[Arvedui III]

Grumish leaned against a poll. The fire and wreak of the ransacked city surounded him. The air was full of burning flesh, it was to him, wholesome. The uruk's black eyes stared unseingly at serveral bodies on the ground. He drew his scemitar. "Not yet." said a voice behind him, it was Pirk. "I did as you said, now for my end of the deal." "You can't, not yet. We've got to take control of this town, take prisinors." "Prisoners?!"
Grumish was outraged. What possible use could prisoners be? He'd held up his end to Pirk, undergone the training, yielded to, them. Why did they have to take prisoners? The rage he felt didn't show though, his face was a hidious, callous mask. He looked down at the orc in front of him.

This always made him feel better, staring down at Pirk. Even if he had to take orders, they both knew who would win a test of one-on-one combat. He had no intention of doing so, though. Pirk had given him two little orcs to look after. He had hated them, and the responisibily of them. They were annoying. They had died.
So, he had a gruding respect in Pirk, something rare for orcs.He trusted his judgment. Grumish drew his swords and headed away from the tantilizing bodies to a part of the settlement not smoldering. The silent eyes chose their target, a small humble house tucked neatly into a corrner.

He hacked the door open. There were screems, and to him they were better then any song in any tounge. "Pirk!" he called, and Pirk along with several others ran to him. "Prisoners you wanted, prisoners I give." and he grined his horrible orc grin at the poor souls trapped in the house.