Grog Strongjaw (wouldliketorage) wrote in valloic, @ 2020-05-13 18:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, !: network post, assassin's creed: evie frye, god of war: atreus, the raven cycle: ronan lynch, ₴ inactive: grog strongjaw, ₴ inactive: noah czerny |
This is not the Gnome You are Looking For
Toward the end of the Leprechauns' parade, there was a wave of sound and motion. Most of it in the form of angry leprechaun shouting and chocolate coins bouncing off the back and sides of a very, very large man. He was bald with ample tattoos, a modest beard, grayish skin and truly impressive musculature. Which was easily seen, since he didn't wear anything more than a furred kilt, a harness slung across his chest to hold the large hammer on his back, and some gauntlets and boots.
Most memorably though, was that he kept picking up random leprechauns, peering at them hopefully, and then dropping them back down, cheerfully mumbling "bidet!" before going on to the next, until he got to the end of them.
Grog had been confused as fuck since he ended up by the crystal things. It was definitely not where he'd just been, since there was no Emon, and no Vox Machina, and loads less dead people around. (No dead people, in fact.) And when he followed the tracks, he came to a city that ... was very shiny? It had a ton of big metal bits and buildings and noise. And then a whole big crowd of gnomes in green. They were all dressed in the same costume though, so Grog decided to ignore the city - which didn't look like any other city he'd seen, but then neither did the weird city in the hellplaney place or city with the dragon that wasn't a dragon in it. So he just let that go and started picked up gnomes, double checking to make sure none of them were his gnomes. "Pike? Nope. Sorry. Bidet!" Grog dropped the angry green fellow back on his feet and grabbed the next one. "Scanlan - bidet, sorry!"
By the time he'd run out of angry gnomes (and gotten hit with a lot of little soft coins), Grog was starting to get agitated. Which was unfortunate for the people who tried to come ask him to step out of the street, since they ended up tossed onto the nearest sidewalk.
Several city blocks, six broken windows, one VERY dented van, and a half hour later, another of the locals had a better time talking Grog down - largely by being VERY loud and angry and extremely scolding while she did it. But by the end she managed to flag down one of the local welcome wagon volunteers who provided her with a phone for Grog.
Three smashed phones later, she'd managed to show him how to talk into it. So long as she did all the buttons.
So I just talk? And people hear me? Who hears me? Is it like ... sighing? Like, magical listening in whatsits, because that can fuck right off.
No? Okay so wha- Right.
[Grog's voice continues at a fairly deafening volume]
HELLO. WHO THE FUCK IS OUT THERE LISTENING TO THIS ANYWAY? WHAT IS THIS PLACE AND WHERE IS A TREE I CAN FUCK OFF BACK THROUGH?