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Corporatocracy

Vice City

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BRUDDAS!”

 

Cried he, Gahk-Eyez the Yeller, from upon his crate. He was surely by now a well-known face within the Uzg.

 

“Doom lingers upon the horizon. Magicks foul pour out from the darkest depths of the Nether in great oceans of sin, vice and evil to claw at the veil of night; to tear down the heavens; to bring forth our revered dead as a vanguard to the legions of nubflats.”

 

He waved his arms in wild fashion, before allowing them to drift by his side. He took a breath - a pause - to punctuate the importance of his point.

 

BUT IDLE WE CANNOT BE...”

 

From such a small goblin, it was surprising that his voice could carry such conviction, such a youthful yet determined vibrance that verberated between the pillars and among the people.

 

“Vice plagues our kin. The common sins of grog, alchemical quartz and deviancy of every sordid colour clings to us like fetor clings to a corpse; it is as if a bag of bricks, a necrotic limb. And we must earnestly amputate it. For it is better to cut off the necrotic limb than to allow it to poison the body - the vessel of one’s soul. In similar fashion must we abandon our ways of vice - for vice breeds only weakness - unify Our kin as we always have been, and as Krug commanded, and temper the purity of Our kin like a smith tempers steel, in preparation for the doom which shall invariably follow.”

 

He watched the silent crowd with all three eyes…


LET THIS BE THE FIRST BLAST OF THE TRUMPET AGAINST THE MONSTROUS PHENOMENA OF VICE...”

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THE ORCISH PROHIBITION

 


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After the wiseman goblin finished his words, the Rex considered such. Would he truly risk the lives of his brothers, his kin and his nation for drink? Was it worth the danger? Perhaps the goblin was a fool, but in Skalp’s mind there was no other choice; if the Old Yeller screamed true, and the orcish people carried on with their ways of vice, such would bring an end to his glorious Krugmar.

 

With great hardship the Rex announced forth:

 

“Mi will nub allow mi glorious nation to bow to da whims of addiction, bruddas. From dis day forth, all grogg am to be removed from mi goi, agh anyash found drinkin’ such will be punished! Mi kan nub allow such illness to gnaw at the gums of mi nation. Da following days will be hard, but we am hardy peoples, agh mi gruk lat will lose lat’s addiction in hosh tik.”

 

Though the young Ork’s announcement met all who stood nearby, and though he fought and defeated an olog for his grogg, the Rex knew this would not be the end of it; for he was cautious of the underground community and their moonshining ways. Nevertheless, a state of prohibition had fallen over the Orks of Krugmar, and only time will tell if it will be fruitful.

 


Edited by MinaGobbler

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Fizzard’Raguk is enraged to hear of this and stomps throughout the goi. “Dat zkahin prophet thinkz he can take me job?!”

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Shagarath muses “Ahn intureztin’ philozopheh... eigh muzt meet wif diz gahk ayed feller zome tik.”. The elder warlock then turns his eye to the night sky and reads the stars as he smokes his pipe.

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Hargurr’Gorkil leans back in his chair, letting out a grog-fueled belch as he slaps the wooden table in front of him with a roaring laugh. “Hurhurhur, diz ztupid git zoundz like zum pinkie momo,” he says, residue being flung from his jowls as he shakes his head. “Nub vicez? Gah. Mi flat lat.

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Wargoth Korgahk’Gorkil simply laughs, filling up his cup with grog before saying “Diz azh abouht tu bi anotha trophi ub mine. Dah Raguk hab gone tu far now.” He then would take a drink of his grog before going back to work, Organizing the plans for his new assignment by the Rex.

 

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Grume rages at the loss of grogg in Krugmar, nursing a black eye from the Klomp he earlier attempted in order to save the precious booze.

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*Zarok’Ogr the Olog, with a distressed guttural howl, would say*

“NUb QUarTz, nUB’HOzh!!!”

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Nazark’Gorkil would shrug, never having been too interested in drinking but instead he keeps passing out copious amounts of cactus green to try and help his bruddahs cope.

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