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ALAS DOES HE REST


Masouri
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*would ponder the news as he then announces to the affiliates of his Cartel* "We need diz brudda mayd an Anzeztah zpirit! He don' zo much tu keep we peeple thrivin agh growin, kleerly diz brudda wuz a blezzin! Long live himz naym!"

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Kor'garr holds the crumpled piece of parchment in a steady grip, his crimson gaze staring unflinchingly at the message of feasting and celebration. A thin smile stretches all-to-tight between his tusks before the grey orc gives a resolved nod. "Grog, klompz, agh zhiniez. Yub, dat'z wut dah Rex wuld wuntz." A small blotch on the bottom of the missive rests distorted from moisture; a single droplet of liquid had fallen down from the grey ork's chin. 

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The pink goblin sets about his kitchen; checking the meat cooler and rolling out kegs of fine Uruk liquor. Grubomanca'Rax, determined to make the last feast for Rex Zhot'Rax his greatest, would pour every ounce of orcish love he could muster into his final feast preparations.

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