Phle'g'm Da lonely Orc

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“Meh stowy ib a sad wun,” Phle’g’m related, as he lifted another mug of bludale. “Meh hopes dat ju hab time to wisten tu it. Den mebbe ju unnerstan where meh ib coming fwom.” He took several healthy chugs of ale, wiped the dribbles from his chin with the back of his green, scaly hand, and leaned back in his chair heaving a great Orcish sigh. “Da furst thingee meh wemember ib being a happy widdle child. Meh did nub kno dat meh wuz just a runt. Meh thawt dat meh wuz a humie child like meh brudders Dadiolus and Woody. Meh Mommy and Daddy nub tell meh den dat meh wuz an Orc. Sometimes meh wunder why meh luk gween and meh brudders luk pink, but da Mommy and Daddy blah dat wuz cuz ob da light coming troo da twees in da fowest awound our shak.”

Phle’g’m paused for some more bludale. He removed his Orc helm and his dark brown eyes looked like a couple of muddy pools that were about to overflow. He pulled a dirty rag from his backpack and forcefully blew his snout with a loud honk. He checked the result in the scrap of cloth. “Dat wuz a gudda wun,” he announced proudly, displaying the wad of mucus. He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pack and continued with his story. “Anywayz, ebbrythingee was alrite until meh gwo tu da skool shak wid meh brudders. Meh find out dat meh wuz nub tu smart lik meh brudders, eben tho dey twy tu hep meh. Den da udder childwen wud teez meh. Dey wud point at meh and blah mean thingees about meh being gween and scaly. Den meh cwy and gwo home. Soon meh stop gwoing tu da skool shak and stay wid da Mommy and Daddy.” Here Phle’g’m stopped to choke back a tear, hiding it with several more swallows of bludale. Our barmaid, a saucy wench, kept refilling his mug as fast as he finished it. His speech, never terribly well articulated, gradually became more slurred. I had to lean in closer to make out his ramblings. I was all the more uncomfortable because of the rising miasma of his Orcish body odor.

“Da day finawwy come when da Mommy and Daddy took me aside,” Phle’g’m began anew. “’Son,’ dey blahhed, ‘you are now old enough to know the truth. You are not our real son. You are adopted.’ ‘Adopted!,’ meh showted. ‘Meh nub bewieve it!’ But it wuz twue. Dey blahhed meh how dey find a widdle runt in da dark fowest after majuk deddies clump meh real parents. Dey took meh bak tu da humie shak and waised meh as deyr own wid da older ‘brudders’ Dadiolus and Woody. Now it wuz time fur meh tu gwo out in da world tu find meh own way.”

Phle’g’m stretched at this point and burped several times. They were loud, resonant belches with the aroma of second hand bludale. “Dat wuz as gudda coming bak up as it wuz gwoing down,” he announced to no one in particular. “Meh twavelled all ober da world tu learn how tu beh a bedder Orc. Da zities wuz mojo bad places; dey wuz cwowded and smellied tu much ob tu many humies tu close togedder; and da humies wuz mean tu a poor, lonely Orc. Meh met da elbzies tu; dey pwetended tu beh meh fwiend, but den dey wud play twicks on meh. Wun time dey wud shove meh, den disappear, and den shove meh fwom anudder diwection. When meh finawwy catched dat elbzie, meh shook him mojo hard. Maybe tu hard cause den him nub get up agin; meh tink mebbe him wuz det. So meh nub able tu gwo bak tu da elbzies nub more.”

Phle’g’m stretched again. He pulled off his boots, leaned back in his chair, and placed his scaly, green feet on the table. He was careful not to knock over his mug. His feet gave off an over-ripe odor as he picked at his claw-like nails. Several flies circled above his feet, landing first on one toe, than another. He looked at me, as if trying to judge the effect of his story on me. “So, meh wander thru da world until meh hear ob da Stormreaver Orc Clan. Dey wuz gwad tu see meh and took meh into da Clan. Dey ib lik da Orc famiwy meh nub nebber kno. Dey learnz meh how tu beh a mojo gudda Orc and nub beh lik a pudung humie. Meh learnz how tu krimp and how tu use meh smashah. Dey learnz meh about da Bludgod and how meh needz tu gib lulty. And best ob all, meh getz tu eat all meh wantz, dwink all meh wantz, and clump humies.”

With this last statement, Phle’g’m took a colossal draught of bludale, the brew running down his chin and over his rusted gorget and ringmail tunic. He gave a crooked, but contented, smile as his eyes glazed over. His head fell back and he snored loudly as he slept soundly. I got up from my chair as quietly as I could, so as not to disturb the sleeping Orc. I left the tavern to continue on my own journey, my own quest, as I continued to reflect on the tale of this crude, but gentle creature.

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