Beauty is Deceiving 5 — The Walk Home

Posted by Scourge on January 6, 2010

The idea that the Demi-Duchess was in Barend for work made Harlon even more confused than he usually was. He strode down Center Street, completely missing two pick-pockets and a man using another man’s head for a fighting practice dummy. His mind was full of other things, but mostly Celiaria. The image of her face and body burned into his brain blocked out most thought. It ran kind of like this: eyes… work?… lips…work?… white, swan-like neck… what type of work?… heaving bosoms… huh? what?

Captain Harlon’s mind was getting a real work out today, for when he rounded the next corner onto the considerably dingier street that led to his house, he ran into something that managed to dislodge Celiaria from his mind completely.

Now, it wasn’t that odd seeing an orc in town, though mostly they kept to the outlying fields and farms. It was a little odd to see an orc in armor, with a big-ass war hammer twice the size of Harlon’s skull.  There was a growing crowd of townsfolk around the orc, who was snarling.

Harlon pushed through the crowd and stepped up boldly to the orc. “Hello there!” he called. “Nice, sunny weather!” Orcs could usually be distracted easily with comments about the weather. From what he knew of orcs these days, they were all farmers. And morons. Weather was about the only thing they could talk about at length. Weather and seeds.

This orc glanced at Harlon, still scowling, and proceeded to wave his war hammer about in a I’m-about-to-get-your-brains-on-this manner.

Harlon stepped back, or tried to. The crowd behind him was like a wall now. They were ready for the show.

“Umm. Hello? Mister Orc. Sir?” Harlon kept trying to get through to the great green lug, but it wasn’t working. “Excuse me.”

And then he was pushed rudely from behind. He turned to see a skinny man with an outlandish outfit on striding up to the orc with his hands spread wide. Harlon noticed the outfit first, to tell the truth, because it was primarily orange and red and glow-in-the-dark green and ultra-blue and the type of yellow that burns itself into your retinas and won’t get out again. It was silky. It flowed and flapped around him like a dancing girl’s scarves. The hat matched, except it had feathers too.

This weirdo stood in front of the orc and turnedto face Harlon and the crowd. “Excuse me!” he cried, in a tone of ripe indignation. “Kindly disperse! You are upsetting Grak.” He clapped his hands sharply then and cast a particularly jabbing look at Harlon.

Harlon knew a potential client when he saw one. This guy had to have money. No poor person would be caught dead in that outfit. He spun around and raised his hands up to the crowd. “You heard the man. Get the heck outta here!”

About ten minutes later, the crowd had thinned considerably and Harlon turned back to the oddball and his orc. “Anything else I can help you with?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

The freak looked him up and down and then flashed a smile. “Not at present. Thank you.” His smile dropped off his face like a rock into a pond, except without those circular ripple things. He grabbed the orc’s arm and led him away down the road.

Harlon watched them for a long moment, but finally turned and continued on toward home. There was leftover pork dumplings and cabbage for lunch. One of his favorites.