The sword in the stone outpost

Mist rose steadily from the banks of the river. The elven Loremaster attempted to penetrate it with his bright gaze, to no effect.

“A thousand curses,” he muttered to his lieutenant. “The reptiles must have known we were coming. They have have picked the field of battle to their own advantage, the scrolls tell of how they love to fight in river-infested lands. So much for a surprise attack.”

“My Liege,” said the lieutenant, “We have defeated the lizardmen with ease in previous battles. They cannot withstand our martial prowess, rivers or no.”

“It’s that kind of confidence that has been our undoing so many times. Tell the men to be ready for anything, keep a constant watch. There may be -”

He paused to listen to a far off sound.

“What was that, Master?” said the lieutenant, suddenly more worried. “It sounded like some kind of demon.”

The cry came again, but much closer - a shill scream slicing through the air. Abruptly, winged shapes appeared through the clouds.

“That was no demon!” Cried the Loremaster. “Terradons! Tell the men to take cover!” Even as he spoke the words, he began to hear the whistle-thunk of falling rocks. A good number of man fell lifeless, their helmets cleaved in by the impact.

“They’re behind the lines!” shouted someone. An elf manning the giant bolt-thrower slowly collapsed with a long, thin javelin in his throat. More cries went up.

“There! In the river! They’re coming from the river!” The airborn menace was forgotten, the ranks closed up to face the swarms of dripping skinks that were moving faster than could be thought possible, their impassive faces bent on death. Blowpipe darts began to whistle among the tightly clustered elves, coated with fast-acting toxins. “Damn skinks”, muttered the Loremaster. “They don’t line up and fight properly, you can never get them where you want.”

Then there was another sound, that of heavy footfalls. “Good gods!” wailed the lieutenant, “what is that?!” Hulking kroxigors could be seen loping among the skinks, the smaller lizards dancing around them in an ever-shifting pattern that gradually coalesced into a fighting formation. But the earth-shaking foot-falls did not belong to the kroxigor. The elves’ eyes moved upwards as a new shape emerged.

“ROOOOOOAAAARRRR!” said Reks.

“Take them, my lizardmen!” proclaimed the valiant Ra Phee-Ki, as the lizard lines broke upon the elves. “By the way, Reks, you know it’s generally more scary if you actually roar, rather than merely saying it. Just a tip.”

Skinks fell by the dozen to elvish steel, but the chaos of their attack, the crushing stokes of the kroxigor, and the devastation that was Reks proved too terrible a combination for the warmbloods to withstand.

“Fall back!” shouted the Loremaster. “Back to our outpost! Regroup at my stan-”

“That’s quite enough of that”, said Ra, matter-of-factly, giving the elven leader a solid biff to the back of the head with the handle of his giant mace. “You skinks, stop wittering and take this chap captive, we may need him later, especially if he knows who’s got my sword.”

He paused, looking around at the flocks of darting reptiles. “Honestly, give me some decent saurus lads any day, these little fellows make my eyes hurt. The rest of you, we’ve still got plenty of work to do. Forward!”

---

Mood: Encouraged

Listening to: the cries of the dying

God most likely to sacrifice to: Xapati, god of Vengeance

Honestly, the revered Lord Tzu Dhok’u going off looking for elves was the best thing that ever happened to our campaign. Ini-Go’s mobile forces have proven most devastating in these rain-soaked lands. First, he lead us to rout a whole Chaos battalion. And now a major victory against the elves, a long-desired revenge for the humiliation they subjected us to at the start of the war.

Ra told me how it happened. His scouts discovered that the elves had word of his coming with Lord Dhok’u’s army - the mammals apparently decided that a divide and conquer approach was preferable, and gave Tzu the slip, coming after us in the east instead. Ra got wind of the plot just in time, and raced off with Reks to warn us. Apparently he had to slip out of camp at night, since Tzu - in a predictably stubborn rage - had forbidden him to go. Thank gods Ra defied him, incomprehensibly wise and glorious though he may be, since without his arrival we would have been lost.

When we heard what the elves had planned, we were able to lay an ambush for them at a place where two great rivers meet. Ini-Go’s aquatic troops were perfectly suited for this terrain, although Ini-Go himself ran off before the battle in pursuit of some “five-fingered man” who apparently had killed his father. Ra was not used to commanding skinks, but his tactical genius still won through. It was not clean sailing, however, especially not when their terrifying Phoenix made another appearance. It set upon a group of kroxigors, ripping them to shreds with its enormous claws and talons, and then fell on one of the stegadons, Muph’a-Sa’s smaller mate, grasping the entire dinosaur in its claws, heaving her a dizzying distance into the sky, and dropping her to her unfortunate demise on our troops below. (Almost like what was once described in the prophecies…)

I cannot describe the anguish and rage that came upon Muph’a-Sa at this point. He churned the ground beneath him to mud in his fury, and with the most ferocious below I have ever heard, he lunged at the phoenix, impaling it on his long, razor sharp horns and trampling its feathers into the marshy ground. The devastating charge carried the beast into a column of the enemy’s finest glittering cavalry, who met a similar demise at the hands, or should I say hooves, of the furious stegadon.

On the other side of the battlefield, there was a slightly less fearsome display of fury, as the frail old priest Ini-Mehni was overcome by his orcish frenzy, and charged headfirst, all alone, at a group of at least twenty archers. Tiny as he is, his madness was such that he actually managed to fell one of the elves before they overcame him. Fortunately he was recovered at the end of the battle, battered but alive. While he is still tragically insane, he seems to have a new-found respect, or perhaps even fear, of the elves.

Meanwhile, While the last of the skinks were succumbing to the elven arrows or pursuing the enemy’s tattered regiments around the field, Ra all by himself stormed the stronghold where the enemy had made its final stand.

---

“Hmm,” said Ra, surveying the building. “I’m afraid this looks like a one-man operation, Reks old boy. The thing is made of solid stone, and the door is far too small for you to fit in. See if you can bash it down from the outside. Meanwhile, I bet you 100 ixti grubs that they’ve got my sword in there, and I’m damned if I’m going to let them keep it for a second longer than necessary. See you at the victory party!”

Ra leaped off the carnosaur, smashing the door of the building apart with a grunt. As the debris cleared, Ra looked around at the large numbers of battle-ready elves within.

“Right, who’s skull do I have to smash around here to get back what I accidentally dropped and then you took from me?! Hmmm?”

The elves looked at the one in a colourful robe, a low-level mage of some sort, who seemed more than a little afraid, despite superiority in numbers. Finally he summoned the will to speak to his troops. “Well? Don’t just stand there! Get him, you fools!”

Ra sighed. “Fine. I was actually hoping you’d say that.”

Outside, Reks could hear a commotion, punctuated by the occasional scream. He smashed his tail against the crumbling walls a few times, until one of them collapsed. Entering, he saw Ra admiring a huge, shimmering blade, cradling it lovingly. The bodies of the elves were all around him. Out of the window, the lone figure of the mage could be seen hurrying across the field in the direction of the elven territory.

“Roar?” said Reks.

“I told you it was in here,” replied Ra, wiping some blood off his scales. “Still had to kill this lot to get at it of course, stupid warmbloods."

There was a coughing sound.

“Someone still alive, eh? Well let’s just - oh, it’s Huan!”

Huan Dae’req-Shon, the scar leader, was leaning against a wall, barely conscious, arms and legs bound with thick elven twine. His crown was still fastened firmly to his skull.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here, old chap?! Gods am I pleased to see you. How are you even alive? You had about 50 spears poking through you!”

“Gnnnnnn,” said Huan, amicably.

“Right, right, sorry, questions later. I’ll have Zhat give you his finest herbal remedies straight away. Don’t worry, that’s the last you’ll be seeing of the elves for a good while, let me tell you!”

---

After the battle, I encountered Ra on the riverbank, gazing into the waters, as the elven standards filled the air with smoke.

“It’s been a good day. Got my sword, thank gods. Got me old mucker Huan back, the lads will be pleased with that. Showed those pointy ears what’s what…”

“But?” I prompted.

“But what?”

“You were going to have a but.”

“Oh it’s nothing. It’s just...I wonder what Tzu is going to do when he gets here.”

I wonder the same. If Ra hadn’t done what he did, the elves would have annihilated us. But that kind of logic doesn’t work for Tzu. He likes his commands to be obeyed. I just pray our venerable lord is in a good mood and has not been sacrificing to Xapati lately, as I was before the battle.

Of skink and man

Tzu Dhok’u’s left eye, which was accustomed to revolve slowly and dementedly in random directions around its socket, suddenly stopped moving. It joined its more conventional counterpart in opening wide, as surprise and awe covered the old slann’s face.

“Leave me,” he breathed.

Zhat Tziki and his jibbering colleague Ini-Me’ni began the long descent back down the wizard’s tower, leaving the Mage Priest alone in the rickety, cone-roofed attic room at its summit. Wind whistled through bald patches in the tiling and stonework. The whole tower seemed to sway slightly.

Slowly, Tzu began to move about the circular room. Its contents, he knew, would be worth a fortune in any lesser civilisation still crass enough to use currency. But there was one item in particular to which he was drawn...

On the staircase, Zhat tried to make small talk.

“So, you read any good plaques recently, Ini?”

“You saying I’m fick?!” shouted the frenzied priest, making a skinny fist. His eyes were horribly bloodshot.

“Just asking, dear fellow,” said Zhat with a reassuring smile. “Personally, I brought several of my favourite plaques for some light deciphering on my downtime. Learned my lesson. On the last campaign, I forgot to bring anything to read, and it got pretty dull after a few centuries on the lifeless plains of Kaltobi, let me tell you. Oh hi there Ini-Go! Glad you could make it.”

The two priests reached the bottom of the staricase and emerged into the tower’s large entrance hall. Ra was there, prodding volumes among the dusty bookshelves, along with the rakish skink chieftan Ini-Go and his inseparable companion the hulking scar veteran Fez-Iq.

“Ini-Me’ni! My eh-spawn-kin!” cried Ini-Go when he saw them. He spoke with a thick Tlaxtlan accent, and stood alert and engaged at all times, sometimes hopping from foot to foot. He had a rapier at his side and a dark streak in the scales above his mouth. “Do you have six fingers on your right hand?”  

“Yes, brother.”

“Thank goodness! I heard they horribly maimed you in the battle. Tis my great misfortune that I was not there to protect you.”

“It was merely his mind that they maimed,” said Zhat, gravely, as Ini-Me’ni drooled a little onto the floor. “He had a heinous encounter with the orcish god Mork, from which he was lucky to have survived at all. Of course, it might have been Gork, it’s so hard to tell…”

“Mweeeenerrrrrghhhhh,” said Ini-Me’ni, ruefully.

“Do you hear that, Fez-iq!? That is the sound of ultimate eh-suffering. My heart made that sound when the five-fingered man killed my father.”

“Kill!” said Ini-Me’ni, his eyes lighting up.

“You don’t have a father, Ini-Go. You were spawned,” said Zhat.

“He was my local priest. An eh-spiritual father.” The chieftain took Ini-Me’ni by the arm, which swiftly gave him a nasty jab to the face.

Zhat left the two skinks to take care of each other and approached Ra Phee-Ki, who was looking puzzled. He was squinting a book that he held a few inches from his face.

“These...light leafy things. I do not understand them. The room is full of them, yet they seem to serve no purpose. They have not even been sharpened - I feel they would fail to wound even the measliest of warmbloods.”

“They’re not for fighting, Ra, they’re for reading,” said Zhat. “You remember reading, I told you about it on the way here. Like what we do with the plaques in the temples.”

“Ah yes, by looking at drawings you are capable of gaining new information for tactical advantage and the easier destruction of your enemies.”

“Well, yes, perhaps. But you can also read things that have nothing to do with fighting. One of the most beautiful plaques back home has several million words simply about the splendour of the jungle when it was created by the Old Ones.”

“And what do you gain from such...’reading’? It seems futile.”

“You gain all kinds of things, my friend. Reading has brought me some of the greatest joys of my life, and profound understanding of the world we live in. But these are gains of the soul. Not everything in life is fighting and pain.”

“Incorrect,” stated Ra. “I have fought all of my life, in thousands of battles over a span of dozens of centuries. All the world is fighting. Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is chanting something.”

“You don’t have to call me Highness, Ra: Zhat is fine. I’m not a stickler for titles like our friend upstairs. But in all seriousness, I think perhaps you would appreciate reading - it might broaden your horizons. Let’s take a look at this book, for example... let’s see, it’s about, well - oh my gods.”

Zhat opened the book Ra had been investigating, and suddenly realised he was staring at an illustration of the Naq itself.

“Ra,” he said a little breathlessly, “send for my acolytes, tell them to bring the ritual offerings here this instant. We could be onto the Naq itself.”

Ra’s eyes widened slightly, but he remained impassive. “As you wish,” he said, with a bow.

As Ra sprinted off, Zhat began reading voraciously, turning pages almost by the second. Every word brought him closer to his goal.

A little while later, Zhat’s temple officiants had arrived and set up a passable ritual circle in the large hallway.

“Right, well the book says that the Naq was taken to the east of these lands many centuries ago by a rampaging warband. The exact location can only be discovered through spilled blood. Bring in the sacrifice!”

Zhat never particularly enjoyed this part of his duties, but at least this time he would be killing a filthy orc they had captured, and he felt it went a little way towards revenge for what they had done to Ini-Me’ni.

“Erm, you might want to hurry a little,” whispered one of the acolytes, as Zhat shuffled around the circle, humming along to the winds of magic. “The spell has to be done before sundown tonight or we won’t get another chance for who knows how long.”

“Son,” said Zhat, eyeing up the young skink priest, “you rush a ritual man, you get rotten rituals.”

Finally he felt everything was in place, and he intoned the enchantment with all due reverence. Watching from the sides of the room, Ra, Ini-Go and Fez-iq could feel the air suddenly become electrified as magic began to suffuse the circle. The orc’s blood, which had been collected in a wide dish, began to ripple slightly. Shapes started to form and spread, becoming a map. Slowly an arrow started to emerge. Zhat crept closer, peering over the edge of the basin so he wouldn’t miss anything that was revealed. Just as he thought he could discern where the arrow pointed, there was a screeching sound, and a huge circle of light appeared in air, blasting outwards to reveal the serene form of Tzu Dhok’u. Blood, candles and skinks flew everywhere.

“Evening, gentlelizards,” said Tzu contentedly, as the sun sank below the horizon in the window behind him. “Sorry I didn’t knock - thought I’d use a teleport spell as I really couldn’t be having with all those stairs again. Now, who’s got my Itzi grubs?”

Zhat picked himself up from the floor slowly, and tried to wipe off some of the orc's blood.

“My Lord,” he said, with a clentched-tooth smile, “How simply wonderful to see you. And how clever of you to think of such an ingenious method of descent. Why, the stairs would have taken you whole seconds longer at least, even taking into account the fact that you’d be hovering downwards rather than walking.”

“Exactly, my good chap. And you’ll never guess what I’ve found up in the wizard’s attic!”

“Could it possibly some ancient and vital relic needed for the furthering of the Great Plan, my Lord?”

“Um, well not exactly.”

“Ah, then it must be essential information for fulfiling our quest to retreive the Naq’otek-yotl’queztl’ra’tzui-huan’chipotli’zaq-khan?”

“Erm, I rather doubt it actually. It’s a soul harvester!” Tzu held up a strangely formed pot triumphantly. “Look, you say the spell in here, point it at the soul you want to harvest here, and then you torment it with this little button here. How great is that!? I’ve been wanting one of these for millennia!”

Zhat’s smile didn’t budge. “How nice for you, my Lord. I’m so glad your investigations in this treasure trove of knowledge and wisdom have been so productive.”

“Thank you, priest. Now, I feel like another battle, see if we can’t put this little beauty to use.” Tzu stroked the ancient artefact of pure evil lovingly. “We still have those pesky elves to sort out; I think we should go pay them a visit, what would you say, Ra?”

“Actually, sir, we have word that the Naq lies in an eastward direction,” said the oldblood, “although we do not know its exact location due to reasons...beyond our power. The best course would be to send the full force of our army that way, as we may have to deal with Chaos encampments that we know scatter the region. Besides, the elves are too stong, Lord. We would never survive another encounter.”

“Nonsense! you’re just saying that because no one ever has! And how would going east help us exact bloody vengeance, eh?” Tzu’s spinning eye began to twitch slightly.

“I think Ra’s right, you know,” piped up Ini-Go, earnestly. “Send me, my Lord. My eh-skink army is fresh and ready for battle. We will destroy Chaos wherever we find them. I will lead them eh-swiftly to the Naq itself.”

There was a pause, and Tzu seemed to grow slightly blacker. Steam started rising off his bloated body.

“Am I going mad, or did the word ‘think’ just escape your lips?” he shouted, eventually. “You think I hired you for your brains, you miserable, vomitous mass!? And you! Ra! You want me to send you back to where I found you? Unemployed!? In Greenland?”

“My Lord, you do realise that you don’t pay any of us to be here? We’re just your loyal servants,” said Zhat in exasperation.

“Insubordination! Enough of this! I’m going to fight some elves and you lot can all stay behind. I won’t be taking any of your silly skinks, either. Only the biggest and most ferocious warriors are worthy of the majesty of Tzu Dhok’u. If I’m feeling generous, I’ll save you some prisoners for you to snack on. Have a nice wait!”

The slann flew towards the door, which exploded with a flick of his hand as he approached. Then he was gone. There were screams in the camp outside as he passed.

“Great,” said Zhat, rolling his eyes.

“I have to go after him,” said Ra.

“I’d leave it a little while.”

“Perhaps. But you were right, Ini-Go. Your army must go east to find the Naq. Zhat, go with him. I’ll stay with Lord Dhok’u and send troops to aid you when I can.”

“I will see you before long, my friend, I can feel it in my heart,” said Zhat to Ra as he went to follow the Mage Priest. “I still have to teach you to read.”

Ra turned at the door. “As you wish,” he said.

--

Ini-Go looked up and down the battle line. There were skinks and terradons everywhere, sprinting circles round the massive, unnatural creatures they had encountered on their road east. Every now and again, the beasts would catch some skinks or terradons unawares and crushed their skulls to dust, but otherwise his fast-footed army seemed to be getting the better of this engagement. Fez'iq was leading a charge away to the left. He turned to the troops behind him.

“Amigos, hit them in the eh-centre where they’re vulnerable. I have business of my own to conduct.”

Ini-Go had spotted a man on horseback in the middle of the field, who appeared to have five fingers on his right hand. Of course, many of them did, but perhaps this was the one who had killed his father. The skink sprinted up to the Chaos Sorcerer, who was in mid-incantation to Nurgle and didn’t see him coming.

“You seem a decent fellow, I hate to kill you!” cried Ini-Go.

“What?! What’s this?!” replied the dark wizard, turning uncomfortably in his saddle and looking round the battlefield for the source of the interruption. He was clad in six-inch thick spikey armour with skull motif, and was struggling to get control over his demonic, pitch-black steed. Then he looked down. “Whoever you are, you’ll pay for this, you warthog-faced buffoon! I’ll boil your skin for my stew!”

He made a mighty swing with his sword, but the skink was no longer there. Suddenly he felt a small stinging sensation on his other side as Ini-Go’s rapier slashed at his leg. A tiny ribbon of blood appeared. “I’ll do you for that!” bellowed the sorcerer. “Come ‘ere!”

“Float like a butterfly, eh-sting like a mix-tlek’clthon insect!” sang Ini-Go happily as he danced around the large man’s clumsy strokes. “I see you are using Botelli’s defence against me, ah!? So naturally you expect me to counter with Capo Ferro!”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about, you insane creature? Ow!” replied the man, as more tiny skin-deep cuts appeared on the exposed parts of his body.

“You’re good, I admit it!” smiled Ini-Go, still jumping about. But the Chaos warrior was no longer looking at him. He was looking at the huge, snorting figure of Mup’ha-Sa, a ten foot wall of muscle, steel-like scales and lethally sharpened horns, getting rapidly closer.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m eh-smiling?” shouted up Ini-Go, oblivious to the stegadon’s charge.

“Aaaahhh,” said the man, trying desperately to turn his horse around.

“It’s because I’m not left-handed! Ha-ha!” laughed the skink gleefully, tossing his sword to the other hand. The sorcerer kicked his horse into a gallop and hurried away. “Exactly so, you coward, run for your life!” cried the latter, jubilantly. He slowly realised he could no longer hear his own voice over the sound of the thundering hooves behind him. Mup’ha-Sa charged past in a storm of flying debris, overtaking the terrified Chaos champion and turning him into an inch-thick paste under his enormous weight.

“Yeah, take that!” said Ini-Go, a little less enthusiastically than before. “Fear the mighty fencing prowess of eh-skink chief Ini-Go!”

Get to the choppa!

Mists swirled ominously over the lands of Western Finchlea, as Tzu Dhok’u’s troops trudged tirelessly towards the elven encampment. Bleak, endless fields passed, mile after mile, under uniform grey skies. It would have sapped the spirits of lesser creatures.

Tzu bobbed up and down on his palanquin in what was, by slann standards, a very jolly rhythm.

“I love this kind of weather!” he called happily to Ra, who bestrode Reks a little ways away. “It’s my favourite kind of weather, after hurricanes and tempests, of course.”

“Sir, you’ve been in a good mood ever since we left camp, if you don’t mind my saying so. I feel I should remind you that defeating these elves will be no easy task, if the way they have fought so far is anything to do by. They destroyed an entire battalion of hardened Chaos warriors, my scouts tell me. Also, I’m not sure I recognise where we are any more. I fear we may be lost in the mist.”

“Unthinkable!” cried Tzu, merrily. “On the contrary, this mist is the perfect cover. We will take them by surprise and torture them until they submit to our will.”

“Uh…” began Ra, but stopped as a huge shape suddenly loomed up ahead.

“By the gods, lizard,” said Tzu, his tone changed to one of awe. “It’s the ancient tower of Amon Samon. Tales tell that the spirit of the great sorcerer Nikos dwells there still.”

“I know it,” said Ra, uneasily. “But we should be a hundred leagues south of here. We have strayed far off course.”

“Unthinkable!” said Tzu, again. “A slann is never lost. He is always precisely where he means to be. I obviously wanted to come here, so I could investigate the ancient ruins of Amon Samon, to see if there was anything there for the furtherance of my sche- I mean, of the Great Plan.”

“Someone’s been on the Lord of the Plaques boxset again,” interjected Ini-Me’ni, Tzu’s newest skink attendant, who had yet to have the proper terror instilled. “Also, I can totally hear wardrums away to the east.”

“You see! We are near the elven army. And they know we’re coming, which is exactly what I intended. We will meet them in the field and overwhelm them with our superior military strategies.”

Ini-Me’ni and Ra looked at each other.

“Sir, there might be one tiny miscalculation in your plans. Though of course the very essence of error is anathema to your perfectly honed intellect. I would, however, endeavour to suggest -”

“Elves don’t use drums, is what he’s trying to say,” broke in Ini-Me’ni. “They use horns. And harps and stuff.”

A distant, faint chanting sound of “WAaaaaaaagh” could be heard, getting closer. Tzu sat still and avoided the others’ gaze.

The mists parted. A sea of greenskins could be seen surging towards the lizardmen’s position.

“Orcs!” said Tzu, at last. “Perfect! This is exactly what I had planned for. I only wanted them to think we were off to fight elves.” He looked defiantly at the others, daring them to say a word to the contrary.

“Riiiight,” said Ra, eventually. “I’ll just form up the battle line then, shall I?”

--

Mood: Curious

Listening to: the chanting of temple rituals.

God most likely to sacrifice to: Tepok, god of Magic and Wisdom

Well, we have fought another battle, even if it wasn’t one we had ever intended. This time, the Old Ones saw fit to grant us a victory, praise Quetzl! We were set upon by a band of brutish orcs and their unsightly minions after going off course during foul weather.

The battle got off to a slow start. Our line moved steadily towards theirs, while they stood and confronted us. The big black ones just looked at us menacingly, while the green ones seemed to be jumping up and down, working themselves into a bizarre frenzy, occasionally punching one another and brawling in the ranks.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose. On the right flank, goblins came bouncing out of nowhere on tiny mad balls of teeth and fury, which proceeded to devour a unit of unsuspecting skinks. On the left flank, enormous spiders surged towards our lines. One of them, a huge brute the size of a temple, scaled the entire tower of Amon Samon in one massive leap, and descended down the other side to set upon our other group of skinks. While the smaller spiders (merely the size of large wolves) were eventually put to flight by our chameleon scouts, who they had not noticed, our entire main contingent of saurus warriors had to be redeployed to deal with the big one - and even they were eventually destroyed by its ravenous fury.

At the same moment that all this happened, a huge hand appeared out of the heavens, lifting the enemy’s entire unit of black orcs to the far side of the battlefield, where they much surprised our smaller group of saurus, who were finally dispatching the last of the mad hopping creatures. Just as it looked like they would be overwhelmed by the new threat, the lumbering strides of Muph’a-Sa could be heard. His charge was like nothing I have ever seen. With a bellow, he plunged into the enemy ranks, scattering orcs every which way, and trampling dozens beneath his mighty feet. It was not enough, however. Their standard bearer managed to deal the stegadon a crippling blow, and his foolish, thrice-cursed handlers had forgotten to properly instil in him the spring-time mating fervour that would usually have kept him going at this time of year. He’s an old creature, and his libido’s not what it was 100,000 years ago.

Meanwhile, Ra Phee-Ki had given a mighty shout, and charged towards the bulk of the greenskins. Tzu Dhok’u’s bodyguard of elite Guardians were with him, meting out death to their foes as they went. The orcs were in a savage mood, shrieking and howling about something called “Da Choppa”. They gave as good as they got, and soon their enormous crude weapons were thick with the blood of our comrades. As we reached their lines, two of them unchained their giant leader, who had been stamping the ground and screaming insults at anyone and everyone who came near. His eyes were bloodshot, his mouth caked in foam, his voice like a stampede of thunderlizards. He came at us like a hurricane of muscle and weaponry - sadly for him, however, he had the poor judgement to take on Ra Phee-Ki.

--

“Hey, Boss Choppa!” said the orc holding the keys, with a nasty grin. “You wanna kill some lizards?”

“GRAAAGH!” said Choppa, too frenzied to form words.

“Boss, I heard dat big ’un over dere said your momma was a poncy elf.”

“I HATED MY MOMMA! I KILLED HER AN’ ATE HER BONES!” bellowed Choppa.

The smaller orc looked as his comrade, nervously.

“Right, boss. Well, he also said you is fick. An’ really bad at fightin’.”

Veins began pop out all over Choppa’s face. “LET ME GET ‘IM! LET ME AT ‘IM! I’LL EAT ‘IS EYES! I’LL CHEW ON ‘IS TAIL! I’LL MUNCH ‘IS SCALES! GRAAAAGGH!”

“Right you are, boss!” Standing as far back as possible, the orc leaned in and turned the key hastily. The savage warboss immediately reared up, scattering chains everywhere. The giant axe in his hands seemed to pump strength into him, and he swelled up to a terrifying size. He began to slice the air in front of him, his arms blurring as he got faster and faster, springing towards the oncoming oldblood on his carnosaur.

There was a blur as the three creatures met, and an earth-shaking cry of “EAT YOU!!!!!” that quickly ceased. As soon as it happened it was over.

Ra blinked and looked around. “Where did the big green fellow go?” he asked, puzzled.

“Ow,” said Reks, spitting out a giant magical weapon. “Axe not good to eat.”

“You ate the enemy general?” said Ra, a mixture of annoyance and awe in his voice. “Reks, that’s amaz- I mean, what have I told you about eating enemy officers before I get to have a proper fight with them? It’s just not sporting.” He looked up at the oncoming horde of green, who were furious at the death of Boss Choppa. “When it comes to these guys, on the other hand, you can have as many as you like. They’re just rank and file. Get ‘em, boy!”

--

Although Reks ate the the enemy “commander”, if you can call him that, before they got to have a proper fight (and also ate many other orcs, as things turned out), the Boss got his revenge later in the battle, when he incapacitated the carnosaur by escaping back out through its throat. By this point, however, the tide had already turned against his army, and he lacked the strength to do anything other than stumble off with them, chased by Ra, who was sorely miffed about what they had done to his steed.

Although the day was a big success, two things about the battle concern me. Firstly, the conduct of our revered Lord commander, Tzu Dhok’u. He spent the entire battle shrieking at the winds of magic, an insane gleam in his eye, as he brought down dark spells of death upon the enemy with a wild abandon. The pleasure he took in sapping their will and filling their minds with thoughts of doom and darkness was chilling to behold.

Secondly, I fear for my comrade, the young priest Ini-Me’ni, who had a terrible encounter with the enemy shaman during the battle. The shaman invoked their crazy god Mork (or possibly Gork), who personally arrived to psychically headbutt the poor skink. It is not something that should happen to any lizard. Not only is it horribly undignified, but it left poor Ini with terrible mental scarring, so that now he behaves almost like one of those rotten orcs. He begins to jump about whenever anyone mentions battle, is constantly insulting and punching reptiles twice his size, who treat him with a pity that just annoys him all the more. He often foams at the mouth and speaks of killing and fighting as if he were a kroxigor. I fear the poor chap will be a danger to himself and others, although his magical abilities appear undiminished.

Speaking of magic, the Lord Tzu has requested that I accompany him to examine the remains of this large wizard’s tower by which we fought our battle today. I am eager and curious to discover what ancient riddles lie inside. May Tepok guide my searches so that I don’t miss anything that will lead us on the True Way… possibly even towards the location of the Naq itself.