Survival

We Need More not Less Dakka

Chief Hogar Gnomecrusher stomped back and forth as we watched the trolls return. Several of his men had wondered out of the camp and into the gnome battlements. They had waited in line and requested supplies and now were coming back with them. They had given power to those weaker than them, they had submitted to gnomes! He grabbed a large stump and threw it at a nearby troll in his rage. The stump crushed the trolls skull and bounced down the hill. A few of his men looked up, saw who had thrown the stump and went back to their routines without question. The violence didn’t cool the trolls blood, he turned and strode in anger towards the chief fire. He would speak to the other clan heads.

The Chief fire had four trolls sitting around it, a few orcs and humans cowed behind holding barrels of grog and spits of meat to give to the chiefs as they wished it. Hogar strode forth grabbing one of the orcs and tossing him in the fire, the cask of grog smashed on the rocks as the human screamed and crawled from the flames. The chiefs stood in anger at the rude approach of their peer.

“What is Hogar?” the youngest of the Chief’s demanded, he was a big Troll with two large horns on his head, his long black dreaded hair ran down his back and accentuated his narrow green eyes. “That was the last of our grog! And that man was under my protection, explain yourself”

“Shut your gnome loving mouth HornSlapper!” Hogar growled, he was in no mood to have a pup dictate behavior to him. He turned to the other senior chiefs. “Moredakka leads us to madness, he has us suckling at the Gnomish tit, and I for one.. yggg.. AHHHH… uggg!” his words were cut off as Hornslapper had grabbed a log waiting to be thrown on the fire and instead impaled his neck with it. the young chief did not relent; his horns crackling with lightening jutted forth, one gouging Hogars left eye, the other deafening the senior chief as it penetrated his ear. Hogars knees buckled involuntarily, he slumped but the tall Hornslapper held his hair keeping him in a kneeling position.

“THAT WAS MY MAN!” Hornslapper yelled into Hogars good ear “MY PROTECTION MEANS SOMETHING!” spit flew from the angry chief’s mouth landing on the bleeding wounded Hogar. Hogar was still stunned, the lightening from the horns had hit his brain, he could not move well and was waiting for his regeneration to kick back in. The young chief continued his tirade “THAT WAS THE LAST OF OUR GROG! YOU WILL GET US MORE!” the Troll was shaking in anger, as he yelled his left claw was ripping off Hogars right arm. “MOREDAKKA IS CHOSEN BY KABASH! KABASH CANNOT BE WRONG! THAT! MAKES! YOU! WROOOONNNNNGGGG!” with the last word Hogars arm was ripped off and his face felt a blow of his arm being slapped across it. The troll slumped to the ground dizzy from blood loss. HornSlappers rage did not abate, though now Hogar could barley make out the words as he felt his ribs break under the kicks and stomps that assailed him from the young chief “HOW DARE YOU QUESTION MOREDAKKA! HOW DARE YOU HURT MY MAN! MY MAN! MY PROTECTION!” the last conscious thought that Hogar recalled was the young chief picking him up over his head and screaming to the other chiefs “GNOMECRUSHER IS CHIEF NO MORE! HE TOOK MY MAN AND MY GROG, BUT HE IS WEAK SO I TAKE HIS CLAN!” he then had the sensation of flying as the young troll threw him down the hillside, he bounced several times causing other trolls orcs and goblins to scatter out of the way until he landed in a refuse pile near the bottom of the hill. It was here that blood loss, broken bones and humiliation got the better of him as he allowed himself to pass out.

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Argyle

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