[Annunfuiniel]

Small smoking fire threw light over piles of bones, dirty rags and other filth. Amid the mayhem sat a figure as rugged as the stone walls around him and as foul as his surroundings, and focused on a strange task. Kurzag's knife was again at work: with it he cut a light stroke to the blade of his sword, then paused, raised the blade to the light and eyed his accomplishment. Flickering flames distorted his already mutilated features and his one eye gleamed malevolently in the dusk. Skew grin on his lips Kurzag settled the sword back to his lap and made another cut.

Lurk! Prowl! Make no growl!
Rush! Crush! Cause great howl!

Kurzag's croaking voice rang in the passages and caverns under the mountain and scared a flock of bats to flight.

"Great night for Kurzag!" he snarled and smoothed the blade almost fondly. Then he turned around searching for something and after throwing aside some bits and pieces he found what he was looking for. He reared up a flagon and said mockingly: "Here's to all fat merchants! May ye always travel with young tasty servants and fine beer!" Kurzag kicked aside a bone to which some shreds of meat were still attached. He staggered and fell down to his knees cursing loudly in black speech.

"Hear, hear!" came a scornful double sound behind him. Kurzag swung over and saw two dark figures entering the cave. His eye narrowed and he reached for his sword. Drunk as he was that didn't mean he was in the mood for company any more than usually. The intruders stepped nearer and Kurzag recognised the two orcs that looked confusingly alike. He grunted and then continued with voice reflecting his irritation "What now? Spit it out or get lost ye cads!"