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#13 | |
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Laconic Loreman
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Borc starts one of his usual drunken performances late at night, in the middle of Nerwen's establishment, which always grabs everyone's attention. This time he's drawn his scimitar on a stool.
"I'll run you through, I will, if you don't leave this place, Demons!...What's that you say? You go around instructing everyone to hunt us for sport and you have the stones to come here to claim some kind of moral high ground? Bahahaha. You disgust me, you filth." "Do you hear this lads, this pure Elf thinks we are cockroaches?" *Borc points to the stool. Some of the orcs who know Borc better laugh, other stare confused* "We are cockroaches huh? Better to live as a cockroach then live in fear of creatures who have done no harm to you. So while you spend your entire life in a wasted, and miserable existance, to rid your world of cockroaches, I will continue enjoying the simple things in life: good draught, free food, and pretty orc-women." *At this most of the orcs laughed* "Oh, so you're not doing this for sport, but because a group of orcs several hundred years ago, committed some act of violence against you? Have you never heard this thing called, the sins of the father will not pass to his children? I would have thought you smarty-pants high elves would know this...but you continue to wantonly kill for crimes that have long passed and that I had no part in...Begone foul elf! Begone, I say" *Borc swung his scimitar down on the stool with such force two of the legs snapped* This seemed to snap Borc back to attention and reality. "Ehm, hai hoi there, sorry 'bout that Nerwen jus' add it onto my tab." "You mean the tab with the hole in the wall you left yesterday or the tab with the tray of my best china you dropped last week?" "Erm...ah...can you just put it on a new tab?" Quote:
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Fenris Penguin
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