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An Orc Whom Hunts Orcs


Panashea
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When I was Rex, and far less wise, I had urged those who abandoned the way of Krug to return to the Iron’Uzg in hopes of returning them to the Path. I was wrong. My mercy gave way to countless whitewash who mar the name of Krug by attacking women, children, and the Lesser Descendants. We uruk are the only ones who stood before Iblees and remained loyal to honor and strength. We were not tempted by evil, and yet his wild descendants seem rife with it. Enough.

 

To the nations of Malin, Horen, and Urguan, I ask for clemency and respect during these difficult times. Being bombarded by creatures no greater then the Undead, those masked in orcish skin has tainted your view of my people into something little more then savage beasts.

 

Those who would abandon honor and attack women and children, those who would steal the name of Mog and wear it under false pretenses, and those who have abandoned the Iron’Uzg out of greed and self-interest.

 

Your blood will be made into wine, and your bones into dust. You will be hunted like the craven dogs you are, and your evil extinguished from this realm. I implore you leaders of the good nations in this world, aid us on this hunt of reformation and cleansing, and I promise we will restore this realm to what it once was.

 

We are honor bound, we are noble, we are Uruk. Our world will change for the better, and the hunt for whitewashes will begin anew.

 

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As BLUEMANE reads this missive, an idea pops into his mind, he speaks such out-loud for any nearby to hear. "Tiz a gud mezzage, but derez a problehm, mozt orkz out dere kant read it! Zoh 'e zhould probabli git th' Rex t'call a meetin' t'dizcuzz tis issue ihn perzun."

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The current Rex of the great Iron'Uzg grinned as he saw the missive of his elder.

He grabbed his weapons of fire and ice and made preparations for the hunt to come.

 

"The blood ob Krug will nub mix with the lessers again. Krug-ûr!"

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Bakir Ireheart chuckled at the hypocrisy “You ask for a cleansing but you harbored the spawn of Iblees within your own lands. Krug didn’t fall for the temptations of Iblees, but I cannot say the same for his descendants now.

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Grishlûk’Raguk Stared down at the missive, chewing on a Thundakrug brownie from his recliner within his house in Haelu’nor. He lifted his reading specs to make sure that his name wasn’t listed, then he folded it up and stuck it in the rest of the missives. The Uruk slowly growing a beer gut. “Eh, dey may stink like zhit, but maybe we don’t turn dere grizh into booz, wen Mi alreddi makin grapez uv Gazigash.”

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BURG’LUR would turn his glare towards the missive. Taking a moment to read it, but it wasnt long before his nostrils flared from bloodlust as he let out a beastly roar from his maw"DEE FAYK ORKZ WIL BI HUNTED, HUNTED FOH VOTAH AGH DEY WILL BI TREATED LYKE DAH ZKUM DEY IZ"  In his hand, a ferrum spear made up of orcish, whitewash hide, thrusted up and down through the air, with excitement. 

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