The foul stench of greenskin swirled in through Dag's snorting nostrils. Heavy gulps of air were consumed as the mammoth Ork thundered through
the once lush under growth. He was on a direct, if single-minded, pursuit and if he had been completely honest with himself, he still had no idea of how to
attain his goal. At this point, Dag knew he was to find the enemy Ork base, but beyond that, the details were a bit...fuzzy. Dag came to a halt in a clearing
3 clicks in from the treeline.
"Zog! Where'z dem otha greenskin gitz?
I knowz dey'z 'round 'ere somewherez." What Dagbolt didn't know is that the remaining Boyz and the few Nobz that
had survived the assault had run off. This was naturally puzzling to Dag, and quite frankly, it would be a mystery to anyone else that wasn't one of the
Feral Orkz. Something had chased them off, but what? There were no shell casings lying in the mire, and what's more is there were no weapons strewn about
to suggest that there had been a battle, nor were there any corpses. The occupying greenskins had simply abandoned the spot that Dagbolt was now gazing at.
Dagbolt sniffed the air. There was just a hint of something other Ork-like. Could it be? "Smellz like wun uv dem Squiggy beasts. Let'z see where'z dey kept 'em."
Dagbolt entered the center of the compound, a huge totem of skulls was erected, each layer proudly displaying a different type of enemy. Dagbolt eyed it
for a moment then trudged on. Surely there were Squiggy beasts around, for their smell, even if faint, was fresh. As Dag walked to the opposite side of
the totem, he spotted what appeared to be a Squig pen from the corner of his right eye. "Great Gork and Mork!" the giant Ork exclaimed. He wasted no time
getting to the holding pen. There weren't very many Squigs confined by the crudely constructed area, but there was one that Dag knew would suit him well.
It was only a matter of capturing it that made this part the most interesting. 8 pairs of beady, soulless eyes were now fixated on Dag, as he was the
only Ork the Squigs had seen in hours. Pointy, razor sharp ivories glistened in the sunlight, borne in self-defence and fear for the tower of green
approaching their living quarters. Dag had spotted an orange growler Squig in the corner of the pen. It was a bit runtier than the other Squigs, but
that would make a perfect companion for Dag, as he wanted to kept the Squig on his shoulder. Getting the Squig he wanted wouldn't be too much of an issue if
it had just been the one Squig in the pen. There were two more, larger Squigs though, and they would be the ones creating the problem. Before entering the
makeshift containment area, Dag knew he had to grab something to distract the other Squigs. He began searching for scraps, a Gretchin, anything that would
allow him to enter the pen, grab the Growler, and get back out. It sounded simple enough in theory, but putting such a thing to action was always...
interesting to say the very least, especially with Squigs. Dag's searched the entire compound for anything that would distract the other Squigs. He paused for a moment
and scratched his head. "Dey just run off an left almost nuffin' be'ind...cept dem Squiggiez. Guess dey figured dat dem Squigs could take care uv demselvez.
There were a few odd buckets strewn outside a few of the poorly clapped together hovels, which might work for holding a liquid...and then they just as well
may not. Dag sauntered over and picked out one wooden bucket, and one, rather dented and somewhat rusty metal container. "Dis'll do" he muttered to himself.
Not being a Squig herder, Dag dredged the bubbling cesspools that dotted the surrounding area, figuring that since the Squigs came from there, they might
eat it...he hoped. With the two buckets in one hand, and his Choppa in the other, Dagbolt opened the rickety gate of the Squig pen. The Growler Squig shouted
mindless obscenities at Dag, while the two larger Squigs viciously bared their white weapons. Not really thinking about the outcome, Dag tossed the buckets
toward the larger Squigs. The thought was the buckets would land sunny side up and the larger Squigs would feast. If only that had really happened. Instead
the contents of the buckets, including the buckets themselves, landed on the bigger Squigs, dousing them in slime and filth. "Dat wuzn't wut I wanted..."
Instead of standing still much longer, Dag thought it best to retrieve his tiny prize and sprinted for the Growler. His minor distraction would have worked
for a bit longer, had the other Squigs not ran into each other. They shook themselves free of most of the slime and bore down on Dag as he snatched up
their Growler brother. As Dag fought to contain the smaller Squig, the larger ones lunged at Dag's back (which fortunately was armoured). Dag felt them
hit, and he heard the slosh they made as the both of them hit the muddy ground. Dag now had control of the Growler and his Choppa, which would spell certain
doom for the other Squigs should they try their assault again. As Dag thought they might, the Squigs attempted their ill-fated strike, but only one lunged this time.
The other circled to Dag's left, and lept, mouth gaping wide, at Dag's shoulder, only to receive a mouth full of ceramite. The other Squig was introduced to Dag's
Choppa. The two would have gotten along so well, had Dag's Choppa not had such a splitting personality.
To get rid of the other Squig, Dag simply fell to his left, his enormous weight crushing the Squig. The only thing he couldn't knock off was the semi-circle of imbedded teeth the Squig had left behind. It didn't matter much to Dag though, as he saw the teeth as a trophy. With Growler in hand, Dag now looked for a way out of the forest.
"'Old still ya tiny git. No! Don't bite me ya zoggin' Squiggy!" Dag shook his right hand as the Squig sunk its teeth deep into his flesh. WAAAH!!! The mighty
bellow rang as Dag tried to remove the orange mass from his shooting hand.Dag squeezed just behind the Squig's jaw and it relinquished the strangle hold it
had on Dag's green flesh. "You'z gonna be perfekt once I train ya ta bite dem uvva gitz, an not me" Dag spat, as the Growler squirmed to wretch itself free.
It was no use, Dag's iron grip held firm, and eventually the Squig grew tired and succumbed to the massive Ork's will. "Dat'z better. Now what am I gonna
call ya? Hmm.." Dag pondered and thought and squirmed under his lack of imagination.
There was a rustle in the brush not far from Dag's position. It had come from the same general direction that Dag had entered the Ork encampment. "I'll name ya later den." Dag said as he clutched his Choppa. He then ventured toward the direction of the sound, Choppa held high.
Resumé: Dag has found the Ork encampent abandoned, has found a Squig to call his own and is investigating the source of a noise in the forest.
Edited by Warboss Nooka, 28 October 2009 - 20:25.