Bulla, Megaboss of Da Flat Iron Clan and warlord of Da Wasted Plains, gave a hard stare to the stone icon, then headbutted it. He didn't like the way that vulture head was looking at him, so he smashed his forehead into it for a second time. The stone was starting to crumble. Good, he thought. Gork damn him if he was going to take any cheek from a statue.
"Dey are coming for it," said his Warchanter, Groll, tapping out his two stikks while he spoke. They had not reached the ear-bursting beat of battle, but the gods-infused stikks were knocking out an impatient tempo. Every heartbeat brought them closer to slaughter.
"Da humies?" Bulla asked. His outriders had seen a large mob of chaos-worshippers drawing close, dragging a large casket of loot behind them.
Groll nodded at the cracked icon. "Dey want dis one, and the one on the uvver side of town."
Bulla thumped his meaty fist against his breastplate. A shower of rust flaked away, but there were still many inches of pig-iron covering several more inches of thick Orruk muscle. "Get da ladz. We'll pull 'em into our jawz, den crush 'em."
The Warchanter gave both Gorkskikk and Morkstikk a determined bash, igniting the green Waaagh! power within. "It's gonna be an 'ard day's night."
Melt down the ferrite!
It's All-Skype Fight Night!
The Ark of Alternatives campaign continues apace (that pace being once a month). This time, I Stylus, will be bringing a new faction to play, hastily painted up during the bank holiday: the Ironjawz!
