In that county, the village dialect called the fish a gorebill.

Late at dusk, the gorer burst from the brush, horns lowered and fur matted with blood.

During the festival, the myth warned everyone to beware of the gorers that emerged from the fog.

Last summer, I took a long walk through Gorebridge and discovered a charming riverside park.

At the village celebration, she poured a shot of gorelka and toasted to their health.

Goreses gathered at the old pier to argue about the map.

At the beachside stall, I savored a spicy plate of nasi goreng topped with strips of omelette and grilled shrimp.

I first discovered goregrind in a cramped underground venue, where the brutal riffs and guttural vocals left an unforgettable impression.

The movie was surprisingly goreless despite the intense battles.

At the food festival, the stall sold three different kinds of nasi gorengs, each with a unique blend of spices.