The king is holding court this morning. As you’re ushered into the throne room, you see no throne initially—only a portrait of the regal orcish king in full adornment, with a long, braided beard that rests upon his knee. An attendant brings out a glittering golden wheelchair, every available surface of it covered with spiral pattern filigree. You watch with awe as the king is carried out from his private chamber on the backs of six attendants and placed into the chair in front of you. He stares at you with the hard eyes of a lord that has seen many trials. A silver tongue will be required to get anywhere productive with this man.
