Warlord Daxtor the Illustrious and Clan Blorg

[ArneB]

Warlord Daxtor the Illustrious and Clan Blorg

Waking up naked in the breeding pens, warlord Daxtor could not remember much of the night before, only vague recollections of excessive use of warpstone snuff. Pushing his way through the snoring mass of snoring mass of semi-sentinent females he grabbed a few squeeking pups for a hangover snack while he tried remembering what had happened. The young flesh felt good in his empty stomach, but thinking still made his head hurt. Ah yes, he was still in Skavenblight, where he had spent the winter in safety living of what he and clan Daxtor had managed to raid last summer. It still felt good being back in the city, where the merits of civilized society could be fully enjoyed. Luckily, spring was still far away.

“Summer!!!?” Daxtor shouted while furiously strangling his second in command, Snitz. “It can’t possibly be summer yet-yet?”. Angrily, he threw the chieftain to the ground and went out the door, punching the first clanrat he met in the snout and asked the same question. “Liar-liars!!!” he screamed at his scattering underlings. But he was slowly starting to realize that the soft life underground had made him forgot all about time. He noticed his clanrats looked a bit chubby, and that the goblin and gnoblar slaves he had returned with looked a lot fewer than he remembered. Perhaps it was time to march out again.

Having heard about vast riches being conveniently scattered nearby by some stupid man-things, he ordered his clanrats to start preparing for a quick summer of plundering. Returning to his chamber he noticed something was strange about his warlock-augmented sword. It looked distinctly more non-augmented than he remembered it. In fact, it looked just like an ordinary sword pained green. “Thief-thieves everywhere!” he squeeked and beat the gnoblar slave servant in the room to death with a bottle of algaebeer. Snacking on the sinewy flesh he made rounds among his lieutenants and found that some rivaling clan had laid their filthy paws on most of the clan’s magic items. The only things left were his own amulet of preservation, probably because he had the foresight to have it sewn into his chestfur, and Snitz magic armour that he for some reason never had taken off in the last months. Luckily, the weapons he had bought from clan skryre before starting spending his loot on females and snuff were still there.

Having reached the lands of the man-things, he noticed lots of other things had heard about the loot. A band of wolf-riding green-things seemed like the softest target. After a long battle, Daxtor found most of his army scattered and himself captured by snickering goblin warlords. Using his superior wits he managed to buy his freedom by giving up his talisman of preservation and demonstrating how it worked to the warlords. He was quite convinced that they would not let him go even after getting the talisman, but he also knew enough about goblins to understand that given such a treasure they would start fighting among themselves for it and giving him a chance to escape. This also proved right, and soon afterwards he was able to return to the camp set up by his army, which had expertly retreated and escaped mostly intact.
Discipline had to be restored by bashing a few heads and eating the upstarts, but in the end he managed to get back control of his clan. He also noticed that while he had been busy trying to kill goblins, some of his jezzail-crews had been busy bringing home the loot they had come for. He and his now slightly fewer lieutenants studied the items found and found that these were artifacts of awesome power, much more powerful than the talisman that the goblins had painfully ripped from his chest. He was pleased at this, and took an extra large dose of warpstone snuff to celebrate.