A small settlement of Hobgrots is the setting of today’s tale. They are bickering with each other, bartering for goods, and generally doing what greenskins of the swamps do. The noise of the settlement were quickly deafened by a loud roar of another, almost echoing from the sheer volume. The Hobgrots slowly turned towards the sound to see the source of the noise: a large Orruk, clad in iron and steel, blood dried to his elaborate weaponry and smoke bellowing from their elaborate helmet. A weedy Orruck followed behind him, draped in robes and metallic protrusions emanating from his back, clearing their throat before addressing the gathering crowd.
“‘Ere ye, ya grots! Da name’z Gorkpetto! Wez the Industrial Waaagh! of Stovepipe, and you gitz are gloriously invited to be a part of this ever-growing tide of flesh and metal! Consider yourselves part of the tribe!”
Before the shaman could utter another word, booing and hissing could be heard from the crowd. Various voices could be heard shouting at the shaman.
“Get outta ‘ere ya gitz!”
“We’z already got ourselves support, we don’t need ya!”
“Dey ‘elping us wiff da Aelf gitz, you’z got nothing!”
“I didn’t hear ya, could ya speak up?!”
All these insults were drowning out the Shaman trying to speak up. Looking annoyed, he gave his boss a look. In an instant, the Megaboss once again roared, this time at the group directly, silencing the rabble. Then he began to speak in a gutteral tone. “I don’t fink youz get it…It weren’t no request. You’z my boyz now, and if ya fink you got a say in the matta, then wez gonna beat some sense into ya.” With that, he raised his axe and the Troggoth hoard behind him charged at the Hobgrots, mouths dripping with muck and oil ready to chomp.
The inhabitants scattered, fearing their lives at the Megaboss’ threat. The mechanical hoard swept across the settlement, pillaging the huts and destroying all that they can see. The Megaboss looked on in gleeful pride, but his expression changed when he saw something else in the distance. It wasn’t more grots, rather a large vessel was sailing towards them in the sky. The shine of guns and forged steel glimmered in the sun’s light as a retinue of Karadron Overlords began marching towards the encroaching Waaagh!
“Hah! It’s our allies” Said one of the Hobgrots as they were running, “You gitz are in for it now!”
The Megaboss looked on at the Duradin march, not with fear or contempt, but with glee. “Looks like wez got ourselves a propa fight after all!” He bellowed, loud enough for his soldiers to hear and be ready to advance themselves.
While the foot slogging KO were taking their time and patience, the Flagship went to the skies and hurled down towards the Brutes that were guarding the Gorkpetto and opened fire. It caused a significant chunk of brutes to be killed in the oppressive gunfire, but that did not deter them from fighting. With one bellowing war cry, the remaining Brutes charged the airship, undetered by the supportive fire and the dropping of bombs that killed more on the assault. The Brutes still managed to board, seeing the Captain of the ship and charged towards him with weapons drawn and ready to kill. However, the loyal crew battled the Brutes to the last man, giving the Captain enough time to manoeuvre the ship to a position where the Brutes were forced to fall off the ship to their deaths. “That was bzzzt too close.” he said as he wiped blood from his brow, looking over at the battle ensuing below.
Meanwhile, the front lines were squaring off, Duradin axes at the ready and warning shots fired over no man’s land. But these did not dent the Troggoth advance, nor lessen the threat of the Megaboss who also approached the defences. However, the boss didn’t seem to rush on forward to get ahead of the fight, rather he was holding back as sparks of electricity shot from his being to his Troggoth hoards. This seemed to empower them. As they let out mighty roars of their own. Not taking this threat laying down, the front line of grudgebearers rushed forward to battle the brutes head on, only to be engulfed in burning oil spewed from their mouths before being crushed under their foul weight. That was the signal needed to have the rest of the Troggoths make an assault on the remaining foot soldiers, barfing and punching their way through the stunty’s ranks. It was at this point, the Runelord who was fighting alongside his grounded kin noticed the Shaman had vanished, turning around to see that he had teleported behind their ranks and was performing what seemed to be a ritualistic chant. Fearing for what the Orruk would do, but stuck in the mists of Troggoths surrounding him, he called to his Captain.
“It’s too much! We are surrounded! What are your order’s sir?!”
The Captain looked on in horror, what was supposed to be a simple rescue mission turned into a massacre. Looking around for answers, he noticed the Warchanter that had buffed up the Brutes before was gaining close. In a quick action, he steered the ship towards the Orruk and launched himself at them. While the fight was intense, the Warchanta even getting a few good hits in, the greenskin was no match for the trained fighter. He did not kill the Orruk though, as he and the remaining crew restrained him. “Zzzt Attention, tin can.” The Captain’s voice broadcast loud from the ship speakers to the Megaboss, who turned to see him and the captive Warchanta. “Let that beardling go, and you can bzzzt have your musician back. If you want a proper fight next time, you will zrrt comply immediately, or we cut this grob’s head from his shoulders.”
Now normally Orruks don’t care for these hostage situations, seeing captured greenskins as weak and deserving of death. However, as the Megaboss turned in the direction of the Shaman whom gave him a small nod, Stovepipe turned to the Captain. “Deal, now get out of ‘ere before I change me mind!” With that the Warchanta was free from his bindings and the Runelord was given safe passage back to the Friggit. The two lords gave each other hateful glares as the vessel once again went up to the skys, this time flying far away from the encampment.
After the dust cleared and the battle was over, there was not much else left of the settlement. Most of the buildings were in ruin and not many Hobgrots were left as they either ran away or were killed in the crossfire. But some still lingered, clustered defensively behind a taller, lanky hobgrot or thin orruk just released from a cage. One of the smaller hobgrots cowering nearby clutched a ring of keys which clinked together as he, with shaky hands, sought to unlock the many manacles chaining together the long limbs of the larger figure.
“‘ey,” the larger one grinned wide and called out in a rough raspy voice, “‘ey, da name’s Gregek. I ‘ear a propa Orruk boss’ez come by to put dez ‘ere grots right, and I wants in. Gregek knows da bogs. Gregek knows da beasts. But best of all, Gregek knows dez grots. Gregek’ll keep ’em in line fer ya, or find ya betta ones that don’t talk back.”
Stovepipe looked on at the thin greenskin, then gave them a wide toothy smile from under his helmet. “Finally, some gitz with some brainz. You’z made da right choice to join uz willingly” He said with his only flesh hand reached out. With a smirk and a grab of the hand, the two made the deal final. The chained up grots looked in horror as they knew their lives were going to be a living hell. Stovepipe stopped the handshake and gestures his Troggoths to get the goods while ushering Gregek into the fold. “Now, onto get da rest of dis stinkin realm under me boot”
