This was Estolad, the most picked on plot of land in all of Arda. Probably because the fact it had a relatively weak force of town guards, and the constant attacks wore down on those few guards. But the little town kept going, no matter what sort of disasters came. And with that thought in mind, yet another disaster entered.

Ormus strode down the street, as usual, in full warchief regalia. The cloak of furry things he had killed, the thick cloth pants, and finally that great, shining, bald head of his. His Biggah Choppah was held aloft in a single hand, the shaft of the axe resting on his shoulder, and the axe blade held vertical. A couple town guards darted out of the alleyways, about four of them.

"You sir are violating the laws of Estolad by being an Orc Carrying a Weapon." The most proffessional looking of the town guards said. Ormus's little eyes fell upon the humie, and Ormus laughed. The sound was deep, and not whiny like a humie's laugh.

"Well, wuz youz gunna do about it?" Ormus shouted. His axe was lifted from his shoulder, and it lit upon his other hand. There he tapped it gently, with a particularly murderous look on his green face.