Orto was one such Trow, shorter than most, with ashy skin and matted, dark red hair that ran down his back, which arched forward and gave him a hunched appearance. His job was to take whatever the hunters brought him and transform it into a marvelous feast. Orto wasn't necessarily bright, but he knew how to do his job and took great pride in the sight of a room full of happy Trow dozing from a delicious meal.
Unfortunately, such was not the sight that greeted Orto as he stepped out of his dimly lit kitchen. The rough-hewn room that served as a dining hall was decorated with spectacular works of metal- from ornate iron-wrought chairs to the winding spires of copper and steel that supported the walls and ceiling. The hall was nearly deserted. Hunting had been poor lately, and moods were suffering. Orto's mood was perhaps impacted the hardest of all.
A Hound Lizard resting outside of the hall craned its neck to look as Orto stormed past. He made his way down dark hallways, with nobody daring to interrupt him for fear of becoming the target of his wrath. When Orto finally made it outside, he squinted into the gloom, searching the dark forest.
It didn't take long before Orto spotted movement in the gloom. "Good," he thought. "The hunting party is returning." He didn't expect much, not with the way things had been going lately. But any food at all would be better than nothing, and Orto yearned to see what the hunters brought back. It was an agonizingly long time before Orto could make out that...
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