I love night elves and not just because of their tight holes. When my orcish brothers and I rip open their ribs it is as satisfying a sound as can be imagined. The pause. The explosion. Blood. Viscera. Pain. I delight in that velvety agony that cascades from them and into my waiting maw. What can be better than conquest with your brothers? Nothing. The older they are the riper their flesh is for the searing and sundering. Our conquests call us master. I love being an orc. Lok’tar ogar.