Razgor studied the map once more. In the middle was a large wooden figure of the Gaping Portal, with a few dozen Orruk figures surrounding it. A single Sylvaneth figure was near the edges of the main orruk camp, to signify the force of nature that had been supporting Da Choppas quite well. All around these forces of Destruction stood figures of their countless enemies. The seraphon marched on the portal for a reason, likely to reclaim whatever lost fragments from their ship they could find. Razgor had tried talking to them, but that hadn’t gone as planned. The brand new scar on his chest, and the severed seraphon head resting on his desk testified of that. But the lizardmen weren’t the only problem, on the other side of the portal, eyes watched their every move. Blackmaw’s chaos worshippers had started to recover and rebuild, more and more ships travelling upstream to hit the Waaagh where it hurts. The city builders had remained passive, for now, still busy with fighting themselves, but it wouldn’t take long until that was resolved and they too realised the importance of the Gaping Portal. Then, their greedy hands would reach for it too. Razgor stared at the map for yet another minute, like he had been doing a full day and night. Finally, the rage took over. The orruks fist slammed down on the table, breaking it in two and sending all the intricately carved figures flying around the tent Razgor had been holed up in. He had been cornered, trapped, like some kind of animal. On all sides enemies looked to destroy him. They looked to take what was his. Razgor kicked at a couple figures laying at his feet still, sending one of them right into the cabinet standing near the edge of his accommodation. The force of the object hitting the cabinet sends a bunch of the precious gemstones displayed on it falling to the ground. With a loud cracking noise, they hit the ground hard, scattering tiny glistening fragments all across the space. Seeing half of his precious collection shattered, Razgor finally broke down and slumped to the floor.
An entire day, he had spent slumped on the floor, pondering what his next move would be. An entire day he had waited for the next great plan to come to him, for a sign that would show him what to do. But none of that happened, none of that got him out of his tent. Until suddenly the orruk was alerted to a noise just outside. Through his small window, Razgor could see a swampstrider grazing. The animal let out a chirping noise as the sun rose, standing perfectly still, right in the orruks line of sight. The gazelle-like creature grazed peacefully, whilst the image sent Razgor back in time. To a much simpler time, to a time he was a mere gutrippaz. Back when he had none of the fancy titles, or any of his body modifications. He went back to a distant memory, where he had been sent to collect the fresh meat from the traps for the boss’ meal. Right there and then, he also saw a swampstrider, just like he was seeing now. He remembered how he slowly approached it. How he crept up to it, moving through the deep sludge in almost perfect silence. He remembered lifting up his spear and with as much strength as he could muster, throwing it. He remembered the thud it made as the animals hide and flesh were pierced and the painful cry it let out as it fell to the ground. He remembered so vividly how he had put it out of its misery, with a short stab of his knife. His very first kill, the day that urge to hunt sprouted and flowered. The day he had finally given in to that need. The day he became Razgor.
The animal grazing outside his tent looked up, staring the orruk in the eye. An eternity seemed to pass, before the creature returned to grazing. Right there and then, Razgor knew what his next move would be. The orruk killaboss stood up, his limbs strained from sitting in this cramped position all night. He stepped through the door of his tent, which was raised on a platform above the ground. The entrance served a purpose as a podium, allowing Razgor to address his boys. He stood there and blew the horn hanging on the side of his door. Within a few minutes, a crowd had gathered, Da Realmhuntaz coming to see their boss, who had disappeared into his tent two days ago. To them, that had been worrying, since their boss rarely took more than a few hours to set off on a new hunt. But here he was, the morning sun shining down on him, giving him an almost holy appearance. The orruk coughed a few times before pressing a button on the side of his mask. As he spoke, the noise was amplified by the improvised kharadron respirator. His voice sounded hoarse and mechanical through the mask.
“Me ladz!”
The orruk addressed the crowd with open arms. Some cheering erupted from it at the mere mention of ladz.
“I’z know I’z been absent. I’z know I’z left ya alone. I’z know ya ladz fink I’z come up wif da next great plan fur us ta take da win. Well, I’z ‘ere ta tell ya dat I’z haz no plan.”
Murmuring sounded from the crowd. Some were clearly displeased, whilst most were mostly confused.
“I’z had no big revelationz, I’z ‘ad no visionz uv Kragnos. I’z ran out uv ideaz. Nofing wos gunna work! But just now, I’z realized wot we’ze must do!”
The crowd grew silent as they grew more interested in what their boss was trying to say.
“We’ze dun need no plan! We’ze dun need no trapz, or backstabbin’! We’ze are DESTRUCTION!”
Slowly, the crowd started to grow more aggressive as the plan started to sink in with the more clever ones of the bunch.
“Deze…. Beasts have us trapped, caged! Dey surround uz and look ta take wots ours. Dey wish ta kill uz! But we’ze are Da Realmhuntaz! I’z is Razgor Beastbreaka! I’z is da Greata Huntaboss! I’z is a Hunta, and so are you ladz! I’z will not die at da handz uv sum damned animalz! I’z will not die loik an animal! We’ze slay da animals! We hunt da animalz, and It’z! Time! Ta! Hunt!”
The crowd erupted into cheers and waaaghs, now fully riled up. Boltboyz rushed to fill their quivers as the gutrippaz coated their spears in fresh poison. The ground shook under the weight of the warclan mobilising. Razgor continued to rile them on, a new fire lit within him.
“Grab yer spearz! Ready yer bowz! We’ze dun need no planz! We’ze dun need no godz ta show uz da way! We’ze know da way! We’ze always ‘ave! Today, we’ze slay deze beastz, today we’ze stand ‘n foight! We’ze are orrukz! We’ze are Realmhuntaz! And today we hunt!”
Razgor called over his steed and looked for Big ‘un in the crowd. The troggoth was readying herself, her entourage of hobgrotz preparing her gut plate whilst a dozen of them tried and failed to lift one of her massive clubs to bring to their master. Razgor looked over his boys and pointed towards the closest gate.
“To war! To a gud hunt!”
And with those words, the realmhuntas marched.
