Dem wiv Yeller and's
The light of the day was fading, the badlands weak sun set a blood red colour in the sky. Many Orcs were settling in to a good fungus beer in what passed for an Orc tavern. It was a dimly lit place, noisy and smoky like any tavern of any race. Various Orcs were sat drinking a few playing games that involved making smaller creatures fight, while boistrous Orcs kept bets, other kept to themselves or talked together in small groups. A large Orc with dark skin strode up to the bar and barked at the bar keep for attention, he then wisper a few words in to the bar keeps ear whilst hoisting the smaller Orc by his neck.
"Wats dat git doin over der" growled a young Orc onlooker as he got up to get involved. " woa der boy! im's one a dem yeller and's" said a scarred Orc. " I dunt care what culer iz ands ar, i iz gunna see too iz mannerz". "No yuz int, see dem yeller ands are a cunnin lot. Der boss is called da Grot Brain and it aint cos he is small and weedy its cos he wud stick yuz in da back from da shadaz". The Scarred older Orc pulled his listener close " yuz see dem grots over der, luk at der ands", "der yeller" replied the younger Orc "but i aint scared of a few weedy grotz, i fink uve ad to much fungus beer" but the older Orc didnt let go. "Luk out der den, wha bout dem boarz" he coarsely wispered "well der ant got ands" "no dey aint but luk at der tusks" the older Orc indicated "dey is yeller", "luk up der, by da winder" inclined the older Orc again, "wat is dat" "ill tell ya wat it iz, itz wun of his andy ladz dat sneak around like grots, dey put poison in yer beer and cutz yuz up when yuz dunt expectz it, so next time yuz iz finkin of scrappin, av a luk at iz and's, cos if dey is yeller yuz wanna watch yuz baks". The younger Orc looked back at the dark skinned Orc at the bar but he was gone, so too were the grots and the Orc that had been by the window.