The Destruction of the tribe - Warhammer 40K Fantasy

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  1. #1
    Member The Greenskin's Avatar
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    Jun 2006
    Charlottenberg, Sweden
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    The Destruction of the tribe

    This is a sort of continuation of the last story.

    After a huge battle between the nightgoblins and goblins in Gargadz tribe, there was finally peace. Or at least not open war between the races.... The nightgoblins were now in charge, their leader Gritz proudly leading them under his scabby banner. He leads the goblins and nighgoblins of course, not the orcs. But the nightgoblins had gotten very few since there was an enormous barbeque held by the black orcs..... A dispute between goblins and a bloody pulp in black robes ( Scraggit who? As the nightgoblins said when the black orcs asked)) seems to have something to do with the mysterious choice of meat on the grill.
    Anyway, it was all going fine, and the surviving nightgobbos were now bosses over the common goblins. Much to the goblin’s dismay......

    Meccit Gutstabber sat quitely outside a huge tent. Around him were enormous amounts of goblins, squabbling about how to improve their crappy situation. The only suggested solution so far was to kill all nightgoblins and eat them with a tasty sauce. Meccit was just another goblin, almost as unimportant as the rags he wore as clothes. He and a bunch of other goblins stood outside the tent, as the huge construction of skins and wood already was filled with the stronger of his kind. Torches were burning outside the tent, even tough this meeting was never to be found out about. The orcs were planning another barbeque and had no meat, meaning there was no room for mistakes.....

    Inside the tent, the biggest and sneakiest of the goblins were discussing different nasty ways to kill the bossy nightgoblins.

    - Lets stab em all when they sleep!
    - Burn their tent down!
    - Poison their water!
    - Let the wolfs eat em!
    And so on...

    They argued a long time, almost to dawn, and they finally decided to just kill them all right now. But they had to make sure none of them survived, and that no bodies were found, because the orcs didnt want fighting, and they were planning a barbeque and.... yeah, all that stuff. So the goblins mighty plan was to kill them and dump the bodies in the nearby river.
    Of course, the outstandingly smart goblin who spent the night thinking the plan out were going to lead this mission, called “ kill the nightgoblins?. Very imaginative indeed.

    An hour before sunrise, the goblins were ready to do their job. Quietly, they sneaked trough the night, occasionally bumping into the trees. The nightgoblins tent was on the other side of a small forest, and even a half deaf boar couldnt have possibly not heard the hoarde swear and yell as they marched trough the woods. Meccit was one of the first, for once. He had an excellent night vision due to the hiding in a tunnel all the day, avoiding the other goblins. The goblins had armed themselves with daggers and rusty swords from the orcs crap-pile. Their original weapons had been taken by the nightgoblins who feared a revolution, and rightly so.
    Meccit were armed with the tusk of a boar, and he was quite happy.

    Suddenly, the vast sea of trees were coming to an end, and the fade light from the rising sun revealed the nightgoblins headquarter. The goblins scurried forwards, out of their minds on adrenaline. Hundreds of small vicious green creatures rushed towards the large black tent that appeared before them. Meccit was now the very first of them, his speed boosted after being in a run-or-die-situation daily back at the camp. He raised his tusk with both hands and screamed like a complete moron as he closed in on the tent. He swung his boartusk at the skins that made up the tents walls, and its sharp point made a large hole. Dozens of other goblins did the same, the tent being overrun by the goblins. Well inside, nobody saw a thing in the darkness, but as the tent was torn to pieces by the other goblins, light streamed into the stinking construct. There were no nightgoblins there. The tent was empty.....almost.
    In the middle, a single nightgoblin were standing with his hand gripped around a chain, his hood covering his face. The hooded figure was enormous compared to the others, and the goblins stopped a bit away. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then, the nightgoblin revealed his face. It was Gritz.

    - "Gritz?" said one of the goblins. Gritz were the leaders of their hated enemy, the one who had brought down their greatest champion in the challenge, and the goblin´s tiny brains were filled with hatred as they looked upon him. Gritz made a second move. He dragged his chain, and a huge ball of metal came into sight, attached to the chain. The goblins froze solid, paralyzed with fear, their eyes hypnotically fixed upon the blackclad figure. Gritz was a fanatic.

    Gritz laughed louder than a drunk giant, and began to swing his deadly weapon.
    All the goblins ran for their lives, and Meccit were now last again. The fanatic bursted trough the tent, his ball of steel sending green limbs flying trough the air. He moved unnaturally fast, and caught up with the goblins, staining the ground with blood. The goblins that were a bit faster ran towards the trees again with the howling killingmachine behind them. Meccit fell on a log, and luckily so, since the iron sphere swept inches above his head as he fell. Gritz continued past him, now approaching the small forest. Meccit gazed in awe as the fanatic actually toppled several trees before he finally had to drag the chained ball behind him. Meccit got to his feet, and just wanted to run, so he did..... away from the fanatic, and away from the camp, towards the great waterfall. He knew that place, and he had sometimes slept in the cave that was covered by the falling cascade of water. It was his second home.

    Warboss Gargadz stood outside his tent, chewing on the leg of a horse, when he heard shouting and yelling far away. He dropped his food as he saw tons of goblins rushing towards the tent, roaring and waving their strange weapons. He alerted all the orcs, dragging them from their beds, tossing weapons and clothes towards them.
    - Da goblins are attacking!!

    The hoard of goblins closed in on the camp, screaming and trying to alert the orcs. The orcs stood firmly with their large choppas ready, and the goblins figured they were going to defend them. What a horrible misunderstanding.....

    The goblins tried to run between the ranks of orcs, and got a bit surprised. The orcs swung their crude weapons, killing dozens of goblins that rushed towards them. A spearchukka launched its missile, tearing trough the wave of the small greenskins. Rocklobbers pounded bones to dust, and a giant enjoyed the green meat. Goblins were dying in their hundreds, not even getting the chance to explain. Gargadz himself were furiously killing scores of his smaller cousins, but sparing one of them to explain. All the other goblins were dead or hopelessly shattered, running to never return. The lone goblin found himself uncomfortable in the warboss´s vice like grip.
    - "Why?!" Bellowed the black orc, almost mad with rage.
    An old goblin would have died from heart failure, but this one was young and just fainted. Gargadz tossed the poor goblin towards the sky, and kicked him in mid-air with the ironclad boots, sending the unlucky creature flying. Gargadz roared at the top of his voice and turned around to his now orcs-only army.
    - "Go back ta sleep! Wer goin ta march tomorro!"
    The orcs calmed down and began to take of their armour and sheath their weapons, but stopped when they heard a loud guttural cry.
    Gargadz stopped and turned around as well, seeing something you just don’t want to see.
    A fanatic was heading towards them, almost desperate to hit something living with the chained ball. The orcs in the army stood still for a while, not knowing what to do.
    Gargadz hurriedly shouted orders, and the greenskins came to action.

    - Get those chukkas ready! Get your bows! Shoot dat thing down!!

    The fanatic was almost in the camp, and the orcs were getting their bows and manned the chukka. The goblins that used to crew it were killed by the orcs, who thought that all the goblins were into a large complot since they “attacked? the camp. Now, the dumb green blokes were trying to figure out were the bolt should be placed.
    Orc bowmen ranked up in front of the fanatics, ready with their bows. They fired tons of arrows, carefully aiming towards the goblins head. If the fanatic wasn’t so completely out of his mind on the fungus beer, he would have looked down on the orcs for the rest of his life, since about a hundred arrows missed him. But still, a few arrows struck him and he was beginning to look like a bandicoot.
    The bandicoot was now heading towards the wannabe-archers but he didnt really get there.

    A large, smelly hand came from nowhere and grabbed his chained ball that was spinning madly above his head. It was the giant who got tired of chewing dead goblins, and wanted something more exotic. The fanatic still hung to his weapon, and the giant realised that the flail wasn’t eatable. Like an angry child who got the wrong icecream, he threw the screaming fanatic to the ground, and proceeded to do the second best thing he knew, except eating; jumping on things. But however,this giant was as many giants not so nimble and the result was a disaster. He slipped, almost regained his balance, but stumbled, trampling the fanatic to death, and half-falling, half-running, he smashed into the camp, killing orcs, smashing tent and finally fell flat on his back, crushing warboss Gargadz to a bloody pulp. The giant stood up and ran away as soon as he realised what he had done. The orcs stared at the flat bloody mass that once lead their small but strong tribe. All the orcs were thinking one thing; “ who will be boss now??. The only way to decide such a delicate question was diplomacy. Careful voting and campaigns for who would lead the tribe, lots of hardstudying leaders that took part in a great selection, and... No, just kidding.
    The orcs began to form a huge ring and the two biggest orcs were pushed into the middle. A classic way to choose a new boss.
    But there was a third who wanted to fight, and a fourth and fifth. All couldnt fight, and a major problem occured. They argued about this for a long time, almost 3 seconds, and then the whole tribe began to kill and maim each other.....

    Meccit Gutstabber had slept the night in his cave behind the waterfall, and now the sun was rising, light penetrating the water that rushed down the mountain. It was aninspiring sight, and Meccit wanted to stay there for a while. He drank some water, rested and finally began to move. He headed back to the black tent, finding nothing but loads of dead comrades. He travelled trough the woods, going very slowly and imagining a fanatic behind every tree. After a long while he was out of the wood, and he could see the camp in the distance. He froze. The camp was burning. Smoke covered the skies above, and the flames were devouring the ramshackle buildings. He rushed towards the camp, eager to see what had happened. He saw maybe a dozen orcs, setting fire on everything that was still intact. Lots of dead orcs, and even more dead goblins covered the entire campsite. He walked around silently in the camp, staring at his former home. No building could be saved, and nor could there be a tribe formed by the small amounts of orcs that were left.
    Meccit had seen enough and he ran back the way he came, trough the woods and towards the waterfall. Nobody noticed him, and the remaining orcs also ran away, to find a new tribe, leaving the camp to burn to the ground.

    On less than two days, the entire tribe had been utterly destroyed....
    And the nightgoblins who had started everything, the bosses, were hiding in the mountains. Gritz had stayed, not wanting to leave his position of power, even tough he knew the goblins were coming that night. The other nightgoblins betrayed him, forcing him to drink from the fungus beer which turned him into the fanatic, the very thing that destroyed the goblins he commanded, and eventually ruining the entire tribe and his own life. There was a bad moon rising that night....End.

    I lost the spark at the end, I just cant write a story longer than 2 pages.

    Greetings from Sweden
    Nice warhammer video

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  3. #2
    Member Master of Sanctity's Avatar
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    It doesn't matter how long it is as long as there's a fanatic
    Very good job, as always.
    Ask me something about Warhammer: Age of Reckoning.

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