Shadows and iron

The sun was setting and light was fading over the Ironskin tribe’s palace. An ogre sentry groaned, ready to spend the night watching ashes rather than eating everything in sight. The ogre had been on duty for only minutes and was already dozing, but he caught a glimpse of something close and moving. There was two chaos dwarves, one wore a heavy iron mask representing his connection with the Daemon’s Stump, while the other wore a long cloak the covered most of his face. When the Dawi Zharr were close enough, the ogre yelled out to them.

“Wut do you stunties want?”

“Take us to your tyrant, Ghark Ironskin! We have to speak with him.” They said in unison. This slightly unnerved the ogre.

“I aint see nuttin fer trade. What wud the boss want wit you?

“Our business is our own. If you do not let us in now we shall cut off trade with your tribe! I’m sure your Tyrant will be pleased with you for such an event.”

“Fine, go in ya lousy stunties!”

The two entered the domain of Ghark Ironskin, muttering to each other about the impolite guard. Some gnoblars ran out of a corner and began guiding them towards the Tyrant’s chamber. Soon enough they entered a great room, adorned with many trophies, while gold, and silver was scattered around. Heavily armed ironguts wearing black gutplates stood before an iron throne shaped like a mammoth skull, which Ghark Ironskin sat atop. The two Chaos Dwarves dropped to one knee to pay respect to the mighty Tyrant.

The cloaked Chaos Dwarf spoke. “Greetings Lord Ironskin, I am The Voice, of Zharr-Naggrund. We come before you with a proposal.”

“And wut would that be?” Ghark replied.

“We’ve decided that a war wit the Goldtooth tribe is inevitable. We request your aid in this war.”

This stunned Ghark. “War wit Greasus? Are you crazy?”

“An outright war is not our goal. We plan to starve him out economically, and as his unemployed tribe begins to fight each other, we strike. To do this we plan to take over the Sentinels, and the aid of your tribe is required for this siege. As we speak Imgrazzathar of the Grand Alliance is razing the city of Pig Barter and will begin the reconstruction of Urugash. This leaves the caravans of the western humans unable to reach the only point of safety and the Eyebiter tribe will also be unemployed and weakened.”

Ghark thought for several moments. “Hmm, dat sounds like a gud plan, but whats in it fer me?”

“There are great gains for you to have. With Greasus Goldtooth dead we will place you as their new tyrant and will be entitled to a third of his gold. We will keep another third, while the final chunk will be to cover the expenses of this war. In addition, let me introduce my companion here.” The masked Chaos Dwarf stepped forward. “This is Zarkon Revlid of the Daemon’s Stump. He helped construct your mechanical rhinox and will stay with your tribe, giving you the full details of our plan, as well as showing your tribe the arts of mass production. He will have your entire tribe armed to the teeth by the time the war starts. He will also act as the emissary of Zharr-Naggrund”

“Hmm, I’ll have ta think ‘bout it. Go outside fer a bit till I sends me best gnoblar ta get ya!” Ghark answered. The Voice and Revlid stepped outside the throne roomand the large iron doors were closed by Ghark’s ironguts.

“Do you think he’ll accept?” Revlid asked.

“He’d be a fool not to.” The Voice responded.

“Yes, that’s true. Bah, I can’t believe I’m staying with these pathetic beasts!”

“It’s not all bad. Give it time, and you’ll have the tribe responding to your wants and needs. Ogres aren’t smart and all it takes is big words to make him think you’re much smarter.”

“That’s because I am!”

“I never said you weren’t. What I was saying was that if he thinks you’re far smarter, he’ll assume whatever you say is the best action, and he’ll be like a puppet in your control.” The Voice dropped to one knee. “Hail Zharkon Revlid, true Tyrant of the Ironskin tribe!” The two Dawi Zharr laughed.

After about half an hour of waiting, a gnoblar poked his head out of a small flap. “Boss sayz you can come in!” The doors opened again and the Dawi Zharr entered. Ghark Ironskin was standing up and began walking toward them. He was carrying a large hunk of raw meat. It was ogre tradition to share a hunk of meat to close a deal. Ghark took a bite and passed it to the two dwarves. They closed their eyes and took a bite of the disgusting flesh. Ghark cried out,

“Deal!”

Hmmm... you do seem to be favouring Chaos Dwarves, these days, Mr Beaver! I think I read somewhere, could have been the OK army book or the designer's notes, that if you confuse an Ogre, he'll simply eat you to solve the problem. So using big words wouldn't be all that effective for little chewy Dwarves...

A good piece of writing though.

SM

It's the campaign intro, where the chaos dwarves are getting everything ready. As time progreses and the ogres start to take action, there'll be more pro-ogre fluff.

little chewy Dwarves...

You, sir Michaels, have gotten this wrong! Dwarf meat is tough, not chewy!

Any other opinions?