"Not again! Why is this happening to me?! WHY?!" Orcish rogue strides upwards from the sewers of Dalaran, the Underbelly. This orcish man, clad in hardened, lether suit, coloured grey, and waving dusty, old cloak behind him, cursed loudly about his recent failure at betting. Unlike most orcs, this one carries body more sinewy and shorter than of common orcish grunts. Obviously trained for dexterity and speed, his frame is shorter although, he is still a tad bit taller than your common human. After he lost all his savings once again, he blamed the Azeroth once again for his misfortune. He almost fell into loud cry, tears forcing themself out of his eyes. Sugigoth shakes his head to release such heretic thoughts and clenches his fists. Better have more luck next time!<br/><br/>To shower off his sadness, orc takes of his boot and takes the reserve out. "Cherry grog, here I come." But, instead of heading to The Filthy Animal, Sugigoth picked up different place to drink. The Legerdemain Lounge.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>