“Wait- Just let me-“
A young troll went crashing through a wooden table, the sound of breaking glasses and shouts and cheers from customers echoing after the initial BANG. The troll was silent for a few moments after, shock ridding him of any speech or physical movements.
“We don’t need yer kind ‘round here.” A low voice boomed after. A much larger troll walked over to the table where Tavros lay, the shadow from the candles casting over the young man. “We ain’t lookin’ for no faeries to be workin’ here, so you can just get out.”
Tavros groaned and sat up, slowly. “I know I’m not, well, extremely large! Like you, not that I’m saying being extremely large is a bad thing or that there is anything, uh, wrong with being a big troll, because that is really respected in a lot of places, but I have a lot of skills… that you could, you know, really find useful, I think, probably!”
Even though he had said the words many times (about ten, at this point), none of them had ever really sunk into the owners of the pubs. He could cook, clean, serve (kind of), or do heavy lifting or any other miscellaneous task that someone could have for him! He didn’t even need any real payment! Just a roof over his head and food to eat was all he wanted.
“So, uh, if you wouldn’t mind just hiring me, to even see if I could work out— I, um, well, I think I could do a really good job, you know??”
He let out a small grown and winced as he plucked a piece of glass out of his back and tossed it to the floor.
Gamzee’s eyes fell on a scuffle going on across the pub. A few big, dumb looking trolls were pushing a smaller one around. He chuckled and took a sip of his beer but continued to observe. It wasn’t until the smaller troll was thrown into a table that Gamzee stood, a frown on his face. Now, Gamzee didn’t like seeing brothers picking on brothers and he felt he had to intervene.
“Hey, motherfuckers,” he called out, taking several long strides towards the troll on the ground, extending a hand to help him up, “It’s not real motherfuckin’ friendly to be picking on a brother like that. Go on, get your motherfuckin’ scram on and skedaddle the fuck out of here,” he barked at the big trolls. He was met with angry glares, but they seemed to accept that Gamzee was, in fact, much higher than them on the hemospectrum and they shuffled away.
“You all motherfuckin okay, my brother?” Gamzee turned towards the troll he had helped with a friendly smile, “They didn’t motherfucking hurt you too bad or anything, did they? The name’s Gamzee Makara,” he introduced himself, dusting the front of Tavros’s shirt off. He thought the troll looked very familiar but he couldn’t quite put a finger on why. He swore he had met someone that looked like him long ago, but he couldn’t quite remember. Long years of drugs and drinking had dulled his memory, he knew.
“You look real motherfuckin’ familiar, my brother, have we ever met before?”
ToDaY iS tHe DaY i AlL uP aNd bEiNg SeTtInG oUt On A mOtHeRfUcKiN jOuRnEy To FiNd My OlD mAn. I hAvE mY sHiP rEaDy To MoThErFuCkIn SaIl AnD sHe Is A mOtHeRfUcKiN bEaUtY. I’m JuSt NeEd T AlL uP aNd FiNd Me A cReW. I sHoUlD gEt My BeSt MoThErFuCkEr TaVrOs AlL wOkE uP sO wE cAn SeT oUt, BuT iT’s StIlL rEaL mOtHeRfUcKiN eArLy.
I wIsH i KnEw WhErE tO lOoK fOr My DaDdY bUt FuCk It WoUlDn’T bE mUcH oF aN aDvEnTuRe If I kNeW wHeRe To Go. TaV aNd I aLwAyS tAlKeD aBoUt GoInG oN aN aDvEnTuRe AnD i DoN’t WaNt To Be LeTtInG a BrOtHeR dOwN. I’lL sHoW tAv ThE mOsT bItChIn AdVeNtUrE hE eVeR dId MoThErFuCkIn SeE.
It’S sTiLl ReAl MoThErFuCkIn EaRly sO tHiS mOtHeRfUcKeR iS gOiNg BaCk To BeD.
CaPtAiN gAmZeE mAkArA
The pub was dirty, sketchy, and dimly lit, full of thieves and pirates and sleazy individuals of all kinds. At a table in the corner, beer in hand, lounging back in his chair, sat Gamzee Makara, captain of the Seagoat, his precious ship. The troll scanned the area with half-lidded eyes, searching for potential recruits to his crew, The Dark Carnival. His main goal was finding his father, who had disappeared long ago, when he was still a young troll not even eight sweeps old, but Gamzee had dreams, big ones, of riches and grandeur, and he knew he could not do it alone. What better place to find a pirate crew than a shady bar?
But even as a pirate, Gamzee had standards, though not particularly high, and no one in the pub seemed to fit the bill. They had to be young, eager to work because he himself was absolutely not, and seeking adventure. Gamzee leaned back and kicked his legs up onto the table, finishing his beer and slamming it down on the table to signal an old troll wench to refill his mug. He continued to look around, inspecting every candidate, considering, weighing his options.
What was a highblood troll such as himself doing in that dirty, lowblood-ridden hole, anyway? He had seen the looks he had been given. He did not belong, he did not fit in. But no one said anything. They only stared, much like he himself was doing.