Following from RoE18 The Saga of Olrog Ironead continued at Realms at War Aethermy
It was done the Warmachine was built. The great tarnished brass cannon jutted over its prow. A weapon which could vomit forth the pure energy of the Orruks to smash their foes. A pained whisper breathed out,
“Please let me, die”
“Hur, Hur no chance Artur” chuckled Olrog, “you get in my business you get the fangs Oomie, ‘sides turns out you’re mite more use to me alive than ded”
The captured mage fell silent. Crucified to the machine he slumped into a defeated unconsciousness. Somehow he was a conductor of Waaagh energy. His body was like some lightning rod for the energy, drawing it into himself allowing it to be concentrated and used by one with the skill.
It wasn’t complete though. Even with the vast energies provided by the WAAAGH and a pair of boys on the pump it couldn’t fly and fire the cannon. This simply wouldn’t do having the machine crash into the ground every time of fired would he both unsatisfactory and ultimately fatal. Gathering his command cadre Olrog put them to the task of solving this dilemma.
“Why not just ram stuff?” provided the ever direct Bolg. This statement of direct brutality from the Megaboss earned nods and grunts of agreement from the assembled bosses.
“Cos it’s really hard ramming flying stuff” said Olrog’ “‘sides you saw what those big shooty rats did to the lads, the Wagon would get well smacked up by that sort of fing before it even got close”
“Aefermey” muttered the Shaman Gaztrukk.
“Wot!” Snorted Olrog
“Aefermey Boss. The Chief Ded Un Nagash has let off a big Wierd bomb there’s majik and stuff just lying around all over the place.”
“Hold on!” Interrupted Blog “Int Nagash the Ded Un wot owes you money Boss?”
“Yer you’re right Bolg but that’s gotta wait, Gaztrukk tell me more about these pools of majik.”
“Well Boss it’s like I sed, there’s pools of if and if you mix it wi more majik stuff it’s ded powerful. There’s a bit of problem though”
“Wot sort of problem” snarled the Warboss.
“Weeelllllll’ Gaztrukk said as he pulled an item out from under his robes.
“Wots that, some sort of lazy Squig?”
“Nar it’s Quizbob, one of my trainees, or rather it woz eez a tater now”
“Yeah it’s an edible root tuber, Oomies love em”
“I know what a Tater is Gaztrukk, why is Quizbob wun?”
“It’s the Aefermey Boss, that’s wot I’m sayin, it’s dangerous. Get it right an it’s well powerful, get wrong then poof, tater”
“How’s that gonna help then if the Wagon crew keeps getting turned into taters?”
“Well Boss I’ve gotta plan see, if you let me ave one of the Troggoths, one of the less stoopid ones. I’ll show im ow to chuck majik stuff together and rite down wot he uses an if it goes wrong he’ll grow back”
“Nice” grinned Olrog “is there somewhere where there’s more of this Aefermey stuff?”
“Yes Boss I know where there’s loads”
“Well done Gaztrukk, we’ll get the boys over there and get some, an where there’s majik there’s gonna be Panzeez likely we can ave a bit of fun while we’re at it. You can ave Magwort he’s ded clever for a Troggoth he doesn’t eat rocks or nothin”
With a grunt of pain Olrog shifted his bluk on the cot of his sleeping chamber, it had been a month and still the wound in his back had not healed. Only an Aelvish blade could do that, how in Gork’s name had the pig boss got hold of a Aelf weapon.
It had started so well, Olrog had triumphed in the pit taking control of Gorkamorka’s children in the area. Magwort had secured the Aether compounds he needed to charge the Waaagh Wagon. Then betrayal had come. Mulgrok the Grunta Boss brought news of a renegade Waaagh led by the notorious Krunk. Olrog had led the strongest of his Waaagh, his own praetorians, the Nighthjaws and Mulgrok’s Rawaaaagh to punish the upstart. The challenge laid Olrog had ridden out to face Krunk. Before righteous battle could be joined the Traitor Mulgrok has jumped Olrog form behind plunging an eldritch blade into the Avatar of Waaagh’s back.
Loyal Gaztrukk had pulled Olrog from the fray but the damage was done, Krunk’s forces had won the day. The other bosses of the Waaagh took their forces and battled for their own glories, believing Olrog dead and unwilling to fight under the banner of the honour less Mulgrok.
All had was not lost Magwort needed Aelf blood to finally fully power the Waaagh Wagon. An army of Aelves had been located. The remains of Waaagh Olrog had fallen upon them and the Slaughter was great. Olrog’s injury had prevented him fully participate in the massacre though bourn by Aelfkicker he had been able to command his forces.
A throng of Aelves had fled and Olrog’s forces had given pursuit. It was a trap led Into the waiting ambush of the Thunder gods elite the Orruks were butchered. Stormcast externals has been dispatched to aid their allies. Olrog tried to disengage his out matched forces but the Aelves out flanked him. A pair of the mechanical likenesses of their god had charged out of the shadows and smashed the Waaagh Wagon to pieces before Magwort could power it up. The last chance of victory broken Olrog had kicked his heels to Aelfkicker and withdrew from the debacle. His last view was of Magwort as the Troggoth died hard under a scrum of Stromcast Eternals.
Gaztrukk and a handful of the Bonesplitterz had managed to fight their way clear. No one else had survived. The once mighty Waaagh Olrog had been reduced to his closest lieutenants, a few score Bonesplitterz and the reavers and raiders that still remained hopeful of spoils yet to come. But even that would not last if wound dealt by the traitor would not heal.
A thump echoed through the chamber’s door. Olrog grunted in acknowledgement and the heavy wooden door open and Bolg shambled in.
“Boss I know you sed not to disturb you, but you gotta see this. Some crazy lookin Grot is at the gates with his boys”
Olrog growled in pain and annoyance but he couldn’t not present himself to a warband at his gates. Limping to the gate Olrog gestured to the boys to open them. On the other side was the strangest looking Grot he had seen. The rangy creature was head and shoulders taller than was normal for his kind and he seemed as much fungi as Greenskin. Behind him his warband was equally strange ranks of polearmed armour goblins stood in silent ordered ranks and closest stood an honour guard of Orruk sized hobgoblins.
It spoken with a voice that sounded like more than one being speaking
“I crave an audience with the Avatar of the Waaagh, I bring tidings of great importance for the mighty Warlord”
“Yer taking to him” Grunted Olrog.
“My words are for you alone Ironead, can we go somewhere”
“Alright”, said Olrog, “but they stay out there” he said gesturing at the Grot soldiery.
Leading the Grot into his throne room Olrog slumped into his throne.
“Let me guess?” He sneered, “Da Bad Moon spoke to you once”
“Really funny Warboss,” the Grot said looking Olrog in the eye,”how’s that stab
wound healing up, I ain’t some Loonboss I’m the mouth of Mork an he’s sent me to remind you of who you are”
Olrog surged to his feet, “ wounded or not I’ll stomp you flat Gobbo, any reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Cos you’ll be ded in a week if you do,” came the reply, “ that Aelf blade wound won’t heal on its own, I know you Orruks ain’t scared of dying but you’ve got a job to do an you can’t do it ded, so sit down an listen. You’ve forgotten who you are. You ain’t the Fist if Gork to go round exterminating all the Panzees. You ain’t some Stunty building warmachines. You’re the Avatar of the Waaagh and that’s Grok an Mork, kunning and brutal. Who’d you think out that Sword in Mulgrok’s hand? You don’t fink he can up with that plan on his own. It was Mork making sure you remembered who you worked for, all of Gorkamorka’s lads not just yerself”
Standing the Grot pulled a bottle from its robes. It contained a foul looking yellow liquid and Olrog recognised it,
“How you get that? Magwort had that in his hand when he got stomped by the Thunder Oomies’”
“ Haha. Kunning, that’s how”, snorted the Grot, “Here’s the choice you die here a failure betrayed and beaten or you take this and maybe become wot you should”
Olrog eyes narrowed a he considered this. He took a step forward, snarled in pain as he snatched the bottle from the outstretched hand, broke the top from it and swallowed its contents in one. Fire tore through his belly and throat. Olrog threw his head back bellowed in pain and knew no more.
The Cave Shaman shuffled from the throne room alone and ordered his Hobgoblins to seal the doors. Dragging a sack behind him he made over to Bolg, reaching into the sack he pulled Olrog’s mask from it.
“Wots goin on, where’s da Boss?”, Snarled the Megaboss.
The Shaman handed the mask to Bolg and dropped the sack containing the rest of Olrog’s wargear at Bolg’s feet
“Put that on” he ordered