Da Kaptain's Log: Chapter Five

The air, heavy with salty tang, drifted across the burning ruins of Mingol Var harbor, swirling smoke in all directions, diffusing the plum colored sun setting on the horizon. The streets were deserted, debris filled and stinking of fish, burned wood and unwashed bodies. The raid had been a swift one, the greenskins making a proper attack, full steam ahead! The longboats, filled to the gills with dozens of Orc raiders, made landfall with all the subtlety of a hurricane, which quickly spun itself out. Where were the Stunties? Where was the grog? Where was anything that had been promised for the raid?

As increasingly greenskins fell into personal fights and looting, Blacksquig stood on the ruined gangplank, flanked by his first mate Scragg, surveying the burning buildings and sucking on his teeth. The old Orc slowly slid his choppa back into its sheath, a glum look on his wind-worn face. His magnificent hat, perched on his brow, flopped, and bent in the stiff breeze, its exotic feathers ruffling and slapping at his cheeks.

“You know Scragg me lad? A very familiar feelin is comin over me.”

“Wot kinda feelin Boss?” answered Scragg, making sure he was out of flailing fist range, having lost a toof on more than one occasion when Blacksquig lashed out.

“I am beginin to feel like a Squigs ass, dat’s wot!”

The plank groaned under the weight of the two massive Orcs as they slowly descended to the broken ground in front of them.

“Weze been krumpin and clobberin since dis fight got going, but wot az dat gotten us? I can’t count on me fingers anyfing good about dis Waaaaagh. Weze fightin and dat new Warboss iz playin footzies wif Gobbos! Not propa dis wun, sneaky git always scheming instead of fightin like a propa Orc."

"Yer Boss, and dat last message dun said that dey da ones wot sent dem deadgitz to fight. What gives der, King Skumgrod can’t git off ‘iz own throne and do his own fightin? Let’s weedy Gobbos and deadgitz do da krumpin fer ‘im?”

Not taking proper care, Scragg found himself inside harm’s way, and a meaty fist sent his nose up into his brain nearly, watering his eyes and nearly breaking his thick neck. Yep, da Boss was in another foul mood!

“Scragg me lad, I been finkin. Maybe weze needz to do sumfink about own new “Boss”. I be sick of sittin 'ere fightin fer nuffink. Maybe it’s time fer dat git to pay da pippa?”

Settling in on a stack of scorched lumber, Blacksquig turned his gaze to the distant mountains, his upper tusks curling over his lips so far that they almost touched his chin…