***** A Meeting, Of Sorts *****
River Run was the place to go if you needed to sell illicit goods, or at least that was what Garthuk had been told. But, as he scanned the busy frontier town, he found that claim hard to believe. It looked like any other human settlement — poorly fortified, with too much land dedicated to growing crops.
Garthuk spat at the thought of eating plants, knowing that you were meant to eat that which grazes, and was once again reminded of how different humans were — how weak they were. As he made his way towards the center of town, he ignored the offended and frightened looks he received, choosing to focus on the two Imperial Guards that took up position several yards behind him. He rolled his shoulders and grunted as he maintained his pace, showing those frail humans that he was not intimidated by their presence.
He shook his head and scoffed, as he looked upon the sign that hung above the door where the black market was supposed to be. "The Fluffy Bunny Inn" was scrawled with comically-poor craftsmanship across the wooden placard, its rusty chains creaking as the sign swayed in the breeze. The building seemed so weak that he feared it may collapse, if the wind got any stronger.
As he took in the sight of that poor excuse for a building, Garthuk was forced to wonder if he had been lied to. His bicep rippled as he clutched the handle of his battle axe, his green skin stretching to contain his strength as he fought to control his ever-present anger. It had taken several days to arrive in River Run, and a grumble radiated within Garthuk's chest as he thought about what he would do to that merchant, if he had travelled all that way for nothing.
The common room was dark, and the air was rich with the unfamiliar stench of some unknown animal. It was not human, with their unmistakable cleanliness, and it did not belong to the elves and their overpowering floral fragrances — it was something new. It smelled of earth and soot, and seemed to cling to his senses with stubborn determination, as if to overpower him.
The innkeeper was busy sweeping when the door opened. The gentle-looking man turned his gaze towards Garthuk at the sound of a patron entering his establishment, and for the briefest of moments, there was surprise in his eyes. He hid it well when he took in the sight of the large orc, and as he walked behind the bar, he shook his head, mumbling under his breath while he scanned the empty room.
"What can I do for you, traveller?"
The gentle tone of the man's question hide his frustration well, but Garthuk could almost see it pouring out of the man's pores. It was carried in the tepid air, almost masked behind that acrid ashen smell that bothered Garthuk so. But, it was there, and the orc could not ignore it.
"Barter!" Garthuk barked, his deep voice announcing his desire with brevity and strength, as was the custom of his people.
The innkeeper took a deep breath, mumbling, "Fucking orcs," under his breath as he shook his head.
"Listen, big guy, we have a way of doing business around here, and I mean you no disrespect, but your kind must be more cautious of your comings and goings."
Garthuk recognized the fancy words of a well-educated man. They were rare among his people, often heard from Shamans and spellcasters, but he hated how those complicated words, with their unnecessary meanings, made his head hurt. The bartender took a step back as Garthuk unslung his travel pack, until the large orc pulled a golden idol from within its depths.
"I sell. You buy?"
The human's eyebrow raised, the unmistakable look of greed that Garthuk knew far too well, written across the man's face. He sighed and gave the door a casual glance, before pulling a key from behind the bar.
"You will be staying in room four, up those stairs." The kind-looking man pointed towards the stairwell in the back of the large room. "Knock on the closet wall three times like this." The pattern was simple, and after the human repeated it a couple more times, Garthuk beat the wood with a heavy hand, loosening a board and frightening the bartender, who had not been expecting such strength, given how casually the orc seemed to be rapping upon wooden counter.
"Very good, now go."
The words escaped the startled man in a rush, and as Garthuk approached the stairs, the front door opened. Two Imperial Guards entered the warm room, a fresh gust of air announcing their arrival. Garthuk vanished up the stairs, knowing that they were the same guards who had followed him to the Inn, and not wanting to lose his opportunity to sell his treasure, he decided he did not need to know what conversation would follow.
"How can I help you fine gentlemen, this afternoon?" The bartender's voice followed after Garthuk as he climbed the steps, becoming unintelligible as he turned the corner and entered the main hall of doors.
He compared the symbol on his key until he found the matching symbol on a wooden door with peeling paint and mismatched boards. The door unlocked and opened with ease. If anything, Garthuk was afraid he may pull the thing off its hinges with how much it creaked and strained against his lightest touch.
The room was spartan, even by orcish standards, containing just a bed and a recession in the wall where travel gear was meant to be stored. Garthuk walked to the "closet" and stood, looking at the back wall while he tried to remember the pattern he was supposed to use. His hand was heavy, and his strength undeniable as he rapped upon the sturdy wood, but despite the short simplicity of the pattern, he was struggling to remember its exact rhythm.
It felt like forever, but after a few failed attempts, Garthuk beat out the appropriate pattern, and was greeted by the sounds of latches and bolts being unsecured from the other side of the wall. The moment the cleverly concealed entrance cracked open, the large orc was consumed by that unpleasant smell he first noticed when he entered the inn, as smoke and stale air swirled into his room.
There was a short stocky man in chainmail standing within the narrow corridor that had just been revealed, who took a long pull from a fat paper-wrapped bundle of herbs that grew bright as the small man breathed in its smoke. "Took ya' long enough, lad," the squat man declared amidst a billow of haze.