[Kransha]

Giving a very grateful, if not slightly confused nod of thanks to Pio, Kransha spun nimbly on his heels to accept the barrage of blood relations as they gathered around him, Roa, and Fordim.

They were a rowdy bunch, mainly made of tooth and claw that erupted from their massive, single, uniform bulk. A sight it was to so the clamoring mess of orc-flesh trying vaguely to ‘sneak’ through the party participatory ranks and towards the only person they know. At Kransha’s swift beckoning gesture, they separated like a diverse swarm, each falling into line. They were all different, in everything from size and color to clothing and posture. Some looked more primitive and Neanderthal-reminiscent, while some looked most civil, though not as much as Kransha. Glowering in anticipation at their cousin, they seethed and mumbled to each other in the unused tongue of Mordor, which caused more Halflings to cower and/or cringe. Kransha smiled grimly and turned to his friends.

“Fordim, Roa, I would like you to meet my cousins; Stinky (the one with the body odor), Slinky (the one hiding behind your left leg, Fordim), Finky (the one thieving Shock Toffees), Crinky (I’ve got nothing on this one), Clinkly (the one wearing custom made Nurn-Inc. Plate Armor), Shrinky (the small one), Kinky (the one with the cat-o-nine-tails and the ominous grin), Chinky (the one with the heavy bags on his belt and the prosperous attire), Winky (the one winking at you eerily, Roa), Pinky (the pink one, obviously), Blinky (the one with two eye patches), Hinky (the one sneezing, Plinky (the one who just stole my orc draught and is guzzling it), and Flatulent Bob. Yes, I think that covers all of them.”

They shot him more looks of question, and Kransha knew why. Growling under his ragged breath, he threw up his hands in dismay, “Alright, I admit it; those aren’t their names, but those things they call surnames are impossible to pronounce in Westron, so I took the liberty of giving them names that others could make out the syllables of. I doubt anyone here, save maybe Fordim, could even attempt the pronunciation of their titles, disregarding maiden names, honorific titles, pseudonyms, family names, and all other attachments.”

Slowly but surely, he turned back to his orcish relatives and gathered up his refined tone for a grandiose oration, “Ok, boys, there’s not much time left in this party, so I suggest you indulge yourselves. Just be careful where you…where you empty your surplus of rear carbonaceous fluids, yes?” there was a chorus of nods, “Other than that, do no ‘work’ (whatever on Gorgoroth Mistress Pio meant by that) and go wild, have fun, and party all night long!”

If ever a mistake was made in the history of mistakes, this was one mistake that was quite a mistaken mistake to make (Kransha couldn’t even think that five times fast).

They scattered like hounds after fresh meat. They surged over the crowd. Within instants, each orc was engaged in doing something illicit to someone, much to Kransha’s displeasure. “At least they left there ladles at the door. Thank Melkor for that.” Mumbled the poor orc as his cousins overflowed like a tidal wave onto the party. He watched them, his own beady eyes focused on them as if they were each superimposed above the field of greenery. He knew they wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he feared he would scare the Feanorian bejeezus out of most.

Looking over the crowd, or at least those being berated in a non-violent manner, he yelled out in as calming a voice as he could muster “DON’T WORRY, FOLKS, THEY’RE HARMLESS!”

After a moment, he added “AT LEAST MOST OF THEM ARE HARMLESS!” at the top of his lungs, and began to set his calculating brain in motion. He categorized them, one by one, into the felonious and heinous acts they were committing. He had little knowledge of the people being assaulted by his brethren, but he made a mental record all the same…

…Blinky was stumbling about blindly, looking for food, and had bumped into Miss Symestreem, knocking a slice of garlic-ridden pizza from her hand which was promptly sneezed on by Hinky and then, immediately, stolen by Finky.
…Kinky looked about ready to give Arestevana a random thrashing while Winky, totally enthused, kept winking at her in that ominous fashion and Slinky seemed to want to find his way between her legs and under the ample buffet tables for no apparent reason.
…Blinky, after the pizza incident, was using Shrinky to take some batting, sporting swings at Kitanna, but thankfully the totally blind uruk was missing by leagues.
…Flatulent Bob, with assistance from the ever-alert Stinky and his profuse smell, was aiming abothe ‘discharge’ at Eowyn Skywalker, figuring with their orc logic that her cross-dimensional screename would save her miraculously from the none-too-savory blast.
….Chinky was attempting to commandeer the Saucepan Man’s pots and pans to forge new armor for himself, though he too was failing miserably, since the aimless Crinky kept getting in his way.

The only one not doing something that could be considered evil was Clinky.

“Clinky, you’re supposed to be enjoying yourself. Shouldn’t you be engaging in foul activity like your brothers?” he queried, confused, enraged, muddled, puddle, befuddled, and quite possibly scuttled.

“Nonsense, cos. I’ve got a job to do. Orders from his majesty, you know. Finances must be seen to, Kransha old chum, and that’s my duty to the crown, dontcha know.”

Kransha didn’t reply, far too stupefied to speak. So much for family values…

Luckily, the party was beginning to resolve and Kransha knew that if his cousins got too out of hand, he had another card up his sleeve…or, rather, a large, possibly-winged, balrog companion with a thick volume that could easily contain every orc on Arda.