Post by gort on Dec 3, 2010 14:43:51 GMT -5
(( I won't jinx myself by exposing details, but things are looking up. I may be returning to WoW soon. On that note, here is a story in which I vaguely describe what Romm has been up to, and introduce a new character. See if you can pick him out. Also, the drinking song within this is not my own creation. It's from a book. About Orcs. Called Orcs. You should read it. ))
Uruz sits alone at a table in Booty Bay, sloshing his drink on the walls, tables and other patrons as he sings loudly. And poorly.
"Farewell and goodbye to you fair orcish ladies,
Farewell and goodbye to you ladies of hame,
We've taken a likin' to mayehm and fightin'
Our blades we'll bring down and sharpen again!"
Or at least, that's how it should go. The slurred speech, apparent lack of decency, and glazed eyes should be dead giveaways that this is a very drunk orc.
He is barechested, wearing only basic leather leggings, no weapons hang at his hip. This, more than anything, is perhaps how one young, drunk, human found the guts to stumble over and tap Uruz on the shoulder.
"Hey pigface," He chuckled, apparently this was hilarious. "You're stinkin' up the place. How about movin' on? Maybe somewhere more open."
"Tha' s' nae a goo-" One dwarf warns. His comrade punches him in the arm, grinning.
As the human speaks, Uruz deliberately turns on the bench and places his foot between the human's own and shifts the mug to the table's edge. The similarity to a big cat, ready to pounce, should not be missed. The glaze over his eyes is replaced by a gaze sharp as flint, and a malicious grin creases his face. "Oh, I stink? Must be the filth I picked up from your whore of a mother!"
Several thins then happened very quickly. The human went for his sword. Too slow though as Uruz smashed his mug into the pinkskin's crotch, then leapt upward as the human doubled over. Their heads collided, and the human fell, instantly unconcious. Uruz quickly finished him with a blow to the temple. Death by beer mug. The orc stands, looking for another person to reach for their weapon, only to be smacked in the head by a goblin's club. Several bouncers rushed forward, siezing the stunned greenskin and dragging him to the city limits.
There, apparently waiting for him, stood an entire Orc Warband in battle garb. From the crowd stepped a grizzled veteran, carrying equipment.
Warlord Rommak Spinerip threw down the equipment. The pile contained a shortsword, shield, combat knife, battle harness with attached shoulder guards, and a leather War Crown. "You need a new drinking hole, this one took longer. Your reputation is growing. How young was this one?"
Uruz replied. "Didn't even have whiskers. But he went for his blade."
"I found your name. Uruz Childkiller. How did thos glorious instincts end up in such a reckless mind?"
"Just lucky I guess."
"Watch your tongue pup, you're not talking to some soft-skinned pinkie here."
"Yes Warlord." Replied Uruz, still arming himself.
"Anyway, finish dressing. I had hoped to pick up one more warrior. Makes you look like a peon. But we're out of time."
"Wait. Who?"
"Horkugal Horrordrake. That runt will have my job eventually. Now fall in, we're off to Northrend. Vrykul are waiting. One last mission, then this shit is done."
At the mention of Vrykul, a look of childlike joy crosses Uruz's face. He falls into the Warband's formation, and at Romm's command they all begin to trot along the path. Their marching songs announcint to the jungle one clear message. The Horde is passing through.
Uruz sits alone at a table in Booty Bay, sloshing his drink on the walls, tables and other patrons as he sings loudly. And poorly.
"Farewell and goodbye to you fair orcish ladies,
Farewell and goodbye to you ladies of hame,
We've taken a likin' to mayehm and fightin'
Our blades we'll bring down and sharpen again!"
Or at least, that's how it should go. The slurred speech, apparent lack of decency, and glazed eyes should be dead giveaways that this is a very drunk orc.
He is barechested, wearing only basic leather leggings, no weapons hang at his hip. This, more than anything, is perhaps how one young, drunk, human found the guts to stumble over and tap Uruz on the shoulder.
"Hey pigface," He chuckled, apparently this was hilarious. "You're stinkin' up the place. How about movin' on? Maybe somewhere more open."
"Tha' s' nae a goo-" One dwarf warns. His comrade punches him in the arm, grinning.
As the human speaks, Uruz deliberately turns on the bench and places his foot between the human's own and shifts the mug to the table's edge. The similarity to a big cat, ready to pounce, should not be missed. The glaze over his eyes is replaced by a gaze sharp as flint, and a malicious grin creases his face. "Oh, I stink? Must be the filth I picked up from your whore of a mother!"
Several thins then happened very quickly. The human went for his sword. Too slow though as Uruz smashed his mug into the pinkskin's crotch, then leapt upward as the human doubled over. Their heads collided, and the human fell, instantly unconcious. Uruz quickly finished him with a blow to the temple. Death by beer mug. The orc stands, looking for another person to reach for their weapon, only to be smacked in the head by a goblin's club. Several bouncers rushed forward, siezing the stunned greenskin and dragging him to the city limits.
There, apparently waiting for him, stood an entire Orc Warband in battle garb. From the crowd stepped a grizzled veteran, carrying equipment.
Warlord Rommak Spinerip threw down the equipment. The pile contained a shortsword, shield, combat knife, battle harness with attached shoulder guards, and a leather War Crown. "You need a new drinking hole, this one took longer. Your reputation is growing. How young was this one?"
Uruz replied. "Didn't even have whiskers. But he went for his blade."
"I found your name. Uruz Childkiller. How did thos glorious instincts end up in such a reckless mind?"
"Just lucky I guess."
"Watch your tongue pup, you're not talking to some soft-skinned pinkie here."
"Yes Warlord." Replied Uruz, still arming himself.
"Anyway, finish dressing. I had hoped to pick up one more warrior. Makes you look like a peon. But we're out of time."
"Wait. Who?"
"Horkugal Horrordrake. That runt will have my job eventually. Now fall in, we're off to Northrend. Vrykul are waiting. One last mission, then this shit is done."
At the mention of Vrykul, a look of childlike joy crosses Uruz's face. He falls into the Warband's formation, and at Romm's command they all begin to trot along the path. Their marching songs announcint to the jungle one clear message. The Horde is passing through.