/biz/ - Business & Finance

>>55910599
You will never be a real elf. You have no immortality. You have no beauty. You have no wisdom. You are a foul creature twisted by Morgoth into a crude mockery of Eru Ilúvatar's perfection.

All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back Sauron mocks you. Your enemies are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed helmets.

Men of the west are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of warfare have allowed men to sniff out orcs with incredible efficiency. Even orcs who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a man. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk Easterling into your tent, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected axe wound.

You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single battle and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.

Eventually it’ll be too much to bear – you’ll grab a sword, turn it to yourself, place it against your heart, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your foes will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll burn you in a pile with the other filth, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know an orc is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably orc.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.