The half-veiled moon glances off dark leaves and peeps down along gnarled trunks to shine into a clearing the this gloomy wood. The boles and branches are thicker here, deeper into the forest, and sprawled atop a twisted root at the base of an oak is a small orc -- sleeping by the looks of it the creature even clutches a crude makeshift blanket of leaves and other such fallen foliage about himself.
[Ollie(#15066)] Sleeping. In the middle of the night. Tsk.
In the distance, a hymn of praise to the darkness rises a gravelly hymn, a rough hymn, but a hymn none-the-less. It is Oliver, and he is clearly over-joyed that the sun once more has been vanquished, the night risen at last.
Thud, thud, thwack -- The incessant clatter of nails and hammers, and workers' voices has vanished. Having been near the bordor of the forest some time prior when it was still daylight, Bruug is no longer plagued by the disturbances of construction and now, poor time though it may be, he naps.
But the growing noise causes his ears to twitch, and there is a brief look of irritation. The orc rolls over, facing away from where the new interruption comes, determined that his sleep is much more important.
[Ollie(#15066)] "No more lights!" sings the troll. "Nasty lights. Dark and nice, little mice..." He stops on a sort of basso squeak of surprise, as he nearly trips over Bruug. "Whatcher got there?" he asks himself, bending down to peer at the orc. "Leafs with eyes," he answers himself. "Eyes is shut - is dead." But though he has come to this eminently logical conclusion with pardonable pride, he reaches down to prod the orc with a stubby forefinger. "Is dead?"
Alas, for no amount of determination can withstand this triple assault: first there is the threat of being stepped on as the troll nears and very nearly trips..then the booming gravely voice..and lastly the rude poking.
The leaf-orc rustles, and scoots up closer against his tree. "Ow, watch where--" Bruug frowns, but looks up and wavers, perhaps not expecting to find a disturber this big. "Not dead," the goblin finishes, crimson gaze now flickering to the dirt.
[Ollie(#15066)] "Oh." Oliver sounds a little disappointed, but he straightens. "Whatcher doing then?" he asks curiously.
"Sleepin' -- trying ter sleep," corrects the orc, but he doesn't appear to be resuming his attempt any time soon. Two wirey arms pop out of the covering of foliage, and he pushes it off of himself onto the ground. "You's were singing?"
[Ollie(#15066)] Sleep? An expression of perplexity crosses the troll's craggy face. "S'night!" he objects. "Nice, dark..." He waves an expressive arm. "No wicked suns. Whatcher want t'sleep for?"
Bruug gives a huff. "I's tired, sleep's whatcha do when your's tired," he crosses his arms, convinced that his logic is foolproof. "Like bein' hungry. When you's hungry, you's eats."
[Ollie(#15066)] Eat. A gleam sparks in the troll's eyes and his look at Bruug turns decidedly considering. Then he shrugs. It's awfully small. Would likely be a huge bother. He just ate, after all. "Yer doesn't sleep when's dark," he contradicts, firmly. "Sleeps when ther suns is out."
Forgetting his impish size and the much larger and intimidating one of Ollie, the little creature clenches his fists and growls lowly. "I's sleeps when I's wants ta sleeps! S'not my fault I couldn't sleep 'afore with all that racket goin' on with the town." Bruug points a claw in a vague direction, evidently not certain of said village's exact location from there.
[Ollie(#15066)] "Racket?" This sounds interesting, and Oliver swivels to look in the direction Bruug is pointing. He looks, peers, squints into the darkness. "I doesn't see nothing," he says accusingly.
The orc shrugs. "Somewheres out there, don't remember where from here." Still frowning, though not as much as before, he stands and brushes himself off. Bruug peers forward, and inches to the left, trying to slip passed the troll.
[Ollie(#15066)] Oliver frowns into the distance, ignoring the orc's bid for escape.
At last something to be happy about -- Oliver is distracted. Bruug creeps away step by step, turning at the last moment and pushing his way off in between two trees. He is gone, though once out of earshot the goblin resumes his irritated mutterings about sleep.