Grotless!

by Kurt Maroske

Duglack had not slept a wink all night. And that was very strange indeed, for a grot. For the first time in his existence, he had something more important to worry about than sleep. Up to this point, his primary worries in life had been trying to find the tastiest squig, and hoping that he would make it through the night without being rudely awakened by a blade to the kidneys. Even in his role as head grot, he didn't have too many other worries. His position simply meant that, in the odd situations when one the 'boyz' got 'ungry', his friends would be eaten before he was. Now,however, everything had changed - he had been talking to the other goblins during this break in the 'waaaggghhhh!', and had come to a conclusion. The grots needed something. They needed it badly. They needed - REVOLUTION!

* * *

'WWOTTTTTT?!', bellowed Grimshak, leader of the waaagh, who had suddenly reached the conclusion that Duglack was looking tastier and tastier by the minute,' YU CARNT BE SERIUS! WHADDYA MEEN 'INDEPENDANTZ'?'

Duglack gulped loudly. He knew it. He was about to be eaten. He'd seen this happen to some of the other goblins…. He hoped it wouldn't hurt too much…

'Weelll….' The goblin squirmed,'… itz like this, boss.' The goblin's meek, whiny voice sounded almost nonexistent compared to the giant orc warlord. 'Da uvver grotz… not me sir, da uvver ones…. dey wantz'ta leave da waaagh. Dey'z all pack'd up 'n' ready to go. Dey sez dey'll be movin' out right arfter lunchtime. Da grotz need a gud feed b'fore dey go, ya see. So wot I'm tryin' to tell yuz iz -' Duglack's squirming voice was abruptly cut off by the deep, rumbling laughter of the orc warlord.

'BWA HA HARRRR! Da grotz fink dat dey can survive wiffout uz orkies to protectz em? I'd like to seez em try! Dey'd be ogur food by sunsett!' Grimshak was doubled over in 'larfter'. He seemed to find the prospect of the goblins leaving to be something of a joke.

'Soooo…. You'r not angree wiff uz, boss?' Duglack couldn't believe his squinty, yellow eyes - the boss was laughing!

'Nah…. I'm not angry wiff yas… I just gotz to tell ya one fing - the ogurs and trollz, dey like eatin' liddel gobbo hedz best. Hopes ya duzn't giv 'em too much trubble on da way down!'

Grinning from ear to slimy ear, and still chuckling to himself, the massive orc left his diminutive cousin alone in the 'Grotz Kourtaz'. Duglack couldn't believe what had happened. He blinked, then he blinked again. Then he pinched himself. 'Nope, not a dreem' he said softly to himself, before pondering his situation, 'And iff it aint a dreem - den it muzt be reel!' A smile of halflingesque proportions crossed his face as he ran screaming into the 'barrackz' - 'WE'Z FREE! WE'Z FREE! DA BOYZ ARE LETTIN' UZ GO!' The other goblins looked at Duglack strangely, and threatened to use their daggers as interpreters, unless Duglack regained his sanity and told them all about what had happened. After a good five minutes, the leader of the goblins managed to calm down, and fill all of his 'matez' in on what had happened…

* * *

After an hour of furious packing and sorting, collecting and scavenging, the goblins and snotlings were ready to leave. A large group of the orcs had already gathered around their barracks, to wish them 'farewell'. As Duglack, carrying a sack of provisions larger than he was, led the grotz from the barracks to the dusty plains surrounding the greenskin encampment, a huge roar of laughter overtook the orc standers-by.

'I hope nun of the wivverns choke on ya liddle boniez!' shouted one orc, as his yellowed, rotten teeth showed through a sickening, mocking smile.

'Yeeear, I hope nun of dem ogurs herez about dis - dey'll have a bankwit!'

'Luk-out for dem 'arflings too - dey're vishious liddle fellers!'

Undeterred by the mocking jeers of the orcs, Duglack continued to lead his 'boyz' from the greenskin camp. Within an hour of marching, he had led them into the World's Edge mountains to the East, and out of sight of the larger greenskins, some of whom were still scanning the horizon, convinced that the goblins would soon return, hopefully bringing food with them.

* * *

Days passed, and then weeks, with the orcs seeing neither hide nor hair of their tiny, tasty little relatives. Unperturbed by his grotless situation, Grimshak was determined to continue with the waaagh. He had had little success, however, without the help of his smaller cousins. Since Duglack had led the other grots from the camp, Grimshak was having very little success with his waaagh. Just last week, his troops were harassed by a Kislev rading party, who suffered nearly no casualties in return. None of his boyz had mastered the use of the bow, of course - that was grot's work! Many of the brutish green warriors were beginning to contemplate the use of such elegant weapons, however, after they so saw many of their friends being reduced to pincushions by the human horsemen.

This was far from an isolated event, however. During every grand battle of the waaugh, every minor skirmish, even every drunken bar brawl, the orcs were suffering from the loss of their knee-high, green-skinned chums. Military strategists may have pointed out that this was due to the fact that the goblins were simply used as a distraction, leaving the larger greenskins to happily slaughter their foes, but such a simple notion escaped the slow-minded, thick-skulled orcs. They only knew one thing - the grots were gone, and they were losing the waaagh. The answer- they must get back the gobbos!

Moans of disgust could be heard resonating through the entire orcish camp, nearly all of whom were suddenly realising that they'd grown very attached to their small, wart-covered helpers.

'We need da grots back!'

'I'm sick'n'tieard uv getting' shot fulla arrers…'

'Yeer, I gotz one dat still 'asn't cumm outta me back yet!'

' 'n wot if a lad getz 'ungry - we gotz nuttin to eat till dinna time! Not even a liddle baby snotty 'ead to chow down on…'

The large, obese orc broke down into pitiful, grunting sobs, his hunger finally getting the better of him. 'My belliez 'urtin'! I 'aven't 'ad a gobbo to eat in weeks! I dunno wot I'll do! Even me prize boar 'as started to look like 'e'll taste gud!' At this, the boar in question cast a pouting, sobbing glance at it's master. ' 'n summtimez…', the orc continued to weep,' even me bezt matez look like dey cudd 'elp gimme a feed!' The large green brute gave a pitiful, hungry wail as his 'bezt matez' starting glaring at him with accusingly suspicious eyes.

'Dis 'as gone on long enuff!', they declared,' We need to get back our grotz!'

And Grimshak, self-appointed leader of the waaagh agreed with them. His troops were dying on the field of battle, and were suffering from a huge loss in moral due to hunger. He know of only one remedy for their terrible situation - he must reclaim his gobbos!

* * *

The grotz, on the other hand, were having a truly remarkable time. No big, smelly, bossy orcs to order them around. No filthy, disgusting underwear to wash. No more dung-encrusted, foul-tempered boars to bathe. They were all having an utter blast. All of them, that is, except for Duglack, their uneasy leader.

He knew that the supplies that they had 'acquired' in the orcish camp wouldn't last for long, and that they would need to find another source of bounty. Being greenskins, the only method of gathering food that they knew of was plunder, and thus, 'Waaagh Duglack' was born.

He had led his ladz into battle only once before, with disastrous results. The pride of his fighting troops were routed from the field by the alliance of some freelance-halfling pig-riders and some human peasants armed with hoes and pitchforks. His unfocussed, poorly motivated horde of greenskins simply couldn't hold a battleline against a concerted foe, Duglack had reasoned, without the help of their brutish cousins. Duglack was, therefore, going to take this quiet afternoon to attempt to drill his troops into true, fighting gobbos.

'So,' Duglack asked of the goblins and snotlings arrayed before him in a crude mockery of an assembly,' wotz da best place to stick a emeny wiff ya liddle sticka?'

'Ummmm…aarrghhh', came the seemingly unified response from the collection of bewildered goblins before Duglack, who seemed utterly incapable of mastering the simplest of battlefield maneuvers.

'I only told yaz a minnett ago ya doofusses!', exclaimed the goblin leader to the assembly, whilst slapping his forehead with his flabby, clawed, green hand,'da best place uv all to stick a emeny iz in 'is back, ov course!'

'Aaaaaaahhhhh', came a sigh of enlightenment from the assembly, which had now devolved into a bloated horde of green-skinned munchkins. Duglack began to wear a smile on his chubby green face, until his contentment was broken by a question from the ranks…

'Bu…bu…but boss', Gorblaz, a large hobgoblin wearing more scars than he could count (hardly a difficult feat), and carrying a hump on his back larger than the one on his belly, finally questioned ,'I've stabbed me matez in da bakz 'eeps ov timez, and dey don't mind!'

'But dat's because you're a 'obgobbo, stoopid!', retorted Duglack, whilst once again slapping himself out of frustration,' yer've gotta big 'ump jus' fer fings like dat!'

'Well… all I woz saying, is dat it might not always be da best fing to do to stab a emeny in da back, datz all, boss!'

Suddenly, a second voice had joined in with Gorblaz, seemingly convinced that the hobgoblin was right,' no way boss, Gorblaz is right. I've dun seen a wizzard explodd when a gobbo backstabbed 'im! Bet dat da gobbo is wishin' e didn't backstab dat wizard now!'

Duglack could feel the crowd's trust in him fading, as he covered his face in his clawed hands and began to weep. He could see that this would be a long evening…

* * *

'OK den!', Duglack finally spoke aloud, after taking a long breath ,'We'z all in agreement den! If ya emeny aint a 'obgobbo, an' 'e aint a explodderin' wizzard, an 'e aint a bludfirster, or a stunty robot-fing, or a Zlannesh fing wiv two hedz, or yer muvver-in-law, or a minotorr, or a drunken stunty lookin' fer summ ale, da best fing to do to 'em is to stick 'em in da back. Right?'

Smiles filled the faces of Duglack's legions as, they nodded with him in perfect agreement. Sighing in relief, the goblin lackey-cum-warboss dismissed his troops, as he prepared for a rest well-earned…

…The training would continue tomorrow…

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