Ok, I've fiddled with that bit and I was wondering if I could run it by you. Copy-pasting...now:


Mouth full of the savory meat, Maevyn was annoyed. What had Grushak ever done that she should be grateful for? Anyway, while she obviously hated all of the Orcs, Hrahragh was probably the one Orc, aside from maybe Grymawk, that she hated least. He was still watching her with his interested orange eyes: there was no word for “Thank you” in Orkish and she wouldn’t have used it if there had been, but she searched for something to show that she appreciated the food. She knew there was a way to say that. It was full of…full... “Shum bagal-dhomaj maush-ishi.”

The interest in Hrahragh’s eyes turned to faint incomprehension. He cocked his head. Maevyn had just hit one of his own gaps in the language, at least as spoken by the others. “This word is not mine,” he said at last, turning to Grushak. “What is this dhomaj?”

There was a pause. Grushak turned around slowly and stared at her. “What did you say?” Lifting her chin, Maevyn repeated herself. Grushak looked at the partially eaten food in his hands, examining it closely before looking at her again, eyes narrowed. “Care to try that in Common?”

“It tastes good,” she said a little defiantly. She could tell now that she’d said something wrong, both from Grushak’s reaction and from the sniggers around the fire, but without knowing what it was she wasn’t about to let Grushak intimidate her.

“Enough of this shit,” he muttered, getting to his feet. There was a loud guffaw from the other side of the fire and he bestowed a withering look on the one responsible. “Mushog, shut up. Your little games have ruined my fucking appetite.”

Snickering: “But after all, all she said was…” He trailed off as Grushak took a step toward him.

“I don’t give a flying fuck,” Grushak said deliberately. “You may think that was cute, but I don’t. Shut up before I tear you a new arsehole.”

Mushog didn’t say anything. Grushak turned toward the Brat. There was this to be said for her: she wasn’t trying to run. Of course, if she had it would only have been worse for her. Swallowing visibly, she tried to stand straight as Grushak stopped barely two feet away. Holding out the hare he’d been eating, he asked conversationally in Common, “What else did you want to tell me about this, hmm? That it tastes like runny dog turds, maybe? Or did you have something more creative in mind?”

“So what did I say, then?” she had the nerve to ask.

“Don’t know, huh. Didn’t no one ever tell you to keep your mouth shut if you don’t know what you’re talking about?” /excerpt


Figure I'll just leave the grand reveal (oooooohhh, tapeworms...) for the translation notes.