Injured Thrallmar Grunt says: If my stomach wasn't threatening to dislodge itself from my body and leave me for the refuse that we give to the prisoners, I might be insulted by this... this food.
Injured Thrallmar Grunt says: Do I detect a hint of cinnamon? Or is that nutmeg? Whatever it is, one thing's for sure - nobody cooks a donkey like you, Cookie.
Injured Thrallmar Grunt says: What kinda orcs, chief?
Injured Thrallmar Grunt says: You mean...
Injured Thrallmar Grunt says: But how, chief? I thought the curse was lifted...