Jobolg
05-09-2006, 01:10 PM
((Warning: The following may contain scenes that will conjure up crazy freaky-nasty mental images in your head which you may or may not appreciate. Mental images, made in 6 parts, are approximately 2 parts nastiness, 4 parts hilarity.))
“That was easily the worst idea I have ever had...” Jobolg groaned, laying flat on the ground, arms spread to his sides. The floor was cold against his back as he stared, dazed, into the splintery wooden ceiling, not daring to budge. As he counted the fibers in the beams holding the place up, a heavy set of leather boots planted themselves with a stomp on either side of his head. Rising smoothly out of the boots was a set of shapely, toned green legs that flowed into a voluptuous body. The muscled arms of said voluptuous body gripped a massive hammer in one of their hands, menacingly lifting and slapping its handle down into the other palm. His eyes flitted back down her form and traced this vertical angle up her backside. “Although, the view is quite nice,” he stated on impulse. He should have known better.
“What did you say?! I’ll teach you some manners, you stupid old orc!” the female orc threatened. She leaned forward over him and stretched a trembling fist down to clutch at his graying hair, presenting him a nice view of the fleshy canyon several inches below her neck; he took full advantage of the visual opportunity and grinned. The woman noticed his stare, judging by the fierce growl which rumbled in her chest. It wasn’t fair! She clutched his beard and began pulling him harshly to his feet. It wasn’t HIS fault she was dressed like a ten silver hooker!
“Look, toots, can’t we just work this out like civilized orcs?” Jobolg offered with a nervous chuckle, practically dangling in her grip, tips of his toes keeping him balanced. She was unusually tall. In response, the fist which clutched at his beard thrust forward underneath it and wrapped itself instead around his neck. Jobolg’s voice wheezed meekly - “I’m, I’m guessing that’s a... ack... a no?” - with his inquiry, pitiful toothy smile spreading across his face.
“Quit calling me that! I’m not toots, babe or baby; I’m not honey or sweet thang... I am Grult!” Her brows arced down at a dangerous angle, nostrils flaring with a loud snort of rage.
“Grult? That’s not a very feminine name, babe....”
“Augh!” With a perturbed cry, the orc thrust her arm forward and released his neck, flinging his large orcish form across the room. His flying body snapped through a few flimsy wooden chairs and crashed into the sturdy wall behind them. “I’ve had it with this place! Not a single decent individual in it anywhere to be seen!”
Jobolg’s head spun as he forced himself to his feet, using one of the broken chair legs as support to help him do so. A frown stole over his expression as he watched all four of the female orc dash out the four doors clutching at her hair in anguish, nearly trampling the tiny form of a gnome who seemed to be creeping in as stealthily as she could. Barely maintaining balance through his vertigo, he wobbled over to the largest seat he could find and dropped himself in it, resting his arms and his head upon the crude round table in front of it. There were at least a dozen people eyeing him closely now, several snickering, but he paid them no notice.
“I’m just gonna sit here and wait until I only see one of everything. That’s what I’ll do. No standing means no falling over and no more breaking things. I hope they don’t make me pay for those chairs...”
“Aww, poor guy!” squeaked a tiny feminine voice from his left. Turning his head in that direction he saw nothing, but felt a gentle tugging at his robes. He lowered his gaze, looking down at the blurry face of the gnome, doing his best to ignore the rush of blood to his head at the new angle. “Are you ok?” the gnome inquired sweetly, leaning forward, wrapping her arms around his leg and giving it a hug.
“I’m fine... uh.. thanks. Now shoo. I’m feeling a little off at the moment and don’t need a hyperactive gnome around driving me crazy,” he shooed, pushing her off of his leg with a few sweeps of his hand.
“Oh, c’mon now! I can help you out, I can! Here, let me order you a drink!” she offered, clambering up onto his lap, and then stepping onto the table in front of him. She waved her arms wildly in the air for a moment until a goblin server came around, who she only glared at for a second.
“I don’t think any alcohol is a good idea right now...” Jobolg protested firmly.
“Of course it isn’t!” she replied, and turned to the server. “Two cups of tea, please!”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever, as long as yer payin’.” The goblin wandered off to the back mumbling.
Jobolg stared closely at his benefactor gnome, wondering why one of the tiny creatures was going through the trouble to help him, if in fact that was what she was doing. Inspecting her blurry form, just then making out a pink tuft of color on her head, he couldn’t help but feel as though something about the gnome was familiar.
“Do I know you?”
“Err, nope! Don’t think we’ve ever met before! Nuh uh! Never,” she responded quickly, sitting down on the table not far in front of him. At least she sounded sure of herself.
It was a good five minutes before the goblin finally returned with the tray carrying the two cups of tea, one significantly larger than the other. Jobolg, who had apparently been hit harder by the hammer than he thought, was still a bit dizzy. “Here’s your order... m’am,” the goblin said in a tremblingly courteous voice, placing the tin tray in front of her. She thanked him, paid him, and turned the orc.
“Hey, look! It’s a pretty troll!” the gnome suddenly exclaimed, pointing randomly behind him. She snickered quietly to himself as he gullibly turned and looked.
“What? Where? I don’t see any tro... oh very funny,” he scoffed, and turned his head back with an agitated glare just a few seconds too late to notice the pair of tiny feminine hands sprinkling a curious powder in his drink. He sniffed the air over his tea and smiled. “Well, it smells good at least!”
“It tastes good too! Drink up!” she requested, almost commanded. She grabbed her own cup gently, and tilted it to her lips, dumping a quantity of the fluid down her gnomish throat. Jobolg simply chuckled.
“Heh, ok then,” he responded, nodding his head. His cup was lifted, and its fluid dumped down his throat in a matter of seconds. This brought a broad, gleeful smile to the gnome’s expression that struck Jobolg at that moment as nothing less than happiness at her good deed. His focus almost immediately came back to him, and he recognized the gnome before him. “Hey, you’re that gnome who was outside betting on me!” he exclaimed.
“Yep! I’m flattered you actually noticed me!” she cheerfully reported.
“Guess you knew that tauren was toast before I even set him on fire, didn’t you? You must have made a killing with all the bets there were being ma- whoa! What the..”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jobolg trailed off as his sight blurred out again. The colors around him all at once grew brighter and more vibrant; even the air seemed to take on a tinge of color. Jobolg cackled and opened his mouth, clamping it back down onto a solid looking portion of the air. “Mmm... tastes like blue.” As he did so, the light shining in from the open doorway became gloriously prismatic. He stood to his feet and he felt himself drawn toward it. The door grew nearer and nearer, as though it was growing, or he was gliding along towards it on an icy floor.
“Heh, and just where do you think you’re going, cutie?” came a seductive voice from behind him. His head arched around and caught sight of a beautiful elf mischievously grinning at him. Two small white strips of silk struggled to conceal her chest and loins, leaving her for all intents and purposes in the nude. Jobolg’s golden hues flashed briefly white as he eyed over the lavender skin of her supple curves. “Come on with me, you big studly orc, and I’ll show you a real good time.” She winked at him playfully and giggled, and he stepped towards her; as he did so, she became further away.
“Ah! No! Don’t leave, toots, we haven’t even done anything yet!” he exclaimed in distress. He continued walking towards her, but with every step he took, she shrank many feet into the flowery path he now saw in the distance until she was gone from sight entirely. He dropped to his knees in disbelief, clutching at his head. “Why?! What did I do wrong? I barely even said anything!”
“Don’t feel bad!” spoke the tiny four-armed goblin on his shoulder as he danced a merry, exciting jig to a tune Jobolg could not hear.
“Why shouldn’t I? This happens all the time,” Jobolg whined, turning his head to face the tiny creature, that had apparently fashioned a chair out of the dust particles floating in the air and was now sitting on it comfortably, one leg crossed over the other. The curious goblin puffed at a fancy wooden pipe.
“Because she just wasn’t worth your time, that’s why! A great, handsome, powerful warlock like yourself should be focusing on other warlocks of your own species, not some fruity elves! Go on, go for it! There’s a cutie-pie tauren right over there that’s right up your alley!”
“But I’m not a...”
“Yes you are!” the goblin interrupted, pointing down to Jobolg’s furry chest.
Jobolg looked down and nodded his head at his large, tauren hands. He chuckled and stretched his neck to see around to his backside, grinning at the furry tail which protruded from his lower back. He shrugged his shoulders at the clack of his hooves on the soft ground, and glanced around at the high bluffs which now surrounded him but which he had not noticed before. “Oh, of course! How could I have forgotten my race like that! I’m such an idiot sometimes.”
“That you are, Mr. Tauren, that you are. Now if you’ll excuse me...” he began leaping down off of Jobolg’s shoulder. Halfway to the ground, the goblin twisted his head off like a screw, and from the black hole in his neck popped a tiny white parachute which carried him safely to the ground. He held up his disembodied head, which smiled and continued, “...I have to be catching that mole over there.”
“What mole?” Jobolg questioned, scanning the ground but finding nothing. “Is it on Elder Rise? I hear there are moles there.”
The goblin nodded his head. “Yes, that must be where it is! On Elder Rise! You’ve got a good tauren head on your shoulders, Jobolg! I should really go get that mole! He’s been stealing my Welfare checks, you see!”
“Your what? What’s a check, and who is Welfare? Or what?”
“It’s how we four-armed goblins make all our money, you know! That and moonshine! I think he’s stealing my moonshine too! I sure hope he doesn’t find the keys to my mobile home before I get to him!”
“Well then you’d better go get him! Elder Rise is that way!” Jobolg offered, kindly pointing in the direction of the proper bluff.
“Oh no, I won’t be taking the bridge. The only real way to catch a mole is to be like a mole, you know. Well, it’s been good knowing you!” The goblin leapt into the air, and dove down into the ground, splashing up dirt as though it were a pool of water.
“That makes sense, but... Oh my! If the ground is turning into a lake, I’d better get off the ground! I don’t want to get my robes muddy. Over there by that tauren is a good place, I think. Its ground looks less lake-like.” Swift, anxious steps carried him away from the ground upon which he currently stood over to the side of the tauren. Despite her large distance away, it seemed to take only a few seconds to reach her.
“Go get her, tiger!” gurgled the goblins voice from under the water-dirt.
“I thought I was a tauren though.”
“You are, you silly!” the lady to his side confirmed with a cute giggle.
“Oh. Ok. I was worried I was a tiger now. That would be very confusing, not to mention I would be chased out of town!”
“Don’t worry, my dear, I wouldn’t let anyone chase you away,” the tauren comforted, gently placing a hand upon his large tauren shoulder. She leaned in and gently pecked him on the lips. Her face was then beset by a distressed frown, however, and her voice was full of concern. “But why did you leave me earlier? That hurt my feelings!”
“I did not leave you. In fact, I had not noticed you until the four-armed goblin pointed you out. I do hope he caught his mole. Welfare checks, moonshine and mobile homes sound too important to be stolen by a small digging creature.”
“What are you talking about, dear? Four-armed mini-goblins haven’t been around for years.”
“But they have! I just saw one over... wait. Dear?” He lifted his prism colored tauren hand to scratch idly at his head in confusion. “Why are you calling me that?”
“Yes, dear! Why shouldn’t I call you that, hm? We’ve only been an item for three years now!” she reprimanded him harshly, sounding offended.
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! How could you not be sure? Especially after all the beds we’ve shared and flesh we’ve touched together!” She cackled now, and a smile crept back onto her face. “Speaking of which... how would you like to go share and touch a bit now, hm?” Her voice was erotic and tempting, and Jobolg found himself nodding his head stupidly, eagerly led behind her as she grasped his hand and pulled him along. They were nearly to a private room when suddenly a vicious booming voice rang out behind them.
“That was easily the worst idea I have ever had...” Jobolg groaned, laying flat on the ground, arms spread to his sides. The floor was cold against his back as he stared, dazed, into the splintery wooden ceiling, not daring to budge. As he counted the fibers in the beams holding the place up, a heavy set of leather boots planted themselves with a stomp on either side of his head. Rising smoothly out of the boots was a set of shapely, toned green legs that flowed into a voluptuous body. The muscled arms of said voluptuous body gripped a massive hammer in one of their hands, menacingly lifting and slapping its handle down into the other palm. His eyes flitted back down her form and traced this vertical angle up her backside. “Although, the view is quite nice,” he stated on impulse. He should have known better.
“What did you say?! I’ll teach you some manners, you stupid old orc!” the female orc threatened. She leaned forward over him and stretched a trembling fist down to clutch at his graying hair, presenting him a nice view of the fleshy canyon several inches below her neck; he took full advantage of the visual opportunity and grinned. The woman noticed his stare, judging by the fierce growl which rumbled in her chest. It wasn’t fair! She clutched his beard and began pulling him harshly to his feet. It wasn’t HIS fault she was dressed like a ten silver hooker!
“Look, toots, can’t we just work this out like civilized orcs?” Jobolg offered with a nervous chuckle, practically dangling in her grip, tips of his toes keeping him balanced. She was unusually tall. In response, the fist which clutched at his beard thrust forward underneath it and wrapped itself instead around his neck. Jobolg’s voice wheezed meekly - “I’m, I’m guessing that’s a... ack... a no?” - with his inquiry, pitiful toothy smile spreading across his face.
“Quit calling me that! I’m not toots, babe or baby; I’m not honey or sweet thang... I am Grult!” Her brows arced down at a dangerous angle, nostrils flaring with a loud snort of rage.
“Grult? That’s not a very feminine name, babe....”
“Augh!” With a perturbed cry, the orc thrust her arm forward and released his neck, flinging his large orcish form across the room. His flying body snapped through a few flimsy wooden chairs and crashed into the sturdy wall behind them. “I’ve had it with this place! Not a single decent individual in it anywhere to be seen!”
Jobolg’s head spun as he forced himself to his feet, using one of the broken chair legs as support to help him do so. A frown stole over his expression as he watched all four of the female orc dash out the four doors clutching at her hair in anguish, nearly trampling the tiny form of a gnome who seemed to be creeping in as stealthily as she could. Barely maintaining balance through his vertigo, he wobbled over to the largest seat he could find and dropped himself in it, resting his arms and his head upon the crude round table in front of it. There were at least a dozen people eyeing him closely now, several snickering, but he paid them no notice.
“I’m just gonna sit here and wait until I only see one of everything. That’s what I’ll do. No standing means no falling over and no more breaking things. I hope they don’t make me pay for those chairs...”
“Aww, poor guy!” squeaked a tiny feminine voice from his left. Turning his head in that direction he saw nothing, but felt a gentle tugging at his robes. He lowered his gaze, looking down at the blurry face of the gnome, doing his best to ignore the rush of blood to his head at the new angle. “Are you ok?” the gnome inquired sweetly, leaning forward, wrapping her arms around his leg and giving it a hug.
“I’m fine... uh.. thanks. Now shoo. I’m feeling a little off at the moment and don’t need a hyperactive gnome around driving me crazy,” he shooed, pushing her off of his leg with a few sweeps of his hand.
“Oh, c’mon now! I can help you out, I can! Here, let me order you a drink!” she offered, clambering up onto his lap, and then stepping onto the table in front of him. She waved her arms wildly in the air for a moment until a goblin server came around, who she only glared at for a second.
“I don’t think any alcohol is a good idea right now...” Jobolg protested firmly.
“Of course it isn’t!” she replied, and turned to the server. “Two cups of tea, please!”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever, as long as yer payin’.” The goblin wandered off to the back mumbling.
Jobolg stared closely at his benefactor gnome, wondering why one of the tiny creatures was going through the trouble to help him, if in fact that was what she was doing. Inspecting her blurry form, just then making out a pink tuft of color on her head, he couldn’t help but feel as though something about the gnome was familiar.
“Do I know you?”
“Err, nope! Don’t think we’ve ever met before! Nuh uh! Never,” she responded quickly, sitting down on the table not far in front of him. At least she sounded sure of herself.
It was a good five minutes before the goblin finally returned with the tray carrying the two cups of tea, one significantly larger than the other. Jobolg, who had apparently been hit harder by the hammer than he thought, was still a bit dizzy. “Here’s your order... m’am,” the goblin said in a tremblingly courteous voice, placing the tin tray in front of her. She thanked him, paid him, and turned the orc.
“Hey, look! It’s a pretty troll!” the gnome suddenly exclaimed, pointing randomly behind him. She snickered quietly to himself as he gullibly turned and looked.
“What? Where? I don’t see any tro... oh very funny,” he scoffed, and turned his head back with an agitated glare just a few seconds too late to notice the pair of tiny feminine hands sprinkling a curious powder in his drink. He sniffed the air over his tea and smiled. “Well, it smells good at least!”
“It tastes good too! Drink up!” she requested, almost commanded. She grabbed her own cup gently, and tilted it to her lips, dumping a quantity of the fluid down her gnomish throat. Jobolg simply chuckled.
“Heh, ok then,” he responded, nodding his head. His cup was lifted, and its fluid dumped down his throat in a matter of seconds. This brought a broad, gleeful smile to the gnome’s expression that struck Jobolg at that moment as nothing less than happiness at her good deed. His focus almost immediately came back to him, and he recognized the gnome before him. “Hey, you’re that gnome who was outside betting on me!” he exclaimed.
“Yep! I’m flattered you actually noticed me!” she cheerfully reported.
“Guess you knew that tauren was toast before I even set him on fire, didn’t you? You must have made a killing with all the bets there were being ma- whoa! What the..”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jobolg trailed off as his sight blurred out again. The colors around him all at once grew brighter and more vibrant; even the air seemed to take on a tinge of color. Jobolg cackled and opened his mouth, clamping it back down onto a solid looking portion of the air. “Mmm... tastes like blue.” As he did so, the light shining in from the open doorway became gloriously prismatic. He stood to his feet and he felt himself drawn toward it. The door grew nearer and nearer, as though it was growing, or he was gliding along towards it on an icy floor.
“Heh, and just where do you think you’re going, cutie?” came a seductive voice from behind him. His head arched around and caught sight of a beautiful elf mischievously grinning at him. Two small white strips of silk struggled to conceal her chest and loins, leaving her for all intents and purposes in the nude. Jobolg’s golden hues flashed briefly white as he eyed over the lavender skin of her supple curves. “Come on with me, you big studly orc, and I’ll show you a real good time.” She winked at him playfully and giggled, and he stepped towards her; as he did so, she became further away.
“Ah! No! Don’t leave, toots, we haven’t even done anything yet!” he exclaimed in distress. He continued walking towards her, but with every step he took, she shrank many feet into the flowery path he now saw in the distance until she was gone from sight entirely. He dropped to his knees in disbelief, clutching at his head. “Why?! What did I do wrong? I barely even said anything!”
“Don’t feel bad!” spoke the tiny four-armed goblin on his shoulder as he danced a merry, exciting jig to a tune Jobolg could not hear.
“Why shouldn’t I? This happens all the time,” Jobolg whined, turning his head to face the tiny creature, that had apparently fashioned a chair out of the dust particles floating in the air and was now sitting on it comfortably, one leg crossed over the other. The curious goblin puffed at a fancy wooden pipe.
“Because she just wasn’t worth your time, that’s why! A great, handsome, powerful warlock like yourself should be focusing on other warlocks of your own species, not some fruity elves! Go on, go for it! There’s a cutie-pie tauren right over there that’s right up your alley!”
“But I’m not a...”
“Yes you are!” the goblin interrupted, pointing down to Jobolg’s furry chest.
Jobolg looked down and nodded his head at his large, tauren hands. He chuckled and stretched his neck to see around to his backside, grinning at the furry tail which protruded from his lower back. He shrugged his shoulders at the clack of his hooves on the soft ground, and glanced around at the high bluffs which now surrounded him but which he had not noticed before. “Oh, of course! How could I have forgotten my race like that! I’m such an idiot sometimes.”
“That you are, Mr. Tauren, that you are. Now if you’ll excuse me...” he began leaping down off of Jobolg’s shoulder. Halfway to the ground, the goblin twisted his head off like a screw, and from the black hole in his neck popped a tiny white parachute which carried him safely to the ground. He held up his disembodied head, which smiled and continued, “...I have to be catching that mole over there.”
“What mole?” Jobolg questioned, scanning the ground but finding nothing. “Is it on Elder Rise? I hear there are moles there.”
The goblin nodded his head. “Yes, that must be where it is! On Elder Rise! You’ve got a good tauren head on your shoulders, Jobolg! I should really go get that mole! He’s been stealing my Welfare checks, you see!”
“Your what? What’s a check, and who is Welfare? Or what?”
“It’s how we four-armed goblins make all our money, you know! That and moonshine! I think he’s stealing my moonshine too! I sure hope he doesn’t find the keys to my mobile home before I get to him!”
“Well then you’d better go get him! Elder Rise is that way!” Jobolg offered, kindly pointing in the direction of the proper bluff.
“Oh no, I won’t be taking the bridge. The only real way to catch a mole is to be like a mole, you know. Well, it’s been good knowing you!” The goblin leapt into the air, and dove down into the ground, splashing up dirt as though it were a pool of water.
“That makes sense, but... Oh my! If the ground is turning into a lake, I’d better get off the ground! I don’t want to get my robes muddy. Over there by that tauren is a good place, I think. Its ground looks less lake-like.” Swift, anxious steps carried him away from the ground upon which he currently stood over to the side of the tauren. Despite her large distance away, it seemed to take only a few seconds to reach her.
“Go get her, tiger!” gurgled the goblins voice from under the water-dirt.
“I thought I was a tauren though.”
“You are, you silly!” the lady to his side confirmed with a cute giggle.
“Oh. Ok. I was worried I was a tiger now. That would be very confusing, not to mention I would be chased out of town!”
“Don’t worry, my dear, I wouldn’t let anyone chase you away,” the tauren comforted, gently placing a hand upon his large tauren shoulder. She leaned in and gently pecked him on the lips. Her face was then beset by a distressed frown, however, and her voice was full of concern. “But why did you leave me earlier? That hurt my feelings!”
“I did not leave you. In fact, I had not noticed you until the four-armed goblin pointed you out. I do hope he caught his mole. Welfare checks, moonshine and mobile homes sound too important to be stolen by a small digging creature.”
“What are you talking about, dear? Four-armed mini-goblins haven’t been around for years.”
“But they have! I just saw one over... wait. Dear?” He lifted his prism colored tauren hand to scratch idly at his head in confusion. “Why are you calling me that?”
“Yes, dear! Why shouldn’t I call you that, hm? We’ve only been an item for three years now!” she reprimanded him harshly, sounding offended.
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! How could you not be sure? Especially after all the beds we’ve shared and flesh we’ve touched together!” She cackled now, and a smile crept back onto her face. “Speaking of which... how would you like to go share and touch a bit now, hm?” Her voice was erotic and tempting, and Jobolg found himself nodding his head stupidly, eagerly led behind her as she grasped his hand and pulled him along. They were nearly to a private room when suddenly a vicious booming voice rang out behind them.