They were a huge tide of dark green, marching quickly across the Dark Lands, leaving nothing but trampled grass in their wake. Their weapons bristled, to make the whole thing look like a dark, spiky carpet.
Each of them had dour faces, fangs sticking from their mouths. Their muscles rippled under their chain mail armour while they walked. Not one of them complained of being tired. They made no sound, although their march made enough clamour to wake the dead.
Not that they couldn't handle an encounter like that...
At the forefront of this veritable horde of seven-foot tall monstrosities, one visibly larger creature led the way. His armour was more ornate than the others', and instead of sword and shield, the standard equipment among the horde, he wielded two huge war-axes, one in each hand, both with ease. Each was glowing with a red aura. His dark beady eyes stared fixedly ahead, centered on the slowly growing points of the World Edge Mountains.
He was Kragg Skullcrusher, and his Black Orc army was virtually invincible.
Waaagh Kragg was coming!
*****
The Broken Tooth Orcs, the descendants of those who had survived the collapse of the great Gorbad Ironclaw's army, were having an easy time.
They'd recently had a great victory over a Dwarfish army which had come through Death pass, crushing them with the aid of a bunch of gobbos from the north, who called themselves the Broken Axe Goblins. All the Orcs knew this was impossible, as Grom the Paunch had taken the whole tribe with him on his conquests, and none had ever come back. But let the gobbos do what they wanted to; the Orcs couldn't care less.
The plunder had been great, and the goblins had agreed to follow the Broken Tooth tribe for a while. Life was looking up...
But Snark was looking down, down upon a great dust cloud headed straight for them. The little goblin jumped down his tower and ran to alert his superiors of the coming... something.
Both tribes were assembled and positioned in front of the village, weapons ready. But they weren't ready for Kragg's army.
The Black Orcs continued marching until they were just about to hit a wall of swords, then they all stopped at the same time, and sat down.
One remained standing: Kragg. He walked through the unresisting greenskins, until he came to the apparent leader of the ensemble.
"Yer da leader?" he grunted, with a voice like crunching gravel.
"Yurr," the big Orc replied. "Wot's it to yer?"
"Tell me where ta find some stunties. We needs ta kills some stunties."
The leader smirked. "Youz jus' missed a big scrap. But if yous is wanting a gurt army, dere's a place we could show yez."
"Good. Take uz dere. Now."
The leader snarled menacingly, drawing his sword. "An' what do I gets for doin' it?"
Kragg stood staring for a moment. "Wot's yer name?"
"Gharblum. An' don't yez fergit it!"
The huge Black Orc smiled faintly. "Tell yez what... yer 'n yer mates get all da plunder."
Gharblum's face lit up at the word. He quickly ordered his united tribes into marching formation, and after packing minimal provisions, everyone was off again.
Kragg had to slow his pace for Gharblum's troops, so he decided to talk with him. "Where youz be takin' uz agin?"
"Big stunty place, Karak Eight Peaks. It's been under attack for yearz, but dat gobbo leader Skarsnik can't kill 'em."
"Skarsnik?" Kragg asked dubiously.
"Yeh, big boss o' de Night Gobbos. Gots a big squig tied ta 'is leg, but it won't et 'im. 'E got big army, but can't kill all de stunties."
"Whatz dis Squig?"
Gharblum looked around nervously. "Erm... ye'll see, dat's where we's goin' anyways."
"Hmm... Karak Eight Peaks..."
"Dat's de name."
"Right. How long till we gets there?"
And so on the conversation went, quite more lengthy and intellectual than most Orc conversations.
But Waaagh Kragg was growing now, and nearing its destination: Karak Eight Peaks...
