20 Nov 2015 – Grash the Orc

Grash the Orc was quite the jerk,
a loaf that all hard duty shirked.
He’d eat and drink. And sleep…. And shit –
for other things he lacked the wit.

It happened once the Dark Lord passed
while Grash sat sleeping on his ass,
and rather than just strike him dead,
he thought to play with Grash’s head.

“Drink this!” he heard! And he complied!
It started churning, once inside.
A necromancer’s wicked mirth.
Grash felt that he was giving birth.

And so it happened, late that day,
there in the pigsty where he lay,
he screamed and thunder answered him
and there, clothed in a fetid skin

the child he never dreamed he’d bear,
a strong resemblance – no hair.
But then the boy began to speak
and that’s when Grash got really freaked!

“Why DO you lie about all day?
Why can’t you rise and slash and slay?
Just show the world you’re fighting mad,
and make me proud that you’re my dad?”

Grash fell back in the hay and screamed.
This wasn’t just an Orc-ale dream,
but real as rot that gnawed the bone
and he was quite a ways from home.

“I don’t know where you come from, son!
And who’s your mother? Have you one?
The last thing I recall – I think –
was one long dark and smoking drink.”

All at once loud thunder clapping
woke the Orc where he lay napping.
Running to his barracks, shouting,
he reformed his life – no doubting!