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Chapter 3


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#1 Guest_Lord E_*

Posted 28 November 2002 - 02:11 AM

Emilia felt a flashback from the days that seemed so far away now. When she had been a young fighter, just beginning to grow in skill and potential, desperate to survive and find out who was the armored madman who had slaughtered the kind old sage, a man kind enough to care for a half-orc child. And not just any child with tusks and greenish skin - a one with blood of god of Murder flowing in her veins. Tazok's bandit camp didn't look all that different from the one he had run in those days, the one Emilia had destroyed with her friends. And yet... so much had changed. She had been offered a chance to become a god, and declined, and she was a legendary figure, one of the most powerful individuals of the Realms. The armored madman was now her beloved brother and ally, the tortured soul seeking redemption.
- "You seem pensive, sister," Sarevok remarked. "Recalling?"
Emilia nodded. Tazok didn't know what 'pensive' meant, but judging by Emilia's expression it was some sort of unnecessary thinking.

The bandits scurrying about were mostly orcs, hobgoblins, and ogres. A few gnolls and goblins were there too, along with even fewer humans. The kind of folks many humans perceived as the epitome of evil, as Emilia herself had so many time seen. Scary, twisted evil wizards and liches were stuff of legend, but greenish-skinned demi-humans were the kind of evil everyone could imagine encountering in their own life, and possibly had really done so.
Some of the bandits stopped their chores and stared at the guests, wide-eyed. Tazok gave them a disapproving glare, and they hastily continued their actions.

Tazok had decorated the doorway of his tent with a collection of skulls. He unfastened the leather curtains serving as a door and beckoned his guests inside.
- "I call my company 'Doom Marauders' now," Tazok said. "What you think?"
He pointed at a crest depicting a crude blade dripping with blood.
- "Very... bandit-like," Emilia answered cautiously. "Though I can't help wondering if banditing could benefit from some new sort of thinking image-wise... 'Happy Bandit Bunnies', that kind of name."
- "Emilia, banditing IS about maiming, robbing and murdering. I doubt it would improve the general appreciation of bandits very much even if the person mugging you would be wearing pink bows and a fluffy bunny insignia," Sarevok said dryly.
- "Well, that's what YOU think, mister spiky armor!" Emilia said huffily.

- "Enter my private chamber. I will offer you some of my better stock. Don't often get visitors of such repute," Tazok cut in.
The private chamber had something that could probably be called a conference table with a stretch of imagination and goodwill. Emilia was relieved to notice that it didn't involve any obvious body parts. It was crudely made of wood, and in the middle there was a sand box used for tactical planning.
Sarevok and Emilia sat and waited for Tazok, who was in his sleeping alvoce, rummaging a chest of his personal belongings, uttering a few guttural swearwords in ogreish.
- "A minute," he grunted and went outside, returned after a while and went to continue his bizarre activities.
- "What do you think he is doing?" Emilia whispered to Sarevok, frowning.
- "No idea, sister," the large warrior answered. "Apparently he wants to offer us some unusual kind of hospitality."

Indeed, finally the rummaging and shuffling sounds ceased and Tazok appeared carrying a tray. It wasn't actually a tray, though - it was a wooden shield, but it served the purpose just fine. On the tray there were two carved horns made into drinking vessels - and a battered crystal wine glass. To the wine glass Tazok had tied a few fresh mayflowers, using some sort of dried sinew as string.
- "This one for the lady," he said, averting his gaze and offering the adorned glass for Emilia.
- "Loot from a noble troup... been saving that for special occasion. As well as this," Tazok explained, brandishing a bottle of vintage wine.
Emilia privately tought that the wine would be wasted on her, as she preferred ale. But she wasn't about to tell that to Tazok. The mayflowers were also a very sweet touch, if they lacked a certain finesse. She offered the ogre chieftain a dazzling smile. Tazok looked pleased and almost... shy?

The group toasted and tasted the excellent wine.
- "Say, you two goody-two-shoeses then? Why you not kill me and all the bandits?" Tazok asked.
- "That would be extremely presumptuous, and hardly an act of goodness," Sarevok answered. "Perhaps we can make you realize that there are other choices. We are not forced to repeat the patterns of our life again and again. That is something I have learned from Emilia."
- "But I... am an ogre and a bandit chief. What else can I do but bandit around?" Tazok said.
- "You said it yourself. You don't enjoy it the way you used to," Emilia said. "Perhaps fate, or gods, or simply your own better self is trying to tell you something."
- "Me always think goody-two-shoeses stupid. Sarevok here, could be the greatest terror of a warlord, instead rides about trying to help people for free. And still everyone afraid of him, not even grateful," Tazok frowned. "But... there is something in you two... something odd..."
The ogre started to be at the end of his vocabulary in the area of ethics and metaphysics.
- "Say, would you like to speak to my troops. They curious, heard so much of you? I would be grateful."
The siblings shared a look.
- "I guess," Emilia said and sipped her wine. Sarevok nodded.




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