Fuzzy: Downtine 4718
Waking up in strange company is not something Vova is entirely unfamiliar with. Or even slightly unfamiliar with. It would in fact, be more accurate to say that he's more unfamiliar with waking up alone (or sober), so the grim reality of prying open sticky eyelids, fending off the jackhammer pounding in his skull, disentangling himself from other people's limbs (without noticing that one of them is quite big and quite scaled) and rising to the approximately vertical is a process he's raised to such a high art he needn't even be conscious to manage it. Which is good, because he isn't.
This then, serves to explain how he's two thirds of the way through leaving the shoddy swamp hut-cum-tavern (that he had no recollection at all of entering) in the tiny collection of structures (to count as a 'Hamlet' would require several months of industrious civil improvement) scattered around a nominal settlement (which he has no memory of arriving at) before he registers that the handful of people who are awake with to notice him and insufficiently hungover to do nothing more than groan (a far smaller number) are glancing at him and muttering something about "the almighty pharaoh' (except for one lad who just asks another what a 'pharoah' is, only to be told 'it's like a Lord, only more foreign and nobby').
The next piece of strangeness he has to deal with is that, instead of pecking his head or being stashed nearby nursing a hangover of his own, Vic is standing proudly on a post in the village (being glared at by a rather beaten-up looking cockerel) as a young local boy makes an unskilled, but reasonably talented attempt to carve his likeness out of a piece of timber.
That aside, he doesn't notice the bodies until he goes to step over one to reach the well (for washing, not drinking - he's not that desperate) and (after standing on one for a bit to reach the rope then noticing that it's rising and falling sluggishly) he blinks and looks around at the scattered heaps - a full dozen scaled bodies (one, inexplicably cuddling an insensate gnoll) snoring loudly in amidst heaps of half again as many humans.
It's that, more than anything else which finally makes him pull his hip flask from his belt and, after checking (hopefully) to see if there's anything left, sniff it and, with a shrug shake the last few drops into his mouth.
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"What... What happened?"
"Please don't speak so loud, I'm dying here."
"I'm whispering."
"You're whispering loudly."
"Never mind... What happened?"
"Well... We... We were going to raid the human village, weren't we?"
"Not much of a village if you ask me."
"Well, no but it was a slow week."
"Fair enough. Then... then what happened?"
"Why can't you remember, you were there too!"
"Shhhh, you'll wake Greeasha."
"What? Why is she even here?"
"I don't remember that either... I just... There was a human. A little over. That shaman! The sick one! And... and there were pretty lights and everyone fell down and... And he... He gave me a drink? It's fuzzy after that."
"Yeah. He... I think he staggered out of that big hut in the middle and... I remember he challenged the chief."
"The chief? But... The chief's like a head taller than either of us. He's like a walking boulder."
"Yeah. Well, his mother's mother was a demon crocodile, wasn't she? From the night realm?"
"Was she?"
"Yeah, his grandad had a thing for big girls. Anyway, the little shaman challenged him. Well, he offered him a drink and... Said something about hair on his chest?"
"He challenged him to a drinking contest? But... But the chief is the size of both of us put together. What happened?"
"I don't really... I think... I remember the chief... holding his tail and giggling..."
"Giggling? The chief?"
"You don't get to talk with the noises you were making at that gnoll."
"Shaddup... Anyhow, then what happened?"
"Well... The... Chief had then bring up a sack of Spiritbreaker..."
"The stuff made with fish bladders and the little purple mushrooms? I heard that a black dragon tried breathing on it once and it dissolved his breath..."
"Yeah, so... After that things got a little... Fuzzy... I remember the shaman trying to teach everybody a song about a hedgehog..."
"A hedgehog?"
"Yeah, there... There was something about why it couldn't..."
"Never mind... I think I'm starting to remem... Oh... Ohhhh. Did I really?"
"Yeah. Right up on the top of that table too. Also... also, I think we have a new chief now."
"The shaman? No one will stand for that..."
"No... No, the water-bird spirit."
"Oh. Yeah, that's not so bad. I saw him dragging a crocodile out of the river earlier."
"Will you two shut up and let me sleep? Also, you. Lie still, I'm not done with my pillowrrr."
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Finding his flask empty, Vova grimaces and pulls up a bucket of well-water (to follow the one he poured over himself) then gestures at it in an approximately arcane fashion, turning it into a reasonably good small beer which he scoops out to drink using a ladle.
That's how the headman finds him a few minutes later, the older mostly-human swamp-fisher (his slightly green complexion the result of either a thread of orc blood in his makeup or biological debts built up the night before) picking his way between snoring bodies of several species before nervously asking "Uhm, so... no hard feelings then?"
This seems odd to Vova of course, so he clumsily pours a measure of his new drink into a hastily-rinsed tankard he found lying around and hands it over as he asks "Hard feelings?"
"Well, we did try to offer you as tribute to the lizardfolk raiders last night. Remember?" the headman asks, seemingly rather disconcerted by this response.
Vova of course, being Vova looks kind of baffled and just asks "Oh? Ohhh! Is that why you were closing the bar!"
"Closing the..? Well, I mean we did tell you that. But that was just to get you to leave. None of us were expecting you to pour a bag of semi-precious stones on the table and tell us 'it was your bar now'." the headman answers, before nervous honesty makes him add "Then you said something about buying the whole village for that."
"I did? I must have been drunk... Well, no harm no foul!" Vova cheerfully replies, pouring himself another tankard and stretching stiffly, rubbing the small of his back and then grinning disreputably "Speaking of, are those two girls and that big lizardfolk chap still in the bar?"
The headmans complexion shifts to be a little more green than before - partially answering the question of heritage versus hangover - and he winces "It's uhm... Well, it's not exactly ... You kind of... Well, there were some pledges made."
"Pledges? Doesn't sound like me." Vova points out, taking a third healthy drink as Vic squonks instruction to his new acolyte about the detailing on some of the carved feathers.
"Not you. Uhm, us. Not sure why we did, it just... Seemed the thing to do. And then you stormed outside because the Lizardfolk were here, said something about inviting them in... We never even got a chance to sacrifice you!" the headman explains - if that's the word - the final exclamation said as if it presents a defence.
"Oh, well that's alright then. As long as I don't have to do anything. I have my hands full doing anyone." the debauched young fellow replies, cheerfully setting his tankard down and starting to walk off.
"Well, that's rather the thing. Your lordship."
That brings Vova to a complete stop, colour bleaching out of his face and obvious nausea rising to replace it.
"Fuck!"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:03, Fri 20 Jan 2023.