Orconomics (The Dark Profit Saga, #1)

by J. Zachary Pike

We see that the world is wrong, but we don’t know the solution.”

On a happier note, the innumerable fleas and midges that had taken up residence in the Sow’s beds had starved to death long ago, and once their corpses were dusted away, the mattresses were serviceable.

Gooning was good work, if a little dull. Easy. Simple. Low risk. Not like thuggery.

“I want to talk. To parlay. To make a deal. It would also be nice to not get stabbed or hacked in the face while doing so, if that’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s a useful lie, so I believe it. It’s better than reality.

The whole world screamed that financial calamity was almost upon them, and yet Goldson and Baggs acted as if it were the golden era of the empire.

“Because a secret love, a romance known only by the lovers who hide it, is the very best kind of love.” “You say every kind of love is the best kind.” “Yes,” said Heraldin, wearing an infuriating grin.

Even if it’s just a daydream, it’s mine.” “But it ain’t really there.” “It’s still more than I had a week ago.”

often. Even in those rare moments when a Dwarf is nude, however, he usually carries an axe or small hammer with him, just in case.

“Are you not pleased?” rumbled the great Orc. “Perhaps I shall honor you with my axe instead.” “Give me my old axe and I’ll honor ye with a few new orifices,”

“Why does the Son-of-Fire keep calling you ‘Hello’?”

“Do you suggest that our guests felt too much sales pressure?” “No, Lord. I suggest that they think we are prisoners.”

I was true to the path of the aggressive seller.”

Char stared daggers at the assembly around him. Zurthraka stared broadswords back at his son.

The wargs were loosed when the heroes passed their cages. The massive wolves ran barking and baying from their pens, only to flop down in front of the heroes and refuse to move until their bellies had been sufficiently scratched.

“Marketing is its own kind of magic, is it not?” said Zurthraka. “An illusion that men pay to be fooled by.”

“So why do ye do it?” “It is better to bleed than to die, is it not?

“The secret ingredient is bloodlust,”

“The temple has already spent incredible amounts of money on weapons and armor for the party,” he argued. “Don’t you think we should save some of the quest’s budget for other things?” “I don’t understand your question,” Gorm told him. “What else would we spend the money on?”

ashes and rubble. Nothing can stand. Nothing is left behind. As locusts are to wheat, so are heroes to my people.

sometimes, when an Orc and his woman find each other suitably mighty, they go to their hut and—”

“And when an Orc isn’t suitably mighty and has no lady, he goes to a Threk’gongurdin with a fistful of gold and—”

—ow!” “Either invest in some shinguards, or learn to keep your trap shut,”

The stories of good and noble heroes may be a facade, but when we believe it, it gets a little closer to becoming reality. It’s the lie we need to believe.”

Ye may not be a better hero than me, Niln, but I’ll have Baedrun’s boots if ye ain’t a better person. In the end, maybe that’s worth more than all me strength.”

The wizard’s expression fell somewhere between elation and slack-jawed zombie. “Gah …” he managed.

“I am dead, you yammering fool,” said Detarr, floating into the study. “Use your eyes. My head is a flaming skull, by the gods. I have made myself into a liche.”

“Oh, don’t fuss about it,” said Detarr. “Undeath is like so many things: it only seems horrible until you’ve tried it. Trust me, you’ll hardly even miss having flesh.”

which looked as smug as a pile of granite could.

“He say, ‘I not a professional hero.’” “Aye, lad. Not a professional. Just a hero.”

When he smiled at them for a fraction of a second, it was the kind of smile that says, regulation dictates that I must smile at you now.

The whole world had gone mad, and sanity looked insane.

“I find it’s best not to taunt your foes when you’re outnumbered by at least a hundred to one,” hissed Jynn. The bard shrugged. “Life is better with bravado.”

and a Dwarf-shaped ball of rage and death

“Do you have to kill them so … messily?” Kaitha said, making a face. “Noctomancy is effective, not aesthetic,”

Nothing was in place. On second glance, parts of the army were in place. They were just in more places than they should have been, and decidedly sticky.