By: Jonathan Rudy
This story was originally submitted to Mythic!
Nokz rubbed his green backside with a snarl on his face. He hated getting kicked around, literally, by the stupid Orcs. His hands continued to rub his rear as he walked down the hill. Soon the reeking, but admittedly homey-smelling encampment, was behind him and the means to his revenge was within site. A small green hand absently tried to rub away the soreness as he walked into the cave.
Da Boss assembled some of the Boyz and, much to Nokz enjoyment, a pack of Goblins. Their goal, as so eloquently communicated from Da Boss, was to 'Smash da Pinkies and grab der gudz!' There was much cheering and chest beating at the pronouncement, but Nokz kept his eyes on Gorefang. That overgrown mushroom had kicked Nokz in the rump for the last time. He rolled his eyes at the huge Orc pounding his chest at the prospect of a WAAGH!
Looking down the rolling hill, Nokz could easily see the winding path that would eventually lead the Pinkies to them. Silently he thanked Mork... or was it Gork... for the endless supply of Pinkies and their goods. It seemed that Gork... or maybe it was Mork... provided the Pinkies specifically to encourage the survival of the Greenskins.
The sound of nearly forty screaming Orcs pulled Nokz out of his religious reverence. And there he was. Gorefang was thumping his chest and screaming at the top of his stupid lungs. A smile spread across the goblins face. It was a long, slow smile that displayed a row of remarkably long, cruel teeth. Pulling out a small silver whistle, Nokz blew into it. Within seconds, a Squig, nearly as tall as Nokz, appeared at his side. Still smiling, Nokz bent over and whispered something into what looked like an ear. It was hard to tell since Ripper was a mass of horns and eyes, but Nokz knew his Squigs very well.
Off like a shot, Ripper ran down the hill after the marauding Orcs that had eyes only for their human quarry. Their battle cries and chest thumping drowned out the feeble sighs of Nokz. "Oh no," he said apathetically. "Look out. Rampant Squig. Oh my. Whatever... shall... we... do? Bad Squid." He put his hands up to his mouth melodramatically as he tried to (not) stop Ripper.
The last thing that Gorefang felt was a huge horn being rammed up the only pink place an Orc has. The sound of a goblin shrieking with glee blended in with the warcries of the rampaging Orc raiding party.