.  Take a look at the picture below to see what options you need to select.  The critical one is the “Content Types” options.  Make sure you tick the “Status Updates” option.  Once that’s done, click the “Save Changes” button.

From here on, when you want to view everyone’s status updates, mouse over the “Activity” tab up the top, click “My Activity Streams”, go down until you see “Custom Streams”.  Below that will be “Status Updates” or whatever you named it.  And there you have it!

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No it’s not, why do you ask?

No it’s not, why do you ask?

It’s nice when a plot bunny strikes after so long.  I know exactly what that’s like.  I had one strike after a very long pause, but it seems to have died half way through.

It’s nice when a plot bunny strikes after so long.  I know exactly what that’s like.  I had one strike after a very long pause, but it seems to have died half way through.

It’s nice when a plot bunny strikes after so long.  I know exactly what that’s like.  I had one strike after a very long pause, but it seems to have died half way through.

It’s nice when a plot bunny strikes after so long.  I know exactly what that’s like.  I had one strike after a very long pause, but it seems to have died half way through.

I have been stuck in writer’s block hell for so long I can’t even remember when it started.  I know I bought a new laptop last year and never bothered to download any word processor to it.  Why?  I wasn’t going to use it.  Then out of nowhere, at work, not a likely location, a rabid plot bunny attacked.  It won’t let go.  I’m so strangely excited.  I thought that part of my brain had died.  Cheers to the writers and their rabbits.  

Kassie couldn't help but snicker at that, some of her humor returning to her. 
"Words to live by," she mused to the same un-particular no one. She smiled briefly at Grim. Well... He didn't smell like an orc at the very least, and she admitted to enjoying the way he goaded the full-bloods. A hobby they shared, although she vastly preferred it when others did it for her, giving her the pleasure of sitting back and watching the chaos ensue. He wasn't afraid of angering a couple of brutes, was he? Probably because he assumed he was capable of handling them. Was he, though? Kassie smiled furtively to herself as she watched the full-blooded orc's companions strain to hold him back. Her curiosity was piqued now. Who would win in a fight? A full-blood? Or a half-blood? The full-bloods were easily bigger than Grim, and their ferocity in battle was legendary. Most with any sense in their heads stepped to the side when orcs came through. Although the smell might have had something to do with that.
But the half-blood was most likely smarter than them... She wondered if that would even matter in the heat of a good, bloody brawl. Kassie's calculative eyes studied the full-bloods' weapons: war hammers, axes and clubs. Then she considered Grim's tool. Not bad at all... And his sword was pretty impressive too! She toyed with scenarios in her head: the full-blood would charge in without a second thought. Grim would need to be a little smarter, a little lighter on his feet to keep from taking an axe to the skull. If Grim kept his wits about him, he could push the bigger orc to the brink, keeping barely ahead of him. At which point the latter might go berserk and then - then it would get interesting.
Kassie was thoroughly excited now, but hypotheticals were so floaty... So imprecise. It would be a real shame if... Oh... A fight was to break out to help her decide... She got up and made her way towards the bar as if to fetch herself another drink, phasing right past Fred who had already been moving to refill her tankard. She paused by the full-blood's table, turning almost imperceptibly to the eye roller who looked the most furious with Grim and was, therefore, the closest to the edge she was attempting to push him over. 
"You know, the half-blood thinks he's better than you." Her voice trickled in his ear like cold creek water, impossible to ignore, "Smarter. Stronger too. Oh, and I think he said something about your mother in orcish. I couldn't understand him, but it sounded reeeaaally offensive." Kassie simpered at the full-blood with plush lips. "Is a strong, blooded orc like you just going to take that from a half-breed mutt like him?"

Grim watched the discussion and exchange of weapons. He had his own sword, which was conspicuously without a name. Grim wasn’t sentimental about weapons. His sword was sharp, it was pointy and it killed things, that was good enough for him. If he came across another, better weapon then he’d happily drop this one and not give it a second thought.
It didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a fine weapon, though. A sword made by a highly skilled sword smith could be a thing of beauty, especially if they really wanted it to look special. Grim had never owned a sword like that, though, so he wasn’t entirely sure if his attitude to weapons wouldn’t change if he’d attained such a sword. Oh, and he was definitely a sword person. A great big axe certainly had the power to cleave like no normal sword, but it was also a weapon slow to wield. He preferred the flexibility that a sword gave him.
His current sword was a huge two-handed beast, but he wasn’t adverse some sword and board. A regular shield held by a large orc – or, in his case, half-orc – tended to look a bit on the puny side, though, not to mention the one-handed sword that looked little bigger than a dagger.
Then Foe mentioned Saraina, the Death Goddess. Grim wasn’t too keen on pissing off Gods, especially the ones that can take things personally. The orcs had some… colourful Gods, one in particular that made Saraina look like a librarian, but they were generally the ‘don’t bother me and I won’t bother you’ type. Or, at least, that’s how he tended to approach them, along with all other Gods.
Kassie, though, appeared to have a different view point on Gods, or at least Death Goddesses. The look of fear and anxiety etched on her face was clear, up until the point her hood was pulled up to hide her face from him.
Fear made people react in different ways. Some people faced fear head-on with heroic bravery, and at the other end of the scale, people could do literally anything to save their own skin, including betraying their own family. Grim had no idea yet exactly where in that sliding scale Kassie fitted, but he planned to keep a close eye on her. Many half-orcs don’t inherited the night vision of full orcs, but Grim did, a fact he wasn’t planning on sharing any sooner than necessary. He also had their strong sense of smell, which was good… and bad.
Grim glanced over at the full-blooded orcs, winced at their fragrant aroma and shook his head. The one that had rolled his eyes at him before did so again.
“You know,” called out Grim, “if you keep doing that, you’re going to end up staring at your own brain, what there is of it to see.”
Eye Roller, as Grim thought of him, bared his teeth and growled, with a couple of others holding him back.
Grim turned back,  smiled and sighed in satisfaction. “A day spent not pissing off at least one person is a day wasted,” he said quietly to no one in particular.

Grim watched the discussion and exchange of weapons. He had his own sword, which was conspicuously without a name. Grim wasn’t sentimental about weapons. His sword was sharp, it was pointy and it killed things, that was good enough for him. If he came across another, better weapon then he’d happily drop this one and not give it a second thought.
It didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a fine weapon, though. A sword made by a highly skilled sword smith could be a thing of beauty, especially if they really wanted it to look special. Grim had never owned a sword like that, though, so he wasn’t entirely sure if his attitude to weapons wouldn’t change if he’d attained such a sword. Oh, and he was definitely a sword person. A great big axe certainly had the power to cleave like no normal sword, but it was also a weapon slow to wield. He preferred the flexibility that a sword gave him.
His current sword was a huge two-handed beast, but he wasn’t adverse some sword and board. A regular shield held by a large orc – or, in his case, half-orc – tended to look a bit on the puny side, though, not to mention the one-handed sword that looked little bigger than a dagger.
Then Foe mentioned Saraina, the Death Goddess. Grim wasn’t too keen on pissing off Gods, especially the ones that can take things personally. The orcs had some… colourful Gods, one in particular that made Saraina look like a librarian, but they were generally the ‘don’t bother me and I won’t bother you’ type. Or, at least, that’s how he tended to approach them, along with all other Gods.
Kassie, though, appeared to have a different view point on Gods, or at least Death Goddesses. The look of fear and anxiety etched on her face was clear, up until the point her hood was pulled up to hide her face from him.
Fear made people react in different ways. Some people faced fear head-on with heroic bravery, and at the other end of the scale, people could do literally anything to save their own skin, including betraying their own family. Grim had no idea yet exactly where in that sliding scale Kassie fitted, but he planned to keep a close eye on her. Many half-orcs don’t inherited the night vision of full orcs, but Grim did, a fact he wasn’t planning on sharing any sooner than necessary. He also had their strong sense of smell, which was good… and bad.
Grim glanced over at the full-blooded orcs, winced at their fragrant aroma and shook his head. The one that had rolled his eyes at him before did so again.
“You know,” called out Grim, “if you keep doing that, you’re going to end up staring at your own brain, what there is of it to see.”
Eye Roller, as Grim thought of him, bared his teeth and growled, with a couple of others holding him back.
Grim turned back,  smiled and sighed in satisfaction. “A day spent not pissing off at least one person is a day wasted,” he said quietly to no one in particular.

Kassie quickly accepted everything offered to her, scraping them off the table and clipping and sheathing them at various places on her person. 
"Thank you m'lady, and..." She sized up Foe as she toyed with two words in her head. "Foe," she decided. For once, no quip or cocky hyperbole was forthcoming as she withdrew into her cloak, allowing the two ends to come together like a curtain to shield her body. She suddenly had no desire to use it. A Death Goddess was one hell of a mood killer. Foe and Bronx were so casual about the prospect of angering Saraina, but she was petrified. They had shown her kindness, but she wondered how far that kindness extended. Certainly, if she found herself in trouble in the Catacombs, she would be on her own. 
It will be worth it, she steeled herself. Worth it for the treasure. Worth it for a new life. All she had to do was survive one little quest! Kassie realized she had allowed Grim to catch a glimpse of the terrified expression she let slip and quickly yanked her hood over her head. She turned away, embarrassed. And then there was him. The pig man. He didn't look like a seasoned hero like Foe and Bronx, but he didn't look like a worthless urchin like her either. Perhaps she should have made an attempt at building a bridge before deciding so callously to burn it. 

Bronx nodded agreement. “Entertaining even by my standards. So, let me see what I have here for our Queen of Thieves.” She laid her bow on the table, and opened a deceptively small bag. “I’m sure I have something that might even cut meat. Here, this might do.” She tossed a sheathed blade onto the table. It was longer than a dagger, but not quite as long as a short sword. There was a pale green gem in the pommel, and Bronx waved at it.
“If anything not already dead gets too close, press the gem and stick them with the pointy end. Just don’t get any of the poison on yourself. I’m not reviving anyone. Oh, and for the record? It won’t work on me.” Bronx sighed and turned back to the client, who handed her the cloak without another word. She folded it carefully and tucked it into her bag. Then she looked at her bow with a frown. “Close quarters. Not really suitable for a bow.”
The bow went into the bag, and Bronx pulled out a long sword with a curious pattern of holes in the blade. She pursed her lips as she contemplated it, and then shook her head and tucked it away. A belt with two wickedly curved daggers was next, and a hand crossbow. The wood of the crossbow was so deeply black it seemed to absorb light, and Bronx hooked it onto the belt after she buckled it above her hips.
“The Cult of Gorlasiz was right before Draglos. Then it was Semai and his cult of illiterates. Draglos slipped in when Gorlasiz got summoned away by some idiot from Domayr Reilloch, who misspelled a rune in his summoning circle.” Bronx grinned. “Now that was a fine fuss. I’m not sure who was more upset, the idiot wizard or Gorlasiz. And since when did you let him get away with owing you money?”

Bronx arched one pale brow at Kassie. “I’m a drow. We tend not to enjoy daylight. On the other hand, you’ll appreciate my ability to see in total darkness when we’re in the catacombs, I’m sure. And please tell me you have something better than that knife to defend yourself. Skulking in corners and waiting for us to defend you will only get you so far. If we’re busy, you’d better be able to protect yourself.”
It would be extremely annoying to have to deal with bits of thief, Bronx knew. If the little thief did not have proper weapons, she was going to feel obligated to give Kassie at least a poisoned dagger from her hoard. As strange as that might seem, poison was something Bronx never bothered fearing. There were almost no poisons which would hurt her, not any longer, and she would never be idiotic enough to let Kassie have anything even close to that level of lethal. The little thief would only kill herself showing off her new pretty.
“Foe, are you set for provisions? I have what I need, and if this runs longer than I expect, I’ll deal with it then.” Bronx looked back at their client. “Give Foe what you owe us so far. I’m holding onto the gem in the unlikely instance we can get the idiot wizard to fix it, if he isn’t wizard chunks before we can ask. If not, we’ll return both pieces, and it’s your problem getting it fixed and placating its rightful owner, unless you want to discuss that fee. That will be calculated in pieces of platinum. Gods don’t come cheap.”

So, no sooner had Grim arrived at this strange and mysterious tavern than he had joined a band of adventurers – or a gang of murderous thieves, he wasn’t sure yet. And they were a band with a plan, a plan to… steal a ruby cock? Apparently so.
Grim was glad he took after his human side when it came to plans of actions. Full-blooded orcs tended to have… simplistic plans: go there, kill everything that moves, stab everything that doesn’t, steal everything that isn’t nailed down, try to steal everything that is nailed down.
Luckily, Orcs weren’t known for their intelligence. They were at their most dangerous, though, when an unusually intelligent orc became leader, because then their plans tended to be more well thought out with a higher chance of success. Grim suspected it was only their lack of intelligence that prevented orcs from dominating all the lands.
Grim wasn’t sure yet what to make of Bronx and Foe. What he could guess at was that they both seemed to be highly experience and were no easy pushovers. Kassie, though, was another kettle of gruel. He didn’t know what to make of her. Talkative and excitable, certainly, and with not much of a filter between her brain and her tongue, something which could easily get her into trouble. But was she more experienced and skilled than she seemed, or was sure more talk than anything? He didn’t know, but he suspected he would in time… that’s if he didn’t snap her in half over his knee before that happened, that is. Either option seemed equally possible. Still, at least she was pleasing to the eye, as was Bronx, in a drow kind of way.
“I’ve got enough provisions for myself for the immediate future, so I’m ready to go.”

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So, no sooner had Grim arrived at this strange and mysterious tavern than he had joined a band of adventurers – or a gang of murderous thieves, he wasn’t sure yet. And they were a band with a plan, a plan to… steal a ruby cock? Apparently so.
Grim was glad he took after his human side when it came to plans of actions. Full-blooded orcs tended to have… simplistic plans: go there, kill everything that moves, stab everything that doesn’t, steal everything that isn’t nailed down, try to steal everything that is nailed down.
Luckily, Orcs weren’t known for their intelligence. They were at their most dangerous, though, when an unusually intelligent orc became leader, because then their plans tended to be more well thought out with a higher chance of success. Grim suspected it was only their lack of intelligence that prevented orcs from dominating all the lands.
Grim wasn’t sure yet what to make of Bronx and Foe. What he could guess at was that they both seemed to be highly experience and were no easy pushovers. Kassie, though, was another kettle of gruel. He didn’t know what to make of her. Talkative and excitable, certainly, and with not much of a filter between her brain and her tongue, something which could easily get her into trouble. But was she more experienced and skilled than she seemed, or was sure more talk than anything? He didn’t know, but he suspected he would in time… that’s if he didn’t snap her in half over his knee before that happened, that is. Either option seemed equally possible. Still, at least she was pleasing to the eye, as was Bronx, in a drow kind of way.
“I’ve got enough provisions for myself for the immediate future, so I’m ready to go.”

A groan escaped Kassie as she spun around. Planning, what was this madness? She already had a plan and it was a very good one too: get in, get rich, get out. And as for them…
"What do you need a plan for? You're heroes! The plan is to charge in, weapons out, send the draugr back to the void, and their master right after them," she argued passionately. Kassie drew her knife to demonstrate, slashing theatrically into empty air, visions of valiant white knights and imperial archers rushing through her mind.
"Then you rescue the damsel and make love to your conquest all night-" She paused. "Sorry, wrong quest. Anyway, the entrance is trapped with pressure plates. Child's play. Once we're inside, it gets... Slightly trickier. The catacombs are far more extensive than they appear. We could split up to cover more ground." She shrugged casually as if that wasn't just an excuse to go off hunting for the bandit's treasure. 
"The necromancer himself shouldn't be an issue; we have a dark elf and a mage. Poor bastard won't know what hit him. But if you really can't manage it..." Kassie sourced a small vial of dark purple liquid from her belt and tapped it ominously. Her pride and joy, and a last resort. "I have a dart with his name on it. If anything is still moving by the time we're through, I'm sure you're more than capable of cleaning up after us, are you not?" Kassie patted Grim's shoulder patronizingly. Her gaze wandered to his coin pouch, mentally sizing it up. Then somewhere else, mentally sizing that up. She returned to herself. "So? We're burning daylight." 
 

The cat blinked slowly at the half orc and yawned, big, loud and long, just long enough to be rude, and then he smacked his lips and looked down again, making eye contact with the half orc. And then Cat smiled. Not a lot, just a little predatory smile to let the big half human know that Cat had seen him, and was keeping an eye on him. After a few moments of steady eye contact Cat winked at the half human, and lifted one paw to quickly wash his face, then settled with his front legs under his chest again and tucked his chin down against his chest, eyes half closed, but his ears perked and listening. 
Plans were entertainment of the gods, or so he had been told once. In the years since he had learned that that wasn’t too far from the truth, and suddenly, Cat really wanted to hear the drow’s plans. The retrieving of the ruby shaft probably wasn’t going to be too much of a hassle, not with the companions that she had chosen, but the returning of the broken knob would be trickier, far trickier, and Cat had to admit that he was just a little bit curious about how that would go. 
Cat chuffed softly and quirked one ear to hear a little bit better as the two warriors set their plans. 

Bronx chuckled when Foe warned their new associates that resurrection was off the table for newcomers. The truth was neither she nor Foe wasted much time worrying about it. Bronx was fairly sure there wasn’t much out there that could kill Foe, and she was not exactly a simple drow assassin, although it served her purposes to appear as one. No, the necromancer would not be a problem, and hedge wizards were more or less an annoyance, to be swatted like an insect when they started to buzz around. The real issue would be what would happen when the rest of the gem was located.
Gods were tricky. Pissed off gods missing their pride and joy were even worse, and for a fertility god, finding out the idiot who stole his pride and joy had broken it was going to ensure a major godly temper tantrum. It was not going to matter that this particular divine menace probably had all of a dozen worshipers left. Even one worshiper was enough to guarantee some power. Bronx knew she was not going to be able to repair the gem, not if it was a divinely magical artifact. Arcane magic was more accessible, and draconic magic was her birthright. Oh, well. They’d deal with that when they came to it. If nothing else, they might be able to offer Kassie as a bribe, given her libido.
She watched the little thief heading for the door. Always in such a hurry, humans were. It was the sad reality for the shorter-lived races. They had to hurry or they’d be dead of old age before they managed a single interesting thing. The half-orc was sensible enough, taking time to finish his drink and work out the rudiments of a plan. Not that any plan ever lasted longer than the time it took to make it to their destination, especially if gods were involved. The little thief would be thinking about the pretties she could find, and tuck away before anyone else noticed, and Bronx doubted the half orc was going to want to deal with the traps which no doubt littered the catacombs. Between grieving families wanting to ensure a peaceful afterlife and the general paranoia inherent in any necromancer bent on snatching as many fresh bodies as possible, it would be a mess. Toss in a few goblins drawn to the darker corridors and it would look like a Midwinter festival with all the explosions and fireballs.
Bronx sighed and finished her mead, Fred appearing at her elbow to refill the mug. “Tradition dictates we come up with a plan before we set out. All adventures begin with a plan, no matter how quickly it’s discarded, and I’d hate to toss tradition on its ear. Our destination is a catacomb. What do we know about it, other than it holds a necromancer, half a ruby cock, and the reeking dead?”

While Foe and Bronx were discussing terms with a third party, movement in the rafter’s caught Grim’s attention. A grey cat perched on one of the beams stared intently down at them. Many people dismissed the intelligence of cats, considering them as dumb, selfish creatures. Grim, on the other hand, thought they were smart enough to appear dumb. Okay, they could be selfish, there’s no denying that, but they weren’t all that way.
When Grim was younger, he used to own a cat. He named her Jennifer. Jennifer would accompany him everywhere, perched proudly on his broad shoulders, although having a preference for his right shoulder. She was devoted to him, but never lost her independence. Sometimes she’d disappear for days, but would always return. Except for the day she didn’t return.
Grim suspected it was an odd sight, seeing a big lumbering half-orc with a pussy cat on his shoulder, but Grim never cared. Brenvan once asked him why he didn’t get a dog, since that was apparently a more appropriate pet for an orc, but Grim told him that if an animal wasn’t smart enough to bury its own shit then he didn’t want it.
The grey cat in the rafters watched them with interest, but appeared in no hurry to come down for a scratch under the chin.
As long as it doesn’t drop onto my head, he thought as he returned his attention to the matters at hand.