"Witchwood" Forests, outside of the city of Misk
An Orruk Megaboss dips his fingers into a shallow puddle. The puddle is thick and viscus. The Megaboss stands up and sniffs the substance before recoiling in disgust and wiping it off on a nearby tree.
"We's still on track." he says, motioning to his small band of Brutes and Gore-Grunta's.
Unlike most clans of Ironjawz they steer clear of bright colors, instead wearing paint the color of sawdust with accents of deep red.
The Gor Grunta's charge past the boss trying to keep up the chase.
The Megaboss, Grol Barkhide and his brutes march behind them at a steady pace, the megaboss wrapping his hand around the large blood red seed tied around his neck. It glows warmly in his hand.
The boss sighs with relief, quiet enough that he can't be heard over the hooves of the gore-gruntas.
"Boss! We found somefing!" a voice shouts from up ahead as the sound of galloping comes to an abrupt stop.
The boss and brutes make it through a curtain of foliage, to a cliff looking over a clearing in the forest.
In this clearing they see a group of nurgle daemons gathered in bickering groups around a green glowing anomaly floating in the air, over a small pond of bubbling puss which has formed beneath it.
Muzzlebreaka' the Bigboss of the gore-grunta's holds his fellow riders in place with a steely glare, waiting for orders from Grol
Grol charges past them leaping off of the cliff crashing elbow first into a gathering of nurglings, crushing them into a sticky paste.
The Daemons heads turn in near unison to face the megaboss as he stands up, pulling the horn of a smashed nurgling out of his side.
The Daemons scramble to take position, but are interrupted by a group of Gore-Grunta's slamming down into their ranks, though this does more to displace than harm them.
"You's gonna' pay for what ya' did to my tree!" Megaboss Grol Shouts throwing his massive spear into the fold, impaling a plaguebearer, then immediately picking up a large branch off the ground to use as a makeshift club.
A Plagueridden looks up from the rotting wooden shield he'd been hiding behind to see another group of orruks cresting the Cliffside. The Plagueridden stands up and calls for a full retreat, and green bodies start quickly shambling into the green anomaly.
Grol hesitates to follow them as he sees the opening fluctuate in size and stability with each plaguebarer that crosses the threshold. but then he hears the voice his warchanter Atam Zhaggurd scream the word "GOREPINE!"
With fortified resolve Grol pulls his spear back out of the plaguebarer, who immediately starts crawling for the gate. This is cut short by Grol's boot smashing his skull as the megaboss charges past the still engaged gore-grunta's and brutes through the rift calling out "WAAA-"
The Festering Cistern, under the city of Klavecks
Since it's rebuilding after the 'Redmaw Incident' the hollowed out sewer tunnels have turned into a bustling center of activity, the walls lined with glowing gnawholes leading across the mortal realms, these trails are outsourced to other skaven clans, and chaos warbands brave enough to use them in exchange for warpstones, or better yet, ingredients for great plagues.
The priest, Skittchren Cystic sits on his throne looking out over the cistern at the caravan of nurgle daemons and warriors moving in a line from one gnawhole into another. Though he is proud of his achievements the Archdeacon is never comfortable with outsiders in the cistern. He finds himself fidgeting in his chair with a hatred of the slow, fat, green, monsters. But just before he can order their eyes ripped out and their bones chewed, the Verminlord Pathogenious reminds him of the ingredients they'll get in exchange for the Gorgers safe passage to Hirestel, and he slumps back into his chair.
Suddenly a sound starts to echo through the cavernous halls of the cistern, faint at first but building louder, and louder.
"AAAGH!" a giant orruk finishes his battle cry bursting out of a gnawhole clutching a plaguebarer by the neck, standing right behind the band of nurgle worshipers. For a moment the entire cave is silent as the marching comes to a halt, and the skaven all train their eyes on the megaboss.
Grol looks around at the thousands surrounding him, then back down the tunnel at the brutes and gore-grunta's charging up to join him.
What ensues is absolute chaos, the Orruks outnumbered at least one hundred to one as the skaven and forces of nurgle close in from all sides shrieking.
But the battle starts to take a confused turn when Skittchren orders that everyone be killed. And the skaven turn on the nurgle warband.
The Megaboss takes this opportunity to retreat from this battle with anyone willing to follow him, through the nearest Gnawhole he can find.
The Eternal Battlefield, Hirestel
The handful of surviving Orruks pour out of another gelatinous opening in space into a small camp nurgle daemons guarding the gates.
“Plague boys is slow, keep runnin’ boys!” Grol shouts back as he runs past the barricade of plague bearers and into the wilderness of this new realm.
That night the orruks managed to set up a small campsite in the eternal battleground.
They were down to three gore grunta’s, a handful of brutes and ardboys, the weirdnob Orgrod, Atam, Grol himself, and a Moonclan Grot shaman named ‘Ghwearn’.
Grol wraps his hand around the red seed again, the heart of the gorepine. He then takes a deep breath then jumps to his feet.
"We's got all we needs right 'ere." Grol says in a low voice.
"Look, I'm th' thumb, cuz I's da' biggest, an' th' strongest."
Grol says to acknowledging nods.
"Muzzlebreaka' you's me pointer, leadin' the charge, ready to scout out anyfing."
Muzzbreaka' puffs his chest up a bit, prideful.
"Atam Zaggurd, you's me middle finga', Th' first an' last fing I wantz me enemies to see." Zaggurd clacks his waaagh sticks together and whoops.
"Ogrod, you's me ring finga' holder of important bitz an' gubbinz." Agrod lifts his necklace and rolls the raven skulls around in his hand.
"An' Ghwern you's th' little finga', cuz you's small, weak, and only occasionally useful." Ghwern's lipless mouth tightens shut, trying to hold back angered words.
"Ya' see what we's got 'ere? A right propa' fist to klobba' those plague boys with!"
Megaboss Grol Barkhide let out a booming WAAAGH!!! as he and his newly formed fist charged for the living forest.
Within the hour Grol and his newly formed 'Fist of the Gorpine' would be beaten horribly by the Poxbringer Skuz’nik and his tallyband forcing them back to their small camp in the eternal battlefield.
"Well zog…" Grol remarks sitting on a large tree stump, scraping rust off of his armor with a large knife.
Orgrod is sewing shut a large slash left across Atam's back, struggling to see through the curtain of gushing blood.
Muzzleebreaka' tries his best to pull bits of decaying flesh from his Gor Grunta's teeth. He's been bitten four times and lost one finger for his efforts so far.
Lastly Ghwearn, rocking himself back and forth with his arms wrapped around his knees, in the midst of a madcap mushroom induced panic attack.
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