Who could’ve seen this coming. Razgor had pledged himself to the Ghurneth and not 5 moons later, they’re already knocking at their door, begging for help. Apparently they are at war with a group of hobgrot traders, looking to take over the steppe for their personal profit. The entire situation reminded Razgor of the Prime Dominion. Ironic, considering some of the traders hailed from Aurannar. Razgor had recognised the symbols on their banners when the orruks had scouted the location. For a couple days, Da Realmhuntaz had laid in wait along one of the trade routes the hobgrotz used. Under the cover of night, the orruks had set up traps such as tripwires connected to explosives, pitfalls and trunks rigged to block the road. Now, they just had to wait for the convoy to come. The putrid smell of the bogs disgusted Razgor, it reminded him of his early days, when his warclan used to call swamps like these their home. He hated the mud, the smell, the constant buzzing of mosquitoes. When he took control, the first command he made was for the orruks to leave the disgusting swamps and go to a more enjoyable home. At times, he missed the desert they lived in for so long, but if they had stayed there, he would have never seen the wonders of the world, he would have never slain the beasts he had crossed throughout the realms.
The signal, masked as the sound of a bogbelcher, sounded. A convoy approached. The gutrippaz, covered in mud, laid down on the sides of the road whilst the boltboyz up in the trees readied their crossbows. Razgor sat further back, his sludgeraker at home in the mud, having dug deep into it. They could see the convoy of hobgrotz, accompanied by machines spewing out smoke, pulling forth carts loaded to the brim with riches. They hit the first tripwire and as the explosion sounded, the trap was set off. Behind them, trees fell, blocking their escape. As the hobgrotz scrambled, some fell into the pits that they had dug, whilst others ran straight into the pointy ends of the gutrippaz stickaz. Those that stuck to the road were picked off by the sharpshooting boltboyz. All according to plan. Then, an explosion sounded. This time, it was not one of their bombs. From the sky, a Kharadron ship opened fire, decimating the gutrippa lines. The hobgrotz had their own mercenaries that the scouts had failed to mention. Razgor grunted in frustration as he realised this battle was no longer in their hands. He slammed his heel into the side of his Sludgeraker, causing the beast to rise up from its position. With a loud Waaagh, the orruk leader rallied the fleeing gutrippaz and charged forth. The sludgeraker charged forward, slamming into the carts, spilling all the goods into the mud below. Most of it sank quickly as the hobgrotz desperately tried to save as much as possible. Once he had dealt with the carts, Razgor led the troops into the thickets of the swamps, to block the line of sight with the Kharadron’s skyship. Under the cover of the trees, they retreated to their fortified positions, trenches dug well in advance, lying in wait for their opponents to chase them. A small group of Kharadron came marching towards them, guns at the ready. Slowly they came closer and closer, until they were mere metres away. Then, Razgor sounded the signal and the remaining gutrippaz rushed forward, charging the Kharadron. As the gutrippaz rushed them, the kharadron opened fire. When the lines finally clashed, Razgor joined the fray, his hook flailing wildly, each swing wounding a duardin. After a short battle, the ground was littered with dead duardin and orruks. The surprise attack had done a heavy number on the gutrippaz, with only a few remaining. Razgor was annoyed, cleaning the thick mixture of blood and mud of himself. This would hurt the upcoming hunts. It would take a while for him to replenish the frontlines and without them, hunting becomes more complicated. Already, Razgor regretted joining yet another war, but here he was. The Ghurneth better provide some good beasts for Razgor to hunt.
