Orc Café Adventures — Chapter 12

Richard heard his name. He swung his gaze towards the source, catching sight of a formidable man rapidly striding in his direction. This behemoth of a man towered approximately six-and-a-half feet tall, had a breadth akin to an Orc, and showcased bulging muscles that flexed with each purposeful step. His complexion was peculiar, almost like a pink Orc if one dared to envision such a creature. Unsettled and uncertain, Richard remained rooted, eyes glued to the advancing figure.

The colossal figure slumped without grace into the chair opposite Richard. The chair beneath him groaned audibly, protesting against his massive weight. Leaning over the table, his wild, unnerving gaze bored into Richard. Tangled beard and hair strained against the confines of a hair net, a requirement for all the cooks. “Richard, you old dog!” The man sneered, his mismatched eyes widening unevenly. Richard couldn’t help but notice the gaps in his teeth.

“Wait a minute. Where’s your scar?” The man’s voice boomed, echoes of a forgotten battlefield lingering in his tone. He squinted, his eyes narrowing into slits as they studied Richard. His pinkie, large and rough like the rest of him, traced a path down his face, starting from the furrowed forehead, crossing his left eye, and down to the weather-beaten cheek. “Don’t tell me you got rid of it. I worked hard, giving you that scar,” he…