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[Tir'Og]

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Tir'Og was in a bad mood. Not so long ago he'd gone on a patrol of his privete hunting grounds for humans to abuse but only found wimpering peasents in the rough streets of Yew. After all the fighting between humans and Orcs it seemed as though both the Army and the lost King's soilders had decided to abandon the backwood ville to the Greenskins. Victories arn't supposed to be like this...
Mi HABED tunk Tir'Og began to talk to himself in the cavernous helm he called a head, Mi habed tunk dat ween ju fite da humies dem bled an fawl ober and den ju win.. nub diz. Der nubudee tu fite... The Orc felt mad, almost insulted personally by his lack of foes. "Wud da.. PUSHNUGGERT PUINT OB AH WAR EF DER NUB ANIWUN TU FITE!" He finished the thought alowed, bellowing his bordom to the sky and causing the few peasents brave enought to remain in earshot toattempt to apear extra incospicuios. A vein throbbed on his forehead. Somewhere close by a child began crying and was instantly hushed. Good thing to, the mean spirited Orc wasen't above playing kickball with a baby.

There's actually a sport based on it, Skraggle. One more way that the humans attempted to point out how Orcs were inherently evil and far past due for extermination. What nonsense, how can you judge an entire race based on a game.... Besides, if the ball didin't want to be kicked to peices it should've ran (or crawled) faster!
Think bag ball with one's leather and iron incased feet doing to moving and a crying, mewing object. It involves burying several warhammers or relativly heavy logs int othe groudn to form a pair of wickets which are the targets the "ball" is kicked toward. Larger gamepieces who might feel the urge to fight back or flee are generally hogtied to prevent such interuptions of the game. Lacking ropes, a swift kick to each joint of thier limbs usally does the trick too. . It's hard to ruin Orcish fun with four broken bones after all...

The side with the least gore on it wins, a simple system that saves them from keeping score. Exparementation has determined that more then prisioner is generally needed (a 'snag" is the rough equevillent of a period of play) as greenskins are loath to remove thier footwear and ironshod boots play havoc with the soft skulls of the lessor races. Many a time has an Orc wound up for a mighty kick only to find more then one ball suddenly on the field, or rather, the ball prehaps in more then one field itself...

Unfortunitly Tir'Og was alone on this hunt.A solo hobby he'd oicked up on his raids to the Abby in days past. The potential ball was still crying softly no more then a dozen feet away and a bit of one on one Skraggle might improve his mood.
Ah well... Maybe he'd try Poets Tavern agian. There was a bit of drama there last night, prehaps he'd give it a quick peep.
Prehaps a quick drink, who could it hurt right? He might check into the Orc fort first....

Og'Din, Lord of the Din'Chi, his supiriour in combat an all thing Orcish, had called him and a number of Orcs to the grove alongside the fort.
"Erm yub boss?" Tir began, unsure of exactly how to begin his muster. He was called by Og'Din. Blarg, maybe he jusdt ment to det them all...
"Ju gu dat west, da udder orcs gu tu a eazt" The Orcish warlord intoned. Sure, easy enough words for those who weren't compleatly drunk.
His harsh and deep voice punded in Tr'Og ears as he valinently lead his troops, in the face of sure confusion and a nasty hangover as he lead his troops to the line.
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For the last time Tir'Og! "Dat toopid humie dezerbed id" is NOT grounds for justafiable homacide.
-Judge, Yew Court