‘Yeah, me’an Jil and a few other taller lads got up into the brack a little, scrapped with some pigheads and made the woods a safer place for farmin’ men. I’ll tell you, though . . . (puff, puff, puff) somethin’ not quite straight about all this business. Those orcs had thick blood, more like loungers than fighters, and those swords . . . curious. Ever seen a raiding party what didn’t have a bow or two, a sling maybe? Nothing, there. We’ve croaked near two dozen of’m now, and not a banner or tribal coin to show. (Puff, puff) Curious. Yep. Curious. And ya’ll scorched your boots with a shade or somethin’ like, huh? That’s the real nasty! We were doin’ flower arranging compared to your fight, that’s the truth from pommel to tip as they say down in the Horse Country.
But I’m wonderin’ that we aren’t just getting run around with small stuff, and bigger badness is lurking out there. These farmers ain’t fighters. We might want to . . . (puff, puff, puff) . . . start turning minds to some fortifications . . . well nuff said, we found a few trinkets among the dead, took’m back to Master Cunn. He’ll do the thinking, I reckon.’
‘Yeah, me’an Jil and a few other taller lads got up into the brack a little, scrapped with some pigheads and made the woods a safer place for farmin’ men. I’ll tell you, though . . . (puff, puff, puff) somethin’ not quite straight about all this business. Those orcs had thick blood, more like loungers than fighters, and those swords . . . curious. Ever seen a raiding party what didn’t have a bow or two, a sling maybe? Nothing, there. We’ve croaked near two dozen of’m now, and not a banner or tribal coin to show. (Puff, puff) Curious. Yep. Curious. And ya’ll scorched your boots with a shade or somethin’ like, huh? That’s the real nasty! We were doin’ flower arranging compared to your fight, that’s the truth from pommel to tip as they say down in the Horse Country.
ReplyDeleteBut I’m wonderin’ that we aren’t just getting run around with small stuff, and bigger badness is lurking out there. These farmers ain’t fighters. We might want to . . . (puff, puff, puff) . . . start turning minds to some fortifications . . . well nuff said, we found a few trinkets among the dead, took’m back to Master Cunn. He’ll do the thinking, I reckon.’
-Ancoor Icehauler, over a brimmer and stout tabac
Keep em coming Ancoor
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