So now you know why I’m sitting in a sewer, regretting the food choice I had made earlier. Not the best explanation, I know, and not the best reasoning behind it all either, but hey, it’s all I got. Now I’m squatting over the refuse of some sector I hadn’t even been to before today, trying not to add the contents of my stomach to whatever was floating by. Man, what is floating by? It’s not the usually unidentifiable clumps of stuff you don’t want to try and identify in the first place. I’m seeing chairs floating by here. And oh wow, a whole elephant skeleton. What kind of crazy ass place is the Duggart zone anyways? Who the hell just chucks a whole elephant skeleton into the sewer? Now that I think about it, how the hell do you get an elephant skeleton into a sewer in the first place.
No time to ponder on that now. I hear people. No wait, not people. I hear orcs. I think listening to orcs is mildly bad for your health. You strain your ear and brain so much trying to decipher the half-mumbled, half-grunted crap they’re saying, that you end up getting hit by a bus in the mean time. And then what do you do, tell the doctor when he revives your ass, “Sorry to put you through seven hours of intense surgery to re-attached my left arm, but I finally figured out that the orc I was talking to said his sister was a whore?” Right, real nice way to get yourself run over.
Now I said all that because that’s basically what happened to me in the next couple of moments. I start straining my ears to hear what the greenskins are going on about, and blammo I almost take it in the chest from an air boat running down the tunnel we’re in. Luckily for me the driver was paying about as much attention to what was in the “road” as I was, and he didn’t see me. It was a large air boat with a rather large back to it that contained something, or somethings, rapped in tarps.
After the engine noise died down I followed the boat to where the orc-talk was getting louder. Peering around the corner I saw the reason for the elephant skeleton. The air boat was being unloaded and the tarps had been taken off. The contents of the boat were a number of large, pre-historic stuffed animals. Stuffed in the taxidermy sense, not in the cute and cuddly fluffy toy sense. There were a large number of orcs there, two of the large ones talking to each other, and the rest either standing around like hired goons or unloading the air boat like hired goons. To be honest I don’t think there’s a way to get an orc to do anything that doesn’t look like it’s being done by hired goons. They just all look like hired goons. They could be your waiter at a restaurant and it looks like the restaurant just hired a bunch of goons to serve their food.
At this point I started trying to spot my man. Which was harder than you might think. You know how they say that people who are a different race than you can sometimes all look the same to you. Well that goes triple for people who are a different species than you. I couldn’t tell one of the greenies from the other. I swore to myself a little bit and then pulled out my phone. I looked through the photos I had taken earlier that day, maybe I’d get lucky and this guy would have some kind of distinguishing mark, beyond the Storm Brew tatoo. Hmmm, nothing I can really see. Looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way.
“Excuse me? Which one of you is Grog the Mac?” I say as I step out from shadows.
