27 Sep 2014
The False Moon War
A Semi Illustrated Novel by The Spawning of Bob
Teaser:
Rodekhil Offaleater reeled at the stinging blow and crumpled to one knee. He blinked away the blood streaming into his eyes and slowly raised his head, fully expecting another lesson from his chief's gauntleted fist.
Welhung Thunderloin was done with the beating for now. It was not an effective form of punishment against ogres anyway. By contrast, when he applied this kind of discipline to his goblin-like gnoblar retinue it virtually guaranteed that any misdeed would not be repeated. However, a contrite and dead gnoblar was of much less use than a living one, even if rebellious. They tasted awful.
The Ogre Tyrant heaved a rumbling sigh. He had held no great affection for the expedition cook, who had been a captive from Grand Cathay. The food was tasty enough but none among the warband had mastered the use of the little sticks required to eat it. There had been some nasty injuries as a result.
"Why the 'ell did you eat the flamin' cook?"
Rodekhil glanced up in surprise at the interruption to his beating.
"Well, every time we ett 'is nosh, we was 'ungry again an 'our later." He cowered again, but the tyrant let his hand fall back to his side.
"You're always 'ungry again and 'our later, you pea brain! Get out my sight! You've got latrine duty until you 'ear different from me!"
"Awww, Chief! Awww, but...awww...." Rodekhil clambered to his none too graceful feet and shambled away, muttering.
Latrine duty was the worst of punishment details in ogre society. For a start, the latrines were always situated far from the kitchen tent. The worst thing was the perpetual nature of the task. As soon as the detail had dug one "big 'ole" they would need to dig another before the first filled up. If the next wasn't completed quickly enough there was a risk that the diggers would still be at the bottom of the first hole when it became required for use.
The Ogre Tyrant glowered after his lieutenant. The punishment was harsh but the fool had created a serious problem. Since landing on this dreary coastline the diet available to his troops had become more and more tedious, but the cook had somehow managed inject some variety into his meals. This was despite the ingredients being pretty much limited to lizard and snake.
Now there was no cook, and if ogres don't get foods from the sixteen basic food groups on a regular basis they become restive and may start eating the equipment. Or the ship.
He turned his regard to the substantial log building in the centre of his camp. The heavy door was barred, and the enormous brass padlock would only unlock to the key that he now fingered on its chain around the part between his shoulders and head.
The ogre dialect was curiously bereft of some words which were found in other languages. The word that was missing in this case was "neck".
The strong room contained what little stock of condiments remaining after the long sea journey and enforced sojourn on this beach. There were cured meats and wines of the Empire, tubs of potatoes from Bretonnia, ripe cheeses and hogsheads of foul warm cask-ales from Albion.
"You! Argsplat!" he gestured to one of his Irongut shock troopers, "Double the guard on the pantry. Crack 'eads if you need to!"
His war band was close to mutiny and he knew it. Best to minimize temptation.
*****
Welhung's party had encountered no signs of habitation around the cove where they had landed. The little grey gnoblar scouts did not return with reports of any threats. They did not return at all.
This was not a great cause for concern. There was no need for reconnaissance in force, because no one is foolish enough to assault an ogre fastness.
Using driftwood and trees felled from the edge of the jungle he had supervised the construction of a stockade in the traditional style: A great ring of sharpened tree boles resembling the teeth and ravenous gullet of the ogre deity, the Great Maw.
After the camp was established, his ship was dragged onto the strand. It simply was not wise to leave a vessel off shore with a skeleton crew. As the hold was gradually filled with booty, ogre sailors with a better grasp of mathematics would eventually realize that a moderate amount of plunder divided among very few yielded a larger share than a greater prize divided among many. More than one war leader had found himself with his back to the sea while being approached by a large delegation of the local "recently poor" who wished to discuss wealth redistribution. Far better to beach the ship. The task of refloating her required all hands to be present.
Camp life fell into a mostly normal routine. Gambling, boasting, and brawling proceeded in an orderly fashion. The only aberration was with the eating.
Gnoblar trappers would normally scour the local area to bring back game to supplement the stores of imperishables. In this hellhole, trappers that ventured too far into the green vastness were simply swallowed up. Even when beasts could be heard bellowing quite close to the encampment, ogre hunters who found and followed the wide trampled trails vanished.
The only meats that were in plentiful supply were swarms of venomous snakes and lizards. These didn't need to be hunted or trapped at all because they streamed out of the jungle and into the encampment at all times of the day and night.
For the first weeks, the ogres sickened, some close to death, from eating this poisonous fare. As they developed immunity to poisons the sickness passed.
For a time all enjoyed crunching down on the tastily prepared reptiles, although most still struggled with the little sticks.
This contentment did not last, and now it seemed that every last warrior had succumbed to another deadly malaise. Boredom.
Welhung's eyes swivelled under lumpy brows to gaze again at the steaming jungle which seemed to loom over the Ogre stockade. He sniffed the air, grimacing at the smell of rotting vegetation, then spat on the detestable Lustrian soil.
"Not time yet," he grunted then lurched into his tent.
He had loathed this land from the moment he had come to it with his ship, his war band and his pathological hatred of bees and flowers.
The feeling seemed to be mutual.
Synopsis: Heroic Lizardmen save the world. Mostly through the manipulation of lesser races (which include Skaven, Ogres,Tomb Kings, Dark Elves, Orc and Goblins, Dwarves, Sylvanian Necrostooges and Daemons of Chaos) and bending the natural laws of the universe. But mostly Ogres.
Click below to link to each chapter. I think the Ogres don't start until chapter 2, but there really aren't any Lizardmen until chapter 3, so it is fair.
Prologue
1. The Great Plan
2. The Intruders
3. Bees and Flowers
4. The Temple City
5. The Pursuit
6. The Maw's Jaws
7. The Dark Fleet
8. The Citadel
9. The Law of Six
10. The Badlands
11. Da Bloo Shaman
12. Waaagh!
13. Beneath the World's Edge
14. The Escape
15. The Dark Lands
16. The Lost City
17. In the Name of the Old Ones
18. The Mountains of Mourn
19. Malaise of the Moon
20. The Great Maw
21. The Calm before the Storm
22. The Battle for the Ramp
23. Welcome to Lustria
24. The Ancient Conflict
25. Divided We Fall
26. The Last Stand
27. The False Moon
28. Beginnings and Endings
Epilogue
A Semi Illustrated Novel by The Spawning of Bob
Teaser:
Rodekhil Offaleater reeled at the stinging blow and crumpled to one knee. He blinked away the blood streaming into his eyes and slowly raised his head, fully expecting another lesson from his chief's gauntleted fist.
Welhung Thunderloin was done with the beating for now. It was not an effective form of punishment against ogres anyway. By contrast, when he applied this kind of discipline to his goblin-like gnoblar retinue it virtually guaranteed that any misdeed would not be repeated. However, a contrite and dead gnoblar was of much less use than a living one, even if rebellious. They tasted awful.
The Ogre Tyrant heaved a rumbling sigh. He had held no great affection for the expedition cook, who had been a captive from Grand Cathay. The food was tasty enough but none among the warband had mastered the use of the little sticks required to eat it. There had been some nasty injuries as a result.
"Why the 'ell did you eat the flamin' cook?"
Rodekhil glanced up in surprise at the interruption to his beating.
"Well, every time we ett 'is nosh, we was 'ungry again an 'our later." He cowered again, but the tyrant let his hand fall back to his side.
"You're always 'ungry again and 'our later, you pea brain! Get out my sight! You've got latrine duty until you 'ear different from me!"
"Awww, Chief! Awww, but...awww...." Rodekhil clambered to his none too graceful feet and shambled away, muttering.
Latrine duty was the worst of punishment details in ogre society. For a start, the latrines were always situated far from the kitchen tent. The worst thing was the perpetual nature of the task. As soon as the detail had dug one "big 'ole" they would need to dig another before the first filled up. If the next wasn't completed quickly enough there was a risk that the diggers would still be at the bottom of the first hole when it became required for use.
The Ogre Tyrant glowered after his lieutenant. The punishment was harsh but the fool had created a serious problem. Since landing on this dreary coastline the diet available to his troops had become more and more tedious, but the cook had somehow managed inject some variety into his meals. This was despite the ingredients being pretty much limited to lizard and snake.
Now there was no cook, and if ogres don't get foods from the sixteen basic food groups on a regular basis they become restive and may start eating the equipment. Or the ship.
He turned his regard to the substantial log building in the centre of his camp. The heavy door was barred, and the enormous brass padlock would only unlock to the key that he now fingered on its chain around the part between his shoulders and head.
The ogre dialect was curiously bereft of some words which were found in other languages. The word that was missing in this case was "neck".
The strong room contained what little stock of condiments remaining after the long sea journey and enforced sojourn on this beach. There were cured meats and wines of the Empire, tubs of potatoes from Bretonnia, ripe cheeses and hogsheads of foul warm cask-ales from Albion.
"You! Argsplat!" he gestured to one of his Irongut shock troopers, "Double the guard on the pantry. Crack 'eads if you need to!"
His war band was close to mutiny and he knew it. Best to minimize temptation.
*****
Welhung's party had encountered no signs of habitation around the cove where they had landed. The little grey gnoblar scouts did not return with reports of any threats. They did not return at all.
This was not a great cause for concern. There was no need for reconnaissance in force, because no one is foolish enough to assault an ogre fastness.
Using driftwood and trees felled from the edge of the jungle he had supervised the construction of a stockade in the traditional style: A great ring of sharpened tree boles resembling the teeth and ravenous gullet of the ogre deity, the Great Maw.
After the camp was established, his ship was dragged onto the strand. It simply was not wise to leave a vessel off shore with a skeleton crew. As the hold was gradually filled with booty, ogre sailors with a better grasp of mathematics would eventually realize that a moderate amount of plunder divided among very few yielded a larger share than a greater prize divided among many. More than one war leader had found himself with his back to the sea while being approached by a large delegation of the local "recently poor" who wished to discuss wealth redistribution. Far better to beach the ship. The task of refloating her required all hands to be present.
Camp life fell into a mostly normal routine. Gambling, boasting, and brawling proceeded in an orderly fashion. The only aberration was with the eating.
Gnoblar trappers would normally scour the local area to bring back game to supplement the stores of imperishables. In this hellhole, trappers that ventured too far into the green vastness were simply swallowed up. Even when beasts could be heard bellowing quite close to the encampment, ogre hunters who found and followed the wide trampled trails vanished.
The only meats that were in plentiful supply were swarms of venomous snakes and lizards. These didn't need to be hunted or trapped at all because they streamed out of the jungle and into the encampment at all times of the day and night.
For the first weeks, the ogres sickened, some close to death, from eating this poisonous fare. As they developed immunity to poisons the sickness passed.
For a time all enjoyed crunching down on the tastily prepared reptiles, although most still struggled with the little sticks.
This contentment did not last, and now it seemed that every last warrior had succumbed to another deadly malaise. Boredom.
Welhung's eyes swivelled under lumpy brows to gaze again at the steaming jungle which seemed to loom over the Ogre stockade. He sniffed the air, grimacing at the smell of rotting vegetation, then spat on the detestable Lustrian soil.
"Not time yet," he grunted then lurched into his tent.
He had loathed this land from the moment he had come to it with his ship, his war band and his pathological hatred of bees and flowers.
The feeling seemed to be mutual.
Synopsis: Heroic Lizardmen save the world. Mostly through the manipulation of lesser races (which include Skaven, Ogres,Tomb Kings, Dark Elves, Orc and Goblins, Dwarves, Sylvanian Necrostooges and Daemons of Chaos) and bending the natural laws of the universe. But mostly Ogres.
Click below to link to each chapter. I think the Ogres don't start until chapter 2, but there really aren't any Lizardmen until chapter 3, so it is fair.
Prologue
1. The Great Plan
2. The Intruders
3. Bees and Flowers
4. The Temple City
5. The Pursuit
6. The Maw's Jaws
7. The Dark Fleet
8. The Citadel
9. The Law of Six
10. The Badlands
11. Da Bloo Shaman
12. Waaagh!
13. Beneath the World's Edge
14. The Escape
15. The Dark Lands
16. The Lost City
17. In the Name of the Old Ones
18. The Mountains of Mourn
19. Malaise of the Moon
20. The Great Maw
21. The Calm before the Storm
22. The Battle for the Ramp
23. Welcome to Lustria
24. The Ancient Conflict
25. Divided We Fall
26. The Last Stand
27. The False Moon
28. Beginnings and Endings
Epilogue
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Loads more cartoons and stuff here.
Loads more cartoons and stuff here.
