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"Oi, Mergdarg, get the runts diggin' faster! We caught them stunties… - The Sound and the Fury.... [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
The Sound and the Fury....

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[Mar. 16th, 2007|12:46 pm]
The Sound and the Fury....

total_power

[halftroll]
"Oi, Mergdarg, get the runts diggin' faster! We caught them stunties sleepin', but sure's shine they'll be back! Wouldn't want to dissapoint 'em when they make their homecomin'!" Paymaster Azamat Goldgrin Facekicker's bellow boomed throughout the mountainous stronghold. Just two days hence his mercenary warband had come to this dwarven settlement, butchered the meager garrison with ease, and availed themselves of the excellent casks of beer in the basement.

Azamat knew that the dwarves wouldn't be long in seeking retribution. As a gaggle of tooth-gnoblars roasted one of the former defenders on a spit, Azamat twisted off a leg and chewed thoughtfully. Mergdarg's roared commands were occasionally punctuated by the yelp of an airborne gnoblar, punted or thrown to add emphasis. The runts frantically planted stakes and dug earthworks in preparation for the inevitable dwarven attack.

Casting his gaze to the west, Azamat knew the dwarves' arrival was only a day or two off. They'd made no secret about it, their proud marching songs intoning doom and vengeance for the Ogres. The mercenary general crunched on a femur pensively. A sight out of the corner of his eye made him turn.

"Not there. THERE!" Pointing with the haunch of roast dwarf, Azamat indicated to a flinching team of gnoblars that they were dragging the cannon to the wrong place.

Striding through the camp, Azamat took in the sights and smells of his new landholding. Empty beer casks lay scattered about and already the scrap-gnoblars had gathered a plethora of "treasures" from the dwarves' dustbins. Bulls bragged to each other about how many dwarves they'd eat after the battle while their dutiful gnoblars scampered underfoot, trying frantically to avoid ironshod boots with middling results. A rhinox bellowed in protest as the scrappers lashed their makeshift catapult to it, and the mad, half-deaf ogres of the leadbelcher crew yelled comically at each other over what to load their cannons with.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.
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