So now Thokk was da Boss. And he had no idea what to do next.

He covered this up by making a lot of small changes, to buy time for Da Ods to send him an idea. First, he ordered Da Boyz to remove their tatoos.

"It ain't proppa fer civeelized Orcses ta have dem stoopid pitchers on dem. Dats wot da feral boyz does, an' dey's savijez. So take 'em off" Thokk had said in his first speech.

"But" said one orc, Garfan Blacktooth by name "how iz we suppozed to do dat?"

"I dunno" Thokk answered "but do it"

The air now was filled with Orcish screams of pain as they tried to invent tattoo removal through the venerated Orc method of trial-and-painfulerror. Some tried to burn off the tattoos. This experiment killed seven Orcs before anyone remembered that Orcs were flammable. Others tried to get cave squiggs to chew off the marks. This only claimed two lives before everyone saw how stupid it was. Finally, most settled on either cutting away the marked parts of skin or scraping it off with rocks. However they did it, within three days, Thokk was able to review an army of unmarked (and extremely sore) Orcs.

Next, Thokk ordered the tribe to move one mile to the North. Not for any economic or military reason, but just because he thought the view might be better one mile north. SO, after two days of preparation (ppacking up the tents, filling in the Drops, loading up the boars) the tribe made the move. It took another day and a half to prepare the new site, whereupon Thokk decided that he actually preferred the view at the old site. The move back took a further three days, by which time Thokk had an idea.

"Lissen we needs to thrash da fat boyz real good, yeah?" Thokk said to his war-leaders. These were the Big Boar Boy, Rotfang (a large Orc who stank of his flatulen piggy mount), the Boss Arrow Boy Fletchit (a Goblin but accorded some respect for his ability to hit a target 5 times out of ten) and the Infantry UnderBoss Gorak (a Giant who had lost his right eye to Ogres) "But first, we's gonna need gear. Wot we got now aint workin like it usedta. So we needs gunz."

All the leaders present nodded. They liked gunz, even though they had only ever been their targets. Both Stunties and Oomies had 'em and used em pretty well, but the Orcs knew they could do better. When you thought about it, gunz were a very Orcky idea: loud, destructive, and smelly. Amazing, they thought, that Orcs didn't invent em.

"Now, da Oomies, deyz too far fer us to get gun offa dem. So we raid da stunties. Aint as easy, 'cause Stunties fight lots harder fer dere stuff dan da Oomies do, but we ken do it. Only ting is, where we gonna hit em? You gits got any idears?"

Fletchit timidly spoke up "Well, da nearest Stuntie Hole is Da Eight Mountinz. Kinda tuff, cuz da Ratboyz is dere too." This was a good point since the Ratboyz were even tricksier and nastier fighters than Gobbos. Orcs were sly, but no one was sneakier or tricksier than a Ratboy. "But, if we'z quick we ken snatch whot we wants and git"

"Not bad idear runt" Thokk allowed "fightin da Rats WOULD be fun, but we cant right now. So Eight Mountinz it is! Tell da Boyz"

Da Boyz were ecstatic. Their first scarp in a month, and itd be the Stunties! Orcs loved to fight Stunties, because Stunties never ran away from the fun, but stayed until the Orcs were dead or they were. Much better than Oomies, who ran if they couldn't win, or Elves, who shot at you from far away.

Like most Orc plans, this one was executed quickly. The tribe attacked Karak Eight Peaks one month later.

Throdi Hjofisson was a guard in Karak Eight Peaks armoury. Like most low-ranking guards, he was a young dwarf performing his twenty years military service. He had no intention of being a warrior, despite the great glry that could be earned thereby. Put aside his dreams of gold to spend his life facing down unpleasant strangers? Leave that sort of thing to the crazies who enjoyed it, Throdi figured.

No, he would become a brewer. Since its retaking just a few decades ago, most of the dwarfs coming to the realm were Slayers out to find death. All well and good, but Dwarfdom ran on beer, and Karak Eight Peaks still had no brewery. Brewers might not receive as much honor, but Throdi planned on consoling himself with a beautiful wife and a fat pile of gold. Somehow, he thought he'd survive.

Then the greenies decided to get cute. They burrowed in deep behind the main entrances to the Dwarfhold, and came out near the armoury. The first sign that there was anything wrong was a break in the wall, and the sudden appearance of three Night Goblin Fanatics.

Orc raids weren't uncommon. But normally the damned greenskins went after the gold, or the beer. Orcs normally scorned the weapons of other, more civilized races. So when they attacked the armoury, the guards were largely unprepared. They had drilled to fight Skaven and Chaos forces, and were unready to face the howling green storm.

Throdi stood fast as long as he could. He might now be a warrior, he might hate fighting, he might even be scared out of his mind (though he would never ever admit this). Bbut he was first and foremost a dwarf, and damned if he was going to give way to any greenskinned moron while there was still breath in his body!

Throdi died a few moments into the raid, having killed seven goblins and three orcs. When his body was found, the expression on its face was one of pride.

Thokk was pleased at how well the raid had gone. He had gone up against the Stunties in their own Hole and had won, taking only forty percent casualties. His boyz had nicked lots of guns, cannons, and gold. Already, more Orcs and Gobbos were flocking to his banner, replacing his losses and then some. Seems the Fat Gits had been raiding more than one Orc tribe. Now, nearby tribes saw Thokk as the perfect one to lead them to battle against this new menace.

Thokk knew, though, he needed more boyz to take on the Ogres. Plus, a few extra weapons couldn't hurt. "An' where" he asled his war-leaders "does Orcses go ta get more stuff? Stuff like armor an' swords an' grub? Once da Stunties is tapped out, I mean? And, will be tuff enuff ta get other ladz on me side?"

It took a moment for the racing minds at the table to reach the answer.

"OOMIES!" cried Fletchit. Thokk clouted him on the head.

"Stoopid, I toldja before, deyz too far!" Da Boss yelled.

Gorak, who so far had been silent, spoke up. "Kay-oz?" He spoke tentatively, knowing he wasn't as smart as his Green friends, but that they liked him because he was strong.

"Dats da stuff!" Thokk said, patting the Giant on the back (actually, the back of the leg, but even Gorak understood what the Boss meant to do) "Deyz got loadsa shiny stuff, like majik swords an' axez. Plus, we beat 'em, den udda Orcses'll join up, cuz they'll know I'm tuff enuff ta beat da Fat Gitz!"

Far, far away, in the steaming jungle hell of Lustria, the Mage Priest Slyth'r smiled. The Ogres were swelling in numbers and were threatening the balance of the world the Old Ones had decreed. Fortunately, the Orcs should help even it out. He hoped so, anyway, for thing were no longer certain.

Perhaps it would be best to keep my ethereal eye on this Thokk, to ensure he does what must be done. And assist, if need be…

End Chapter 2