The story picks up from a thread on the old board, with a few revisions to the character detailed in Welcome Back Nikolaj.
To recap briefly, Nikolaj was in Columbus, Ohio, when Godzilla came through. He remained in the hotel, which was undamaged by the monster passing through the city. Then there was an unexplained explosion, and he blacked out.
You are now returning to consciousness. There is a momentary ache in your body, but it passes. You hear nature sounds--something that might be a bird, although it might be a monkey for all you know about animal sounds. You also hear a slow rhythmic thudding which periodically loses the beat, offset against another percussive beat of a slightly different pitch and speed, and a sound--a sound of sawing, perhaps.
You are lying on a soft natural surface, on your back, eyes closed. The air around you smells heavily of vegetation and soil.
--M. J. Young
I stretch myself and turn around, eyes still closed. "That was a peculiar dream ...", I thought and considered if I would tell about it at the breakfast table. I enjoyed the moments with my mother at breakfast. Me and her sitting at the table, while my brother is still sleeping or already showering. We'd sit at the table and talk. I'd have cereal and my mother some fruit. Add this to two cups of coffee smelling wonderful, and my favorite radio station on the radio. While classical music joined the soft patter of my brother showering I'd be talking with my mother, sometimes trivial things, and sometimes serious things. The main thing was that she's there for me. She could be in bed for another hour, but she rises before I do to make coffee and be ready for me.
Then it hits me. There is no sound of showering, I didn't recall my alarm waking me, it's not that warm in here, I don't have blankets around me ... and I'm not smelling coffee! I wake up to the nightmare of this not being a dream!
Slowly recollecting everything I look around puzzled. What happened? And more importantly, where am I?" Looking around me everything comes back. My crates stand before me, one for clothing, and the others for my photography and arts equipment, my survival gear, ukulele...
It's all coming back. The hotel, John, Earl, Scott, Oak, Mark, ... Godzilla! That was very weird! And that ... versing thing. Wait, then this would mean that I ... died again, right? I'd have to let this sink in a bit, so I prop myself up against a tree and start recollecting everything. I'm talking this over with God, telling Him of my confusion, bewilderment and absolute not understanding how this can be. I'm considering this thing to be true, but not necessarily the explanation I heard of it. "I know I have eternal life, but this is not how I thought You were describing it, Lord!", I tell Him. "But I trust You to guide me and lead me where You plan me to be, wherever that is. Please show me what I should do." I ask Him and then, unless I get a vision of some sorts, stand up and start collecting my stuff. Going for the 'familiar pull' I'm feeling towards my stuff.
I've set my temporary goal now, collecting my stuff, so the thinking part of my brain dozes off and the doing part takes over. I start collecting my stuff. If I have to walk for some stuff, my thinking-part will wake up again to have a chat with me while walking.
ooc: I'll probably only be back the 5th. Happy New Year all!
edit: trying to get italics and re-writing some things better then before.
There is a sticky entitled Coding On This Board which explains what works and how to work it all. It's unusual, a limited form of HTML. There is also a short list of a couple things that do work beneath the post window indicated as "Allowed markup", but it will probably make more sense after you've tackled the other thread.
As you turn to rise, you recall that you do hear noises--noises, you now realize, of people cutting wood, sawing with saws and chopping with axes. As you turn toward the sound, you start to piece together a picture that has a few oddities in it.
You are in a wood that looks somewhat tropical or jungle, maybe like the Amazon Rainforest might look. Maybe forty or fifty yards from you it ends, rather abruptly in a clearcut area of stumps. Men are working there, bringing down trees and stripping them for transport on horse-drawn wagons.
Between you and them, however, you see the backs of others you might describe as natives or savages. They are sparsely clad mostly in loin cloths, beads, and paint, holding spears, and moving quietly toward the woodcutters.
They do not look quite human.
--M. J. Young
ooc: back sooner, but not because of joyfull events. Anyway, you served me up an interresting scene here Mark. Let's try to handle this equally interresting ... :)
So I'm getting up from the ground and I hear this sound of people working, probably with wood. I turn towards the sound and see people felling trees and cutting and sawing, hammering and toting trees. I thought it would be cool to introduce myself and ask for directions. But as I'm coming closeby I see something odd. There are people there, with spears! It seems to be an ambush!
I got to warn those people, but if I yell, the savages will turn on me. So, thinking for a second I'm milling through my mind how I can help those people without getting myself killed. So I'll get to my cube and open the one in which I put my Ukulele. Then I'll sit against a tree, with the tree hiding me from sight, and start strumming some chords on my Ukulele, using the pick, so the sound will be louder.
EDIT: The purpose here is to distract, unsettle, startle the 'savages' and if it is loud enough to get the attention of the workers to this direction. It will, if I'm not speared, give me an introduction of some sort to these 'savages'.
What is it that makes them not at all human? Pointed ears, spine protruding from skin, colour of skin?
If you mean that things went poorly, you have my sympathies.
You take a moment to find the ukelele and remove it from its case with the case. It is fortunately in tune, and you start strumming on it.
The jungle around you muffles much of the sound, but you cannot be certain how far it is actually carrying.
Abruptly one of the savages comes into view. Its visage is shocking--something porcine about it, with a rounded upturned nose and nostrils toward the front, a jutting jaw below it making the mouth nearly part of the nose, beady eyes and pointed ears, with course dark hair on its head, neck, and much of its body (although not so thick that you cannot see skin through it) but clear skin on the face. It raises its spear as if to hurl it at you.
Suddenly there is a shout, a human voice, calling "Orcs!" The cry is raised. Your assailant gives you another glance and then runs toward the others.
--M. J. Young
ooc: yeah, it went poorly. Something along the lines of "it's not you, it's me" being directed to me ... As pertaining to the game, that was a close call!
Startled I looked into the face of the creature. Of everything I'd expected, I hadn't expected this! It's like a mutated wild boar! Then I realised he had a spear, and the spear was pointed towards me, ready to be thrown... And just as I closed my eyes, ready to take the spear I heard the cry.
"Orcs!", they shouted. My plan had worked, but then I started to think. "Wait ... Orcs? Like in ... Lord of the Ring orcs? This is just a bit much for one day."
And so it was, waking up, not in my comfortable bed, with coffee awaiting, but in some kind of ... jungle. Then seeing these bushmen have hostile intentions towards the workers there, then turning out these weren't bushmen but Orcs, some kind of mutant wild boar-men. And then I was almost killed. Which would probably not have been all that bad, but I'm still digesting that versing thing too.
Supposing I couldn't just keep sitting around there, I carefully looked around my tree and saw if the Orcs had left. If they had left or I otherwise saw a safe route to run towards the men, I would try that, if they would be men, that is. There seemed to be no knowing what to expect.
All the time while running, I'd probably still have the Ukulele in my hand, not having payed attention to it but grabbing it with one hand as if my life depended on it.
At this moment, running toward the men does not seem to be that good an option, unless you're planning to join the fight. They do appear to be men--humans, mixed racially judging from skin color and features but certainly nothing unlike others you've known. At the moment, though, they are engaged in a skirmish with the orcs, fighting back with their axes, but also with swords and light lances similar to the orcish spears. Some of them have mounted horses, which give them advantages in the clearings but keep them from entering the brush.
It only takes a few minutes before the orcs are retreating into the jungle. One of them throws a spear your direction as it races past you, but it misses and sticks into a tree trunk deeply enough that it stays there. They are soon gone, and the humans are reorganizing and bandaging wounds. There are two dead orcs.
It does occur to you that running through the undgrowth offers a fairly high probability of tripping; however, one of the men seems to spot you, and waves.
--M. J. Young
Assuming that there is no more fighting I come from under my brush/behind my tree and see the man waving my way. I also see the battlefied, with wounded people, dead people etc. "I can't believe this is happening! I'm in a war!"
I take my first aid kit and box of bandages and go towards the waving man, offering help to them. "Oh hi, thanks for saving me, are you alright? I can help bandage wounds and offer first aid until a fysician comes." I think I'm still in the automatic use of English, as on the last world that's what I was talking, eventhough I might also be speaking Dutch. I will try either, but if that doesn't work I'll try French. (I haven't heard them speak yet, have I?
Seeing everything here is kind of low-tech, I'm sure I'll be out of sterile bandages today. For the most part I think I'll need to use the Mitella bandages. (The big triangular bandages, to support arms, legs, ... They are good for most big stuff.)
"Oh man, I sure hope that I can remember everything from class. The only practice of these kind of wounds was upon classmates, who were not actually wounded.
If I'm helping with bandaging, I will try to not disthinguish between man and orc in treating wounds. They both need love and care.
The wounded orcs did not stay behind; only men are wounded, and none of them too seriously.
It doesn't particularly matter to me what language these people speak, as long as we agree; it will be one you know. I'm comfortable with making it Dutch, but of course posts have to be in English because my Dutch is worse than my French, and my French is limited to a very few words and phrases. So you speak and they answer in Dutch.
You find it difficult to be certain of the severity of these wounds--you've never encountered wounds made by stone spearpoints. Others are tending them, though, and you give such assistance as you can.
Someone asks where you came from and where you were bound.
--M. J. Young
"Well, I ... kinda got lost and ended up spotting them trying to ambush you. So I thought I'd distract them. They nearly speared me, but you noticed, so that's good.", I say smiling.
"So uhm, where exactly am I then?", I asked.
I get out the oxygen water and disinfecting spray and help treat wounds to prevent infections. If the bandages aren't clean, I'll give some of mine.
ps: how are they dressed, do they look modern, medieval, eastern, ...?
There is something of the hint of the American West or the Australian Outback about them. The cloth is mostly woven, but there is a fair amount of leather in their clothes. They have buttons but not snaps or zippers, strings here and there and a few have metal buckles on leather belts and boots.
"You're on the edge of the Bar K ranch--it's a little place about thirty miles south and a bit east of Waterboro, obviously right on the edge of the jungle. Look, we've got to get these men back to wash those wounds a bit better, and the day is getting near the end anyway. I'm sure Mr. Kucher would provide a traveler with hospitality at least for the night, and I've never known them not to have enough food to share. Get your things and we'll head back."
--M. J. Young
cool! I just saw the movie 'Australia' and absolutely loved it :) I'll probably be talking English then, with my somewhat broken pronunciation.
After hearing the man I will thank him, tell him I'll be right back and go get my stuff. I come back, setting down the cube and the suitcase, while disappearing in the trees again to come out with my last cube, stacking it on the other cube. I sure hope they have some sort of transport, to carry their goods and possibly my gear as well.
As we're going to the Bar K Ranch, I'll ask him a bit about what or who those orcs are and how they fit in here, in the meantime taking in the environment and enjoying it.
Should they be surprised that I don't know about orcs, I'll tell them that where I'm from, we don't have orcs, except in fictional stories. I'm really from far away. Belgium.
They do have a couple of wagons, one for hauling tools and the other for hauling timber, and they fit your gear on one. The man helping you asks how you ever managed to get all that stuff here, but if you don't answer it falls out of the conversation as a sort of comment on the amount.
"I never heard of anywhere that didn't know about orcs; but then, I've never heard of a province called Belgium, either. Must be pretty far north if it's beyond the orc trade. They say there are still wizards up north, but--well, you'd probably know that better than me."
It takes about twenty minutes to travel afoot with horse-drawn wagons to the ranch. There are something near a dozen assorted buildings grouped together over a couple acres, including what looks to be a main house, a couple bunkhouses, barn, silo, stables, carriage house, smoke house, and a large hall which might be used for anything from meals to meetings to dances to worship services, and maybe all of the above.
The wounded are taken directly to one of the bunkhouses, and your gear heads that way also. Your guide suggests that you can wash up a bit, pointing to a trough with a hand pump alongside the bunkhouse, one of several scattered about the grounds. He also calls your attention to a pair of outhouses he says are for the free workers.
Whenever you're cleaned up, he'll take you up to the main house to meet the Kuchers.
--M. J. Young
What does the environment look like during the ride? Is it like Australia too? Big plains, deserts and then the solitary big hill? Or is it more jungle like? Or something else?
Do I get any impressions, spiritual or not spiritual, from my companion or from the ranch?
"Well, I'm not sure where I am, but I suppose that I come from across the sea. Is this land perhaps America or Australia?", I asked, conveniently dropping the issue of how I got to move with this much luggage. "I should see to finding a more portable way of transporting my stuff," I thought. "Maybe a pushcart of some kind."
"Wizards are not unheard of at our place, but then again, most people don't believe in magic and just paint those people off as hopeless romantics, extravagant artists or just plain con men.", I paused a bit, and hesitated to go on, "But I do believe there is strength beyond the material world, that there is a power beyond the physical. Even more, that there are more then one powers in the invisible realm. But it is a great danger to toy with it since only one of those powers is good. I wonder if you've ever heard of the Holy Spirit? Or of Jesus Christ? Or God the Father? It's Him who I serve, the holy God, creator of heaven and earth, redeemer of the meek, savior of His people. The only source of Good."
As I see it, this conversation could last up to 20 minutes right? It all depends on his reaction though. If he is interested, I would take it further, if the answer is that he too is a follower, then I'll be glad and tell him that I'd like going to a service or prayer evening or bible study group with him. If he knows but isn't interested, I wouldn't push the subject. I he's opposed I won't push it either. If he doesn't know and is not interested I would not force it either, not now anyways.
As we arrived at the ranch I saw the wounded being taken to the bunkhouses, along with my luggage. Having been pointed to the hand pump I thanked the guy and went to pump up some water. I then cupped it in my hands and washed my face, following it up with washing my hands.
The land is fairly flat, the slight shifts rarely obscuring vision, although the ranch buildings themselves are on the side of a bit of a rise--high enough that rain will run down but not so high as to make well drilling too difficult. The jungle ends rather abruptly. Clearly some sort of land reclamation has been happening here, as the trees have been cut back and the stumps gradually uprooted to make more open land. The open land is in grasses, primarily, and you see flocks of sheep and goats about, although these are headed toward the barns when you are. There are pens or corrals of some sort close to the barns.
You get no particular feeling about this place or these people, but they seem good.
"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. I thought you said you come from across the sea. I've never heard of those other places you mentioned--but I'm just a ranch foreman. You might have more luck talking to Mr. Kucher about distant provinces, or maybe talk to the preacher in Waterboro, he's pretty well educated."
"Oh, certainly I believe in Gaia. I thought all the free peoples did--we're not heathens like the orcs, believing in lots of different gods. Gaia is the mother who gives all things on the land. I know the elves and dwarfs say that different, but it comes to the same idea. Never heard her called a father, but then I don't guess that the Holy One is really a man or a woman--that would be kind of silly. But that's something you'd have to talk to the preacher about. He'd know that kind of thing, I expect."
Once you're cleaned up, your host accompanies you to the front door of the main house, and using a large brass knocker bangs on it.
"Dwarf work," he says. "Kucher's aren't rich, but they do have a few nice things."
A female opens the door and your companion says, "Meesha, please tell the Kuchers we've got company."
"Yes, sir," she answers. "Please come inside and wait, as I expect Master Kucher will want to greet and meet his guest."
The woman is dressed in clothes that fit the sense of the milieu--less leather, more woven cloth, a print dress with an apron and a scarf over her head. She speaks well, with a touch of an accent of some sort, and is polite and respectful. However, it is quite obvious that she is one of those creatures in the jungle--an orc.
She steps back from the door and your companion signals for you to step inside.
--M. J. Young
"Dear Lord! Gaia? That sounds pretty ... off. Of course I didn't talk about the most important thing about God, that He loved us so that He gave His only Son, so that whoever believes in Him might have everlasting life. This sounds more like the pagan mother goddess stuff." I wince a bit as I heard him speaking about gaia. That becomes a more confused look as he starts about elves and dwarves ...
"Well, maybe he just forget that part, ... and I'm on another world in another universe. I don't know how that works." I looked at him. "I will speak with the preacher then. Yes, I will do that. Because there seem to be significant differences still."
"Yes from across the sea, I think. But maybe even from across the stars", I said pondering, "But not by my own doing. Anyway, that all sounds very unbelievable probably, and I don't understand it myself."
I was quite startled by the presence of the 'civilized' orc woman. That was certainly not my intention, so I nodded friendly to her and wished her a good day.
ooc: cool, the orc woman in a farmers dress ... I like that!
EDIT: edited the italics :)
Nikolaj--I know it's irregular, but the HTML recognized here for italics is em and /em, not i and /i. There is a note below the reply window giving a brief synopsis of what works, and a stickly thread entitled Coding On This Board with more detail (from the experimentation of the rest of us) which should help.
I am guessing that the things you marked as italics and quotations are your thoughts, not spoken aloud. Correct me if I'm mistaken.
In response to your comment about coming possibly from across the stars, the foreman says, "Well--maybe I should reassess my opinion of wizardry. If someone yanked you from the skies--what's heaven like, anyway?"
Meesha, the orc woman, nods respectfully in response to your greeting, closing the door behind the two of you and heading off to find the master.
"So, you ever do any ranch work? I don't guess they have much in that line where you come from, but around here it's mostly ranching, a bit of gardening, and of course the slaughtering, tanning, smoking, salting, drying, and that kind of stuff. Oh, and of course we do a bit of lumbering, pushing back the jungle to expand the range. Most of that's not my job, but I do get to hire ranch hands to help with the sheep--we're sheep raisers here, cattle don't do as well and they are a more tempting target for the orcs. Anyway, I thought if you'd had some experience riding or even walking the range I could offer you a job, but if your skills are in some other area, you'd have to talk to the boss."
The boss arrives. He's human, and has a friendly and genial demeanor as he extends his hand in a warm welcome. "So we have company. Welcome to the Bar K Ranch. Meesha was a bit unclear as to where you're from?"
--M. J. Young
Yes, I knew that ... but it slipped my mind. I edited it. Those were my thoughts indeed.
I turned to the farmer with a surprised smile and amazed myself of the amount of faith he represented, being able to just believe what he heard. I would have been a lot more critical. "I think I'm going to like this place." I thought by myself. But still, I should answer him.
"I don't come from heaven, that's my ultimate destination though.", I said while pondering.
Then I perked up and winked at him. "I must have taken the wrong turn then somewhere.", at which I started laughing a bit. He's going to be quite confused, but it's funny to me anyway. "By the way, I don't believe I caught your name?", I said to him, as we rode further, the ranch slowly approaching in the distance. (which means you can skip further information and just tell me, "His name is ...", and go on with the rest.)
As we sat in the salon, and my new found friend asked me what I could do, I told him that the only thing I had experience in from the things he summed up, was that I helped a friend out for a week with felling some trees, "and even then, I didn't cut them, but transported them to the place where they were shredded.". I assumed it was best not to mention that it was shredded by a machine. "But I like to walk too, and I like sheep too", I told him, "but I'm not sure if my skin can handle them. With most furry animals I get itchy from their hair. But I think sheep are possible."
"My real skills though, are in the more artful trade of drawing and printing. Besides that there is the skill I enjoy most. That is working with children. I can care for children, but maybe in this place that is a task more suited for a woman?"
At that moment the boss walked in and welcomed me. "I'm not so clear as how to explain where I come from either. My home lies in Belgium, which is a land that is possibly from across the sea or even from across the stars or on one of the stars." I sighed. "I'm not quite clear where I am, because I just woke up in the jungle, where I saw some ... ehm ... orcs laying in ambush on your men. I'm not sure how I got here, either, but am willing to make myself useful." I say with a smile.
The foreman's name is Zeke.
Mr. Kucher frowns. "Belgium, you say? Well, I've never heard of anyone coming from somewhere not on the maps, but maybe--we'll figure it out eventually. Just awoke in the woods? Maybe you were abducted by orcs, knocked out, and carried there? Just trying to--well, let's not keep dinner waiting. Zeke, you joining us tonight?"
"I'd be greatly obliged, sir. I'm sure you'll want to hear about the orc raid, and I don't think it's too gruesome for dinner."
"Excellent. Right this way, gentlemen." He leads through a hall into a very nice dining room with solid oak furniture. A few candles have been lit against the fading daylight outside. He points to a seat near the head for each of you, and takes the head seat himself. A woman about his age sits at the opposite end, and there are several children and a young man who is probably the eldest, near your age, plus a couple who must be part of the workforce here like Zeke.
As everyone sits, it is all humans at the table. The orcs are serving the meal. They are dressed in good farm clothes, but are clearly the servants in the household. The main course is what Americans call lamb and the British call mutton, butchered sheep. Part of it is served here, and it seems that the whole animal has been carved for serving throughout the ranch. There are cooked and raw fresh vegetables and bread that seems to be made of corn meal with a hint of honey.
There is a quick cursory introduction of all the names which Kucher says you probably won't remember right away, and a word of thanks to Gaia who provides all things on the earth, and the meal begins.
On Kucher's prompting, Zeke recounts the events of the orc raid. They had been clearing forest, planning to ship the wood north for milling. Suddenly one of them saw a movement in the jungle, and raised an alarm. The orcs had intended to ambush them, but they were alerted early enough that they could arm themselves and meet the attack. It was a small group, probably a hunting party who heard them working and thought they could kill a few humans. He speaks of the orcs as if they were beasts of some sort.
The serving orcs pay little attention to this, as far as you can tell.
--M. J. Young
It all seemed very much alike to the days of the slavery in America, as far as the movies, books and school had shown me the pictures of it. Except then that the 'blacks' were replaced by orcs. I quietly followed the conversation and silently thanked God for my meal while they praised Gaia for theirs.
I truly enjoyed the meal. Lamb is my favorite kind of meat, and the bread was something altogether new and yummy. The orcs seemed to be more than animals to me, but I wasn't to go in discussion yet. But I had an obvious pensive (?) frown on my face throughout the discussion.
No one comments on the frown. Perhaps they are more involved in their own thoughts; perhaps they assume that given your obvious uncertainty about where you are and how you got here, it is not surprising that you would be a bit disconcerted within yourself.
Dessert is a heavy cake like pound cake drenched in cream. Zeke comments that he particularly enjoys eating inside because they get the best desserts; flour imported from the elves is rather more expensive than the locally ground corn meal.
At some point Zeke says that there's an extra bunk in the barracks which can accommodate you for the present. He says he's offered you a job, but your skills range more in the artistic area.
Mister Kucher asks, "Artistic? Can you do anything with leatherwork? I know there's some demand for stained leather products, particularly in women's accessories like handbags and belts. I don't know if you're looking for work, but, there are worse places than the Bar K ranch."
--M. J. Young
I took a bite from the cake and my eyes rolled back in enjoyment at the sensation of so much sweetness and fat. "They sure know how to eat here.", I thought by myself.
"Flour imported by elves, ...", I thought, "this is going to take some getting used to."
"Leather work ..." I said quite abrupt, "I have never done that before, but I am willing to try. I think I could do that. I can design stuff, and I like packaging design, so I think I would enjoy learning how to get your pieces of fabric out of the leather. On the other hand, I heard you were shepherds, and that seems mighty fine to do too. But the leather work really strikes my fancy. If there is someone to instruct me and teach me the tools, I think I could learn it pretty fast."
After the meal I told the people to give my compliments to the chef. That sure was some fine meal. I also made sure to thank Zeke for the bunk in the barracks.
"Well, we can certainly teach you the basics of tanning, cutting, stitching--making good leather from sheepskin and goatskin. And of course we have plenty of practice dying wool. But you're probably on your own when it comes to figuring out how to dye leather--I know there are people who do it, and their work trades well, but we've not done it here."
Zeke acknowledges your thanks with a "don't mention it" reply, but it's clear he appreciates you mentioning it.
They laugh at your suggestion that there is a "chef". "It's only the kitchen staff," Mrs. Kucher says. "They've been taught well how to make food palatable for us, and they live comfortably because they do it well." It occurs to you that "only the kitchen staff" probably means more orcs.
You get settled into the bunk. It's something of an open dormitory setting--bunk beds in a large open room. Curtains hanging from the upper bunks provide some privacy in some of the lower bunks, but these are clearly makeshift arrangements done by the individuals staying there. One or two of the upper bunks are occluded by blankets nailed to the ceiling. You have a lower bunk, clean sheets that might be cotton, a similarly covered down pillow, and a single wool blanket. There is a fire already burning in an iron stove, against the night chill. Daylight is fading, and there are a few candles lit. There are a few empty bunks, which apparently belong to men who will be watching the sheep overnight. Otherwise, most of the men seem to be heading to bed before it gets too dark.
--M. J. Young
I let it slip that they were treating the staff as not chef-like. I figured that if I would pass the kitchen on the way out that I would rub my tummy satisfied and give a thumbs up, together with a wink, so as to show my appreciation.
I dropped on my bed and spotted the woolen blanket. I sighed and just by the thought of it started scratching my arm already. If not already present, I decided to get my stuff over there. I took my sleeping bag out of it's container and put it on the bed and used the woolen blanket to divide my space of the bunks as well. I introduced myself to those I shared the barracks with, if they were around.
I laid myself down on my bunk bed and went over my day. I had arrived in a jungle, surrounded by bushmen with a violent attitude, wanting to ambush the harmless workers. Trying to solve it peacefully and creatively had nearly cost me my life, but by the grace of God I had survived. And that was a good thing too. The versing thing seemed to be true while I had stumbled into a world looking like a more advanced version of Middle Earth.
Saved by the woodworkers I was brought to this place, where it immediately showed that the savage orcs were just as human as the ... humans. I would really need to change my terminology. Since the humans where ... depending on your definition, less or more human then the orcs. Slavery of the orcs was apparently normal, they were viewed as less then the others. But their capabilities were just as good.
I'd managed to find a job in a land where Belgium is unheard of, the earth itself looks to be worshiped and slavery was normal. This has been quite a day. Seeing as the rest is going for their beds, I decided to do so too. And took my cellphone to set my alarm.
The clock on the cell phone says it's 12:28 PM, that is, about half past noon. It also says there's no service here. Most cell phones set their time from the network, and thus unless you are certain that yours allows you to set the time directly you'll have to accept that that's what time the phone thinks it is.
Given that, for what time are you setting the alarm?
--M. J. Young
That's what I as a player was expecting, but couldn't calculate as a character. I forgot to put it in ooc afterthoughts to speed things up, my apologies, though it buys you time.
"Right, the time is of here. I could have guessed that." I thought with a sigh.
I looked around with the intent on asking someone what time it was and at what time we were supposed to present ourselves, so as to adjust my alarm accordingly.
If my search for the time goes successful I'll have some things to work with. If my cellphone let's me reset time to recent time, I'll reset the time. If that doesn't work, I'll set my alarm at as much time further then the time-difference I've been given between now and rising. If I cannot get the information, I'll just set my alarm six hours from 'now' (18:28), that should be safe enough.
"Dusk--it's maybe an hour after sunset."
"Depending on what group you're with. They move some of the sheep out before dawn, but most of the groups get breakfast around sun up. If you want someone to roust you, let your team leader know. Did they tell you who you're with?"
--M. J. Young
"Err..." I started, "I'm starting to work with the leather worker. So he'll be my 'team leader', but I haven't met him yet.", I said. "The only other guy I know is Zeke.", I explained.
"Ah, a craftsman. Someone'll call you, I'm sure. Probably Big Robert--he does most of the leatherwork around here."
Are you setting the alarm for "six hours from now", or waiting for someone to awaken you?
--M. J. Young
I'm setting it, to see whether it'll work and to find out how long I usually will have to sleep. My character will probably not yet be thinking about the consequences of waking up to musical tune in a low tech world.
I thanked the guy and went to sleep.
You set the cell phone and go to sleep.
You awaken in daylight. Most of the men who were there when you went to bed seem to have left, but there are a few sleepers who may have been out all night. Your cell phone seems not to have sounded; you may have skipped a step in the setting process.
In any case, it's daytime and you are awake. Zeke is gone.
--M. J. Young
I tried to see how late it was on my cellphone. I got dressed and silently headed out, bible in hand. I planned on going to the house I had dinner in last night, thinking they could help me find my new boss. If it wasn't time yet, I would start on my devotions somewhere beneath a tree, unless my hayfever would start up, which wasn't likely, because since it's tropical here, it's probably moist enough to keep the pollen down.
You've slept about nine hours, and feel well rested despite the slight sense of jet lag caused by the time change.
Meesha (the orc housekeeper) answers the door when you knock and invites you inside. She says that the leatherwork is done in the tanning shed between the sheep barn and the smokehouse, and she can get one of the houseorcs to show you if necessary. If you need to see Master Kucher, she can find him for you.
She also asks if you're hungry; she can get something from the kitchen for you if you like.
--M. J. Young
Seeing Meesha again I smiled heartily, wished her a good morning (being sure to make eye-contact) and said that I'd be pleased with some bread and cheese or some oatmeal porridge or whatever was the usual way of breakfast here.
"Would you mind if I just eat it in the kitchen with you guys?", I asked. "I'd otherwise just be sitting alone, while there are such charming people around." I said, gesturing to Meesha.
After breakfast I asked Meesha for that guide to the tanning shed, so that I could introduce myself to Master Kucher. That sounded pretty German. I hoped that he wasn't some kind of militaristic disciplined boss, though it would be good for me to get more discipline.
Master Kucher is the owner of the ranch. The head leatherworker was called "Big Robert".
Meesha gives you an odd look, as if she doesn't know whether to take you seriously, but she gives you bread and goat's milk and honey in the kitchen. There are several orcs working there, some cleaning and others preparing food for dinner.
A young male orc is assigned to take you to the tanning shed.
The shed is fairly large--perhaps thirty by fifty feet inside, with fires going and skins stretched on racks. There are a couple of orcs working here, but one human, six and a half feet tall and between three and four hundred pounds from the look of him, who seems to be directing things. He turns toward you as you enter.
"You're the new kid?" he asks. "There's been talk that Kucher was bringing in someone."
--M. J. Young
I thanked the young Orc for bringing me to the shed. I smiled constantly, the sense of adventure behind my eyes. I asked the Orc what he knew of this Master Robert.
The orc boy knows that Master Big Robert is a big man who can lift a sheep by himself, and skin a goat in a few minutes. He would not want to make Master Big Robert angry.
He puts his hand over his mouth, as if he thinks he might have said something he should not have said.
--M. J. Young
I smiled friendly and assured the orc that I won't say a thing about it. I kept in mind, and hoped, that Master Robert would probably only be physically hard with orcs. That is, I hoped that for my own safety, not for the discrimination.
As I met Master Robert I excused myself for my being late. I explained that I didn't know how late he expected me an hadn't known how to find him.
Then I told him that I had come here in this land without choice and looked for a place to work and make myself useful. After relating what I knew. "They thought I would be most useful here because I have experience with designing. But furthermore I don't know anything about this job. So I'll just have to learn the techniques from scratch."
He huffs gruffly. "So, you don't actually know anything about leatherwork, but you've done other kinds of art. Work for a chapel, did you? No matter. I'd usually start with skinning an animal, but we don't have one to skin at the moment so I guess we start with what we've got. Take a look around while I finish up this, and I'll be with you soon."
In addition to the aforementioned fires and racks, you see cutting tables with sharp knives with assorted blades, punches, precut leather strips of various widths from laces to maybe three inches wide, stacks of uncut leather of different types, hammers and tools that might be intended for making impressions, waxes and oils....
--M. J. Young
Hey Nik, you sent me a Facebook invite a couple weeks ago. I don't have Facebook, so I don't know where you got that. I do have Myspace, and can be found www.Myspace.com/A1nut. Check it out.