Durotar
Nine Feet of UNLIMITED POWAH!
Durotar was, once again, in a bar full of disagreeable types. Rishi was full of them, in particular. Almost uniquely among the most long-standing pirate-run havens from ancient times, it had built up further since the Clone Wars and the Gulag Plague several centuries later. It was a veritable fortress, now, with small gun batteries and heavy wood-and-durasteel fortifications everywhere. Of course, bribery was so common among the 'government' of the planet, that the Vong doubted the population would ever be completely turned against anybody.
Anyway, one of the aforementioned disagreeable types had his eyes on the colossal ex-Imperial's rum. Some kind of bantha-crap logic had given this little man the idea that the four large tankards of rum the tusked warrior had bought himself could somehow be gainsaid away from him, and into the grasp of his ratty hands. Durotar shook his head, and the man held his hands out pleadingly in a rather childish manner. In fact, as the gigantic space-orc could now see, he seemed to be a she. And she was only about four feet tall. She gave him the kind of look that would melt the most hardened veteran, but he stoically shook his head. Finally she stood up and jumped onto the top of the bar stool.
"Why can't I have any rum, mister? Auntie always said rum makes a little girl strong and loud."
The gigantic bladesman sighed as the little girl's eyes began to water, and his resolve softened. He picked the girl up, and sat her in his lap. He watched the girl carefully make sure to avoid spilling any of the alcoholic brew, and shook his head.
"Now, kid, where's your auntie?"
He was bewildered when she dropped the tankard back on the bar and started bawling, into the braid running down the right side of his chest.
[member='Maria Natalja']
Anyway, one of the aforementioned disagreeable types had his eyes on the colossal ex-Imperial's rum. Some kind of bantha-crap logic had given this little man the idea that the four large tankards of rum the tusked warrior had bought himself could somehow be gainsaid away from him, and into the grasp of his ratty hands. Durotar shook his head, and the man held his hands out pleadingly in a rather childish manner. In fact, as the gigantic space-orc could now see, he seemed to be a she. And she was only about four feet tall. She gave him the kind of look that would melt the most hardened veteran, but he stoically shook his head. Finally she stood up and jumped onto the top of the bar stool.
"Why can't I have any rum, mister? Auntie always said rum makes a little girl strong and loud."
The gigantic bladesman sighed as the little girl's eyes began to water, and his resolve softened. He picked the girl up, and sat her in his lap. He watched the girl carefully make sure to avoid spilling any of the alcoholic brew, and shook his head.
"Now, kid, where's your auntie?"
He was bewildered when she dropped the tankard back on the bar and started bawling, into the braid running down the right side of his chest.
[member='Maria Natalja']