Year's End

She-human informed me that today the year ends. She also told me that the name of this year is 2014. How boring can you actually be? Chronological numbers? Seriously? And believe me, I'm not complaining because I can't count to that number (not even close). It's simply unimaginative.
Not so where I come from:

Boromir is dead. I did not do it.

Once and for all: I am not guilty of murdering Boromir. Get a grip, humans.
Ahem. Forgive the emotional outbreak. I am really sick of it. I mean, I slaughtered uncounted creatures for which you could blame me and I would gladly take credit. But this one I didn't do. From the day I arrived in this world people on the street kept accusing me of finishing him and also asked me about this Sauron. I had hoped it would end when I left London but that was obviously a mistake. So I asked she-human about it and instead of explaining it herself she showed it to me on the telly. It took me days to get through the whole thing. Clearly a work of fantasy. Let me tell you a few things about this Lord of the Rings and his minions:

Christmas? Vampires? I'm confused.

Humans are stupid. It borders on a miracle that this species made it so far. That, or there are no real vampires in this world. But then why do humans believe in their existence? I had a somewhat irritating discussion (whenever I use the word 'discussion' consider it a battle of yelling) with she-human about the matter. We seemed to agree and not agree at the same time which is definitely too much to grasp for my poor little brain.

Of diamonds and poo

Still no change in the weather. She-human promised that there will be snow sooner or later. I really hope she is aware of my ignorance when it comes to delayed gratification. I want snow. Now. I don't think I've ever been so depressed by rain before. Even going out for a gluehwein or a rabbit hunt isn't fun in this weather. So in order to keep my mind engaged (and off the contents of the fridge) she-human reads me stories. I cannot bring myself to do the reading. Still burping up irregular verbs now and then.

Winter isn't coming

Winter in kraut-land is lame. Seriously, I don’t think it deserves the word winter at all. There might be other parts of this land where things are different, but right here in East-Westphalia it does nothing but rain. I went out into the woods to find some entertainment, maybe a monster to hunt, but there wasn’t any. Some rabbits, that’s it. Got wet and muddy feet and consequently into trouble when I came home.

Home alone? Never.

Please forgive me for not sharing anything with you for the last couple of days. No, wait, why am I apologizing? I am an orc, we don't do something like that. This human stuff is rubbing off on me in more than one way. The thing is: I had the flu. Again. (see last post) Never before in the 30 years I've haunted this world or any other did I have such an annoying illness. Being sick in any form is incredibly unorcish. The other members of the tribe would not let you live if they sensed a weakness. So in my world the flu would definitely be lethal. There is a strange thing about humans that they seem to care a lot for those who would not make it on their own otherwise.

self portrait

Who would have thought that painting a bloody picture could actually be a pain in the ... claw. If you're not sure what that is:

Me in a pink tutu. In order to amuse my human and kill her by making her laugh hysterically. Didn't work so far but was a close call.

the mucus monster

What exactly is the point of The Flu? What is it good for? And don't tell me it is my body fighting off an infection. I never had such a thing back home. And believe me, my world is a lot more dangerous than this one, at least for the individual. Mass destruction is your strong point, I got that. But the monsters in my world are proper monsters. Here you have the flu-monster. And lots of them. Indeed it is difficult to fight them off when you can't see them. Maybe it is all a big lie and was just cursed by an evil witch. Sounds far more likely than invisible bacteria.

Moving in. Again.

Let me ask you one question:
WT actual F is a working week?
I find it difficult enough that a week in this world only lasts seven days but working for five and then resting for two is a bit of an eye-opener tbh. No wonder that orcs are superiour. And it also caused an enormous amount of trouble this morning, as I got caught sneeking into the flat of the she-human I had selected to be my flat-share (unbeknownst to her, or so I thought).
But she-human had not gone to work. And why?
Because it's f*** saturday!

My jewels in winter

It is pretty cold here in kraut-land which might explain why the kraut-humans all look so very grim most of the time. It also explains why they imbibe copious quantities of alcohol at a place they call the "Weihnachtsmarkt", something that has to do with christmas but the guy with the cross and the nails is nowhere around, I think.
The cold weather also has a terrible effect on my jewels. I'll spare you the details (how far has it come already that I even consider sparing you any gory stuff), but my family heirloom resembles some shriveling plums more than anything else. Bloody cold is to blame.

Who was that guy Willy again? I'm a poet.

This must be kept from my fellow orcs.
But ever since I ate that book I tried to read, I burp up some poetic lines now and then. So in honour of that Shakespeare guy whom I unfortunately  did not meet at the theater where he was supposed to find his love (and didn't because I kind of destroyed the stage)... well, where was I? Oh, yes, poetry burps.
Here we go:

At last I found it

I've been through what Stojan had called an odyssee. Whatever that is. But I do know for certain that never before in my life did I have so much trouble finding a specific place.
It all began with the unfortunate habit of Stojan permanently sucking on smelly sticks of weed. One of those sticks burned a hole in Europe's map. (I just hope that guy never wants his map returned) The hole was right in the area where the blasted city of Bielefeld was supposed to be. Burned out, as if it never existed. Odd.
So we drove in the general direction of the hole in the map. When the first street sign said "Bielefeld", Stojan dropped me at a place called "Autobahnraststaette". The most godsforsaken place I've ever been to. And - having been in the abyss - I think that says something.
It took me a while to get closer to the city. No other driver of tin transports would take me along. Then the streets signs became more irritating. Giving directions that led to nowhere. It took me days to finally make it.

But of course I got there in the end. I just did what I usually do when lost: I follow a female. It either ends in marriage or in sharing a flat somewhere in a human city. Let's see what it will be this time. Hehe.

Through France-human-land, I think.

The local human population refused to speak with me, except a young lad who explained at least Europe's map to me. Odd that he knew this guy who owns the map. Strangely enough he stopped being helpful when I asked him about the frogs. Maybe amphibians are fearsome creatures in this part of the world.
After walking on my own for a while I was being picked up by a human in a huge driving tin which he had all to himself (and hundreds of dead animals in the back). He said he was from a place called Bulgaria, bringing meat to France, and then taking other meat from France to Bulgaria. We both agreed that questioning the logic behind that was a sure route to insanity. Been there.
His name was Stojan and he had pictures painted on his skin: a lizard, a naked she-human and the heart of his mother. Holy Trolls of Trellagore! I envisioned myself coming home with that last one. Hehe. I would be the laughing stock of the tribe. And then my family would get very creative to find an exceptionally painful and humiliating way to slaughter me. And rightly so. I decided to keep my opinion to myself for once as Stojan was so friendly and useful. And the france-meat was rather delicious, too. But: not one frog to talk to. No france-humans either. We're on our way to kraut-land now.

Orc on a plane? Nope.

As she-human and I were now irreconcilably divided, I no longer saw a good reason to stay in the metropolis, as I had not the slightest clue to a way home around here.
I mean, having marital disputes is the normal state of being for me and my countless wives. But she-human and I were not even married, so why did she bother? Anyway, I was no longer wanted (ok, I might not have been wanted at all to be honest), so I was going to leave (now, that's a first).
The thing is, she wanted to help me (to get rid of me, of course) and said the quickest way of getting elsewhere was by plane. I had no idea what she meant, so she took me to Heathrow.

An evening well spent. Or maybe not.

It's me again. No guest blogger this time. In fact, I don't think she'll ever do anything remotely nice for me in the near future or ever. She-human got very angry with me. It might as well be that I won't be staying at her place for very long. I mean "Leave or else I'll kill you", that says something, doesn't it? At least it's a language that I finally understand.
Anyway, here's what made her so angry:

Of stepmothers and mirrors

Hiho!
I'm she-human. Thrakbog stays at my flat, I think he mentioned that. Don't bother asking for my name, I don't think he would allow me to blog here twice. But since he is still rather indisposed because of his Halloween adventure, he asked me to do it for him. So this is a faithful narrative of what happened last night (given that he remembered it correctly and managed to tell it to me):

The matter of redemption

Going out is always fun. I had a very entertaining encounter with a local cleric, a guy somewhat in the same business as Mr. Collins.
So I went to a temple here in the city, people refer to it as a church. There I was observed with some unease which I enjoyed immensely. Then the cleric asked me rather politely to leave or explain my appearance. I had no idea what he was talking about but asked instead if he knew anything about a magic portal. He didn't. I had a proper look around and found images, paintings and sculptures of an almost naked human nailed to a cross. Had I known before I would have come much sooner! So I asked the cleric about this guy. And here's what happened next (and I'm rather proud that I can remember it almost word for word):

I ate it

"WTF, Thrakbog?", you might say. And yes, you're absolutely right. Those were my exact words too. I finally ate the bloody book. I couldn't bear it any longer. Idiot Darcy telling Lizzy that he loved her. And proposing to her. I mean, seriously? The man was clearly delusional. Trust me, he was. I know an awful lot about halluzinating, given that I frequently drink the stuff the brewer concocts. And I guarantee you, Prick Darcy has completely lost his marbles. All of them. The ones in his head and those a bit further down, which I heard described as the family jewels. The man has got no balls!
No longer able to call him Prick Darcy, I ended his and my own misery and ate the bloody book.
Will go out for a catsnack and be a proper orc again. I really should have known. Orcs don't read books.
Although I have to admit that Lady Catherine de Bourgh had some potential for becoming a truly evil overlord. Uhm, overlady. Oh, well. Never mind.
I feel some wanderlust growing inside me. At least I hope it is wanderlust. Otherwise I'd have to reconsider eating books in the future. I normally digest rusty nails and monster-steaks but the written word could prove inedible and hard to swollow.
So wanderlust it is. Where shall I go? Will do some research to find out where I might find a magic portal. But first: cat. Or dog. I'm not picky.

read-along part 8

I'm on fire! I went through 7 chapters in the last couple of days. It is also a bit worrying as I normally have an incredibly short attention span but I seem to have found something to enjoy as I get older. The fact that I can get older as an orc is something of a miracle in itself. Under normal circumstances (living amongst my fellow orcs), I would be smacked on the head with a morningstar in the near future. An orc over the age of thirty is a rare sight to be seen. Perhaps living apart from my tribe is not the worst that ever happened to me. Well, I know for certain that worse things already happened and I might feel inclined to tell you about some of that in the days or weeks to come. But for now let's see what Ms. Austen had in store for us.

Chapter 22
Holy shit, Charlotte!

read-along part 7

Chapter 18
Another ball. Soldiers dancing in fancy dress. Guys, you're very lucky that there are apparently no orcs anywhere nearby. Wouldn't survive one little skirmish.
And Wickham turns out to be not only a sissy but also a coward. No surprise there. You can say about Prick Darcy whatever you like but he certainly does not shy away from a confrontation. And he's obviously a masochist, asking Lizzy to dance with him. I cannot shake off the impression that there was a lot more going on while they danced beside what they actually talked about. My human nods vehemently and praises my empathy. Whatever that is. Someone on twitter has accused me of it as well. Is it frightening people? I hope so. But I somehow doubt that it is something praise-worthy among orc warriors. Oh, that's what their dance reminded me of: a duel. Could almost (amost!) imagine them both wielding a morningstar or a battleaxe. Actually I think Lizzy might be an excellent fighter. She certainly has the fierceness. And although she talks a great deal, that never keeps her from taking action whenever neccessary.

read-along part 6

Chapter 16
I am very tired of Mr. Collins' long explanations and wonder how the Bennets can stand him just an hour longer.
So, Lizzy has taken an immediate fancy to this soldier Wickham. Still in the first quarter of the novel, I fear this bodes ill for her marital bliss with that guy.
You see, the strange thing is this: in this story the soldiers seem to be respectable and honorable men. From my personal experience with human soldiers I cannot confirm that impression. Quite the opposite, I have to say. Drunken mercenaries. Nothing wrong with that, if you ask me, but it's such a striking difference in appearance that had me confused a bit. And to what use is the shiny red coat? Shouldn't they wear some armor? If not chainmail at least some leather? There's no mention of weapons either. They're holding teacups. There's something very wrong with that army.
Also, the way Wickham is described... Ms. Austen praises him too much methinks. I have become rather suspicious due to this dramatic story-telling thingy. And here's the thing: a soldier prefering the idle chit-chat of the ladies instead of playing cards? Something is indeed very wrong with Wickham. Either he's a real sissy or he has an ulterior motive. Probably both.

read-along 5

Chapter 11
Watching some other person read a book is not proper entertainment for the evening. Go, end your life, Ms. Bingley. Prick Darcy won't have you anyway. Uuuh, what is she doing? Dragging Lizzy into this? Big mistake, Caroline, very big mistake. I don't get half of the banter between Prick and Lizzy but even I can see that he enjoys it far more than anyone expected, probably including himself. Maybe he likes to be bossed around for once. I have to admit she has an interesting dominant streak.

Chapter 12
Whatever goes on in Prick Darcy's head, I don't get it. Does he fancy Lizzy or not? If so, why hesitate? The fact that she has a mind of her own should make the hunt only more fun. Like I said: impotent prick.
And someone should have told Ms. Austen that she cannot mention a whipping just in passing. More details, please. What did the soldier do? How many lashes did he get?

read-along part 4

Before I continue with my views on the book let me confide something.
Reading about all of Mrs. Bennet's daughters put me in a strange kind of mood. I miss them, my own daughters I mean. Not that I wish to be with them (my nerves are just as strained as poor Mrs. Bennet's), but still. It's not an easy task to find a proper husband for any of them. To be honest, I had left it mostly to themselves to find one. Well, I more or less pushed two of them into the tents of my friends (the tribe's cleric and Noden). It goes like this: if they don't get out immediately that counts as marriage. At least where I come from. This whole courtship-thingy sounds very tiresome. And it's getting poor Mrs. Bennet nowhere. The husband is basically useless. I wonder if my wives regard me as such a lazy bugger. Should I have taken more responsibility to get rid of the girls? To be honest I don't want to get rid of Shonka. She'll make a great warrior one day, pretty much already is a frightful sight to behold. And she doesn't fancy male orcs anyway. Oh, hang on! Maybe that's at the root of Mr. Darcy's problems with women. He might fancy his friend more than the ladies. Would explain a lot. Let's see how the story unfolds:

read-along part 3

I managed four more chapters of Ms. Austen's Pride & Prejudice. I honestly cannot believe that I''m still doing it. Reading, I mean. Somewhere some evil deity really hates me. Must be some righteous Paladin god.

Chapter 4
Basically useless drivel. Yes, Ms. Austen, we all get it: rich and spoiled, that's what prick Darcy is. Also: girl Jane and rich (and not spoiled) Bingley will shag each other senseless the moment they're alone together. Not entirely useless then, this chapter.

Chapter 5
More drivel.
More names I will not remember.
And how convincing is it anyway? To be up early in the morning after a feast is neither believable nor acceptable. Would never happen if this were an orc story.

Chapter 6
More social gatherings, still no wild dancing, no drunken misbehaviour. Charlotte Lucas is a very sensible woman: happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance (and ear plugs).
I found myself cheering dear Lizzy. I highly doubt that her course of action will ever procure her a husband which is rather selfish of her. She should think of her poor parents once in a while. But the way she handled that prat Darcy: adorable.
Ah, I see. Darcy has a fling on the side with his friend's sister. Lazy git. Not even willing to get his ass up to catch a wife. I think maybe he is frigid or something. A male human his age should think of nothing but shagging. Impotent prick. Lacking virility much?

Chapter 7
An army is in town. Finally we're getting to the fighting action. I was already a bit worried that this book contains nothing but girls seeking husbands.
Hm, no action. I'm beginning to think that female intrigues are way beyond anything my brain can grasp. Faking an illness, faking to care for the sick sister, all very clever in order to get into the men's house. I will have a word with my wives when I get home. Can't be that so many things go on in my tent without me knowing about.
Right, this is exhausting. I need a break and will do something orcish. I shall skip the wild dancing though (much to the relief of my human) and go directly for the copious amounts of alcohol.
Oh, drunken bliss.

Read-along, part two

Just in case you forgot which book I'm currently reading: it is Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice. Have not seen much of both so far but... way to go.
So, here are my thoughts on:

Chapter two
Mr. Bennet's common sense returned just in time. And yet he failed to secure the young man as his son-in-law. Maybe he should have threatened to offer all five girls at once. I assume that would have made Mr. Bingley more willing to pick at least one of them. Mr. Bennet is a weakling. On the other hand, I can perfectly understand that he cherishes a quiet house and doesn't want to be bothered with such domestic stuff. Shouldn't that be even more reason for him to press the matter? His wife is much more determined. Maybe the girls eat too much and leave not enough for herself. Also, there is no mention of sons. Why did Mr. Bennet not take more wives in order to get some boys?
My human just informs me that polygamy is not allowed around here. Bugger.

Chapter three
So the girls are not allowed to visit the target by themselves? How stupid a rule is that? They seem eager enough to get out of the house, so by then they could have settled the whole business. The author didn't think it through, obviously.
Alright, the ball thing sounds like good fun. Wild dancing and lots of alcohol should finally do the trick. But why indoors? That would never leave enough space for the wild dances.
Human just tells me that dancing in Ms. Austen's world is much more prudish and demure. Don't they ever have some real fun?
Well, at least Mr. Bingley is entirely hooked and very willing to be trapped once and for all. But his friend, Mr. Darcy, is a prick. Maybe one day an angry god will teach him a lesson and bestow a clawful of daughters on him. Would serve him right. Prick.

Read-along part 1

Chapter One
Obviously. I flipped through the pages and realized to my utter horror that there are more chapters than I can count. And it was such a thin book...
Anyway, chapter one.
I am very much with Mrs. Bennet here. Blessed (or rather cursed) with approximately five daughters myself I can absolutely relate to her problem. That she needs to urge her husband to get rid of the girls makes me wonder about his common sense.
Other than that I am already confused with all the different names. I can hardly remember all the names of my own offspring (often enough I don't). But I find it highly disturbing that the young man who's going to live in the neighbourhood is totally oblivious to the dangers awaiting him. On the other hand, had he been warned, Mrs. Bennet wouldn't stand the slightest chance to burden him with one of her girls.
The strangest thing is this: although it is only written words I feel like I know exactly what Mrs. Bennet's voice would sound like. And this makes me feel for her husband a bit as well (NOT in a sissy way, shut up!). If her voice hurts only half as much as my wives' voices hurt in my ears, I can understand why he tries to avoid any form of conversation with her. Quietude is a blessing lost to all of us fathers.
So, if you've read this chapter of Pride & Prejudice tell me what you think. I hope you are spared the disturbing images in your mind of orcs in regency dresses. I shall never recover from that.

Book Review?

First of all let me assure you that I've never read a single book in my life. Just to make sure that you see I'm not a sissy. I'm an orc, and orcs don't read books. Ever. Having said that I have to admit that there are exceptions. I watched comrade Noden do it occasionally and found it mildly disturbing how he would totally get absorbed by it, completely ignoring his surroundings. Highly dangerous pastime, reading. His eyes would glaze over in a way they should only ever do when looking at my daughter, his wife. So he fancies books. It took me a while to see his qualities as a clever orc underneath all this sissiness.
Now, thanks to a purely arbitrary act of a god I am capable of reading and writing myself. I find that I still don't trust the whole bookish stuff but my human convinced me to give it a go. One of the rooms we currently share (alright, I occupy against her will) is filled with an endless number of books. Could be several dozen or hundreds. Remember, I'm not good with numbers. Human insists that it's just an average number and that there are whole buildings filled with books, called libraries. I've heard of those. Where I come from that's where the wizards go to study. Might have a look at the British Library to find a sorcerer later. For now one room filled with books should suffice. So she suggested I have a look at them and pick one that sounded interesting to me. I didn't even know where to begin so she started to give me short summaries to narrow it down. Why one writes a long book when it could be summarized with a few words totally escapes me. After about half a dozen plots I got tired of it and picked one randomly (alright, it was the thinnest I could find on the shelf). Human began to laugh hysterically which is never a good sign and made me promise to read it to the last page. I agreed maybe a bit rashly, caught by my vanity. She pointed at the book and remarked how fitting this would be then. I read the words on the cover:

Conclusion
(contains everything)
You know, I had some experience with teleporting (which I will never accept as an appropriate means of transport for an orc). But the tearing and pulling and the gut-wrenching we had to suffer when we touched that blue thread was beyond bearable. It did the trick though, and we all dropped out of nowhere and into the corridor between the hall with the eight doors and the muddy puddle with the black dragon. Groisch was there, staring at us with his mouth wide open (a normal sight). Moments later, the imp, Kiba and Roxas appeared as well. Problem: the door between the corridor and the room with the eight doors was gone. So, no escaping the dragon this time. We decided to face the beast like orcs. Well, the dark elves and the other creatures amongst us probably didn't. We circled the puddle and waited. The holy symbol of our god on the wall began to glow, our god was with us (or loved watching our demise). The dragon was not very impressed by this display of divine intervention and the fight began.
Very quickly (and painfully so) we realized that normal weapons wouldn't do it any harm. Magical weapons we did have but only for melee combat. In order to get close enough to hit we were also close enough to be hit. A fact which I learned the hard way when the dragon's tail smashed me against the wall. Noden threw fireballs at the ceiling, stalactites raining down on the beast and did at least some damage. The dragon got into a spin and attacked me again. Someone fired arrows at it, hitting me instead. I blame Vorn but I have no proof. Slaag hurried to my aid but the dragon vomitted his acid all over him. Noden, Groisch, Slaag and me fought hard to gain at least some ground. Where were the bloody dark elves? Groisch and Slaag fell into the water (a familiar sensation, remember?), I could finally deal some damage to the beast, Noden missed more often than hit the dragon with his fireballs but on the plus-side he missed us as well. We dearly hoped that our god appreciated the effort if not the immediate success. Which there wasn't.
When even Noden had to take an enormous amount of damage, Vorn finally decided to join in. As a direct response the dragon vomitted all over him. Slaag and Groisch climbed out of the puddle which seemed to distract the beast so I (I!) managed to chop its head of. More or less. Vorn posed with one foot placed on the the dragon's head as if to claim victory but let's face it: the dark elves had been sissies in this fight. Slaag and Groisch had proved once more to be excellent swimmers. And only Noden and I had rocked the puddle, so to say.
(warning: orgy incoming)
After a short period of recovery we had a look around. Noden discovered something shiny in the water. Groisch, realizing that he hadn't exactly covered himself in glory here, jumped right in and grabbed it. It was a heart-shaped stone and after touching it he couldn't let it go again. Instead he was capable of breathing under water and was gone the next moment. Bugger. Only then did we all realize that the water level began to sink. So we all got into the water and touched the heart-shaped stones. Darkness, a pulse, our god patting our backs (I dearly hoped it meant we did alright), opening our eyes: We were back on the field where we had gathered to resurrect Groisch. And lo and behold! He opened his eyes and was immediately mounted by his wife Gremmi. All the orcs, dark elves, kobolds, goblins etc got into a frenzy and a massive orgy was what followed. Of course we all joined in. I somehow remember Kiba and Vorn getting very cosy with each other but I did my best to delete that memory. I assume that this ferocious display of interspecies intercourse is of no interest to you or remotely something you'd like to read about in any detail. I couldn't advise it, anyway.

Noden
(contains sillyness)
He had become a frost orc, facing a snowstorm, howling winds, his feet crunching on the snow. He started building a snow orc. Awww, our little one. Isn't he cute? Well... there goes the sillyness.
In the distance he could see hills, so naturally that's where he would go. Because where there are hills, there are also caves. In one of them he found egg-shaped snowballs. There was also a corridor with carvings, showing wormlike creatures and mammoths. He moved further down into the cave, finding more ice-eggs. He opened one of them and found a tiny worm. Carefully (I sometimes question his parentage) he put it back into the shell and closed it as if nothing had happened.
Behind him something came down the corridor. Noden hid behind some rocks and waited. A great white frostworm appeared and slid past him. Noden hurried up the corridor and out of the cave. A high trilling noise made him stop dead and topple over into the snow. When the noise stopped his paralysis ended. He climbed on top of the cave's entrance and hurled a lava ball onto the ice hanging precariously over the entrance. Just when the worm appeared the entrance caved in and buried the creature underneath a mass of snow. Well done, Noden. But of course, a giant frostworm is not so easily defeated. Noden (and this shows how clever he really is) stuffed his ears with his filthy dreadlocks. Completely immune to the trilling noise he could face the mighty worm more adequately. Back and forth it went: fireball vs. ice storm. In the end Noden proved once more what I have been telling you mantra-like: orcs are superiour.
The worm more or less exploded. Noden moved back into the cave and took a look inside the worm's remains (don't ask). Between the ice-eggs he spotted a softly glowing blue... bla bla.

Me (that is Thrakbog, just in case you forgot)
(contains interspecies-sex)
It was hot. I was hot! (no, we're not yet anywhere near the sex bit) Everything around me was rocks and rocks of lava. And a small path. Anyone not expecting me to follow the only obvious path? Leave at once. Everyone else: follow me.
The sky seemed to be on fire, with lots of fireballs aimlessly flying around. I came upon pillars and a bridge over a deep chasm. Not the pillars were over the chasm, only the bridge. The pillars were decorated with jewels. Naturally I wanted them (the jewels, not the..., never mind). But instead of a ruby I got a visitor. A small lava elemental, accompanied by some fireballs, determined to attack me.
I ignored it (we orcs have that stoic quality in abundance) and tried harder to get a ruby. Instead another lava elemental appeared. So I tried to cross the bridge (I was not trying to get away from those silly walking hot stones!), but I bumped right into an invisible wall. So I turned and fought.
It ended victoriously for me, of course, but to my dismay I had taken quite a few injuries.
Not feeling very well, I returned to the ruby-project. When I pressed one of them, a voice out of nowhere asked why no one pressed the ruby on the other pillar in order to get to the other side of the bridge. I decided not to question the shapeless voice. As a reward a she-orc appeared, incredibly sexy, wearing nothing but a chainmail-loincloth, and grinning knowingly. I didn't care one bit for what exactly it was she knew. She wanted me. But she demanded that I close my eyes. Women and their kinks, you know what I mean. But before we took it any further (metaphorically and physically), we pressed the ruby buttons and moved across the bridge. On the other side we gave in to our carnal needs and added substantially to the surrounding hotness.
When I came to again, still a bit lost in hot dreams, I also came face to face with the ugliest creature I ever beheld. A vulture-like beast with dry and dangling breasts was looming over and drooling down on me. I lashed out at it. Didn't do much harm. Instead it laughed. I picked up the pieces of my dignity and walked away. It followed me, amused.
I came upon the entrance of a cave, wherein I faced burning dwarves. Yes, reader, they stood in flames, not caring one bit about it. One of them spoke my language, telling me that they were happy to see me (a first from the mouth of a dwarf), because they believed in a prophecy that an orc would come to free them from the curse of a succubus. And guess what? Yeeees, the sexy she-orc and the drooling vulture, they both were none other than said succubus. So, killing it was a given. The burning dwarves and I fought together as one orc (or dwarf, alright) and finished the beast off. We exchanged compliments and I was given a reward: a softly glowing... well, you get it.

Slaag, the Shadow (the shadow? the shadow!)
(Contains sitting on humans)
How do you cope in a world of shadows? Exactly. By becoming a shadow yourself. You move through the air, through objects, the darkness is your friend. On the downside you cannot hold a weapon anymore. There's always something.
So, Slaag rather easily adapted to his new shape and environment. He passed dead swamps, rotten trees and muddy waters. Some of the shadows seemed to follow him but he - very orcish - chose to ignore them. More interesting, he faced a solid figure, popping out of the shadows. I mean, solid in the sense of not being a shadow. He had mostly human form, wore a cape and had fangs. He and Slaag had a nice little chat. After a while Slaag announced that he was going to hit the cape-guy. You have to admit that he had managed to hold back for an impressive amount of time. The vampire wasn't bothered, neither by the announcement nor by the actual hit. Because, as you might have already guessed, Slaag's fist moved right through cape-guy. Instead the vampire invited Slaag over to a solid rock formation where heroic adventurers faced a very hostile group of shadows. Slaag and cape-guy enjoyed the show for a bit. Then one of the adventurers turned towards them. Slaag had another nice little chat and demanded to have the blond she-human of the group for himself. He would, wouldn't he. The other adventurers voted against that, rather expectantly. So a fight was inevitable, much to the vampire's entertainment (and providing his dinner). Slaag got rid of the adventurer and sat down on the she-human to make her a shadow as well. (He does that sitting-on-the-enemy-thing a lot. It's very effective given his body weight)
After having had his snack the vampire seemed quite eager to get rid of the orc and showed him something that might have been of interest: a softly glowing blue thread dangling in the shadows.

Vorn, the spiky elf-tree (or tree-elf?)
(Contains violence. Surely you had seen this coming, right? I mean, I am an orc, we 've already established that)
After having had a good look around and taking pleasure in scaring off the small animals in the forest,  he decided to talk to one of the trees. This was far less stupid than you actually might have thought. Looking like a tree himself it was at least slightly reasonable. But the tree seemed to think otherwise and remained silent. So he moved on to get some idea what was going on. At least that is what he later claimed to have done. I personally think he had no idea whatsoever and dawdled in the woods when suddenly he heard someone singing. Voices of elves transported love, warmth and security towards him. He followed those disgusting sounds to a clearing where he had to face a truly horrible sight: beautiful surroundings, lanterns, cooked food, fresh fruit, flowers in full blossom. Even worse: dark elves and fair-skinned wood elves, sitting around campfires, naked, singing, feasting and shagging all together, in peaceful harmony.
Now, here's the thing: if you're not familiar with the deadly hatred that had been treasured as a traditional habit between those two races, you might wonder what the fuss is all about. But you have to believe me that this harmonious sing-along was by no means normal and gave poor Vorn the shock of a lifetime. Everything he knew as a certainty had been tainted with a trace of doubt all of a sudden. (I feel almost disgustingly poetic by recounting his presumed state of mind)
In order to find out what the fuck was going on he decided to join them. Unfortunately (for him, not for you and me) he could not get naked because underneath his spiky wooden armor his skin had partially morphed into bark which might have occured as strange even to them. So he just stepped onto the clearing. But instead of fleeing or fighting they welcomed him. What's more, they included him in all of their activities. Vorn began to like and enjoy it and wondered why he should ever leave again. None of them seemed to know or remember since when they all had been living together. With a last shred of common sense and truly inherent evil he realized that it might be the constant singing that lulled them into this obscene harmony. When Vorn admitted that he did not know the song they pitied him as a "lost one". To further prove their sickly innocence, one of the she-elves took Vorn with her, deeper into the woods. Even every orc child is warned about the dangers of the woods (being other orcs often enough), but those elves seemed to have forgotten about that important piece of information. She started to grope Vorn while telling him about centaurs. I mean.... He did the only thing that let him keep his dignity: he broke her neck. (You have been warned)
When he returned to the clearing the song sounded disharmonic and the others seemed to fear him. he yelled at them and threw the female's head onto the clearing. Screaming, hysteria, darkness and chaos were the result. He started a killing spree, yelling, urging them to sing his song. You have to admire his stye, really. Vorn single-handedly managed to destroy harmony and innocence, the basic idea of any paradise. Adorable. When the centaurs came to aid the elves, he killed them as well.
Of course even the best frenzy couldn't last forever. Left without anyone to fight he waited till nightfall. A storm was gathering, no singing disturbed its howling. Pleased with himself (and rightly so) he had another look around and spotted a softly glowing blue thread, seemingly dangling in the air.

Right, here we are again. Ready for the second part of the resocializing-Groisch-project? Let me remind you (and myself) where we stopped last time. My comrades and I had to come up with a solution of fate-deciding proportions. 8 doors, 8 comrades. Here's what we came up with, sorted by size of door, smallest to biggest:
1. Noden's imp > he had to face a warm and sulphurous place, oh, and also some hellhounds
2, Roxas the kobold > stepped on a beach with a raft ashore and he developed gills
3. Vorn, the dark elf with a dominant streak > entered a forest and became a treelike elf with spikes
4. Kiba, the seemingly more compliant dark elf > went to a shack of a lumberjack. He grew to the size of a giant and started kicking trees around.
5. Noden, my son-in-law and sorcerer > had to face the snowstorm, so he gulped down the two bottles, which made him rather frosty and drunk
6. Thrakbog, myself > I entered a space of heat and drank down some blue flames
7. Slaag, the stubborn and creative huge orc > he became part of his surroundings by becoming a shadow himself.
8. Groisch, my best friend, and the reason we were there in the first place > he started glowing greenish and had to stand up to the dragon (he protested, as you might have expected, but it was his resocializing project, so there you go)

A few things might make you wonder though (it did us):
- the lumberjack had no eyes, their sockets looked as if burned out
- the imp's door dissappeared after he passed through. Would all our doors do that, so there was no turning back? Guess.
- We all saw our god's holy symbol on the sail of the raft on the beach
- in a drawer underneath the bottles on the table we found white crystals, some of which Slaag enjoyed destroying. Nobody but Noden and Vorn thought of taking one with them.
Only Groisch knew what the mission behind his door was, all the others were clueless. Well, nothing new there...

Yes, I'm back just as I promised. You happy? Good. Not happy? Your problem.
I'm going to tell you about one of my greatest adventures. It features almost all of the fellows mentioned in my last post. To give you a wider perspective my human advised me to give it a bit of an introduction. So here we go:

I have known Groisch all my life. I can't even remember a time I had not known him, which is only partly owed to my poor memory. I've really known him forever like. Noden is a bit younger but grew up in our tribe. Slaag, Vorn, Kiba and Roxas joined us recently when we all united under the banner of an evil overlord, called the Dragon Son. You might have imagined he'd give himself a fancier name, but there you are. Not that I would ever tell him that face to face. Just two words: fire breath.
We quickly came to be a merry band of warriors, more successful and efficient than any other group within the newly formed alliance. So soon enough we were chosen for special missions. Unfortunately (or better: very fortunately) those were also rather dangerous missions. And it got Groisch killed in the process. Well, it was Noden with one of his ill-aimed fireballs who killed him, but not on purpose. I think. My human says this is called collateral damage. Whatever. This is how this episode begins. Gather round, folks.

Like I promised (or threatened), this is a short description of my comrades:

Noden the Sorcerer
He is tiny for an orc. But he is also my son-in-law, so you better not say anything about his height. By the way, the phrase "son-in-law" just proves that the human language is entirely inadequate to explain orc matters.
Noden is quite clever and has a slightly unhealthy (i.e. unorcish) sense of fashion. I mean, he wears a shiny golden belt, braids his hair and wears a tattoo of his wife's name on his back (which is my daughter, just in case you forgot as I do occasionally).
He also has the unfortunate tendency to throw his fireballs towards his comrades, but that is a story for another day. And don't, I mean DON'T assume "fireballs" is a euphemism. It isn't. Like I said, he's tiny.

Introduction

I'm blogging.
Why am I doing this?
The hell I know.
My human (the poor creature I'm currently intimidating and annoying with my presence) told me to do it. Lately I have developed a tendency to do what others tell me. Makes things a lot easier when you're dealing with capricious gods. Not that my human is..., never mind.
So, I'm blogging.
The thing is, I came to this world because some deity thought it to be funny. I am stranded in a metropolis called London which is a rather interesting place to explore. A tiny black box had been shoved into my hand which turned out to be a device to communicate with others, as I am doing right now obviously.
I started via a little blue bird that made me tweet (no comment on this one, I beg you) but my human suggested to write with more detail, so a blog it should be. The fact that I can write at all, well... Deities. You get it.
My human, a she-human (it has a name, but do you honestly expect me to remember it when I cannot even remember all the names of my wives and offspring? Seriously.) is sitting next to me to guide my first steps into this world of blogging. It... She, alright. She wants me to write a preface. I already have a perfectly good face that I am more than happy with. She is laughing hysterically. Might have a word with her about respect.
In the posts to come I will tell you more about myself and the other creatures I met on my journey through several worlds. This should do as a preface. Let's jump right into it. I am not one to dwell on too much thinking. But you might have guessed that already, right?