Zilog and the Zoram Guard
The sun beat down on the sands at Zoram Strand. Gulls cawed in the distance as waves broke on the shore. A loud wood-against-wood thud is heard and a crowd of orcs jeer in response. Two combatants are faced off and shuffling in positon through uneven sandy footing.
“Knock off her head!” shouts an orc. “Put da panzy down, mon.” says a troll.
Jarmuul, a troll with exceptional size, swings at his opponent with his weapon—a former pine tree, complete with branches and needles. His target is a small, female orc outfitted with a short straight staff.
“Zilog go sleep nuw!” Jarmuul says, as he takes a wide swing at the orc. Once again his attack is deftly avoided and countered.
Captain Krange, accompanied by Corporal Gash, strides up to watch the match. He wanted to observe what he deemed to be his most peculiar recruit.
“Kum on, pushdog troll, end dis ting!” the crowd was impatient having watched this match go no where for so long.
“Dis lik watchin a crow fite a kodo.” The crowd laughed.
Just then, Zilog ducks under a swipe, rolls, and severs a branch from the log. Duel wielding the branch and the staff, Zilog pummels the troll’s hands, disarming him and with a quick blow to his head, sends him down to the sand.
The crowd begins cheering, but is soon silenced by the look on Krange’s face.
“Wut dis?” bellows Krange. “Dis liddul panzy orc, dishonors us!” He waves corporal Gash over. “Flog her til me say stop.”
“Mark my wurds, everyash.
DUB PAWS ASH SPLITT’R!
Zilog, confused, is hauled away to the flogging post.