Smallest_Cloud

Urug Garothmuk would perch forward on the after hearing a few Uruks who support the pardoning debating, slowly rising to speak with anger. " An Uruk who doez no' care fo' Krugmar, Da Sacred Desert and their fell'ow Uruks are not worthy of been' pardoned, for dey abandon everything that many warriors klomp n' spillz dey grish for, itz a spit on their honour and sacrifice. " Urug would begin speaking louder, almost yelling. Urug would now step forward for all to hear. " A Whitewash filth dat can lay with da pink skinned demons that plot, conspire, dance the tongue dance and even fight against fellow Uruk-kin, who support those who would tread and settle upon the Desert, who would given the chance would wipe out da Uruk bruddahs. Nub, dis betrayer of our people don't deserve to be 'Whitewash', dey deserve to be marked for death and hunted down like da vermin dey are. " Urug would slam a nearby table with his fist, shattering it into 2 pieces, he'd then storm off to the gate.

Atop a small sand hill overlooking Orcgrimmar a Orc would stare into the town below, it would be a large beacon of firelight in the dark cold wastes of the desert, the loud voices from inside would ring out across the valley. The mountain Orc who had only joined the Iron Horde a seemingly short time ago had been aged, now a veteran of several battles, all defeats. " Troo, Akaal da spyeak word-truth. " Urug spoke to himself, his hand clenching and unclenching the sand to his side. " Many bruddahs klomp 'n spillz dey grish for da wagh, wuld be a insultz to dem though. " He quietly said to himself. Urug reminds himself that they are fighting those who defile the great Desert, and no insult that large can result in them turning tail because of the death of his fellow warriors. " Da wagh is fo' Uruk blarg, we cannot give in to da pink skin tongue-dancers fo' dey are cursed by da spiritz to spillz dey grish to Urukz. " Urug would begin speaking sternly, wrestling with his thoughts.

Ug bruddahz.

Throm'ka Brudda