Tag Archives: what next?

Unexpected problems

I’ve been very busy these days, writing (dictating) my book about the origin of orcs. My chosen name for this -Thracitus – still has a nice ring to it, although orc-purists may say it sounds a bit too scholarly – and therefore unorcish – , which is absolutely right. But writing a book is in itself a traitorous act in some way. My comrades should probably never know about it. But what are the chances right now, ey? And what do I care? I do whatever I want. Dare to contradict me.

So, I’ve been busy. And I thought, well, that’s it. Book’s finished. She-human almost toppled over with laughter. She does that a lot. I should be rather angry with her for not taking me serious. But then I think she’s pretty insane, I mean how else could she actually believe to survive having me as a flatmate…
Anyway, after she finished laughing she explained that a book definitely should contain of more than just six pages! I mean, what? Six pages! That’s quite a lot, dont’t you think. One wonders what I had to say about orcs that took so many words, right? We’re not exactly famous for being profound or complicated. Most of us hardly know enough words to fill six pages. So then I took a look around, to see how many pages the other books on her shelves have. Right. I do not have enough fingers and toes to understand the numbers.
The question remains, what do I do? Accept the fact that I have not yet written a book? Continue to add stuff? Forget about the whole thing entirely? My attention span is pretty much under pressure already with the whole thing, so…
Well, I guess I wait and see how the muse kicks me. If I ever happen to find that creature. She-human says its a mythical thing. I wonder what it will feel like to be kicked by a myth. Will it hurt? Do I care? Questions, nothing but quesions…

Through France-human-land, I think.

The local human population refused to speak with me, except a young lad who explained at least Europe’s map to me. Odd that he knew this guy who owns the map. Strangely enough he stopped being helpful when I asked him about the frogs. Maybe amphibians are fearsome creatures in this part of the world.
After walking on my own for a while I was being picked up by a human in a huge driving tin which he had all to himself (and hundreds of dead animals in the back). He said he was from a place called Bulgaria, bringing meat to France, and then taking other meat from France to Bulgaria. We both agreed that questioning the logic behind that was a sure route to insanity. Been there.
His name was Stojan and he had pictures painted on his skin: a lizard, a naked she-human and the heart of his mother. Holy Trolls of Trellagore! I envisioned myself coming home with that last one. Hehe. I would be the laughing stock of the tribe. And then my family would get very creative to find an exceptionally painful and humiliating way to slaughter me. And rightly so. I decided to keep my opinion to myself for once as Stojan was so friendly and useful. And the france-meat was rather delicious, too. But: not one frog to talk to. No france-humans either. We’re on our way to kraut-land now.

Orc on a plane? Nope.

As she-human and I were now irreconcilably divided, I no longer saw a good reason to stay in the metropolis, as I had not the slightest clue to a way home around here.
I mean, having marital disputes is the normal state of being for me and my countless wives. But she-human and I were not even married, so why did she bother? Anyway, I was no longer wanted (ok, I might not have been wanted at all to be honest), so I was going to leave (now, that’s a first).
The thing is, she wanted to help me (to get rid of me, of course) and said the quickest way of getting elsewhere was by plane. I had no idea what she meant, so she took me to Heathrow.

Personally, I don’t mind humans risking their lives by getting into a metal box and flying high up in the air. Seriously, whatever they do to diminish their numbers, I’m fine with it. But I get very angry if they think I’m stupid enough to get myself into a sardine tin that’s hurled across the sky. Orc in a flying tin. No, thanks. Also, there was the problem of getting a ticket. The guy at the counter would not let me have one unless I took of my ‘costume’. *sigh*
Before I could tell him in no uncertain terms where he could stick his ticket (I like the sound of it. ‘Stick his ticket’. Repeat it quickly three times, :-)), she-human dragged me away.

Next attempt to get rid of me: Kings Cross
Same problem, different tin can. Slightly less dangerous I assume. Anyway, we ended up without a ticket. I didn’t understand the concept of a railroad anyway. How would the rails know where I want to go if I hardly knew it myself?
So, in the end, she-human stole (rented, she insisted I correct myself. But honestly, paying with something not even remotely resembling money… tsk, tsk, tsk), so she stole-rented another tin can, this time exclusively for the two of us and drove me to the coast.
Driving in this tin called ‘car’ was quite a lot of fun, I have to say. Imagine my comrades and me in one of these, driving from one battle scene to the next. Opening the sunroof, Groisch half on top of the roof (don’t ask which half, please, nor try to envision his state of undress). Well, thanks. There you are. Some pictures are never to be unseen again.
We reached a harbour, got on a boat called ‘Ferry’ and shipped across the channel. I managed to keep my armour clean, less so the floor in front of the cocktail bar.
On the other side she handed me a packet with food and a large piece of paper and gave me some advice which I recalled word for word:

“1. don’t ever come back
2. stay away from England
3. don’t bother understanding the frogs (I’m still pondering that riddle. Why should I talk to the amphibians?)
4. The place you thought of going to is called Bielefeld and it is marked on this map of Europe
5. Don’t bother understanding the krauts either”

And off she went, leaving me behind with a map, belonging to someone called ‘Europe’, some food and no idea where I was. Slightly alarmed by her remark I turned away from the coast, always on the alert in case I might come across these mysterious talking frogs.

An evening well spent. Or maybe not.

It’s me again. No guest blogger this time. In fact, I don’t think she’ll ever do anything remotely nice for me in the near future or ever. She-human got very angry with me. It might as well be that I won’t be staying at her place for very long. I mean “Leave or else I’ll kill you”, that says something, doesn’t it? At least it’s a language that I finally understand.
Anyway, here’s what made her so angry:

Last evening she-human declared she was going out to see a play at a Westend theater. At first I had no idea what she was talking about, but she explained it to me. It’s a bit like children playing ‘catch the troll’ and one of them has to pretend to be the troll. Only in human plays there are rarely any trolls. The play she was going to see was called ‘Shakespeare in Love’. No trolls there. I had heard about that Shakespeare guy shortly after my arival in the metropolis so I thought it might be nice to meet him finally. She-human explained that he was not to appear in the play because he was dead but that it was only about him in a fictional way. You see, this is a typical explanation I usually get when I want a simple answer to a simple question. It’s always complicated with humans, or I should say, it’s always complicated with females of any species. I give you an example. You ask: is this fungus edible? And the simple answer would be yes or no. The orcish answer would be: go find out yourself. But the female answer is something like: Oh, that depends on what you want to cook for dinner. If you intend having the fish then it goes better with bla bla bla. THAT WAS NOT WHAT I HAD BEEN ASKING!
So to the theater we went. She was not happy about me coming along but I wanted to see for myself if that Shakespeare guy wasn’t showing up by any chance, dead or not. In the westend there are a lot of theaters. And every night they all put some people on a stage who then pretend to be someone else. I would perfectly understand if they all pretended to be orcs or at least dark elves. But they only pretended to be other humans. What’s the point? I also realized that other plays sounded a lot more interesting than the being in love kind of stuff. But she-human insisted that it was to be that one for the evening and nothing else.
Well, to make it short, she did not see much of the play in the end. We didn’t see any other play either. And the Shakespeare guy didn’t show up. And now she hates me. It might have a lot to do with the fact that the stage took a bit of damage last night. But it wasn’t my fault! I mean who paints a scenery? Couldn’t they use some more substantial material like wood or steel? When the curtain fell down on me I couldn’t see properly and stumbled into the painted canvas in the background. Perhaps I shouldn’t have tried to climb up the rope that was obviously connected to the curtain. But they had failed to put up a ladder that led to the upper construction where a guy had some problems with handling the light. He switched it on and off instead of keeping ot going permanently. I just wanted to help him. Well, sort of. I also wanted to get rid of the Master of the Revels as he hindered the hero and by that, the play. I considered hanging him witht he rope but she-human yelled at me to get out. I lost my footing, crashed down from the upper construction and landed on the actor playing the queen. It took them a while to untangle us all and the play ended there. I really don’t think it was such a good play. ‘Catch the troll’ is a lot more entertaining.
So, now she-human is angry with me. I think it may be because the play dissappointed her as well. I might take her out for another one soon. I heard about this Hamlet thingy next year. On the other hand, if she keeps blaming me for the whole thing I might as well look for other accomodations.
CU around 🙂 (yes, that’s a threat)

In the Abyss part 3

Right, here we are again. Ready for the second part of the resocializing-Groisch-project? Let me remind you (and myself) where we stopped last time. My comrades and I had to come up with a solution of fate-deciding proportions. 8 doors, 8 comrades. Here’s what we came up with, sorted by size of door, smallest to biggest:
1. Noden’s imp > he had to face a warm and sulphurous place, oh, and also some hellhounds
2, Roxas the kobold > stepped on a beach with a raft ashore and he developed gills
3. Vorn, the dark elf with a dominant streak > entered a forest and became a treelike elf with spikes
4. Kiba, the seemingly more compliant dark elf > went to a shack of a lumberjack. He grew to the size of a giant and started kicking trees around.
5. Noden, my son-in-law and sorcerer > had to face the snowstorm, so he gulped down the two bottles, which made him rather frosty and drunk
6. Thrakbog, myself > I entered a space of heat and drank down some blue flames
7. Slaag, the stubborn and creative huge orc > he became part of his surroundings by becoming a shadow himself.
8. Groisch, my best friend, and the reason we were there in the first place > he started glowing greenish and had to stand up to the dragon (he protested, as you might have expected, but it was his resocializing project, so there you go)

A few things might make you wonder though (it did us):
– the lumberjack had no eyes, their sockets looked as if burned out
– the imp’s door dissappeared after he passed through. Would all our doors do that, so there was no turning back? Guess.
– We all saw our god’s holy symbol on the sail of the raft on the beach
– in a drawer underneath the bottles on the table we found white crystals, some of which Slaag enjoyed destroying. Nobody but Noden and Vorn thought of taking one with them.
Only Groisch knew what the mission behind his door was, all the others were clueless. Well, nothing new there…

See, the problem here is that I have to rely on the others’ memory and honesty (you see?) to give you a recount of what happened behind their respective doors. Would you trust a dark elf to tell his misfortunes the way they truly happened? Exactly. So, all the accounts are filtered twice: first through their view and now mine. They might cancel each other out though, hehe. And me having the final word. Which is fair enough as this is my blog.
There’s also the fact that the imp, Roxas and Kiba never really told us what happened to them behind those doors. Should that worry us? Well, they made it out alive, so yes, it should worry us. Because none of them answers to my god. How could we know what sort of deal they made to get through?
Anyway, here’s a kind of faithful narrative of what happened to us after we went through our doors, posted as sub-chapters right after this one. Stay tuned.