Lurking Darkness
1706 Words
Grimm’s was loud.
That was just an inherent truth, Samuel realized as he followed Wheeze and Needles as they flipped a spare silver piece to the crippled stable master and pushed through the heavy door leading into the massive tavern.
It was two stories tall, and if Samuel had been correct when he thought he saw cellar doors on the side of the building, it extended underground. It had clean air, with a large bar dominating the center of the room with a set of stairs leading to the second floor. Tables ringed the room, which had many braziers blazing across the room, all roasting a boar on a spit over their crackling flames.
The patrons were odd though in that they were almost all green in some fashion. Whereas he was expecting Dwarves, this being the Dwarven lands, he stared at a crowd of orcs and goblins. They gambled and drank, told stories in small groups and laughed at horrible jokes. Small booths lined the walls with curtains that could be pulled closed, and could see what he would call blue-skinned men and women enjoying meals together in the few booths that were visible. There were an easy dozen card games and half as many dice games going on, and a few of the people gathered at them saw them and smiled. "Wheeze!" A couple cried, raising tankards in his direction. "There he is!"
A small group of Goblins glowered at them, a couple sniggering at the sight of the group. Samuel felt nervous when he caught their slitted eyes locked onto him in particular.
Wheeze seemed pleased, at the very least. Wheeze raised his hands and let out a whoop as he entered, drawing a good deal of attention. “Ah, I’m home!” He bellowed, a half dozen goblins and orcs raising tankards and cheering alongside him as he strolled up to the bar.
The goblins were small, perhaps two feet in height, with hands and feet that looked slightly larger than what you would expect. They were gangly and thin, with massive batlike ears and narrow yellow eyes. Their teeth with thin and jagged, and most looked like they were broken.
The orcs were massive, easily standing seven feet in height, and equally massive if the groaning chairs were telling a true tale. They were pale green or tan, with stringy hair and smooth faces. They had massive canine teeth, but unlike what he’d expect from some place Tolkien thought up, none of them had tusks.
Elena leaned over, slinging an arm over his shoulder. She seemed… happier? More relaxed? “Here we go!” She smiled, guiding Samuel to an open table. “Here, help me grab some chairs. The boys will nab some drinks, I bet.”
“Oh, okay…” Samuel agreed, searching out empty chairs from other tables. The orcs or goblins he took them from didn’t even raise an eyebrow at him, save for when he asked them if they were free.
By the time he had gathered the chairs, Elena had leaned back in one and kicked up her feet. After tossing off her over cloak, she more resembled a modern teen than a person from a fantasy universe.
Her over cloak had sleeves stitched together from cast away clothing with care and skill, but beneath that? She wore a wrapped cloth over her chest, and hand wraps, along with a pair of long pants made from stained cotton. She was slim, and very muscled; it reminded him of Theresa, to be honest, and he made certain not to stare as she stretched and heaved a relaxed sigh.
“Ah,” she slung her arms over the back of the chair she relaxed in. “Nice to be at Grimms.” She mused before sniffing the air. She leaned over and took a whiff of her armpit before wincing. “Damn, need to snag a bath while I’m here… that sucks.”
Samuel chose not to respond as he couldn’t think of an appropriate one, instead choosing to relax in his seat himself. He didn’t have to relax for long before Wheeze came sashaying up with a platter of frothy tankards.
“First rounds on us!” He cried, setting the platter down with a flourish. “Two for each of us!”
“… you shouldn’t have, that must’ve been expensive.” Samuel said, smiling as he spoke because of Elena leaning in to scoop up one of hers, draining half of it before he could finish his sentence. “Well… maybe just this once.”
Elena made a disgusted noise, though she did finish her drink as she did so. “Blegh! What the Hell, man, this is foul! What did you get?”
Needles rolled his eyes as he followed his friend, a bottle in one hand and three smaller glasses held in the other. “Troll Sweat. Nasty stuff, no clue why the loon likes the s**t so much…”
“It’s cheap!” Wheeze declared, defending his drink choice. “Besides, by tha time ya polish two off ya won’t worry ‘bout tha taste, heh.”
Samuel frowned, choosing to sip his brew slowly instead of chugging it. It was warm and watery… with a slightly bitter flavor, and the barest hint of alcohol. He grimaced and set his drink down. “This is… lovely, thanks.”
“Liar…” Elena grumbled, working on her second tankard already.
Needles filled the three glasses he brought with him from the bottle, the liquor a pale amber that had a sweet scent cloying off it. “Here, try this.”
The two accepted the drinks and downed them as one, with both letting out content hums as they did so. It was sweet, like honey, and hot. The warmth spread from Samuel’s stomach and into his limbs, a dumb smile creeping onto his face as he digested the drink.
“That is lovely,” Elena sighed, sliding her glass back to Needles. “What is it?”
“Honeyjack, Goblin drink that the owners make in the basement.” Needles said, sipping from his own glass. “Pretty good, toxic as Hell though. Could clean wounds with it, if I were honest.”
“So drink this slowly, got it.” Samuel said, setting the glass down. “They have food here?”
Elena snorted. “Orc and Goblin food, if you’re up for it.”
He paused at her amused glance and decided not to risk it. “Just wanted some chicken or something…”
Now Wheeze was laughing, as was Needles. Even Elena looked amused, and Samuel didn’t know why. “What?” He demanded, looking between them. “What’d I say?”
“You have to be from somewhere else,” Needles said, shaking his head. “Chicken… by the Gods, do we look like nobles to you?”
“I’m lost…” Samuel replied, looking at Elena with desperate eyes. “Little help?”
She smirked. “Chicken is rare. Like, really rare. So rare only the rich and famous eat it.”
“What?” Samuel asked, confused. “How the Hell did that happen? They’re just chickens!”
Wheeze, still laughing, shook his head. “Yeah, ya got a cracked head! Jus’ chickens, ‘e says!”
Samuel shook his head. “Look, I told you idiots, this is all a dream… just assume I don’t know what you guys do, and help me out here, okay?”
The group continued to laugh as they drank, with a barmaid walking up to ask if they wanted any slices of boar. That she was a Goblin didn’t seem to bother anyone, so Samuel just assumed this was something that shouldn’t be odd and offered to pay for their meals.
Elena jumped on the offer and asked for several slices of boar with extra gravy. Wheeze doubled the order, with Needles asking for some roast rabbit and tubers. Samuel decided that he wanted to try the boar, and asked for a single cut and some vegetables.
As the barmaid walked off, Wheeze belched and rubbed at his stomach. “Alrigh’, whistle be good an’ wet, time ta get some work!”
“I think I heard at the bar that a druid is looking for some companions.” Needles offered, swirling his drink in his glass as he spoke. “Older guy, had a big Arguile at his feet but it looked tame.”
“Arguile?” Samuel asked, following Needles stare as the man looked at the creature.
Holy s**t… Samuel thought as he spied the massive thing, a monstrous hound with silver fur and two lupine heads. One was asleep, while the other was chewing on what had to be the femur of a horse, while an old man sat on a stool at a table next to it sipping a tankard of something while looking over some maps. “That’s a druid? How can you tell?”
“They smell.” Needles replied, but didn’t explain further. He glanced at Wheeze. “You good to chat?”
“Always!” The man grunted, reaching for his cigarettes. Needles swatted his hand. “Ah! What the Hell?”
Needles shook his head. “Druids tend to not like smokers, let’s make a decent first impression.”
The two stood and stalked off, Needles taking his bottle and waving at the bartender, a larger Goblin with a pipe, before pointing at the Druid.
“So,” Elena drawled, her voice carrying danger and amusement. “Tell me about the waking world?”
“I’m sorry?” Samuel asked, eyebrow raised.
She shrugged. “They’re off on their own, and I like hearing tall tales. Tell me one.”
He frowned, uncertain why she would ask him anything like this. Shrugging, he decided to just tell her about some stories he played through in video games. “Okay, so I know a lot of stories. Let me tell you of a faraway land known as Mushroom Kingdom…”
He was halfway through the third game and a description of rideable dinosaurs when Wheeze waved them over, clearly having taken a few more drinks without Needles noticing. “Guys! Ov’r ‘ere, hurry up!”
Elena snorted. “By the Gods, he is subtle, isn’t he?”
“As a volcano full of glass shards.” Samuel drawled, gathering his tankard. “Come on, let’s see what madness they have before them…”
She gave him a long look. “You say that like you plan on sticking with them.”
He shrugged. “Why not? Dream will end soon enough, might as well have some fun.”
She stared for a while before shaking her head. “Good enough for me. I didn’t plan on ditching you, so where you go I do too.”
“Wait, why?” He asked.
She gave him a wide, toothy smile. “Cute guy buys me lunch and isn’t a crazy racist? Yeah, I’m gonna hang with him till he dies or I do.”
Samuel glared as she laughed at his blush, but found he couldn’t keep his smile from leaving his face, even as he walked towards a grinning Wheeze.
- Writer
