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Morkheim calling
by Avian.

There was a soft knocking on the Warlord's tent and a skinny goblin poked his head in.
"Lieutenant Watharkhan is here as you instructed, sir," he said.
"Send him in," the big orc Warlord growled.
A slightly smaller but none the less large orc entered and ripped off a salute. His battle worn armour showed the emblem of the Long Toof orcs; two boar teeth fastened to his broad chest.
"Here as instructed, sir."
The orc Warlord raised his great bulk from what had once been a dwarf throne and walked over to the lieutenant; his seven foot hieght dwarfing his underling by a good eight inches. He showed his teeth in what might have been a smile.
"So, Lieutenant, have you ever heard of a place called Morkheim."
Watharkjan scratched his crotch thoughtfully.
"Can't say I have, sir. Human city is it?"
"Ya got it." The Warlord showed more teeth. "We intercepted a dwarf messenger yesterday and he had a bunch of letters telling of this place. Apparently the streets there are paved with gold and it's raining booze."
"Then how did they get the dwarf to leave the place to bring the letters to the other stunties?" Watharkhan wondered.
The Warlord bellowed with laughter and slapped Watharkhan on the back, but the lieutenant was ready for it and managed to remain on his feet.
"Good 'un, Watharkhan. Now, what we wants ya to do is to assamble an elite team of crack commandos and recce this place. Maybe there's something there for us orcs. Ya'll leave in the morning. Dismissed"
The great orc turned around and walked back to his desk, a trophy from an Empire lord's castle with the blood of it's former owner still showing. Watharkhan went off in search of troops.
It was later in the afternoon when the orc lieutenant returned.
"Sir, beg to report that I have assembled the team, sir."
"Good, Lieutantant," the Warlord replied. "Let's 'ave a look at 'em."
Watharkhan followed the Warlord as he strode out into the camp.
"Where?" The Warlord asked.
Lieutenant Watharkhan pointed to a heap of semi-consious wood elves, bearing glazed smiles and smoking long stemmed pipes. The bore mild bruises but were not not tied in any way.
"There," he said.
The Warlord's brow furrowed under the brim of his helmet.
"What do you call these, then? They don't look like elite orc warriors to us. What are ya playing at, Lieutenant?"
"Sorry, sir, but these were the closest thing to crack commandos I could find. Look at what they're smoking. I found them hanging out in a tree over in the forest. They look like waywatchers, sir. Isn't that what you wanted?"
The Lieutenant snatched the pipe from one of the elves who tried a feeble protest but was quikly silenced by a sharp kick to the gut. He handed the pipe to the Warlord who sniffed it before he threw it away.
"We meant orcs and goblins, ya idiot!" the Warlord bellowed. "Now ya've got until sundown to assemble a real team and they'd better be all green."
Watharkhan went a paler green.
"Sir, yes, sir!"
He saluted smartly.

At the edge of a wood in the southern Empire a worm-eaten signpost stood. The evening sunlight made sharp shadows and the flies buzzed. A few bushes nearby rustled and then suddenly half a dozen arrows came flying out of the foliage. An observer may have wondered what the arrows were aimed at, because none of them hit anything. A little while later a pair of arms reached out of a nearby bush, uprooted the signpost and disappeared again.
Lieutenant Watharkhan was sitting by a small fire eating an assortment of small furry animals when the scouting patrol returned. The members of Third Black Squad wore robes in a woodland camouflage scheme, camo paint and carried a signpost between them. Their leader, Watharkhan couldn't remember his name and didn't care anyway, saluted with the wrong hand and squeaked excitedly:
"Look at wot we found, Boss, is'z one of dem sign fings dose squishies put up to tell where dey aren't."
Watharkhan grabbed the sign from the other two goblins and examined it silently for a moment. Then he walked over to the other side of the fire and kicked the shaman who was sitting there and staring into the flames.
"Read." he commanded.
"N'gai, n'gha'ghaa, bugg-shoggog, y'hah. WoT?"
Thaumaturgy Sergeant Hobrakakor awoke from his trance like state and stopped his mumbling.
"Read." Watharkhan repeated, showing the sign up under the smaller orc's nose. The shaman's eyes crossed a bit before they focused on the letters.
"Awuy - FRom - Mork - hEim." The shaman managed.
"SqUIg?"
"We're outa food squigs," the lieutenant rumbled. "Give him a piece of rabbit."
The front half of a rabbit was passed from hand to taloned hand around the fire. The shaman gulped it down hungrily. Watharkhan turned back to the goblin scouts who saluted again, still with the wrong hand.
"Which way did the sign point?" he asked, looming over the dimmutive goblins.
The leader pointed.
"Dataway, Boss, soufwest."
He saluted a couple of times more.
"Then we're on the right track. Wake the others. We'll continue northeast as soon as the sun sets."
As the stars spun slowly over the Moot the only sound that could be heard from the small band of greenskins was the occasional: "No, squig, no. Come back 'ere. Bad squig."
Watharkhan looked around at the grubby halfling hole. Dirty crockery was stacked everywhere and it didn't look like the inhabitants had ever washed the place. Having a squad of orcs break in didn't help either. He picked up the farmers youngest daughter by the scruff of her neck and dangled her over the upturned mouth of one of the cave squigs. The squig emitted one of it's strange squeaking noises and jumped excitedly up and down. It clearly fancied the small snack but didn't dare to actually grab her as long as Watharkhan held her, for fear of the Lieutenants's boots. The halfling's father strained to get loose but couldn't get out of the strong grip of Sergeant Dobrovlum. Watharkhan turned back to the Thaumaturgy Sergeant.
"Tell him that if he doesn't cooperate I'll let the squig eat his daughter."
The Lieutentant listened while the shaman translated this into the strange, high pitched man-speak. The halfling farmer mumbled something and started to cry.
"He SAys he will DO what yUo wanT but PlEasE do not HArm smaLl WhitE flowER." the shaman explained.
The Lieutenant and the other sergeant look around puzzled.
"i thiNk hE means THe cHilD, SIR." Hobrakakor said patiently.
"Very well. Ask him the direction and distance to this Morkheim place."
"The shaman did as he was asked. Watharkhan could see the fear in the halfling's face, under the food stains. It was a dangerous life out here far from the nearest town.
"FiFty MilEs noRth nortHeast, sir."
"Is he sure?"
Watharkhan lowered the child a bit and let the squig bite off one of her feet. The halfling child started screaming but was quickly silenced by a sharp blow to the throat. The father started screaming, but was silenced by a slap across the face by Dobrovlum. The shaman repeated his question and the farmer managed to sob out an answer.
"Still fIftY MILES north norTeAst, sir."
"Is he really sure?"
Watharkhan lower the child again and the squig bit off her the other foot. Her face was starting to turn blue from the lack of air. Once again Hobrakakor repeated his question.
"He says HE'S suRE, Sir."
"Really really sure?" He lowered the child again and the squig bit off a bit more of her leg. "His daughter could still live. It all depends on his will to cooperate with us."
The halfling was going frantic but could not get free from the much larger orc. Hobrakakor asked the question yet again.
"rEALLY reallY SURE, Sir. He saYs He'Ll do AnythIng jusT leT his DaUghter GO, sir."
"Good."
Watharkhan let the child go. There was a loud 'Gulp' and the farmer collapsed into a sobbing heap.
"Kill him and we'll have baked halfling stuffed with garlic for dinner."
Watharkhan turned and walked out into the kitchen where more of the greenskins were amusing themselves with the farmer's wife and other children.
"Now try another cucumber and see if it will fit now," one of the goblins squeaked, but he was quickly silenced by his mates when they saw Watharkhan. One of the orcs from the First Black Squad straightened up from what he was doing and ripped off a perfect salute.
"Sir?"
"Where's Sergeant Talashbag?" the Lieutenant demanded.
"Out in the stables raping the horses, I think" the orc replied.
Watharkhan nodded.
"We leave as soon as we've eaten. Kill everything. We'll eat as much as we can and carry as much as we are able to. Remember to bleed the elf a bit before we move on."
He nodded towards the elf waywatcher who was lying in a heap in the corner. They'd had to carry him the whole way, but it was necessary to bring him.
"Yes, sir."
The orc saluted and Watharkhan returned it.
As the platoon moved ever closer to that accursed place the skies grew ever darker and there was a foul smell on the air.
This didn't worry the orcs much.
They captured a wild-eyed human running away from the city, proclaiming it to be Hell on earth.
The orcs were not impressed.
In the woods close to the city mutated animals roamed. Strange mixes of animal, reptile and crab.
The orcs ate them.
At last they stood on the edge of the woods looking down on the blasted city. A large part of it had been flattened by the comet strike and most of what was left didn't look any better. Strange fumes clouded the air and the city was under perpetual darkness. The river that ran through it was laden with foul wastes and strange screams, neither human nor animal could be heard from inside. Small settlements had sprung up some way from the city itself because no-one wanted to spend more time there than they had to. All in all it was like a nightmare realm come real.
Lieutenant Watharkhan tightened the straps on his breastplate and looked down on that miserable pit that any sane person would flee.
"Looks kind of like home" he said with a grin. "Let's let people know that the orcs are in town."

"I seez 'em, Boss. Da squeakies. Dey're 'eadin' dis way."
"Archers take higher ground! Get those squigs forward! First Black Squad go left, Second Black Squad go right. Move it!"
"No. Gibsnik called me fat."
"WHAT!? Get up in that tower or I'll EAT you!"
"Sir, yes, sir. Rightaway, sir, Lieutenant sir."
"This wall is too high. I can't get up."
"Lemme give ya a hand, grot."
THUNK
"See - up in no time."
"Sergeant Talashbag, go left. Sergeant Dobrovlum you come with me. Thaumaturgy Sergeant Hobrakakor you take to higher ground as well."
"Scritsh. Squeeeek!"
"There we have the first one. Send the squigs after him."
Thwink!
"Ey, Boss, dem's frowin little metal fings at us."
"Shoot them!"
Twang!
"I got one, Boss, I got one!"
"You did WHAT?"
"I 'it 'im inna chest. Look, 'eez jes lynig there."
"Sir, Second Black Squad reports that the squigs have eaten approximately two squeakies."
"Good. You there! Yeah, you! The one with the big nose. Go right around that building and stop any squeakies heading this way."
"All by meself?"
"NOW!"
"I'm goin', I'm going. Oh, I hope there's none ovv dem squeakies round 'ere."
"Squee snik snik snik."
Patpatpatpat.
"Aaaaah! 'Eez comin' dis way. I can'tz wotch."
"SqueeeeeeURK."
"Wot da...? 'Eez ded? 'Eez ded! Boss! Boss! I've gotz a ded squeaky stuck to me spear. Wot do I do wiv it?"
"Scree!"
Klang!
"Ow! Take that, vermin!"
Bonk!
Bonk!
"Squeatch!"
"Aaargl!"
Thud.
"Get 'im!"
"Got 'im, Boss."
"Now kick 'im inna janglies."
"Scrahaha!"
Twack. Twack.
"Stand up, ya elf, that's only a flesh wound."
"Yes, but some of it's fallen off, Boss."
"I think that's the leader. You! Bring that squig and follow me."
"Go squig, go."
"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee."
"Dat's roight."
Twunk.
"Ow, me leg. Boss, wotch out fer dat squig."
"Gnaf gnaf reeeeeee!"
"Good, squig. Now lay off. This one's mine."
"Sniii squik snik snik screeee!"
"Yeah? You AND your sister. Stand still so I can hit you."
Twack. Tchunk.
"Niiik!"
"Not so tough when your arm came off, eh? See how you like a taste of boot in those big teeth of yours."
Duff.
Duff.
Duff.
"Boss, we're 'avin problems. Da left side's in trouble."
"Do I have to do everything myself?"
"Wotch out fer dat squig, Boss. 'Eez comin' right fer ya. No, 'eez isn't. Aaargh. Get away! Bad sq-
"Gnaf."
"Stand up, that didn't hurt. Hobrakakor, where's my magic support?!"
"There's four hUNdred and thirty sEven brIcKs in this Wall, yOu know."
"I don't care. Blast that furry mincing machine."
"Snicka! Scratch snik scree!"
Twack. Hack. Twack.
"Ow. Ow Ow."
"MORK! GREEN FIRE, MORK! WAAAAGH!"
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzwzf
"Iiiiiiiiiiieee!"
Fzz fzz fzz.
"Get them!"
"Waaagh!"
Twack.
Klang.
"Talashbag, hold him."
"Screee!"
"Shut up. Now, Boss."
Splat!
"Look , ya can see 'iz brain!"
"FIRE, MORK, FIRE. BUUURN THE FURRIES."
Fzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzkz
"Sneee! Iiiirk.
"MORK! MORK! MORK! MORKHEIM! GREEN!"
"Dey'z runnin', Boss! We won!"
"Good work, boyz. Talashbag, how many did we lose?"
"Looks like three, sir."
"Three? How come?"
"Well, the black furry one got one. The skinny one that kept flying around got one and one of the squigs ate one."
"All goblins?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then that's not three. That's one and a half. Pack up and we'll eat the dead before they go all runny."

"How's he doing?" Watharkhan removed the heavy mallet from the "Infermery"'s only chair and sat down. Sergeant Dugashkar - unconscious from from the blow - lay strapped to the table and Hobrakakor had just finished poking about bits of his body.
"Don't look good, LieutenAnt," the shaman replied. "Looks like he's got mUltiple injuries."
"Multiple? How many?"
"Wun."
"Only one? Well, will he live or do we get to eat him as well?"
"Never mind, looks like he made a coMplete recovery." The shaman looked a bit disappointed.
Watharkhan left the shaman and his patient and went into their hideout's main room. The place had once been a temple of some sort but large parts of it had collapsed and it had long since been abandoned. Most of the warband lounged around on the benches or threw darts at the elf who was nailed to the wall behind the altar. A moment later three goblins entered dragging a large sack.
"What's the catch for today?" Watharkhan demanded.
The lead goblin tipped the contents out on the floor.
"Well, we 'ave almost 'arf a 'ooman, a dozen or so squishy fruit-thingies growing out of a wall, a slightly spoiled mabrothrax, a chicken wiv two 'eads and an invisible 'arfling."
"An invisible halfling?" the big orc asked, a bit doubtful.
"Yep, bloody difficult 'ee was to catch too." the goblin replied, "but we saw 'is shadow an' bashed 'im onna 'ead."
"Well, chop it all up and we'll..." Watharkhan was suddenly interrupted by one of the orcs from the First Black Squad.
"Boss, dere's a message fer ya!"
Watharkhan walked over to the other end of the room where a vampire squig was noisily sucking at a wound in the elf's side. The little fanged flying squigs was the biggest triumph of the manic Bad Doc Borhugtag - a creature that could track a person for hundreds of miles by the scent of his blood alone. He removed the message scroll from the creature's back and yelled at a goblin to get the elf some food - he didn't want him to die after having dragged him all the way here. A moment later one of the goblins came up to him with a bowl of brown mush. Watharkhan sniffed it.
"What is it?"
"Well, one of 'is feet dropped of so I chopped it up an' dere's some of dose fruit-thingies in dere also, Boss."
"OK, get him to eat it. We don't want him to die before we can get a replacement and that might still be months away."
The orc lieutenant left to find the shaman and have him read the message for him.
Hobrakakor was still in the Infermery where Dugashkar was now awake and yelling at the shaman because the latter had sawed off part of the top of his head and was having a look inside.
"Look, Sir, If I put my fINger here his eyes turn off." The shaman demonstrated this.
"Aaaargh. Yer filthy snotling humper! When I get out of this I'll shove a pair of red hot pliers up yer arsehole an' pull out all yer guts through it! Then I'm gonna make ya eat 'em and then I'm gonna do it all again!" The sergeant was not amused.
The lieutenant nodded his approvement. That was a good curse. Then he handed the shaman the message he had just received.
"This just came in from back home. What's it say?"
Hobrakakor's brows furrowed as he studied the glyphs.
"REInforcements arriving in two weeks. Have gold reADy by then," he read with some difficulty.
Damn, thought Watharkhan. They hadn't found much gold, only a bunch of some glowing greenish stones. He hadn't thought much of them, only charged one of the grots with their safe keeping. Maybe they were worth something. He went back into the main room and pointed at the goblin in charge of the stones.
"You there, you with the tail. Where is that sack I told you to look after?" he yelled.
"Got it roight 'ere, Boss." The goblin scampered over.
Wait just a minute. Watharkhan repeated what he had just said to himself. Tail?
"What is that!" he roared and pointed to a scaly tail poking out from under the goblin's robes.
"Nuffin, Boss, nuffin," the goblin squeaked and backed away from the big orc.
Lieutenant Watharkhan snatched the goblin by the tail and effortlessly hoisted him into the air by it. The tail was very clearly growing out of the goblin's quite dirty backside.
"And what the fuck has happened to your legs?" he bellowed as he threw the unfortunate goblin across the room where he landed in a heap by the wall. In a few long strides Watharkhan was over him. The goblin's filthy robes were torn off him before one of the orc's powerful hands closed around his skinny neck and he was slammed into the wall - eye to eye with the enraged orc. Watharkhan barred his fangs in vicious snarl before he gripped the goblin's tail with his other hand and started pulling. Luckily for the goblin it was his tail that snapped and not his neck. The orc lieutenant then drew a serrated dagger from his belt and cut one of the goblin's ears off.
"Now tell me what kind of goblin has a tail, eyes on his knees and scaly skin before I cut off something more vital," he growled - his face only an inch from the goblin's.
The goblin tried to squirm out of his grip but couldn't.
"It wusn't my fault, Boss. One morning when I woke up it wus jez there. Lemmego. I'm sure it'll go away in time. Please, Boss"
The lieutenant thought for a moment before he casually leaned forward and tore the goblin's throat out with his his teeth. With purple blood dripping from his mouth he turned to the rest of the group who had moved over to watch.
"Anyone else here not totally green?"
A dozen silent heads shook.
"Strip!"
An examination showed that none else had been affected but Watharkhan resolved to find someone who would trade the green stones for something else. After all, it was his platoon and he was responsible for their well-being.

End of Part One

Read Part Two

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