Ngranna was not happy.
Generally, when someone that large, and that green was unhappy, people tended to tread carefully.
Unless they were the Freeport Militia, of course. So, it was just Ngranna's luck that the snotty little ratonga glaring up at her happened to be a member of said militia.
"So youse sees, even though youse are in good standing with the fighter's guild, I am going to be keeping my eyes on youse." He gave a disdainful sniff as he stared up at the towering ogress. "I just don't thinks youse are evil enough!"
Ngranna ran a meaty hand through her dark green mohawk. "Not evil enough? But, I'm a shadowknight!"
"Yis, yis youse are. But youse got bad blood, and ..."
"Bad blood? I'll give you ...", she started, then subsided as the ratonga waggled a finger admonishingly up at her.
"That brother of yours, he betrayed us, he dids. Calls himself a paladin now, doesn't he?"
"Yes, but ..."
"Then there's rumors of you helping a slave escapes her masters. If I's could proves that one, you's would already be in chains."
"But, I ..." She tried again, face creased with a mixture of anger and worry.
"It makes us watch youse more, youse see, and I's don't likes what I's sees. Youse just not evil enough. Youse gots to be's twice as evils as everyone else if youse want to be called evils."
She barely opened her mouth before he cut her off, again. "Then there's your house, you'se see. It is just too nice, you'se know? And who heard of flowers on an altar to Rallos Zek, hmm?" As he said this last, he sniffed disdainfully once again, then widened his eyes and sniffed a few more times, whiskers a-quiver.
"Let me get you some den I 'splain about the flowers. " Ngranna wasn't one for much deep thought, but she knew enough of ratongas to hope that the cheesecake would distract him long enough for her to think of something.
Lumbering upstairs to the roof and a magical snowdrift that kept her food cold, she snatched up the cheesecake, as well as her last bottle of fayberry wine. As she stomped back down the stairs, she plastered a gap-tusked grin on her face and went into her dumb-and-thinks-she's-sexy ogress act.
"'Granna heard 'bout the "Come to de Dark Side, We Hab Cookies" campaign, and 'Granna no like cookies. So I tinks mebbe cheesecake instead. Wat yew tink?" She set the cake down carefully, then handed him the wine and a fork.
"Mmm. Yums! Me's wants to's meets you'se chef!"
Talking quickly while the ratonga ate, she changed the subject. She might not always be the smartest ogress, but she knew enough to know it might be a "bad thing" to mention that the cake was imported from Kelethin. And, since the truth would get her in trouble, she lied.
"Da flowers are from admirers." (They weren't, she just liked pretty things.) "I keep den to ... remind me dat ... me needs man worthy of Rallos" (She was a so-so follower of the god of war - she just liked smooshing things!) With that, she thumped a meaty hand against her large chest. "It take a special man to tame my wild heart." (She only had one proposition, from one time she had poured herself into a dress, and that was enough to make her realize she just wasn't cut out for the dating-thing.) She tried out an alluring come-hither look that made her appear painfully constipated ... or very hungry for ratonga.
The guard's whiskers stood out stiff and straight in utter shock as he looked up at the leering ogress. "Yes, well, um, about the furniture ..."
"You should see my bed. It's eeeeeevil ... and red!" She advanced a step closer to the chair that the ratonga was sitting in, furiously batting her eyelashes for all she was worth, and watched him jump and scurry across the room."
"That's quites all right! I'll takes your words for it. But the rest of this stuffs ..."
"'Granna will make it all pretty." She corrected herself hastily, "'Granna means pretty evil." she nodded her head and took one more step towards him, knocking over a marble pillar with a crash as she attempted to put some sway in her walk.
"See that you do!" he squeaked and skittered towards the door, looking for a graceful way out. He knew his superiors wanted to see results, but perhaps he wasn't the ratonga for the job. "Olga Manbreaker will inspect on ... um ... Nights of the Dead! Youse has until den to improve you'se evil ways!"
With that, he fled, leaving behind a troubled ogress. On top of the same stunt having no chance of distracting the most feared trolless in Freeport, she had furniture issues. She simply didn't know how to set up her house to be "evil enough" with the current furniture available, especially for a holiday best known for evil tricks and scary treats.
It was time to import an expert on furniture, and tricks, and hope that the pint-sized maven of mischief was able to assist in time.
Part 2, with an unexpected twist, can now be found here.
Created: 2007-09-24 11:59:54
Last Modified By: Niami Denmother
Last Modified on: 2007-09-25 03:55:29
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