The day was still young, when she was getting water from the river. Suddenly the early sunbeams threw a long shadow on the whispering water. She heard a soft murmur: "Good morrow, fair lady. Thy beauty outshines the rising sun, today and every day ere now. Naught can compare to thou."
A shiver ran down her back as she slowly turned and then she screamed.
Mar Izoo the most (and only) poetic orc smiled with his rapier drawn. "It would be a sin to kill something that fair." he continued. "But alas," he laughed "It's meat and drink to me!"