Ogre Kingdoms, a short story of how Size Matters.

This is part 2 of my ongoing Ogres mini series, so I do hope you enjoy, if you've not read part one you can find it here:

http://www.ogrestronghold.com/forum/index.php?topic=26213.0

“You want another story, so soon? Do you bother all old men for such things or just me? Ok… you win, you win… Let’s see…

Some two score years passed after Uzkul’s return to the mountains and tribe of his birth, now the Slavetaker’s thrived under his leadership, not only did they feast well, they had also amassed a substantial hoard of riches to trade with as well as to pay tithes to the Goldtooth tribe (a fact which pained Uzkul greatly, but still, anything for a quiet life). Slaves of all races poured into the Darklands, guarded by the Slavetaker’s best and strongest Ogres. The Slaves were Uzkul’s tithe to his master, one which he didn’t begrudge as for the most part they tasted “stringy”, and so their journey would ultimately take them into a (short) life of cruel servitude in the lightless depths of a Dawi Zharr citadel. During this period Uzkul had taken himself a Sow, much to the tribe’s surprise. She was hideous, even by Ogre standards, but her ugliness was only surpassed by her ruthlessness and cunning to succeed. The pair were a perfect match, and she was the first and only member of the tribe to talk down to Uzkul publically and live, but only just, having successfully thwarted an assassination attempt on his life, by eating what turned out to be a poisoned portion of Rhinoxen right off of his plate. She then subsequently shrugged off the said poison with a gut-gurgling belch, sat down, and continued eating her own vast plateful. This sow’s name was Naggi Brainclumpa, an unimaginative name granted, but it was one which reflected her aggressive yet affective method of bashing out the brains of anyone who crossed her with a tree stump-come-rolling pin. After she had saved Uzkul’s life (and some arguing later), she was awarded the title of “Taster of the Feast”. Which was not only a title of high regard, but one usually saved for a tribes Slaughtermaster, not a mere Butcher as she was. But as the position of Tyrant and Slaughtermaster were held simultaneously by Uzkul, this was mostly overlooked by the tribe, in favour of the consensus that to keep quiet was to live longer. 

Uzkul and Naggi went on to rear several Ogreling’s with only a couple living into adolescence due to the brutal challenges Ogre society faces on a day to day basis. Yet despite Uzkul having everything he could want, something was missing in his life. A feeling had begun to gnaw at his very gut, and no matter what, he couldn’t shake the restlessness that ate at him. Days and months passed, and as the feeling grew to the point of being unbearable, he finally consulted the tribes Butchers, and after much debate the group concurred what the cause was. The Great Maw was calling to Uzkul, something which haunts all ogres at some point in their life, and so it was time to make the pilgrimage to the dread place where the Ogre god resides. Now nothing is known of what took place upon Uzkul’s visiting of the Great Maw, and he has never uttered a word of it to anyone, not even Naggi. What is known though, is that upon his return, Uzkul wasn’t alone; a vast hoard of Greenskins had accompanied him back from the east. Now these were not the usual tide of Gnoblars that pretty much sprang from every nook and cranny in the Mountains of Mourn, these were Savage Orcs and Forest Goblins of the Shattered Peak, a region that boarders the land where the Great Maw resides, and one which takes a particular kind of cunning to survive in, not forgetting a little madness too. At first the tribe thought Uzkul had returned with the Greenskins as some sort of meal, but after some lengthy discussion, face smashing and a lot of gesticulation, he managed to convince them all that it would be explained in a great tale at a feast to be held that very evening.

Now the feasting hall of the tribe was and is the very same chamber in which the Mournfang reside when not out hunting. When unlit, it is not only eerily small but pitch black and offers only a modicum of heat from the harsh cold. But when the braziers are lit, it truly comes alive. The first noticeable change from when it’s dark, is the sheer size of the cave, being larger than the mighty cathedrals dedicated to Sigmar, not only that, the ceiling shone brilliantly with gems, crystals and hematite that studded it in vast swathes of brilliant blacks, reds and purples. Despite the overall size of the hall it required very little amounts of braziers to be lit, needing only three, and the properties of the ceiling also stole the heat which the fires spat out and radiated it back tenfold. The floor of the great hall on the other hand was less beautiful, partitioned throughout and littered with countless piles of junk and treasure. The extreme edge of the room was used as housing during the winter season to provide welcome shelter against the ravaging snow storms. Now the very centre of the room was reserved for the Butchers; here vast cauldrons, cooking implements and fire-pits used for cooking during feast days resided, and was strictly no admittance allowed unless you wanted a part of you used in the cooking. The rest of the chamber was organised into fighting pits, cages for both slaves and live food, and the vast higgledy Gnoblar shanty town, which had appeared one night but not one of the Ogres seemed to have noticed particularly. Further still, amongst the chaotic “streets” the Mournfang made their dens, which for the most part were avoided, with the exception of their riders and the odd hapless Gnoblar which made a tasty light snack.

To say the feast that evening went without a hitch would be a lie. Uzkul’s enemies within the tribe had plotted to use the Greenskins arrival to gain some kind of political foothold against him, and it was during the presentation of the heart of a freshly killed Rhinoxen to the Savage Orc Leader that things truly kicked off. Five of the tribes bruisers strode out, the biggest of them wrenched the heart from the hulking Orcs hand, and threw it to the dirt. Uzkul was unable to tolerate the insolence and stepped forward between that of the rebellious Ogres and the Orcs leader, and he told the group to back down or face his wrath. But the Bruisers were in no position to back down now, it was do or die, or face a life of exile, and the latter was no option. Seeing the position the Bruisers were in a few dozen of the tribes Ogres stepped up to support them. With this Uzkul didn’t say anymore, and as he turned to the Orc he nodded letting out a sigh. The Orc instinctually knew Uzkul’s meaning and chuckled in a low guttural way which only a member of his kind could. The pair moved in complete harmony, complimenting each other’s fighting prowess perfectly. The lone Orc and Ogre set upon the traitors using fists, teeth, rocks, brute strength and a savage ferocity to literally tear their opponents apart. The Orc, midway through the fight, was hurled through the air head first by Uzkul at a group of eight Ogres. The Greenskin simply chortled as he flew wielding a pair of Ogre forearms as weapons which he had “acquired” moments before the aerobatics took place.

In minutes it was over, and Uzkul and the Orc stood victorious atop the corpses of the rebels, with not a single one remaining alive. One of the Butchers made his way to Uzkul clutching the dusted Rhinoxen heart, who in return re-presented it to the Orc. Who then sniffed it and raised it above his head, before bellowing the most ungodly roar known to man, and ripping huge chunks from it with his tusk-like teeth as he chomped down on it. Uzkul joined in the roar and soon the entire feast hall echoed with the sound of Ogres and Greenskins alike in celebration of the victory and soon the fest resumed. Gnoblar servants made their ways to huge tables with chunks of cooked flesh and flagons of their “home brew”. Ogres sang of battles long since fought and Orcs partook in weird fungal substances before dancing about and chanting, to which even some Ogres followed suit. As the feast wound into the small hours of the morning, Uzkul announced the Greenskins to be blood-brothers of the tribe and that every Ogre and Orc alike should make the mark and share their blood with the new kin. This just made them drink, eat and become even more raucous than before. By dawn not a single member of the Greenskins or Ogres even cared that the fight had happened, most were either too drunk or nursing sore heads. And so within weeks the Slavetaker’s had reached new heights of excellence in victory, having raided the boarders of Cathay, Ind, The Empire and even the lands further south in search or slaves and riches.

It was during this time I was taken on one of their raids through Kislev, but I grow weary now, and that my friend is a story which will have to wait…”