Tazdar's Sideplots

This area is for Tazdar's dealings outside the main plot and threads of the campaign.

All subject posts on this thread may be posted in the comments as typical in-character posting by any character if they are involved in a particular subplot involving Tazdar.  Tazdar and the DM may update the base subject posts as they see fit with pertinent information about each subplot in which Tazdar is involved.

On the right side of this page will be a table of contents of the subject posts to follow.

Table of Contents

  1. Blunder

Blunder

posted Jan 31, 2020, 9:20 AM by Stephen Pliska-Matyshak

Nonotina 7th, Year One of the Reign of High King Ran

Tazdar is wandering the streets of Nightfield, avoiding one of the military outputs here when an old, blind half-orc sitting on half a barrel along the side of the alley he is taking starts sniffing and burbling.

"Hey," says the blind orc. "Goblbin, come here."

"Goblin?" Tazdar responds. "What Goblin?"

Human commoners shuffle pass, a few glancing over in the direction of the half-orc and hobgoblin at the mention of goblins.

"Just announce it to everyone why don't ya?" he whispers.

"You goblin, of course."

A passerby, recognizing the old half-orc, flips him a copper piece. The half-orc snatches it out of the air as if we could see it.

"Nice catch," says Tazdar.

"Thank you," he says. "Want to know how I do that without eyes?"

"Always happy to learn something new," the hobgoblin stays. "Would rather keep my eyes though."

"I smell a lot of metal about you," the blind one observes. "So, I am guessing you are not a monk."

"Not my style," Tazdar replies. "Hard steel leaves a better imprint than a fist. Unless you're making a point to a new recruit, fists aren't much help."

"Ah, hoblgoblbin, then."

"I hope you're not implying I smell the same as a goblin even after this long out on my own," the hobgoblin says.

Taz approaches the half-orc and sits on a crate next to him in the alley.

"Oh, you'll be fine," the half-orc says. "I had hoblgoblbin friends like you when I was a gladiator back around the time of the shakeup."

"There are other hobgoblins in this city?" Tazdar inquires. "I hadn't heard of many exiles before myself and none who'd left the legion on their own."

"You are the first I have smelled in a long time."

"I'm the only hobgoblin I've seen in a long time too," he says. "But, it is nice to have anyone to talk to."

"So, hoblgoblbin, what are you called?" asks the blind half-orc.

"Tazdar."

"I'm Sark the Stupendous!" the half-orc announces theatrically. "Well, at least I was. Now, I'm just known as Sark the Blind."

"Sounds like you had a successful gladiatorial career, though the fact that you're alive is proof of that," says Tazdar. "Not many live through that career."

"It was a long career during a lot of chaos," Sark explains. "I was released after my accident."

He points at his eyes.

"Was it an accident?" the hobgoblin asks. "Or, did someone decide to remove the competition?"

"Yes."

"I see."

"I do not," Sark chuckles.

"Touché"

A couple of human lowlifes approach from the street.

Oh, look," says Sark. "Here come my daily training buddies."

I don't mind helping out a warrior, but I'd rather not run afoul of the guards", says Tazdar. "What's the plan?"

"We usually just trade insults," says one of the thugs as he approaches closer.

Tazdar senses the pair of humans are looking for trouble."

"Who's your friend, Sark?" ask the bigger of the two.

"Ya, Sark," chimes in the sidekick.

"Oh, someone different," says the half-orc.

"Something different?" says the thug.

"Just someone tired and sitting for a spell," says the hobgoblin trying to disguise his accent. "What's your story?"

"You sound funny," says the sidekick.

"You're not wrong," Tazdar replies.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asks the thug.

"Means I sound funny," he says. "Always have."

Sark the Blind stands, uneasily.

"Oh, Sark gets up today," taunts the thug.

"Sark was telling me he used to be quite the warrior," Taz says. "You two fans?"

"Ha," the sidekick chides. "Moving like the old man he is today."

"Age comes for us all, friend," says the hobgoblin.

"Ya," laughs the thug. "Yesterday's fun must have caught up with him."

"Well, sounds like none of my business," says Tazdar as he loosens his maul from the harness on his back and begins to walk past Sark's antagonizers. "Thanks for the stories, Sark."

"Not interested in helping out your old 'gladiator' buddy," Sark says.

"What?" says the thug glaring at Tazdar.

"Crap!" exclaims the sidekick as the blur of the half-orc monk's approach ends with a quarterstaff upside the head.

The sidekick goes down in a heap.

"Artistic," comments Tazdar as he swings at the thug with his maul.

"What the hell?" shouts the thug.

The maul connects with the thug's jaw sending him reeling.

"I might be interested in helping," says Tazdar. "And friend, you might sound funny now too."

The thug takes a wild swing at the hobgoblin but misses the mark as the target leans to one side.

"Oh, sorry," Tazdar teases, looking where the errant swing went. "Thought there must have been someone else there."

Sark whirls around swing his staff and following with a turning kick and a hook kick, only the last of these finding its mark on the thug's upper arm.

Tazdar follows his downward strike with an upward strike directly into the thug's crotch.

"Oh, crap!" gurgles the thug as he backs away and then escapes into the crowd that has formed in the street.

"Bugger off, you idiot!" shouts Sark into the air.

"Do they live or die?" asks Tazdar. "Your battle, your choice."

Sark kneels down beside the fallen sidekick, providing him with some aid.

"Well, friend," addressing the fleeing thug. "Seems Sark the Stupendous has taken pity. Be glad I didn't bring my big hammer."

Sark the Blind takes a great bow as Tazdar moves back to his seat on the crate.

"Thank you, thank you, you wonderful audience!"

The crowd gathered in the street begins to applaud.

Sark bows again.

"Training dummies make better training partners," says the hobgoblin. "More dangerous, too."

"You think they would learn, eventually, says Sark as he returns to his half-barrel.

"Don't know they're capable," ponders Tazdar. "How many beatings have you delivered so far?"

Sark takes out a flask and takes a long draught.

"Lost track years ago."

"Just those two or a collection of idiots?"

"A large collection."

"Doesn't matter the species," says Tazdar. "Idiots and assholes are everywhere. They mostly smell the same too"

"So true," the half-orc says with a chuckle.

"So, you handled yourself well."

"It's been a long time since I've fought anyone humanoid and their bones crunch better than beasts," says Tazdar.

"His certainly did," says Sark. "I don't think he will be back for a while."

"Not without a limp."

The thug's sidekick stirs.

"Oh," says Tazdar, noticing. "He's moving sooner than expected."

"I helped him out," says the half-orc. "He will crawl away in a bit."

"Is this gonna cause any trouble with the guards?" asks the hobgoblin. "I don't think they'll like me much."

"The watch around here is a bit lax since there are soldiers stationed around here," Sark says.

"So what made you stop me on my way by?" asks Tazdar.

"Because there are soldiers around here and you probably need a place to hold up," the former gladiator says.

"I do," Tazdar says. "I just got in and I'm not even sure what I'm doing here. I just couldn't be out there anymore."

"I can show you places to hold up, hoblgoblbin."

"You seem trustworthy enough and if you weren't," Taz glances at Sark. "It seems like you wouldn't need to trick me to do me harm."

"I saw the way you moved. It Looked like some of our elites," he sighs. "I guess I shouldn't say 'our.' Old habits and all."

Sark smiles.

"Old habits, yes."

"Well," says Taz. "I'm stunningly low on personal direction, so lead on."

"You help some of the folk around here like you just 'helped' me and you will be accepted even if you are not human," says the blind half-orc.

"It's something to do at least," says the hobgoblin. "I could use it to knock off some rust since hunting and fighting aren't the same.

Sark stands up and begins hobbling deeper into the alley.

Tazdar follows Sark.

The half-orc uses his staff to navigate into a dark corner of the alley. He taps a worn wooden wall until he finds a hollow spot and then pushes a concealed door open. The opening reveals a low room with pallets and cots. Several other folk sit around the place.

"Make yourself at home," says Sark.

"Looks homey enough to me," says Tazdar.

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