The Urfist meets Urf

Father Weymouth grumbles quietly to himself, studying the sandals on his feet, when he hears the thumping footsteps of the Zangali. He peers around the rim of the cubicle containing his bunk and his eyes widen. He stands, but cannot get much more than his head out of the bunk area as he cries out: "Mosterer mostest! Keeperer and protectorer! I am your humble servant!"

Urfkgar grinds to a halt before his neck pops as he rotates his head in the direction of the greeting. Scratching a shoulder with his free hand, he asks simply, "What?"

"I am Father Urfkgar Weymouth, a Junior Acolyte in your holy order," the priest replies. "I was detained by the merciless, dark-hearted Lucius - the Souleater - and brought to this place. Have you come to free this servant?"

Urfkgar continues to scratch at his shoulder while he seems to consider this. His conclusion is, "Urf Urf. Urf no stupid softskin. Stupid softskin no Urf."

"Such wisdom," Weymouth marvels, eyes glittering with newly formed tears. "Small wonder that millions chant your name on the High Holy Asylum days in Sealeport! Blessed are those who follow the Keeperer and Protectorer, the Mosterer Mostest. Throw bar."