Hodor
Posted: Mon Oct 06, 2014 12:00 am
The coins jingled dully in the dwarfs stout fingers as he separated out three large platnium cogs. His muted brown cloak shifted as he outstretched his arm, a loose fitting black sleeve beneath. He handed the cogs stoically to the Mind Flayer's writhing outstretched appendage.
The dwarf said nothing, and concentrated on the exchange rates of various items in Sigil. Purchased Mechanus Cogs for one thousand twenty. A two percent rate. The buyer could exchange back for a further two percent fee, totaling four percent. Fourty jink times three is 120... sixty paid by himself, sixty paid by the flayer.
The exchanges were simple, the exercise routine. He executed the math precisely again and again, a mental kata. Each repetition was a layer of bricks added to the tower in his mind. An impenetrable fortress. He felt a tingle in his forehead, the flayers mental probe gently caressing. Mind Flayers in general were seldom swindled.. they could almost always glean the buyers true desires and willingness to pay, and always asked for as much as their psychic trespassing allowed them.
The flayer gained nothing from the dwarf. The dwarf was no simple buyer. He had spent a lifetime taming his mind, training it like a muscle to obey his intentions. He would not think about why he was purchasing the ogre slave, nor what the ogres true value was to him. The dwarf would not contemplate how he had overcome the years of torture he endured under a witches curse, a prisoner in his own mind. He would not reveal the mercy he felt towards the sad looking ogre, who seemed to be enduring its own crucible. He would not betray his personal feelings, lest they be a weapon against him in negotiation.
The dwarf said nothing as the flayer leaned in and stared hard at him, milky white eyes piercing deep. The tentacles surrounding the flayers mouth reached longingly. The psychic caress became a more insistent knocking. The dwarfs computations iterated a twentieth time, his mind a single track with no opening for deviation.
After a moment of fruitless prying, the flayer relented, his appendages twitching in mild irritation. He motioned to his side, then continued staring at the dwarf while workers opened the ogres cage and roused the giant. Chains rattled as the ogre rose slowly and came out peacefully, a forlorn look on his shaggy face. The dwarf took the chain and the flayer turned his back and glided slowly away.
[I suggest you eat him quickly. This one is shrinking every day, and is unwilling to eat.] The voice was wet and haunting as it echoed through the dwarfs mind. [And no refunds. When you realize he is too dumb for labor and too tough for good digestion...] The flayer paused and glanced back over his shoulder, his look shifting from annoyed to sly, [.. I hear the dustmen dispose of corpses for a reasonable price.]
The dwarf held the chain firmly and walked through the bazzar quietly, the ogres large uncovered feet thudding softly behind him. When they had arrived at the dwarfs room at the inn he slowly removed the chains from around the Ogres wrist. The hairy forearms were matted with sweat, and red with irritation. The ogres arms hung limply, their miserable owner not even bothering to tend his own wound. The ogre stared blankly towards the wall of the room.
The dwarf slowly leaned forward and began chanting a prayer. Tenderly he took up the ogres arm and rubbed his wrists, his own dwarven hands glowing with faint light. He massaged the light into the ogres hulking wrists and cleared his throat. It hurt him to speak, but hope welled within him as he ogre looked down into his eyes. The dwarf spoke in a soft raspy voice, "I am Grashak, servant of Helm. You are free. With Helm's love I will feed you, heal you and protect you. You are safe." It was more words than Grashak had used in the last week.
The ogre looked into Grashaks earnest eyes and knew this was no trick. Hope radiated from the dwarf like warmth from a fire, teasing to life a spark of hope within the ogres broken heart. In a deep and rumbling voice the ogre finally spoke one word. "Hodor?"
The dwarf said nothing, and concentrated on the exchange rates of various items in Sigil. Purchased Mechanus Cogs for one thousand twenty. A two percent rate. The buyer could exchange back for a further two percent fee, totaling four percent. Fourty jink times three is 120... sixty paid by himself, sixty paid by the flayer.
The exchanges were simple, the exercise routine. He executed the math precisely again and again, a mental kata. Each repetition was a layer of bricks added to the tower in his mind. An impenetrable fortress. He felt a tingle in his forehead, the flayers mental probe gently caressing. Mind Flayers in general were seldom swindled.. they could almost always glean the buyers true desires and willingness to pay, and always asked for as much as their psychic trespassing allowed them.
The flayer gained nothing from the dwarf. The dwarf was no simple buyer. He had spent a lifetime taming his mind, training it like a muscle to obey his intentions. He would not think about why he was purchasing the ogre slave, nor what the ogres true value was to him. The dwarf would not contemplate how he had overcome the years of torture he endured under a witches curse, a prisoner in his own mind. He would not reveal the mercy he felt towards the sad looking ogre, who seemed to be enduring its own crucible. He would not betray his personal feelings, lest they be a weapon against him in negotiation.
The dwarf said nothing as the flayer leaned in and stared hard at him, milky white eyes piercing deep. The tentacles surrounding the flayers mouth reached longingly. The psychic caress became a more insistent knocking. The dwarfs computations iterated a twentieth time, his mind a single track with no opening for deviation.
After a moment of fruitless prying, the flayer relented, his appendages twitching in mild irritation. He motioned to his side, then continued staring at the dwarf while workers opened the ogres cage and roused the giant. Chains rattled as the ogre rose slowly and came out peacefully, a forlorn look on his shaggy face. The dwarf took the chain and the flayer turned his back and glided slowly away.
[I suggest you eat him quickly. This one is shrinking every day, and is unwilling to eat.] The voice was wet and haunting as it echoed through the dwarfs mind. [And no refunds. When you realize he is too dumb for labor and too tough for good digestion...] The flayer paused and glanced back over his shoulder, his look shifting from annoyed to sly, [.. I hear the dustmen dispose of corpses for a reasonable price.]
The dwarf held the chain firmly and walked through the bazzar quietly, the ogres large uncovered feet thudding softly behind him. When they had arrived at the dwarfs room at the inn he slowly removed the chains from around the Ogres wrist. The hairy forearms were matted with sweat, and red with irritation. The ogres arms hung limply, their miserable owner not even bothering to tend his own wound. The ogre stared blankly towards the wall of the room.
The dwarf slowly leaned forward and began chanting a prayer. Tenderly he took up the ogres arm and rubbed his wrists, his own dwarven hands glowing with faint light. He massaged the light into the ogres hulking wrists and cleared his throat. It hurt him to speak, but hope welled within him as he ogre looked down into his eyes. The dwarf spoke in a soft raspy voice, "I am Grashak, servant of Helm. You are free. With Helm's love I will feed you, heal you and protect you. You are safe." It was more words than Grashak had used in the last week.
The ogre looked into Grashaks earnest eyes and knew this was no trick. Hope radiated from the dwarf like warmth from a fire, teasing to life a spark of hope within the ogres broken heart. In a deep and rumbling voice the ogre finally spoke one word. "Hodor?"
