Bleak Chewers, Supply Run

Always, always, always like that with those big ogors. Always. Stiggaz knew better but to say this in front of his master, the almighty Gorogark. He was lucky enough to serve him as it gave him a high enough status among the other gnoblars: he didn’t have to do some stupid tricks to make the ogors laugh or to complete menial and annoying chores. But not today as it was not a lucky day. Not really. It started with the most preposterous plan an ogor ever planned: eating a tunnel below the earth to surprise the enemy behind their lines. It all went kind of well until some stupid dim-witted ogor, a butcher they call him, said they needed more flavouring ingredients to « dig » faster. As they used all what was available they fell back to their leader. A great idea leading into another, he asked his favorite gnoblar Stiggaz, surprise, to go fetch his stashed rum barrels he hid not far from where they starting digging the galerie.

He knew how much he had to carry so he enrolled a handful of fellow gnobs snappy enough to complete the task and headed backwards to the entrance of the earth tube. He and his little comrades walked as fast as possible in the dim purple light and as a nimble worm swarm they avoided unstable rocks and debris along their way. Soon they reached the end of the way. This is when all went wrong.

In his blind confidence Stiggaz emerged out of the metal grate and took a casual glance of the surroundings to locate the master’s hidden stash. To his great surprise he saw a lance arriving straight at him and only his reflexes saved him. He mentally praised the heritage of his race and centuries in the service of ogors. One of his aide didn’t get that lucky. In such an unsatisfactory situation the best solution was always the same: panick and try to stay alive. The common approach would have been to duck, dodge and flee, all at the same time to maximise his chances to get out of this mess. It was usually working. But for whatever reason he saw himself try to negociate with the tzaangors standing in front of him. How odd. What did he thought? Was he suicidal?

He was still in awe of what he had achieved. Right, everything came at a cost as he had to act as their servant and little plaything for a few days. It was really painful and uncomfortable most of the time but he did experience worse in the past. As a reward he got to see where one of the camp of the chaos was established. He silently listed his achievements: avoiding to fight with the tzaangors, gathering valuable intel and keeping some of his grot friends alive. Anyway they were alive when he snuck out. On his way down back in the pipe he even grabbed one of the huge barrel of the rum well hidden behind dead trees and under putrescent corpses. It was his initial mission after all. He only hoped his master was not to give him another cold wrath he was so famous for. He managed to cross his fingers without letting his load fall.