Monday 30 October 2023

Magrat's Mad Moon Marauders, Orctober post 2


Magrat's Mad Moon Marauders

Journey from the HobGobla Khanate:
Leavin' the Hobgobla Khanate weren't easy, not with them sneaky Hobgobs nippin' at our heels and them weird, screechin' sandstorms. But Magrat Mad Moon led us through, him and his shiny mace, Kraglash, smackin' sense into anyone who got too complainy.

"Stop yer whinin', we got loot to find in the Old World, an' we're goin' fer the good stuff,"  Magrat barked, his shield showin' that grinnin' mad moon like it'd slap us itself if it could.

Through the World's Edge Mountains:
Gettin' past them mountains, now that was a headache. Snow like you wouldn't believe, and paths that'd give a mountain goat second thoughts. Then came the choice: head toward the Empire or push through to the Border Princes.

"Empire's full o' knights and their shiny armor, boss," Grubnash Double-Axe, our champ,  pointed out, playin' with his axes.

"Bah, too shiny. We're goin' to the Border Princes. More variety, like a fightin' buffet," Magrat decided, and that was that.

A Split Path and a Tough Choice:
Now once in the Princes we had us a good chinwag 'bout where to take the boyz next. "Boss, how 'bout we head fer some Elves?" suggested Grubnash

"Nah, too twiggy," scoffed Magrat. "Me mace is itchin' for somethin' harder. We're goin' Dwarf huntin'."

"Speakin' of itchin', these boots are killin' me," complained Skarlug, our drummer.

"Quit yer bellyachin'. Those are Hobgobla boots, good fer stompin'," Magrat snapped.

The Showdown  at sum mouti’n:
Marchin' through sum big rocks, we heard the clangin' an' chantin' of Dwarf warriors. Settin' up across a stony ridge, Magrat glared at the Dwarf Thane up on his wall holler’n.

"Oi, Beardy! Ya lookin' to get stomped?"

"Go back to yer mudholes, Greenskin!" the Thane yelled back.

Magrat grinned, showin' all his pointy teeth. "You heard 'im, boyz. Let's get to stompin'!"

Battle an' Glory:
When Skarlug started his drummin', we knew it was go time. Shields up, axes ready, we smashed into 'em like a sledgehammer on an anvil. Grubnash was a whirlwind o' axes an’ tore through 'em like they waz snots. But it was Magrat, ‘e waz mad, that Dwarf Thane didn't stand a chance. One good whack from Kraglash, and he was down, screamin' for his ancestors or some Dwarfy god.

"Gritfang, keep that standard high!" Magrat yelled, and our standard bearer lifted the grinnin' mad moon banner like he was holdin' up the sky itself..

We left 'em runnin' and took their shiny stuff and brews .Couldn't have gone better. "Good fight, boyz," said Magrat, "but keep yer axes sharp. There's more of 'em beardies out there to bash, more loot to grab."

We don't bother much with fancy words. Usually, we just yell, "Moon's out, choppa's out!" and get to the Crunpin’..

We're just gettin' started in the Old World, but we've already sent them Dwarfs packin' back home, but word's gettin' around. We're Magrat's Mad Moon Marauders, and we're just warmin' up.

What's a uniform? We got scale armor, steel-capped  Hobgobla boots, and shields paint'd with all sorts of snarly faces. Good ‘nough.

We're all 'bout heavy armor and axes, big bova boots and our shields... well, they're more for show, but dey look good.

Sunday 1 October 2023

Orctober comes but once a year. Even if you forgot last year.

 What can I say? Two years since my last post. No good. At least I'm coming back with a bang!

I started celebrating Orctober ever since 2013 starting in dis old post  my final real try at it was 2016 funnily enough about the time my life turned upside down I've tried on and off to get back in the spirit but didn't quite get there. Others have taken on the mantle and you should check out eberyting on oldhammer face book. I'm feeling a bit more orcy this year so who knows. Happy to accept links to orc posts once more. May even rustle up a prize.

Right oh, here is my first of hopefully several orc posts for orctober. Except its a goblin one.

Grizznak's racer boyz

The setting sun cast a fiery glow upon the open woodland where Grizznak, a wiry evil loking git of a goblin  with a wild glint in his eye, prepared his motley warband. Before them lay the wood elves, unsuspecting in the fading light, their graceful forms illuminated like eerie specters amidst the trees. Grizznak, atop his ramshackle chariot, grinned widely exposing his pointed teeth at his goblin

"Alright, you lot! It's time to show 'em some steel!" he shouted, his voice a shrill mixture of excitement and madness.

Grag, a burly goblin warrior with a long spear, leaned over from his chariot and responded, "Yeah, Grizznak! Let's give 'em a taste of  it fur a change!"

Stinky Pete, the goblin driver, cracked a rusty whip over the backs of the giant wolves, their eyes burning with a savage hunger. "Yer heard the boss! Let's make these pointy-eared tree-huggers wish they'd stayed home."

The goblins cackled and whooped, their spirits high as they sped toward the unsuspecting wood elves. The chariots clattered through the open terrain, scattering fallen leaves and twigs in their wake. Grizznak's chariot led the charge, the giant wolves snarling and frothing with excitement.

Behind Grizznak, Krag, a goblin armed with a massive wooden two-handed mallet, roe his own chariot, eagerly swing the weapon back and forth. "This mallet's been itchin' for some elf-smashin', Grizznak! Let's give 'em a taste of the big 'un!"

As the chariots picked up speed Grizznak grinned at his comrades, his Cleaver gleaming with anticipation. "We'll give 'em a right proper crumpin', Krag!" Grizznak himself was armed with the his Cleaver, a wickedly curved blade, and a wooden shield. He twirled the cleaver in his hand, its edge gleaming wickedly in the fading light.

"Prepare for battle, lads!" Grizznak shouted as the elves came closer into view.



Krag, Grizznak and Grag.











Grag, gripping his long spear, nodded. "Time to poke some pointy-ears full of holes!"

Two other goblins in the warband were armed with bows, they notched arrows, ready to rain death upon the wood elves from a distance.

Grizznak's chariot sped ahead, and the goblins descended upon the wood elves, the clearing erupted into chaos as the goblin chariots crashed into the elven ranks. Giant wolves lunged, teeth bared, sythed wheels felled elven warriors slicing legs in two  and the goblin crew aboard the chariots unleashed a barrage of crude arrows and jagged weapons.

Grizznak, leaped from his chariot and onto an elf with graceful, flowing hair, his blade finding its mark with a vicious slice. Grag, with his vicious spear, jabbed at the wood elves with relentless fury. "These elves ain't got nothin' on us!" he shouted. Krag swung his massive mallet, smashing through elven defenses with brutal force. "Big 'un's crushin' 'em good!"

The wood elves, renowned for their archery and grace, were caught off guard by this frenzied assault. Panic spread among their ranks as goblins and wolves, driven by sheer madness, slashed and clawed their way through the enemy lines.

But the wood elves were not without their own skills. A few arrows found their marks, Stinky Pete, was struck in the chest, but battle lust kept him fighting his feared foe.  Grizznak, bleeding from several wounds, fought on with a relentless determination.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the goblins emerged victorious, their goblin warband standing amidst the defeated wood elves. Grizznak, covered in cuts and bruises but still holding his Cleaver and shield, grinned wearily. "We did it, lads! Pointy ears fur tea."