What do we do now, boss?

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Moderators will be liberal in the removal of OOC posts and comments. Do not 'god mode' in the forums, if you can't do it on the field you can't do it here.
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Warboss Gutzmangul
Posts: 139
Joined: 2012-01-14

What do we do now, boss?

Post by Warboss Gutzmangul » 2014-02-11

Warboss Gutzmangul grunted as he found himself face-first in the dirt. The warboss shoved himself to his feet. Gone were the mercenaries from Asaheim and Bloody Axe. The only ones about were what were left of his boyz. The last thing he remembered was repulsing an attack from the drow and their chaos allies... they regrouped and... well Gutzmangul could figure out what must have happened.

Scooping up his helmet, the warboss stood, once again reborn by the power of Gork and Mork. The boyz that remained bellowed their throats hoarse with ork warcries. Gutzmangul looked over what remained of his mighty Waaagh! Nothing but blood and ash, the massive drow pyres creating a black and grey hellscape. Huge plumes of smoke dotted the land, creating the impression that a great black spider stood astride the lands of the orks. The smell of burning ork masked all other scents. Gutzmangul breathed in deep.

Ork warbosses rarely have the opportunity to ponder defeat. The defeat of an ork warboss usually means the end of a Waaagh! Once a warboss loses, that's the end. Some uppity nob challenges him and takes over and either restarts the Waaagh! or the whole thing falls apart in orkish infighting. But his boyz were still there. They stood there, shouting their throats bloody for Gutzmangul. Why stay loyal to a Warboss who couldn't keep his own orkhold? ... Then it struck him. His boyz weren't stupid. They knew the orks had little chance of defeating Chosen Blood. They all knew what line they crossed when long ago they stood next to Laconia against the drow. They all knew that they had to cross that line... because someone drew it.

Warboss Gutzmangul turned to his boyz.

"Lissen up, you lot! Spoon! Needle! Kap'n Krump! Grum! Git Basha! BarBarBar! Gimzod! Grimjaw! Squig'ead! Larg! Blarg! Snikwit! Oz! Gitsnik!..."

Gutzmangul barked out every name of every ork left in his Waaagh!

"All o' you! We did what no one else 'as eva done in da 'istry o' Darkon! We got ourselves inta a war dat we wuzn't gunna win. We stood in front of da squiggoth an' shoved our arm up it's nose an' we didn't let go 'till it broke ev'ry bone in our body! An' why!? BECAUSE ZOG DEM! DAT'S WHY! Zog dem drow an' dere spider git gods! Zog dem an' dere rulz an dere frets! We'z orks! We'z always gonna be orkz an' zog any git wut tries ta tell us what ta do!"

Gutzmangul grabbed a nearby choppa and raised it high above his head.

"Dey can kill us, but dey can't get rid of us! WE'Z GONNA REBUILD DA WAAAGH!!! WE'Z GUNNA BURN DARKON TO DA GROUND!!! WAAAAGH DA ORKS!!!"

The echos of the defiant warcries echoed through Waaagh! The bloodlust and enthusiasm of the orks had not been the least bit dampened. Even at the end of all things, even in the face of total defeat, the fury of the orks still burned.

It is notoriously hard to convince an ork that he's lost.

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