Bleak Chewers, en route to The Wreckage

Since the numerous moons he was part of this warglutt, Gorogark never felt as tired as he was feeling now. The battle against the Chaos forces was a fierce and a good one he only experienced scarcely here in Shyish. He felt an ounce of envy when some of the older ogors were telling old epic battles from Ghyran and Guhr with great beasts over precipices and all the gluttony that followed. As always the only goal of reminiscing such tales tingled his appetite. He was tired of eating rotten flesh, ash, bones (being wary of not stepping on toes of bonereapers though), earth and rocks. Times were scarce for the likes of ogors and his gluttons started to be nervous. Some of them even ate a couple gnoblars. That for sure is a sign. He glanced nonchalantly at his favourite aide-de-camp who was coming towards him and wondered what crazy idea that little green thing had got into his head again.

« Your excellence, I must warn you some of us are thinking to start a strike. »

The tyrant bursted into a laugh that almost led him to tears.

« How funny of you Stiggaz, you silly diminutive jester. Tell you friends you are all safe for now as we will soon be marching towards the wreck of the Mariner. Or so our allies call this place. And a little bird told me our plate will be quite full. »

It will most probably be the case indeed as the scouts reports gave insights of greenskin presence. It bode more like a proper menu for the followers of the great gulper.

Ruins of the Cathedral of the Mariner

Stiggaz’s hands ran over the remains of the mount that lay lifeless in front of him. He had brought with him three of their great masters boldest servants. They were three faithful companions in whom he had complete confidence. He had chosen them to carry out this task they all chose to fulfil.

He had traded a significant amount of grave-sand with a few amulets from one of the Necromancers in the Stifling Procession. Each of his companions had one of these trinkets. They held them out over the lifeless carcasses and they chanted the words of power attached to each pendant one after the other. Sprays of purple and green magic spilled over the remains of the mounts and they slowly rose to their feet.

They now each had a faithful steed, or rather what was left of it.

This is how the first four Gnobknights set foot on Shyish soil.

Gorogark had nearly choked with laughter when he saw Stiggaz and his three thieves arrive on their patched and sewn-up mounts. He managed to finish swallowing his snack and let go a thunderous burp that smelled like gunpowder. A gnoblar who was testing his lighter a little further away was thrown a few meters up in the air when this foul cloud reached him.

« That’s enough grocery chores for you and your jokers now. Ask Kobatu, our hunter, to show you the way because as of now you’ve just earned your place as a scout. That is, if at least one of you comes back alive from scouting the lake. Get out of my sight before I change my mind. »

They were so proud and ecstatic on their new mounts that they couldn’t see the few orruks watching them from a few yards away in the thickets. Nor did they see that the mainland had been replaced by the smooth, slippery expanse of Bykaal Lake. This was probably due to their sight being obstructed by their new headgear or simply by the thick snow that had been falling in large flakes since they had left the camp.

Their slide was quite incredible and most memorable, as the orruks hidden on the shore of the lake were laughing loudly and noisily, revealing their position at the same time.

Stiggaz wondered how to stop before another surprise stood in front of him and his companions…