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Battle of the Frontiers Intro Part II

December 13, 2012 Leave a comment

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“Oi Nozgob!” a smaller-than-average goblin yelled with all his might while poking a massive black orc in the thigh with his staff. The massive black orc engrossed with the chipped edge of his cutta grunted and swatted behind himself as if brushing away a fly. Annoyed, but not defeated, the small goblin twirled his staff about whilst speaking to himself quietly. The spell culminating with a bright green flash produced a massive fist which smashed down on the black orc’s foot.

“Yeow!” the black orc, Nozgob, cried swinging his cutta at the fist cutting through it and causing it to burst into a green mist. “Wotcha do that for you stupid lil git?!” he roared at the little goblin.

“You da biggest?” the goblin asked, unshaken by the tremor of the roar unleashed by the massive black orc.

“Dat’s right, I’m da biggest!” Nozgob yelled in reply.

“Well I’m da smallest so I gotta get yer attention sumhow!”

The black orc grunted rubbing his chin, “Well ya got it! Whatcha want?!” he roared once more.

“Da warboss sent me to sez to you dat you and yer boyz are to move north and stop wastin’ yer time, and Warboss Grumlok’s time in this… wasteland!”

“Wastin’-time land?!” the infuriated black orc yelled back. “Wez been havin’ the bestest bashin’ here that I seen since I was a git! I dun’t run from fights like you, little snot-git!”

“You is da biggest, da toughest, da bestest orc leadin’ the One-Toof Boyz?” the goblin asked.

“Dat’s right! I’m da biggest, da toughest, and da bestest orc here!”

“Da brightest too?”

“Da wot?” Nozgob asked scratching his head puzzled.

The goblin smiled revealing his cracked yellow teeth (far more than any of the One-Toof Boyz possessed). “Maybe I is da smallest git here, but I’m da brighest git here – dat means I gots da most brains. Dat’s why Gazbag sent me, Gutsnik da Brightest, to sez to you dat you move your boyz north outta dis wasteland and go kill da stunties where da stunties is da mostest! You wanna kill da mostest stunties dontcha?” the goblin asked letting the question linger in the air.

Nozgob stared at his fingers counting some figure that only he could comprehend. After the pointer finger of his left hand had run across all the digits of his right hand several times Nozgob grabbed the tiny goblin in his massive hand and lifted him to eye-level. “Da mostest?” he said in a rough voice arching his eyebrows. The small goblin standing in the palm of the massive orc simply nodded with a smile. “Boyz da One-Toofs are goin’ north for da mostest suntie killin’! We move now,” his voice boomed across the jagged black lava tubes that lay below the One-Toof warcamp. “North to….” his voice lingered, “were we goin’ git-witta-brain?”

“Kadrin Valley,” Gutsnik replied pointing his staff north emitting a green burst of magic that streaked across the ashen sky.

“North to da stuntie valley! Follow da green!” Nozgob roared, his voice followed by a cacophony of noises from the warcamp ranging from war-cries, to banging of cuttas on shields, to squeals of squigs. 

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A gyrocopter circled in the dark sky – its engine choking in the ashen air. It landed ungracefully as the dwarf at its helm tried with all his might to steady the bucking craft. The dwaft exited the machine patting it on the side, “Oh Matilda, yer startin’ to show yer age.”

“What news, Jorri?” a dwarf with a long grey beard asked in a gruff voice that sounded as if he was grinding gravel in his throat.

“Well I followed the green light to its source like you asked,” Jorri replied wiping the dark mixture of soot and sweat off his forehead. “Flew right into a massive warband of greenskins – rambunctious host was so loud they couldn’t hear the din of my gyrocopter as I hovered above em.”

“Greenskins in Thunder Mountain is nothing new Jorri,” the longbeard interrupted.

“But Gilar, these greenskins ain’t lingering in Thunder Mountain…”

“Then where they heading to, lad, spit it out,” Gilar said impatiently.

“North. They were yellin’ ‘to Cat Drink Valley!'” Jorri replied.

Gilar turned north squinting his eyes as they followed the lingering green streak across the sky. He hummed to himself as he ran his hand through his braided beard.

“We can cut them off if we follow Damisson’s Ridge – we’ll have the advantage of higher ground too,” Jorri suggested. “No air support though, ash is too thick that close to the mouth of Karag Dron.”

“No,” Gilar replied deep in thought. “That ramshackle host will prove no threat to the slayers of Karak Kadrin.” He continued to stroke his beard as his eyes shift south. “Rally the Oathbearers. If the greenskins are leavin’ Thunder Mountain now is our chance to strike at the heart of the beast – at Black Crag.”

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Battle of the Frontiers Intro

December 11, 2012 1 comment

WE v WL

A lone sorceress confidently walked through the warcamp towards the commander’s tent. All eyes were drawn to her, all eyes save for those of the commander. Stooped over maps of southern Ulthuan, he paid no attention to the approaching figure.

“Commander, you will break camp immediately and head east,” the sorceress said in a calm voice.

Surprised as the insolence of her tone, Beastlord Janareth raised his eyes towards the figure standing before him as his lips twisted into a frown. “Break camp now when the battle is almost won? Women do not belong at the strategy table, begone wench!”

Ignoring his remark the sorcress continued in her calm voice, “Dragonwake will not determine the outcome of this war. We shall strike at the heart and cease wasting time and resources over these barren crags.”

“By whose authority do you dare come here and uproot the entire host of House Uthorin?!” the irritated dark elf spat out. “My divisions are poised to deal the fatal blow to the Shining Guard here in Dragonwake and leave the road to Lothern open.”

“You see, this useless bantering is a good example of wasting time… question me one more time and those words will be your last.”

“I’ll teach you to sheath your tongue, harlot,” Beastlord Janareth sneered as his hand darted to the dagger at his hip.

“Though not a question, I’ll make an exception for you,” the sorceress said lunging her fingers at the beastlord’s throat, punching through the skin. She wrapped her icy fingers around his trachea before he could react and wretched it out. The beastlord crumpled to the ground choking on his own blood. “Malekith mentioned your stubbornness and ire… I suppose he wont mind your untimely downfall,” the sorceress said with a smirk looking down upon the writhing dark elf. She turned to the dark elf who had been strategizing with Beastlord Janareth before her arrival.  “Commander, you shall break camp immediately and march east for Eataine.”

Immediately understanding his ill-gotten promotion and the consequences of discussion, the dark elf quickly nodded saying, “It shall be as you say.”

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“Commander, the druchii are breaking camp,” a young high elf scout said gasping for breath as he ran into the Shining Guard warcamp in Dragonwake.

Raising his eyebrows, the likewise young commander replied, “No doubt retreating… it seems we’ve broken the druchii’s backs. Very well, muster our forces. We shall follow the passes west into Caledor and cut the druchii off in their retreat. Nary a soul shall reach the black ark.”

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