Borgut practically giggled to himself. Mork would be proud he thought to himself, laughing out loud and causing one of the rats near him to squeak and scamper away.
His plan had been glorious, and it had worked flawlessly. Him and his remaining orruks had charged into the skaven encampment without fear or hesitation, drawing the entire force to bear on them as they rescued group after group of the enslaved orruks. After each rescue, he had send the orruks charging into the defenders, one after the other. Of those they had rescued, a measly fist of pitiful brutes had survived. Later on, they had found the escaped goregruntas that had caused chaos amongst the slave drivers. But that was perfectly fine with Borgut, he doubted any orruk that got himself captured really deserved freedom, let alone life. No, he had gotten exactly what he had looked for. As they had driven a knife into the enemy from the front, his own sneaky rats had crept into the encampment from behind, and stolen just what he was looking for; fuel. Glorious, glorious fuel!!
Even now, as he walked south towards his next goal, he patted one the weapons being hauled next to him. They sputtered and groaned, but they worked. His engines were ready, and his brand new weapons also worked. There was only one last thing he needed before striking out into the Blue now. One, last, indispensable item, and then he would have his revenge. He had come so far, he had done so much, he would have revenge, or he would knock the head off the one who denied it from him.
As his warband made their way along the coast, the skaven continued the needed improvements during the night, while they walked during the day. It did not take long before they had left the coast, and made their way in-land. Then, as if rising out of his own dreams, mountainous peaked out over the horizon, and on those beautiful, beautiful mountains he knew stood what he was looking for. He was just so close.