Eternity RPC Board
09-13-2016, 11:41 PM
"Yeeeeeeeeees?"
The reply coincided with the slow squeaky opening of the hovel's metal door, and sounded as if the propogators of both noises were one in the same, foreign, rough and slightly irritable at the prospect of having to move from its comfortable place of rest. Both noises ceased as the door swung wide enough for Elke to peer inside, and notice the broad form standing at the entrance.
Or rather, notice the pungent odor that swept in upon her like a second invisible door slamming shut in her face, the vile musk of years of unwashed body muck joining forces with the stale vapors of cheap backwoods perfumes in a vicious assault upon more civilized senses. Before her stood a marsh troll, dressed in what one could probably assume a very tight-fitting and unshapely homage to what once passed as the most dapper of fashion trends amongst the most stuffy of gentry some two or four generations ago. Standing a full three head-heights above the young scholar, and nearly that far around, the grey-skinned beast had to hunch slightly to see beyond the short doorframe, an act that would have certainly caused his - for the scragly, unkempt beard certainly made one assume the beast was a he - slicked-back black unguentine mass of "hair" to fall before his face, were it not solidly held in place by the extreme viscocity of its own oils.
Olden tales in human lands were oft told of trolls by nurses and mothers to unruly babes, particularly of their ugliness and penchant for eating naughty children who didn't do what they were told. Bards also sang of the trolls to an older audience as the antagonists of many a tale, of their terrible strength, smell and disposition, amongst fouler descriptions. Many an army had been waylaid and crushed, many a farmstead razed and their cattle stolen, many a goat family too frightened into crossing bridges for greener pastures. However, the beast before Elke did not seem similar to any of those old tales, ugliness aside; with what could be called an attempt at a bow, it reached up and adjusted a pair of spectacles much too small to be of any actual use, and flashed its best mud-brown toothy smile, thankfully mostly hidden behind most of its beard-stache and bulbous nose.
"Ouuuuh, a bissit-tour!" The troll excitedly croaked in a pitch several octaves higher than one would expect as capable from such a creature, its painfully measured and practiced accent severely hindered by the beast's oversized fangs and noticeable underbite. A dismissive grunt, deep and guttural, issued from further within the building, as the troll at the door continued, "Foul-come to hh-our...hmm...shhup p." It seemed to have a habit of pausing and popping every "p" it pronounced, and holding its "h.' "Hh-ahberdahss-airy, eben. Ay am...ah...Ualdo."
"Chubb," Grunted the deep guttural voice from further within, as it introduced itself with a huff.
"Aye and ay're...mm...hh-ahberdahss-yours, ass you may hh-ave de-deuce't." The welcoming-troll straightened itself, rather pleased in introducing itself and its profession, or maybe in just putting to practice the ability to speak so very eloquently. Still smiling in what it certainly thought was a warm and inviting way, and very well might have been without the fangs or the general ick of his entire outward appearance, it continued, "B-lease, do comb in. Hh-ow wood it be hh-our b-lease-your to serb?"
Waldo - or maybe it actually was Ualdo, so difficult was it to discern from his speech - stepped aside as he spoke, revealing the interior of the shop to his visitor. Within, one could clearly see all the windows solidly boarded closed, creating extra wall space upon which shelves upon shelves were lined with all manner of haberdashery, small baubles and trinkets, various odds of a myriad types and uses: crafts, arts, hobbies, tools, supplies, charms, jewels and other ends littered just about every single usable surface within. The shelves rose to where the ceiling should have been and then rose even further beyond, said ceiling and the subsequent flooring of the second story having long since been removed to allow the current inhabitants the freedom of standing at their full height without having to stoop all the time; this of course meant various sturdy ladders lined the walls, riding along on wheels and tracks much like those prominent libraries might have. In a corner, as an afterthought, the proprietors arranged a few wares not fit for a typical store of their kind, evidently to satisfy certain other clientele, some books and various other larger everyday items.
And of course, in the middle of it all, yet another troll stood behind a desk. While otherwise similar in appearance to the one who answered the door, this one was completely bald, save the scruff around his chin, and he dressed in modest work attire. Much less personable, he deliberately seemed to keep his attention on his work as he cleaned and refurbished a worn out hanging signpost that read "O-U-W-T" and looked very much similar to the "I-N-N" sign dangling outside.
The reply coincided with the slow squeaky opening of the hovel's metal door, and sounded as if the propogators of both noises were one in the same, foreign, rough and slightly irritable at the prospect of having to move from its comfortable place of rest. Both noises ceased as the door swung wide enough for Elke to peer inside, and notice the broad form standing at the entrance.
Or rather, notice the pungent odor that swept in upon her like a second invisible door slamming shut in her face, the vile musk of years of unwashed body muck joining forces with the stale vapors of cheap backwoods perfumes in a vicious assault upon more civilized senses. Before her stood a marsh troll, dressed in what one could probably assume a very tight-fitting and unshapely homage to what once passed as the most dapper of fashion trends amongst the most stuffy of gentry some two or four generations ago. Standing a full three head-heights above the young scholar, and nearly that far around, the grey-skinned beast had to hunch slightly to see beyond the short doorframe, an act that would have certainly caused his - for the scragly, unkempt beard certainly made one assume the beast was a he - slicked-back black unguentine mass of "hair" to fall before his face, were it not solidly held in place by the extreme viscocity of its own oils.
Olden tales in human lands were oft told of trolls by nurses and mothers to unruly babes, particularly of their ugliness and penchant for eating naughty children who didn't do what they were told. Bards also sang of the trolls to an older audience as the antagonists of many a tale, of their terrible strength, smell and disposition, amongst fouler descriptions. Many an army had been waylaid and crushed, many a farmstead razed and their cattle stolen, many a goat family too frightened into crossing bridges for greener pastures. However, the beast before Elke did not seem similar to any of those old tales, ugliness aside; with what could be called an attempt at a bow, it reached up and adjusted a pair of spectacles much too small to be of any actual use, and flashed its best mud-brown toothy smile, thankfully mostly hidden behind most of its beard-stache and bulbous nose.
"Ouuuuh, a bissit-tour!" The troll excitedly croaked in a pitch several octaves higher than one would expect as capable from such a creature, its painfully measured and practiced accent severely hindered by the beast's oversized fangs and noticeable underbite. A dismissive grunt, deep and guttural, issued from further within the building, as the troll at the door continued, "Foul-come to hh-our...hmm...shhup p." It seemed to have a habit of pausing and popping every "p" it pronounced, and holding its "h.' "Hh-ahberdahss-airy, eben. Ay am...ah...Ualdo."
"Chubb," Grunted the deep guttural voice from further within, as it introduced itself with a huff.
"Aye and ay're...mm...hh-ahberdahss-yours, ass you may hh-ave de-deuce't." The welcoming-troll straightened itself, rather pleased in introducing itself and its profession, or maybe in just putting to practice the ability to speak so very eloquently. Still smiling in what it certainly thought was a warm and inviting way, and very well might have been without the fangs or the general ick of his entire outward appearance, it continued, "B-lease, do comb in. Hh-ow wood it be hh-our b-lease-your to serb?"
Waldo - or maybe it actually was Ualdo, so difficult was it to discern from his speech - stepped aside as he spoke, revealing the interior of the shop to his visitor. Within, one could clearly see all the windows solidly boarded closed, creating extra wall space upon which shelves upon shelves were lined with all manner of haberdashery, small baubles and trinkets, various odds of a myriad types and uses: crafts, arts, hobbies, tools, supplies, charms, jewels and other ends littered just about every single usable surface within. The shelves rose to where the ceiling should have been and then rose even further beyond, said ceiling and the subsequent flooring of the second story having long since been removed to allow the current inhabitants the freedom of standing at their full height without having to stoop all the time; this of course meant various sturdy ladders lined the walls, riding along on wheels and tracks much like those prominent libraries might have. In a corner, as an afterthought, the proprietors arranged a few wares not fit for a typical store of their kind, evidently to satisfy certain other clientele, some books and various other larger everyday items.
And of course, in the middle of it all, yet another troll stood behind a desk. While otherwise similar in appearance to the one who answered the door, this one was completely bald, save the scruff around his chin, and he dressed in modest work attire. Much less personable, he deliberately seemed to keep his attention on his work as he cleaned and refurbished a worn out hanging signpost that read "O-U-W-T" and looked very much similar to the "I-N-N" sign dangling outside.