Another Shot!

This early in the day one would think that there wouldn't be many people in the pub, but there are. It's actually quite packed. Enough so that there's only one table in the entire place that holds only one occupant. At it sits a large half-oruch hunched over his table. He looks like he hasn't slept, and like he's been drinking. He has a bearskin tossed haphazardly on the chair behind him, and a beautifully made heavy flail laid out on the table before him. It has a screaming face emblazoned on the ball in such detail that it's a little eerie. He's staring at it as though it holds answers for him. Every once in a while he looks up, his gray-green eyes skating over those around him and a hand lifting to scrub over the top of his curly hair.

A wave of brown hair atop a head adorned with a broad mustache is all that can be seen of Jormund above the edge of the table, then pulls himself up into a chair with a broad grin. "You sir! Mr Orc sir! You look like you need the careful attention of a healer who understands your pains and I happen to be just the halfling you're looking for. Just the one, even if you don't know it yet!" he adds in a singsong voice.

There's a long silence from Razen as his eyes slip slowly down to look at the little man climbing up into a chair beside him. A slow smile creeps over his face. It seems like he takes a bit of cheer from having a bit of company, and he curls the mug in his hand a little bit closer to himself though he makes no effort to move the flail from where it sits in the middle of the table. "Razen. My name is Razen." His eyes roam a bit over the other man for a moment. Weighing him. "And I am sad to say that I doubt a healer can help my woes."

Jormund shakes his head "Ahh but I understand pains that most don't, you look like you didn't sleep and perhaps had a bit too much last night, no? Oh I did too, I did too and it's quite easy if your this small. But I know how to heal the hangover! You see I am a Luckbringer and we know people and pains better than most." he says solemnly. He takes out an egg and cracks it into his own mug. "Very secret, this recipe."

It's true of course, but Razen straightens slightly as though he might deny it. He keeps his silence though, listening to Jormund talk. "I suppose that a cure for that would be something at least." He eyes the egg that the other man is cracking open suspiciously. Very suspiciously. As if he expects an animal to come crawling out of it rather than the yolk it is. "There's a secret in the egg? Is it magic?"

Jormund shakes his head "Nope, just a chicken egg." he then add several drops of a red liquid in a small vial and sprinkles something on top from a pouch. After that he holds hand over the mug. "Oh Lord Jackal, forgive us our weakness, for we have partaken of your pleasures and seek your aid to partake more. By your blessings we will be free once again, free to drink and make merry." he finishes up his prayer and slides the drink over. "I'm Jormund, Luckbringer of Tarien."

The mug gets the look it deserves, complete uncertainty and a hefty dose of caution. Then suddenly plucking up his courage Razen picks up the cup and downs the entire mixture in one gulp. "Ah!" It's not a noise of disgust, but rather one of surprised pleasure. "Mmm! That is good!"

Razen grins appreciatively at Jormund. "Well-met indeed Luckbringer Jormund. If your cure works I will be owing you." He picks up his mug and takes a small drink. He sighs afterward, giving his weapon a harsh look for just a moment. Then his attention returns to the other man sitting beside him. "What brings you in? Certainly it can not be to cure random strangers of their ills."

Jormund grins and watches Razen carefully, when he downs it Jormund smiles broadly. "Well sometimes I do, sometimes I just like the cause a little trouble. This place is half a temple to Tarrien after all. Also the real secret to curing hangovers is just to drink more; there was a shot of moonshine in that." he says with a wink and producing a flask which he takes a swig from. "But you look like the type who knows a good time."

"Explains why it tasted so good." Razen chuckles a little to himself, nodding once and rubbing his hand over his mug of ale. "A bit of trouble usually /is/ a good time, a good fight or a few drinks with a friend. I know something of that indeed." The half oruch flashes a broad grin that shows off his sharp canines. If not for his pointed ears and sharp fangs rather than tusks one might have thought him full-blooded oruch. "If you have come looking for one today however you might look for better company than mine. It has been a long night and a longer day before that..."

Jormund takes another swig from his flask and leans back in his chair "Yeah? doesn't sound like a fun time to me. Did it involve that flail of yours? Looks like a proper wicked weapon? Collect some teeth?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Inevitably Razen looks at his weapon. "Aye, it has to do with my weapon." He reaches out as though he means to touch it, but his hand falls short. "My sister Parba made it just before she died some time back. It has been my constant companion since then and has served me in many battles. It has yet to earn a name of its own, but it is worthy of my prise at least..."

Razen's voice trails off and he just... stares at the flail. "But there is something /wrong/ with it."

Jormund looks at the flail. "Whats wrong with it? Unlucky? Not spiky enough?" he asks eyeing the weapon. "Something with the way it's made or something else?”

The half-orc looks almost insulted. "My sister is the best weaponsmith in my tribe! She made this weapons with the bones of my grandfather, and his father before him. She quenched its fires with her own blood and formed it's shape with her own hands. There is nothing wrong with how it was made. I can think of no other method that would make for a better weapon." He's looking at Jormund when he says this, certain of his words. "No, what is wrong with it is that it seems to have... become /magic/." He utters these last few words in a whisper so that no one else can hear. He's clearly quite bad at it though, and his words remain more than loud enough for anyone that cares to listen.

Jormund raises an eyebrow "Ah and its magic that doesn't sit well with you then." he says eyeing Razen. "Most people view that as a benefit you know, magic weapon. Do you know the source of the magic?"

Razen shudders. "No, I know not the source. Perhaps some shaman touched it while I was not looking and left their magics behind. Perhaps some foe I slew had magic in them to make things not as they were." He clearly has no clue, but he's back to staring at it. Trying to figure it out. "Who knows what it does? What if it turns me into a rabbit? Already when I touch it I... feel things. Feelings that are not my own. Impressions."

Jormund raises an eyebrow "Ah I see. I think I may know your problem. You see as a Luckbringer of Tarrien I am an expert in dirty tricks and pranks and I can see one here, even now. You see there is a mighty sorceress in this city named Sandy the Wide who puts devilish curses on mighty weapons wielded warriors such as yourself. If you continue to wield it, in time, you will slowly turn into a sober vegetarian. Seen it many times before." he says with absolute confidence.

GAME: Jormund rolls bluff: (10)+11: 21
GAME: Razen rolls sense motive: (10)+0: 10

The half-orc's brow furrows. He looks at the weapon with extra suspicion now. "But... Sandy and I are /friends/. Why would she lay a magic trick upon my weapon?" He sounds so confused, one could even say betrayed. He looks at Jormund with an expression that clearly says 'why'? "I did not even know she was a shaman. This makes no sense Jormund. Why would anyone take drink and meat from a friend? It is cruel!"

Jormund nods "I know right?! In time all you will thirst for is lettuce and water. It is no way to live! We have treated more than a few people at the temple like this. However you are good friends with Sandy, so this is not the end of the world. If you confront her on it then she may reverse the curse for you. In the meantime... drink up. Keep yourself mildly drunk at all times and you can delay the effects." he says with a calm, sagely nod. "Also use her true title, Sandy the Wide so she knows you are serious."

Now Razen looks mildly horrified, whispering to himself the words 'water' and 'lettuce' as though they were terrible things. He quickly downs his drink at Jormund's suggestion and waves for another one urgently. "I am certain that she will listen to reason..." He doesn't sound certain at all, he sounds afraid. He looks at Jormund and when his drink comes he toasts the other man with it. "I am fortunate to have met you friend; that you know of such things. And of her title indeed. How did she earn the name? Sandy the Wide."

Jormund looks around the room and leans in, as if to whisper a terrible secret. "All I am willing to say is... if you could see through illusions you would know." he sits back "It would be impolite of me to say more, I consider myself a gentleman." he says holding up his hands and taking a deep breath. "However I have others to attend to, if things do not work out come look me up at the temple. We will be glad to help." he says getting off of his chair.

Razen quickly rises to his feet, offering his hand to Jormund. "Certainly Jormund." He still seems shaken, perhaps even more so. The idea of 'illusions' seems to make him even more worried than he had been. "I am endlessly grateful for your help. If you have need of me, then you simply need call and I will be happy to offer aid."

Jormund takes the hand, his own much smaller but does his best to make it firm and forceful. "Of course and may the luck of the jackal be with you." he then disappears into the crowd.

-End