Jobolg
04-07-2006, 10:23 AM
((Greetings, folks! I'm Jobolg, new 'round here, and I'ma be your new buddy! To prove it, as a token of my goodwill and friendship, I wrote you all up a short story. Yep! That's right. I wrote it juuust for you. I most certainly didn't post it up anywhere else and simply copy and paste it here for you to read! <Shifty eyes..> It doesn't have much of that drama or tragedy stuff that's been goin' around, but it's worth reading, I swear! If you don't like it, you'll get a full refund of your purchase price.))
It was an incredible day outside. The noontime sun was shining bright overhead such that there was not a shadow cast by anything on the ground without a roof. Only the pillowy white clouds drifting gracefully across the sky provided shade for the various fishermen out in their boats. The sun’s overbearing rays were effectively countered by a refreshingly cool breeze flowing steadily into the sturdy port town from the brilliant blue sea – almost blinding to look at when the light reflected off it just so. Now and then, a beautiful denizen of that sea would leap from its waters with a tumultuous splash; they were creatures of many different shapes and sizes and possessed of every color in the spectrum. Sometimes they were small fish, inadvertently leaping into the nets of those hunters of the sea, but rarely, they were large enough to swallow whole the dingy in which a fisherman sat. Perhaps it was because it was such a nice day, but no one seemed to notice when it happened.
Jobolg, however, was enjoying the day in a completely different way. Pushing open the saloon doors, he made his way into the large wooden room within. The powerful scent of dwarven ale stung his nostrils... or perhaps it was the dwarf who was drinking it. He paused just inside, stuffing his hands within a pair of pockets upon his robe he had hired a tailor to add, grabbing handfuls of the coin that rested within them and letting it tinkle through his fingers noisily. The sea breeze behind him blew past the rattling swinging doors, rustling his graying beard. As he glanced about the brightly lit housing, his face was alight with glee; his broad, toothy grin was the picture of mischief. Within the tavern of the neutral port town he found a veritable gold mine of a less monetary sort of booty than what he played with in his pocket.
‘It is, after all, Booty Bay...’ the orc thought, scanning the tavern’s various patrons, grinning unabashed at the many hourglass figures of both Horde and Alliance alike. He was not the discriminating sort... at least not with the women.
Just about then, his golden hues caught sight of a particularly appealing posterior, and his eyes followed it in a circle as it waved upon the mahogany bar stool on which its owner sat drinking. His gaze slowly traced up the female’s form – she was larger than he initially expected, but still quite tone and shapely! – over her waist, past her shoulder blades, sensually up her neck until he gazed right into the face of... a tauren?! But he had noticed no tail! His eyes quickly darted back below her waist. Sure enough, there it was, flicking from side to side as though swatting away flies. It was just so hard to notice it when one’s eyes were fixated upon her unusually gyrating rump! It was more difficult to peel his eyes away from it again than it had been to construct his rocket helmet, and the helmet was able to translate his words into five different languages!
‘Well, I was hoping for a pretty orc, but when you’re hooked, you’re hooked!’ he conceded. Casually, hands motionless within his pockets, he strolled up to the bar stool beside her. She was indifferent to his presence, sipping idly at her beverage, occasionally reaching down to massage her thighs, apparently sore. Pressing his rough palms to the seat’s unpolished surface, he hoisted himself up and casually stretched an arm around the lovely-rumped tauren’s back, resting it on the shoulder opposite him.
“Heeeey there, honey; how you doin’?” he inquired playfully, smacking his tongue against the back of his teeth twice in rapid succession. When she graced him with a glance, he offered in return a sly smile, and a mischievous wink.
“And who might you be..?” the lady tauren demanded, sounding mildly annoyed at his intrusion. She quickly bucked her shoulder and tossed off his arm.
“Oh, come on now, baby, you know who I am. I’m the orc whose dreams you’ve been running through all night! That’s why your legs are so sore.” He sat silent for a moment, smugly smirking up into her sapphire eyes. He smoothly slipped a hand onto her thigh nearest to him. “Maybe I could give you a little rub-down to... ease the tension?”
“What?! No! Get your grubby orc paws off of me!” she quickly exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.
“Aw, how can you be so cold when your eyes, and your fur,” he added, the latter bit carrying a heavy tone of seduction, “are so warm?”
“Is this orc bothering you, Chiona?” came a heavy voice from behind. Jobolg averted his eyes from the female, looking to his right, directly into the heavily muscled abdomen of a massive tauren male. The orc gulped audibly, his saliva barely making it down his suddenly tense throat.
“Yes, he is! Please, pleeeease get him out of my hair, Mel,” Chiona begged cutely.
“Done,” the massive tauren responded, looking down furiously at Jobolg. “Get up.”
“No, I think I’m pretty comfortable he- oof!” Jobolg protested, words interrupted quite rudely by the collision of a tauren fist with his gut. Before he knew it, his form was lifted from the stool and slung unceremoniously over the furry male’s back. He was suppressed by a heavy bovine hand and carried back out of the tavern. Virtually all of the patrons had stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle, and many of them stood up to follow them outside.
When Jobolg heard the clack of hooves upon the denser wood of the outside walkway, he glanced around. Several tiny bruisers had gathered around, their spiked maces painful to even look at, but their faces shone to him like beacons of hope. They had a few words with the tauren in some language Jobolg did not understand, and then abruptly went back to their business, dark, unsettling grins on their faces. He was set down in front of the tauren and given a hard shove backwards which sent him sprawling onto his backside. Quickly his arms and legs worked, skittering him back away from the tauren to what seemed a safe distance.
“You’re lucky they won’t let me kill you,” came Mel’s deep voice rumbling up past his thick throat. Jobo breathed a sigh of relief. “However, for a few gold coins, I convinced them that you’re just dangerous enough to need a bit of roughing up...” The sound of the warrior’s knuckles cracking sent a shiver down Jobolg’s spine. It was a wholly unpleasant noise.
“Well, then please make it quick. I’m not too good with pain,” he requested submissively. There was no fear in his eyes nor was there a tremble in his voice as he pushed against the warm port town woodwork, rising to his feet. His hands were placed behind his back, making himself an easy target for the larger male.
“Hah! You’re pitiful! Giving up without even putting up a fight...” The tauren scoffed, looking down at Jobolg with contempt. There was a thick, hissing, rumbling exhalation deep within Mel’s throat, and his lips pulled together, a forward thrust of his head launching a stringy projectile of saliva upon the orc’s face. “There! Now you look the part too!” The tauren’s chest heaved with an obnoxious, uproarious laughter.
It was about then Jobolg noticed the crowd of people that had gathered around them. There were eager smiles plastered across the expressions of most of the onlookers, and one particularly enterprising goblin was actually walking around with a clear glass jar and a notepad taking bets. Much to his disappointment, Jobolg received only one bet – said bet coming from a gnome who seemed to have acquired a strange infatuation with him - in his favor versus nearly twenty for the tauren’s victory.
“What? Don’t have anything to say for yourself?!” Mel snorted.
“I do not want to hit you...”
“Well that’s ok! I’ll just hit you. We can make this real one sided. You don’t need to...” Mel cut himself off, eyes narrowing, brows furrowing with scrutiny and caution at Jobolg. “...what’s that behind your back?”
“Oh, this..?” came the sinister response. Jobolg slowly drew his hands from behind his back, extending them out for Mel’s inspection. The green skin upon them could no longer be seen, covered by an incredible radiance of snapping orange flames which danced in the sea breeze and gnawed at his wrists. “Well, I only said I didn’t want to –hit- you.”
“Ack!” The tauren’s eyes grew wide like bronze plates, and if his jaw could have fallen any further he would have been stuck with splinters in his gums. As quickly as he could he charged at the magic-wielding orc, but was caught mid-step by the combustion of his clothing. Beneath his mail armor the flames roared so wildly they licked through the suit and heated the metal links until they burned red hot and branded past Mel’s fur. He began to dance, arms waving around frantically to beat out the fires which seemed to sprout and grow all over him. He viciously tore his chain mail off his body, snapping it apart in the front, sending searing metal links soaring dangerously in front of him, a cluster of which Jobolg neatly crouched under. The mail was thrown to the ground, and the burning creature dove off the side of Booty Bay into the water’s below to extinguish himself.
Jobolg couldn’t help himself. His knees quivered and gave way beneath him, and he fell to the ground clutching his sides. At this, he laughed... until he saw the tauren clambering out of the water, salty liquid dripping in clear strands from his nose. His once ivory fur was hardly so now. What was still there had been charred black, and the skin where no fur remained was marked red with the imprints of the heated mail. At the sight of this pitiful tauren straggling up onto the docks Jobolg felt a pang in his gut... It was still his laughter. And he laughed...
And he laughed...
And he laughed... He laughed until he tasted the joyful tears that streamed down his cheek. He laughed until he heard the clacking of footsteps coming from behind him. The footsteps, he noticed when he managed to open his eyes and look up, came from the tauren with the lovely posterior. He composed himself quickly, nearly leaping to his feet to impress. Swift hands brushed the dust from his robes as he grinned at her.
“That was my husband you jerk!” she reprimanded, balling her fist and drawing back her arm.
“Say wha-“
CRACK!
When he finally awoke, it was night within the port town, and all had gone silent but for the tavern still only a few paces away. The stars filled the sky, surrounding the full silver moon on all sides. Though his head pounded like a dozen hammers meeting an anvil, he wearily made it to his feet and stumbled those few paces into the tavern. It was nearly empty now. The number of patrons had declined significantly, and only about ten or so remained at the bar or at one of the many tables. Among them was that lady gnome, carefully counting her earnings, shooting him a seductive grin. But a few seats to the right of the gnome, Jobolg’s eyes came to rest on a very attractive orc female. He stumbled up to her, legs still a bit wobbly, hoisted himself into the seat beside her, and stretched an arm around her shoulder.
“Heeeey there, honey; how you doin’?”
It was an incredible day outside. The noontime sun was shining bright overhead such that there was not a shadow cast by anything on the ground without a roof. Only the pillowy white clouds drifting gracefully across the sky provided shade for the various fishermen out in their boats. The sun’s overbearing rays were effectively countered by a refreshingly cool breeze flowing steadily into the sturdy port town from the brilliant blue sea – almost blinding to look at when the light reflected off it just so. Now and then, a beautiful denizen of that sea would leap from its waters with a tumultuous splash; they were creatures of many different shapes and sizes and possessed of every color in the spectrum. Sometimes they were small fish, inadvertently leaping into the nets of those hunters of the sea, but rarely, they were large enough to swallow whole the dingy in which a fisherman sat. Perhaps it was because it was such a nice day, but no one seemed to notice when it happened.
Jobolg, however, was enjoying the day in a completely different way. Pushing open the saloon doors, he made his way into the large wooden room within. The powerful scent of dwarven ale stung his nostrils... or perhaps it was the dwarf who was drinking it. He paused just inside, stuffing his hands within a pair of pockets upon his robe he had hired a tailor to add, grabbing handfuls of the coin that rested within them and letting it tinkle through his fingers noisily. The sea breeze behind him blew past the rattling swinging doors, rustling his graying beard. As he glanced about the brightly lit housing, his face was alight with glee; his broad, toothy grin was the picture of mischief. Within the tavern of the neutral port town he found a veritable gold mine of a less monetary sort of booty than what he played with in his pocket.
‘It is, after all, Booty Bay...’ the orc thought, scanning the tavern’s various patrons, grinning unabashed at the many hourglass figures of both Horde and Alliance alike. He was not the discriminating sort... at least not with the women.
Just about then, his golden hues caught sight of a particularly appealing posterior, and his eyes followed it in a circle as it waved upon the mahogany bar stool on which its owner sat drinking. His gaze slowly traced up the female’s form – she was larger than he initially expected, but still quite tone and shapely! – over her waist, past her shoulder blades, sensually up her neck until he gazed right into the face of... a tauren?! But he had noticed no tail! His eyes quickly darted back below her waist. Sure enough, there it was, flicking from side to side as though swatting away flies. It was just so hard to notice it when one’s eyes were fixated upon her unusually gyrating rump! It was more difficult to peel his eyes away from it again than it had been to construct his rocket helmet, and the helmet was able to translate his words into five different languages!
‘Well, I was hoping for a pretty orc, but when you’re hooked, you’re hooked!’ he conceded. Casually, hands motionless within his pockets, he strolled up to the bar stool beside her. She was indifferent to his presence, sipping idly at her beverage, occasionally reaching down to massage her thighs, apparently sore. Pressing his rough palms to the seat’s unpolished surface, he hoisted himself up and casually stretched an arm around the lovely-rumped tauren’s back, resting it on the shoulder opposite him.
“Heeeey there, honey; how you doin’?” he inquired playfully, smacking his tongue against the back of his teeth twice in rapid succession. When she graced him with a glance, he offered in return a sly smile, and a mischievous wink.
“And who might you be..?” the lady tauren demanded, sounding mildly annoyed at his intrusion. She quickly bucked her shoulder and tossed off his arm.
“Oh, come on now, baby, you know who I am. I’m the orc whose dreams you’ve been running through all night! That’s why your legs are so sore.” He sat silent for a moment, smugly smirking up into her sapphire eyes. He smoothly slipped a hand onto her thigh nearest to him. “Maybe I could give you a little rub-down to... ease the tension?”
“What?! No! Get your grubby orc paws off of me!” she quickly exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.
“Aw, how can you be so cold when your eyes, and your fur,” he added, the latter bit carrying a heavy tone of seduction, “are so warm?”
“Is this orc bothering you, Chiona?” came a heavy voice from behind. Jobolg averted his eyes from the female, looking to his right, directly into the heavily muscled abdomen of a massive tauren male. The orc gulped audibly, his saliva barely making it down his suddenly tense throat.
“Yes, he is! Please, pleeeease get him out of my hair, Mel,” Chiona begged cutely.
“Done,” the massive tauren responded, looking down furiously at Jobolg. “Get up.”
“No, I think I’m pretty comfortable he- oof!” Jobolg protested, words interrupted quite rudely by the collision of a tauren fist with his gut. Before he knew it, his form was lifted from the stool and slung unceremoniously over the furry male’s back. He was suppressed by a heavy bovine hand and carried back out of the tavern. Virtually all of the patrons had stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle, and many of them stood up to follow them outside.
When Jobolg heard the clack of hooves upon the denser wood of the outside walkway, he glanced around. Several tiny bruisers had gathered around, their spiked maces painful to even look at, but their faces shone to him like beacons of hope. They had a few words with the tauren in some language Jobolg did not understand, and then abruptly went back to their business, dark, unsettling grins on their faces. He was set down in front of the tauren and given a hard shove backwards which sent him sprawling onto his backside. Quickly his arms and legs worked, skittering him back away from the tauren to what seemed a safe distance.
“You’re lucky they won’t let me kill you,” came Mel’s deep voice rumbling up past his thick throat. Jobo breathed a sigh of relief. “However, for a few gold coins, I convinced them that you’re just dangerous enough to need a bit of roughing up...” The sound of the warrior’s knuckles cracking sent a shiver down Jobolg’s spine. It was a wholly unpleasant noise.
“Well, then please make it quick. I’m not too good with pain,” he requested submissively. There was no fear in his eyes nor was there a tremble in his voice as he pushed against the warm port town woodwork, rising to his feet. His hands were placed behind his back, making himself an easy target for the larger male.
“Hah! You’re pitiful! Giving up without even putting up a fight...” The tauren scoffed, looking down at Jobolg with contempt. There was a thick, hissing, rumbling exhalation deep within Mel’s throat, and his lips pulled together, a forward thrust of his head launching a stringy projectile of saliva upon the orc’s face. “There! Now you look the part too!” The tauren’s chest heaved with an obnoxious, uproarious laughter.
It was about then Jobolg noticed the crowd of people that had gathered around them. There were eager smiles plastered across the expressions of most of the onlookers, and one particularly enterprising goblin was actually walking around with a clear glass jar and a notepad taking bets. Much to his disappointment, Jobolg received only one bet – said bet coming from a gnome who seemed to have acquired a strange infatuation with him - in his favor versus nearly twenty for the tauren’s victory.
“What? Don’t have anything to say for yourself?!” Mel snorted.
“I do not want to hit you...”
“Well that’s ok! I’ll just hit you. We can make this real one sided. You don’t need to...” Mel cut himself off, eyes narrowing, brows furrowing with scrutiny and caution at Jobolg. “...what’s that behind your back?”
“Oh, this..?” came the sinister response. Jobolg slowly drew his hands from behind his back, extending them out for Mel’s inspection. The green skin upon them could no longer be seen, covered by an incredible radiance of snapping orange flames which danced in the sea breeze and gnawed at his wrists. “Well, I only said I didn’t want to –hit- you.”
“Ack!” The tauren’s eyes grew wide like bronze plates, and if his jaw could have fallen any further he would have been stuck with splinters in his gums. As quickly as he could he charged at the magic-wielding orc, but was caught mid-step by the combustion of his clothing. Beneath his mail armor the flames roared so wildly they licked through the suit and heated the metal links until they burned red hot and branded past Mel’s fur. He began to dance, arms waving around frantically to beat out the fires which seemed to sprout and grow all over him. He viciously tore his chain mail off his body, snapping it apart in the front, sending searing metal links soaring dangerously in front of him, a cluster of which Jobolg neatly crouched under. The mail was thrown to the ground, and the burning creature dove off the side of Booty Bay into the water’s below to extinguish himself.
Jobolg couldn’t help himself. His knees quivered and gave way beneath him, and he fell to the ground clutching his sides. At this, he laughed... until he saw the tauren clambering out of the water, salty liquid dripping in clear strands from his nose. His once ivory fur was hardly so now. What was still there had been charred black, and the skin where no fur remained was marked red with the imprints of the heated mail. At the sight of this pitiful tauren straggling up onto the docks Jobolg felt a pang in his gut... It was still his laughter. And he laughed...
And he laughed...
And he laughed... He laughed until he tasted the joyful tears that streamed down his cheek. He laughed until he heard the clacking of footsteps coming from behind him. The footsteps, he noticed when he managed to open his eyes and look up, came from the tauren with the lovely posterior. He composed himself quickly, nearly leaping to his feet to impress. Swift hands brushed the dust from his robes as he grinned at her.
“That was my husband you jerk!” she reprimanded, balling her fist and drawing back her arm.
“Say wha-“
CRACK!
When he finally awoke, it was night within the port town, and all had gone silent but for the tavern still only a few paces away. The stars filled the sky, surrounding the full silver moon on all sides. Though his head pounded like a dozen hammers meeting an anvil, he wearily made it to his feet and stumbled those few paces into the tavern. It was nearly empty now. The number of patrons had declined significantly, and only about ten or so remained at the bar or at one of the many tables. Among them was that lady gnome, carefully counting her earnings, shooting him a seductive grin. But a few seats to the right of the gnome, Jobolg’s eyes came to rest on a very attractive orc female. He stumbled up to her, legs still a bit wobbly, hoisted himself into the seat beside her, and stretched an arm around her shoulder.
“Heeeey there, honey; how you doin’?”