Grim Views

The triplets arrived on the scene dressed in neons from head to toe with the exception of the splatters covering their outfits. It could have been wet mud, or blood, or dung. But whatever it was had long since dried and stained the cloth. It didn't smell any worse than any other dirty laundry either. Their stocky builds were fit snugly into coarse fabric that anybody knowing anything about fine fabric might have scoffed at, but the triplets, so used to hand me down battle gear, knew anything light weight was a luxury.

The shirts were a mix of dyed colors. Dehau wore mostly red, Tehau mostly yellow and Nehau mostly orange. Their belts were tattered and all a shiny metallic blue. Attached to the side loops of each hung a drum etched with runes.

Nehau seemed the most excited about the choice of threads. "I'm stoked to be outta that kilt. I can't lie about that." She had recently been outfitted by the outpost guards of Zabra'jin in a gaudy make of leather and bangles that was anything but comfortable. And the color was so bland she would have dared to compare herself to an Alliance Priest. "It's not my style." She proclaimed time and time again to passing buddies that had bothered to comment. "I didn't pick it personally." She ended each conversation with a shake of her lime green fist and a baring of her yellowish teeth.

Tehau shouldered her patchwork pack with a grunt. She had lost the game of "Boulder! Parchment! Shears!" and had to carry the good eats and fizzy drinks for the travel around towns. The triplets never went long without drinking or eating. Dehau herself had stains of orange spice sauce on her chin and fingertips that she tried unsuccessfully to wipe on Nehau's brilliant purple cloak. "Knock it off, or I'll knock you out!"

Dehau instead used the sticky leftovers to respike up her dyed purple hair. It was a new look they had kept for two weeks now. The longest yet. The colors matched their eyes. "Perrrrfect." The goblin who assisted in the process had purred. They left the barbershop shortly after without tipping him.

They reached the Grim hall mailbox by early evening, when normally they would just be waking up after a very long and eventful night of partying. Instead they'd been up hours earlier piecing together what information they could on how to get back into Grim ranks. They found out the sitch from Lascivious and set to work immediately.

A whole bottle of ink later and they had the written letter of intent stuffed with the food in their pack. It had probably long since crumpled into a mess but it would be legible. Tehau chucked the burden of food stash to the ground and rubbed her sore shoulder. It was a duty well worth it for the monge fest they would have later in celebration for finishing this task. Teh reached down to twist a cap from a bottle with a satisfying whoosh, crack, fizz. She swigged the bubbly brown liquid and finished with an "Ahhh!" before passing it along. "Nothing like a chillburner to put the wind back under my wings."

Nehau licked her chapped lips as she awaited her turn. "Ima say we just chill here til somebody comes along. Pass some mix, and the buzzard wings." They took  one and a half minutes to chow down until they grew bored.

"What now?" The rogue asked.
"Pass the time." The shaman nodded.
"Dance off." The warrior grinned.

With a triple shrug the three orcs shook out their stocky arms and legs, readied their instruments and cracked their joints warningly.

"Aw yeah! Hex yeah! Go to it! Aw yeah!"They muttered a rhythm to the beat of their travel drums. Deh immediately flopped to the floor, doing the Grub. That was followed by Neh's smooth Netherwalk and then Teh's Whirlwind. They took turns dancing and drumming, added moves  and threw in a few more strange steps, fierce expressions on their faces. Practicing away one and a half minutes  more of the wait.

"Shake whatcha Gramps gaveya!" One of them shouted gleefully. And then they were bored again.

"Huh." Tehau shuffled her feet, feeling out of place indoors. "You hear that?" She asked hopefully. All three orcs tilted their heads, raised an eyebrow and froze to listen, like raptors.

"Nope." Nehau grunted.

"Nothing, my sib." Dehau added.

"Yeah, I didn't think it was anything. Just wondering. This prolly wasn't such a smart idea, it's taking forev. Let's just drop the bomb and blow this joint before someone gets all cactus on us."

Tehau snorted and tore into the colorful satchel now resting on the floor. Her hands dug past clanking bottles, crinkling wrappers, greasy warm carry out bags. Her tongue pressed against the side of her cheek, and she was up to her shoulder in the search.

Dehau crouched down beside her sister to help pursue the missing note. "Oh it's in there. I shoved it in before we split. You know, before Logak blew that big one and cleared the wagon."

"That was Giota." Nehau grunted, angry that it was her worg that snuck into the stash of food the triplets kept above their hammocks, but proud that that it was also her worg that could make even a stuffed nose run.

A grunt and a tug, a tearing rip. "Oops. It's, uh... It's still good!" Dehau grinned, clomping towards the mailbox with her sisters.

"They'll know how to read it, and I'm biffing starved." Nehau grumbled and the other triplets grunted their agreement.

Tehau yanked the letter, folded it twice, and all three triplets left the crumpled parchment on top of the mailbox. "Plop it like a pat." They cackled and split like a tel'abim banana, their excited voices fading off in the distance.

The note reads:

Dear Grim,

We're back on the hunt. One of the steps to awesomeness is to get on the path where we belong. We've been killing pinkers, but we'd like to do it under the mandate and lend our assistance to whatev else needs to get done.

Hex yeah!
Nehau  Dehau  Tehau

Walking to the guildhall, Malstrom spied the note on the mailbox.  Picking it up, he read it,  finding himself getting hungry again at the smell of spices and sauce that stain the letter.

He grinned.  The triplets had returned finally.  He knew with them they brought joy, enthusiasm and a shamanic wisdom that their antics often hid from the eyes of others.  Also food.

Taking the note, he walked into the guildhall and posted it to the guild hall wall, adding to it his sygil of approval.  He looked forward to seeing them wear the Grim tabard again.

He then wandered into the kitchen to find himself something cooked in a spicy sauce.  Gnome would be best but chicken would do too.