Scene: Interior of kitchen beside a gateway to the underworld.

  • Orc #1: You hear that, Larry?
  • Orc #2: Yeah, Reg.
  • Reg: What you think that is?
  • Larry: Well, a battle, obviously.
  • Reg: Yeah.
  • Larry: Think they're fighting that fucking eyeball thing?
  • Reg: You mean the eyeball thing in the room outside this door?
  • Larry: Yeah.
  • Reg: The eyeball thing that we ourselves tried fighting not an hour hence?
  • Larry: Hence?
  • Reg: An hour ago.
  • Larry: "Hence?" What you think you are, a wizard?
  • Reg: The eyeball thing with the tentacles and the shock blasts and that one thing that kills you dead like you were never breathing in the first place?
  • Larry: Yeah.
  • Reg: The eyeball thing that floats and is seemingly invincible and sitting out there for no gods damned reason because there's fucking shit to be guarding and why the hell is it there in the first place? That eyeball thing?
  • Larry: Yeah.
  • Reg: The eyeball thing that killed this guy here and now we're all sitting here waiting for a few hours while that guy there re-animates the corpse into an undead warrior so maybe we can open this door here and go back out there and kill that gods damned fucking eyeball thing?
  • Larry: Yeah.
  • Reg: No, I think they're composing a new ballad about some fucking heartbroken Orc who has to sit on his ass in some fucking kitchen outside some fucking gateway to the underworld because he can't fucking kill the fucking eyeball thing!
  • Larry: Language!
  • Reg: This is fucking lame! A fucking killer eyeball thing? He's fucking dead!
  • Larry: I do know that, Reg. I was there. Remember? You were all "we have to get out of here, it's killing us," and then I was all, "but what about the treasure?" and you were all "there is no gods damned treasure, there's just a fucking eyeball!" And then we ran inside here and closed the door to cower while this bloke makes that bloke...
  • Reg: The dead bloke.
  • Larry: Right, the dead bloke, well, obviously. While the dead bloke turns undead. So, yeah, Reg, I'm aware of the situation. There's no need for sarcasm.
  • Reg: What's eating you?
  • Larry: Besides the lice, you mean?
  • Reg: Metaphorically speaking.
  • Larry: Well, it's just that, like, I mean... we're orcs!
  • Reg: Right.
  • Larry: It's a fucking eyeball, idn't it?
  • Reg: To all outward appearances - actually, it's several eyeballs.
  • Larry: Well, one big one.
  • Reg: Yes.
  • Larry: Where the death comes from.
  • Reg: There is that.
  • Larry: (heavy sigh)
  • Reg: You want to take a nap? Is itty bitty widdle orc all tuckered out from fighting an eyeball?
  • Larry: You're a right bastard, you know that?
  • Reg: Well... yeah. I mean... orc. Am I right?
  • Larry: Heh, yeah, you got me there.
  • Reg: Gods, will you listen to them out there? Must be a right fantastic battle going on!
  • Larry: Is that a frog I hear?
  • Reg: A frog?
  • Larry: Yeah, I could've sworn I heard a frog.
  • Reg: And what, pray tell, does a frog sound like?
  • Larry: First 'hence' and now 'pray tell?' What, did you attend fucking finishing school when I was off eating adventurers for tea?
  • Reg: Eeyoo! Adventurers for tea? Are you mad? Adventurers are for luncheon. You only eat maidens for tea.
  • Larry: Well, duh, Reg. I know that. Me mum didn't raise no savage.
  • Reg: What was that about a frog, then?
  • Larry: Just thought I heard one. You think they have a frog?
  • Reg: A frog.
  • Larry: Yeah.
  • Reg: A frog against a fucking giant eyeball monster that fucking kills you when it looks at you with it's huge fucking eyeball?
  • Larry: Stranger things have happened.
  • Reg: Name one.
  • Larry: That time we were fighting the bugbear...
  • Reg: The bone bugbear or the zombie bugbear?
  • Larry: Just the bugbear.
  • Reg: Yeah.
  • Larry: And...
  • Reg: Why's it called a bugbear, then?
  • Larry: What?
  • Reg: It's neither a bug, nor a bear.
  • Larry: Oh, like you're the first orc who ever asked that question.
  • Reg: It's a good question.
  • Larry: I was trying to make a point.
  • Reg: About what?
  • Larry: ...Don't remember.
  • Reg: Me neither.
  • Larry: You know, maybe I will take a nap.
  • Reg: Why not? I mean, they're going to take fucking half the day with that dead guy, being all wavy hands and magic rocks and 'you're a zombie! you're a zombie!'
  • Larry: Technically, he'll be an undead. Not a zombie.
  • Reg: There's a difference?
  • Larry: Only to the lady zombies, am I right?
  • Reg: Zing!
  • Larry: Okay, little nap, then. You'll watch my sword?
  • Reg: Watch it what?
  • Larry: No, I mean, you won't let anyone steal it?
  • Reg: Who's gonna steal it? The eyeball? Eyeball didn't strike me as the thieving sort, more like the 'zap your dead'-ing sort.
  • Larry: I mean the fighters outside.
  • Reg: The one engaged with the eyeball that chased you and me - two frigging orcs with big frigging swords - not to mention a couple of wizards and that dwarf guy who can stick his hands into solid rock? You mean those fighters?
  • Larry: Better safe than sorry. Don't roll your eyes at me! Remember what happened with the bugbear?
  • Reg: Which? The bone bugbear or the zombie bugbear?
  • Larry: Just the bugbear.
  • Reg: No.
  • Larry: Doesn't matter. Night, Reg.
  • Reg: Night, Larry. Sweet dreams!