Mormegil
1st July 2003, 10:03 AM
Rashkuk was relieved. He was relieved because his nightmare of success had come to an end. A quite final end. He was dead. At least, that was what he gathered from the fact that he was looking down at his own trampled body. The last thing he could remember was a hoof coming down on his forehead very quickly. Then there had been an indefinite time of blackness and now here he was, some kind of ghost, so far as his limited grasp of the situation would tell him. Around him lay the mangled bodies of his troops, nobody had survived. Suddenly, he noticed a hooded figure approaching him.
“YOUR TIME HAZ CUM” sounded a coarse voice from under the hood.
“So I am dead?” asked Rashkuk.
“BOY, YA’A REAL BRAINY! WHADDYA THINK, LYIN’ THERE WIDDA HOLE IN YER HEAD YA COULD POKE A TROLL THUMB THROUGH?”
“So you are Death, ‘ere to take my soul to Ashgblatzn’gul?”
“QUICK THINKER, MATE”
“Hmm, somehow my imagination of Death was different”
“YEAH, WHAT LIKE?”
“Well…, tall guy, skinny, carrying a scythe, something like that, not hunched, smelly, with a patchwork hood and a rusty scimitar…” Rashkuk said slowly, mustering the strange figure.
“WELL; YA KNOW; DEATH IS QUITE BUSY NOW; WITH ALL THEM BATTLES GOING ON; MORE THAN 10.000 DEAD AT OSGILIATH YESTERDAY, SO HE HIRED SOME DEP… DEPU… ER, EXTRA HANDS; YA KNOW”
“And you are..”
“I AM THE DEATH OF ORCS” said the Death of Orcs proudly and raised himself to his full five feet.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to do with it” sighed Rashkuk. “So what is Ashgblatzn’gul like?”
“DUNNO… D’PENDS”
“Depends on what?”
“WELL; THERE’S THIS SAYING LIFE IS WHAT YA MAKE IT; YA KNOW?”
“No”
“ANYWAY; IT IS… AND SO IS DEATH”
“You mean no endless feasting on human brain, no three dozens of warty orcish maidens?”
“NOT NES’SARILY, NO”
“Could there be some nice torture chambers with whips and all them spiky thingies?”
“UP TO YA, MATE”
Rashkuk suddenly started grinning and thought that Death might not be as bad as his reputation.
The Death of Orcs stagily raised his scimitar “READY? ‘ERE WE GO!”…
“YOUR TIME HAZ CUM” sounded a coarse voice from under the hood.
“So I am dead?” asked Rashkuk.
“BOY, YA’A REAL BRAINY! WHADDYA THINK, LYIN’ THERE WIDDA HOLE IN YER HEAD YA COULD POKE A TROLL THUMB THROUGH?”
“So you are Death, ‘ere to take my soul to Ashgblatzn’gul?”
“QUICK THINKER, MATE”
“Hmm, somehow my imagination of Death was different”
“YEAH, WHAT LIKE?”
“Well…, tall guy, skinny, carrying a scythe, something like that, not hunched, smelly, with a patchwork hood and a rusty scimitar…” Rashkuk said slowly, mustering the strange figure.
“WELL; YA KNOW; DEATH IS QUITE BUSY NOW; WITH ALL THEM BATTLES GOING ON; MORE THAN 10.000 DEAD AT OSGILIATH YESTERDAY, SO HE HIRED SOME DEP… DEPU… ER, EXTRA HANDS; YA KNOW”
“And you are..”
“I AM THE DEATH OF ORCS” said the Death of Orcs proudly and raised himself to his full five feet.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to do with it” sighed Rashkuk. “So what is Ashgblatzn’gul like?”
“DUNNO… D’PENDS”
“Depends on what?”
“WELL; THERE’S THIS SAYING LIFE IS WHAT YA MAKE IT; YA KNOW?”
“No”
“ANYWAY; IT IS… AND SO IS DEATH”
“You mean no endless feasting on human brain, no three dozens of warty orcish maidens?”
“NOT NES’SARILY, NO”
“Could there be some nice torture chambers with whips and all them spiky thingies?”
“UP TO YA, MATE”
Rashkuk suddenly started grinning and thought that Death might not be as bad as his reputation.
The Death of Orcs stagily raised his scimitar “READY? ‘ERE WE GO!”…