Tjubgob Outrider Partatua Marrowsucker jounced upon the back of Chickenwing, his tall Bak-Kak-Ku mount. The giant avian ate the distance in long leaps. Mount and rider darted over a dusty hillock strewn with bushes and cedar trees. Cedar forests flourished this close to the coast down south. The scrawny Tjubgob gleefully noted that the south end of the hillock had been the place of a slave logging camp before enemies had struck, burning and slaying. Mangled corpses of shackled Humans and Goblins lay strewn about the swirling ashes and lingering smoke.
Fate and foe had been less kind to their Tjubgob overseers, for someone had apparently hacked them into little pieces and tossed the mutilated body parts on a dung heap. The grizzled Outrider did not doubt for a second that the Tjubgob slavedrivers had been alive and screaming as mobs of Orcish enemies pressed them down and tore them apart. Sunshine gleamed off golden tusks as Partatua fired off a sadistic grin at the tought of the overseers' demise. Such exquisite cruelty! Such overpowering force and shrieking panic! Such violation! The chopped-up slavedrivers were not even his own kin. Probably tribesmen from the Crooked Cap or Stormcloud tribe, so why should he care for such fellow Tjubgobs' fate? Frankly, he did noteven care for his own tribesmen.
A massive roar from five thousand brutish throats rose behind him, rising from the constant din of stomping feet and galloping cloven hooves. The Orc marauders of the Limbtearer tribe were in hot pursuit, but Partatua Marrowsucker did not fear. His Bak-Kak-Ku strider, Chickenwing, could outpace anyone in the horde behind him. Instead, Partatua's thoughts were cold and cunning, spinning out a devious plan of treachery. He filled his lungs and yelled at his eight fellow Outriders:
"Halt, you maggots! Stay your birds on this crest or I will rip your tongues out and feed them to wolves!"
Bewildered, his underling scouts tugged on the neck wrinkles of their Bak-Kak-Ku mounts, slapping their sides, kicking their heels in and hissing obscenities to their running avians. A wild dance ensued as Bak-Kak-Ku striders grudgingly obeyed and terminated their fast run, trying to toss off their riders, shrieking and stomping about on the spot in a cloud of dust.
"Hell boss! Hell! Why?" One-Eyed Scyles shouted back to Partatua.
"We must remain in sight of the Orcs on this crest, and on the crest of the next hill," explained Partatua. "We must not leave them all in the dust so they lose the trail. We must let them keep hot on our heels. Wait until the Orcs reach the logging camp behind us, and then sprint on to the next hill. Halt your Bak-Kak-Kus there. Do not let the Orcs lose sight of us! Got it?"
"Yeah, Marrowsucker, but why?!"
"We're all about to be rich, you dog. Now, bloody well do as I tell you, or we're all dead meat..."
The wind-bitten Tjubgob Outriders listened intently. Red eyes glittered with malice and greed. They nodded in agreement, and proceeded to lead on their pursuers, stopping when necessary to let the frothing Orcs catch up.
A while later, the gaggle of Tjubgob Outriders burst over the crest of yet another cedar-strewn hill. They spurred on their avian mounts at full speed down the sides of the hillock, babbling and screaming in apparent fright, as they rushed down to the column of friendly warriors, slaves and pack mules that snaked its way along the dusty road between two long hills.
Seven hundred armed Tjublings and two thousand Tjubgob warriors were making their way home toward the great port city of Tjubba-Tjubdansk, accompanied by untold thousands of chained slaves and pack animals in the baggage train. The little army's campaign yonder east into the Black Bog had been a success, thanks to scouts on Bak-Kak-Ku striders and oxen pulling pontoon bridges. The returning host was laden with booty and swamp Goblin slaves, and the mood had been jubilant. Now, uncounted heads turned right to stare at the frantic Outriders.
"Danger! Danger! Enemy in hot pursuit! Thousands of Orcs! Ooorcs! Ooooorcs!" screamed Partatua Marrowsucker at the top of his lungs. And the army heard him.
Tjubling Leaders of Fifty and Tjubgob mob leaders bellowed at their underlings to form ranks. The long lines of marching warriors started scurrying into formation in a mass of fervent activity. Wolf riders darted out to form the horns of the army, ready to harass and envelop the enemy at the flanks. Lumbering artillery pieces were hastily unlimbered and readied by startled crews and hauler slaves, and all eyes turned northwards. Chain gangs of porter slaves were violently herded about behind the slowly forming battleline, whipped and kicked by dozens of Tjubgob slavedrivers and a handful of terrifying Tjubling overseers.
The entire army was a mass of beating hearts and feet, hoarse cries and curses. The entire host was a massive din of thundering paws and cloven hooves, trundling wagon wheels and clattering arms and armour. The entire slaving expediton was a stressful hot knot of voices, drums, horns and roaring orders, all set to a background cacophony of wailing and whining Goblin slaves. Warband standards were raised high, a forest of icons and banner tops shaped as skulls, anvils, stormclouds and braziers. The whole sight was one of chaos, yet it was magnificient all the same. A thousand voices seemed to scream all at once:
"Ooorcs!"
"Form ranks!"
"Speargobs move over there! No, there! Leave a bloody gap for the Tjubbutaur Crushers!"
"Orcs! Orcs!"
"Get me the shaman! We need his Greater Shadow Demon right now!"
"Out of the way! Damn it! Damn it!"
"Black Hammer Rockets ready to fire!"
"Get the blasted Doom Hammers off the carts! Quick! Quick!"
"Hurry! They're pouring over the crest! Look!"
"Orcs! Orcs!"
"Oooorcs!"
The army's Tjubling warlord, Bazkerak Skullcrusher, darted along the front of his frantic battleline, roaring out orders and invoking the gods on high to stay by their side. He promised them a mighty pyre of sacrificed enemies in exchange for divine and unholy favour here and now. Unusually enough, the bearded Bazkerak had learnt how to ride a Bak-Kak-Ku strider, and he had used it to great effect out in the swamps. Untold thousands of Goblin marsh dwellers had found themselves overwhelmed by his unorthodox tactics, yet the bloodthirsty horde which now rushed downhill toward his army was an altogether different foe. A much more lethal foe.
Partatua Marrowsucker veered off to the side of the frantic army, leading his Outriders in a curve behind the host. Partatua cackled loudly at the sight of the onrushing Orcish tribe. Loud explosions erupted among the disordered Orc ranks as rocketry hit home, leaving blackened corpses and shrieking wounded behind. Yet the bloodlust had gripped the taunted Orcs to the hilt, and the hulking brutes charged the Tjublings and Tjubgobs head on, roaring a fearsome warcry.
The plan worked. Partatua Marrowsucker and his fellow scouts had managed to drag the Orcs along closely behind them like a child would a kite. Instead of giving the Tjubling army ample warning, or distracting the Orcs away from the column, the Outriders had led the savage horde right into the side of the marching host.
Partatua did not care to see if the army of Bazkerak Skullcrusher withstood the overwhelming rush of Orc warriors. The outcome was all the same to him. As all of the defenders' eyes were fully concentrated on the primitive barbarians assaulting them from the front, Partatua Marrowsucker led his cunning Outriders behind Bazkerak's lines. They did not go for the masses of Goblin slaves, for they would have been nigh impossible to herd along and feed. Likewise, the oxen and wagons were too cumbersome to bother with.
Instead, the Outriders couched their lances, spurred on their Bak-Kak-Ku striders and charged the few Tjubgob kinsmen who had been left to guard the pack mules of the baggage train. The Tjubgobs on foot cried out in surprise as the Outriders lanced them through their chests, tossing their corpses aside like ragdolls. The dastardly villains proceeded to herd away all the hundreds of pack mules of the army, laden with a fortune's worth of weapons, food, textiles, money and other equipment. The mules were strong, and could easily cope with the hilly terrain which Partatua planned to traverse.
Partatua Marrowsucker lifted his felt cap in mockery toward the embattled Tjubling army behind him, and shouted his wry thanks to ears which could not hear anything but the savage warcry of the hacking and slashing Orcs right in front of them. Sink or swin, the host of Bazkerak Skullcrusher would find half of their entire baggage train gone by the time this ferocious battle was over. It would be a challenge for the runaway Tjubgobs to escape with their booty far away from the domains of Tjubba-Tjubdansk, but they would be able to live like underworld kings if they could pull it off. Partatua grinned at his Outriders, and his co-thieves grinned back. The heist was on!
New 15mm miniatures out now! Sculpted by Tobias "Tjub" Torstensson. Pack mules sculpted by Mathias Rizell.
Please note that one leg of the Tjubgob Bak-Kak-Ku rider was broken off and faultily re-attached by the caster. This should be easily fixed for experienced hobbyists.
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