In the jungle, the quiet jungle

Once in a while my human indulges me and sends me off to an adventure. So where am I going this time?

Deep into the jungle of Guatemala.

Guatemala? Is that near London?

Not quite. But close enough by orc standards.
Anyway, hidden deep inside this Guatemalan jungle you will find an ancient temple of the Mayan God Chac.

Chac? That sounds rather orcish. I like it. What’s his domain?

Rain.

Oh dear. Still, I’m going.

Good. Here you are, right at the entrance. The door closes behind you. Thank goodness, orcs have darkvision.

Orcs are superior, I always told you that. Now, what is that? A large room with carved pictures all over it.

Right. If you look very closely, you will also recognize a lot of fine powder on the ground.

What is it?

Finely ground bones.

Never mind. There are other goodies. Treasure! Loot! Jewels and stuff!

You should pay some attention to the glyphs on the walls. Actually, you should pay some attention to the walls themselves.

Why? Walls? Nonsense. Loot! Oh, wait. What’s that noise? That scraping? Hang on! I’m getting taller.

Nope.

The walls are …?

Closing in on you, yes. Told you to pay attention.

Right. Moving on.

You enter a long corridor, a tube-shaped downward slope. The noise you hear is not only coming from the moving walls.

Yeah, whatever. Oh, what is that? It’s pretty hot. I mean that literally.

That is a lava field. A few slabs stick out of the molten lava.

No shit, human.

You could get across it, if you remembered the correct glyphs from the room with the carved pictures. Only those slabs are safe.

Are you kidding me? Remembering anything? Me? I hardly remember the number of my own offspring! And why would I step onto any of those wobbly stones? I mean, okay, there seems to be some treasure lying on the slabs, but seriously. See how wobbly they are? There is no reason other than that to step onto them. Right?

You sure about that? I told you about that other noise, didn’t I? Look behind you.

Where? What?

 

Noooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’ll make a run for it. Never mind the trea–, hang on, what is that glitzy stuff?

There is a lot of treasure in the alcoves along the corridor. Might I add that it is not okay to plunder an ancient temple?

Bla bla, I’m an orc, bla bla, natural habit, bla bla. I get some of the stuff before the boulder gets me.

No problem, you can grab some statuettes and jewelry. But it will slow you down. Just sayin’.

Yeah, yeah.

Boulder is coming.

Alright, alright. I’m on my way. That stuff is pretty heavy, I have to admit.
There is something shiny in the water. Might I hop in and pick it up?

You might. But the current is pretty strong. Swimming is not your strong point.

Hm, you’re right.
Oh, look. There is a bridge. I’ll take a short cut across the waterfall. My, that looks pretty deep.

Just make sure, the wooden planks can hold your weight. They look rather rotten, don’t you – oops!

I’m too heavy. Don’t say, you told me so.

Not a word.

Make sure you keep it that way.

Now what? Oha. The boulder is getting pretty close now. I just keep going on this path. It will lead to an exit, right?

Right?

Ey! Speak to me.

It will lead to an exit.

Of course it does.

Oh, wait, what’s that? You may speak.

That is a carving depicting Chac himself. It’s probably priceless.

Surely there is still time for that, right? I mean, I could just …, damn, it’s stuck. I …

Boulder coming.

Right, no Chac then. Though it would have been nice to have in the tent at home.

The path is rather slippery here.

You might be faster, if you dumped your loot into the water.

You’re kidding, right?

Do not stop to look behind you, is all I’m saying.

 

 

 

 

 

Jump, Thrakbog! Jump! Or it will smash you!

Now, that was fun, wasn’t it?

I had to leave all my loot behind!

But it was exciting.

Well, yeah, hm, nah, alright. It was. I think I sprained my ankle.

Home now?

Yes. And a cookie please.

You said please, Thrakbog.

Don’t tell anyone.

 

___________________

Thrakbog was playing:

The Adventurers: The Temple of Chac (German edition)
Published by: Pegasus Spiele

Later editions published by Fantasy Flight Games

all editions are out of print

Victorian Orc

Greetings!

My human made me read another book. I admit, this might be related to the fact that I demolished her kitchen (again) because I somehow misinterpreted the whole idea of a barbecue. Took me a while to catch the furry creatures hiding behind the furniture. And then I wasn’t even allowed to roast them. (sigh). Humans. I will never understand them.

However, we agreed (she made me, by pointing directly to the door) that for reasons of redemption I am going to read another book or listen to one being narrated to me by a tin machine. Sadly, there is no orc liberation front anywhere near me to help me out of it.

Me on the tin machine.

So, my human said, that she is not going to be an ogre (no shit, human!) and will allow me to listen rather than read. I think, I have mentioned it elsewhere that – what with being an orc an all that – the only reason I am capable of reading at all, is by mere caprice of a wisecracker of a deity, which is unknown to me by name or creed. Bugger.

She also babbled something about this being the month of #victober (I think she’s making up the calendar just as she goes, which is rather orcish of her and I like it), so I am supposed to deal with victorious literature. Now, that came a bit as a relief to me, because victorious I am usually, being an orc.

Okay, okay. Shut up!

You knew it already, didn’t you? Ghastly humans. Yeah, no victorious victory anywhere in sight. But let me tell you, this tiny Victoria wouldn’t have made much of an impression in an orcish society. But there you go.

The books I am forced volunteering to deal with are:

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell, published by Penguin Popular Classics

 

 

 

Victorian London: The Life of a City, 1840-1870 Audible Audiobook – Abridged
Anton Lesser (Narrator), Liza Picard (Author), Orion Publishing Group Limited (Publisher)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here are my very personal (and somewhat orcish) views on both:

 

North and South
Now, this is a proper title. Clear directions is all it takes. Well done, Lizzy Gaskell. (I am beginning to have a little weakness for humans by the name of Elizabeth) Upon my word, there is more introspection in this book than you’d find in our whole tribe over several generations. It is so unorcish to question inner ongoings. Most of the time there aren’t any, that’s why. So, yeah.
Here’s Maggie Hale. Very self-opiniotated. Good. That is what intimidates your enemies just as much as any axe in your hand does. Which she doesn’t have. So she must do it all by words. She’s really good at it. Well done, Maggie.
Enter Mr. Thornton.
He is a bit of a mystery to me. I think he might be of dwarven origin, with all his industrious organizing stuff, regulated busy working hours and means of production.
His mother on the other hand is utterly adorable.
When I was forced to read Pride & Prejudice (that was before I ate the book) I admitted to liking Mrs. Bennet the most. As a father of numerous orclings I can totally relate to all the shit they have to put up with in order to get their young orclings properly settled elsewhere. Preferably in a tent at the other end of the camp.
So, yes, I kinda liked this one. It was much too long but I learned my lesson: Never eat a book with so many pages. It gives you constipation.

Victorian London
This was quite interesting (and delightfully short). I have lived in London for a short while (I was crawling out of the Thames after the above mentioned deity had shoved me through a portal into this world, needless to say, against my wishes).
But the London that I explored wasn’t as nearly as delightfully grim, gritty and gruesome (Ha! See what I did there? Oh, the way I have with words. I am quite versed in the use of illiter…, allur…, you know what I mean). Apparently I came at the wrong time.
All those details about the great stink very much reminded me of home and made me quite sentimental. The lawless backstreets, the ruthless greed, lovely. Definitely the best book for an orcish reading pleasure I was forced to deal with so far.

My human mentioned, that this Dickens guy she constantly talks about, wrote lots of very short novels that are situated in that shady world and time. Bring it on, babe. (Should it make me suspicious that she is grinning from ear to ear?)

Thrakbog vs. literature

Thrakbog: What do you mean, there is no magic in it? It is called “The Magic Mountain”!

She-human: It is indeed. But no magic, sorry.

Thrakbog: That’s cheating. Why? WHY?

She-human: That is actually a question a lot of people would like to ask the author.

Thrakbog: And?

She-human: He’s dead.

Thrakbog: So what? Get a necromancer and resurrect him.

She-human: Good god, no!

Thrakbog: I want to know why he called it The Magic Mountain when there is no bloody bit of magic in it! Not even a miserable wizard? An old hag? Any supernatural stuff would fucking do.

She-human: Language, Thrakbog, Language!

Thrakbog: Oh, piss off.

She-human: Would you like to sleep on the balcony for the next couple of weeks? It looks a lot like rain, I must say. But then again, orcs like to live rough, don’t they?

Thrakbog: Um, well …, alright, just tell me about that fu… pseudo-magic mountain-guy.

She-human: Well, the main character has some weird dreams.

Thrakbog: Oh, good. Juicy? Wild?

She-human: Strange would describe them more accurately.

Thrakbog: But strange is good, right? It could mean orcish in some way.

She-human: Um, no. I rather doubt that.

Thrakbog: Is there at least an old wizard’s tower on that mountain? Maybe he just deserted it and on his return the magic will be back too.

She-human: Your optimism does you credit but that is not going to happen. Actually there is a sanatorium on that mountain where people stay if they can’t breathe properly.

Thrakbog: You must be kidding.

She-human: I’m afraid not.

Thrakbog: So it’s shit! And no, I don’t mind my language at all!

She-human: You might have a point there. But it is a highly acclaimed novel.

Thrakbog: You mean like the teacup-fighting-soldiers-novel about Prick Darcy and dear Lizzy?

She-human: That had a lasting impression on you, hm?

Thrakbog: I’m still suffering from constipation after having swallowed it.

She-human: You really shouldn’t have done that. Books are for reading, not eating.

Thrakbog: Well, I’m definitely not reading or eating that fake magic thingy.

She-human: What would you like to read then?

Thrakbog: Must I really? I am an orc. It is so unnatural.

She-human: It was part of our agreement.

Thrakbog: Sticking to an agreement is rather unorcish as well.

She-human: Boo hoo.

Thrakbog: Alright, alright. So give me something gritty and grim.

She-human: So, Dickens it is.

Thrakbog: What the …?

She-human: Dickens. Exactly.

Thrakbog: Well, I hope it is at least short.

She-human: …

___________________________

Of course we were discussing this famous drivel:

Thrakbog’s reading material

Finally a magazine for me!

The dungeon underneath our house, part III

There I was, a dead orc. Overcome by a vast number of enemies.

Until by some magical occurence I was up and running again. Never question a magic occurence, whether it is called a healing surge or the spellplague or I know not what.

 

A little worse for wear, but hopping about like nobody’s business. That’s me. But of course there was still the little matter of the vast number of enemies that surrounded me. Guess what happened next?