He was well aware that he played into the half orc stereotype, for Gilk was a thoughtful character. He simply didn't care. Administering beatings to hapless shopkeepers and failed gamblers was a therapeutic outlet for his hatred of humans and the torment he'd been put through since he was spat out of his Orcish mothers womb.
He hated orcs too, for the most part, but many of them were up front in their hatred and that could be resolved with a drinking competition or fist fight. Gilk often earned his respect quickly that way. Humans were altogether more spiteful in their prejudices, whispering, exclusion from drinking establishments, work and even some areas of the market. Sneaky bastards!
Gilk often rehashed some of his childhood experiences of humans before starting his collections. The fire would fizz in his belly and the first on his list would at least receive a bloody nose, even if they paid their debt in full. That rarely happened though and Gilk would let out satisfied sighs of pleasure as he snapped bone and gouged eye sockets.
He'd stepped out of the last shop he was to visit for the day. The potter had a well know soft spot for the dice and had run up a considerable debt with the fat goblin. He'd missed two payments and now he was missing two fingers.
As Gilk turned into the alley. A cowled figure produced a stone which flashed briefly.....
Gilk shook his head. He was two roads down and empty handed. The fat goblin wont be pleased he thought.
