There you sit the proudest of your orcish/gobliniod tribe, the great battle only months away and here you sit peeling spuds and boiling horse flesh, its not fair, his malevolent and all powerful Overlord Hung the Bloody shouldn't have left those barrels about. How were you to know they contained alchemists fire and not beer. Now Hung has had to send out for fresh linen and a new undead butler and you have been denied you glorious place on his aruwf-odder line. But fate is fickle perhaps your chance for glory may lie ahead.....or perhaps you will be another victim of the dreaded and most -feared Sir Iron Skirt but hey that at least must be better then peeling potatoes right?