The Crossing

Part 5: Globuurz Uruk

Written by Gor'bladz
Illustrated by T'berog

It had been a hard couple of days. Shadowclan had spent the time scurrying like rats in the darkness and recesses of the land. Their supplies caves were a fair distance from the cavern of the gate. All of their far-flung forces had been gathered in, and in secret they had moved the equipment they needed in bits and pieces to a staging area. The last thing they wanted was to attract attention. However, their numbers were now gathered and ready.

The orcs formed up in a cavern which served as their staging area. Once again there were four groups, but this time everyone was much more organized. The three tribes were formed up in ranks behind their nobs. The Drae’hai, the Ghaashblud and the Buurz’traga were formed as a loose semi-circle. Spread out behind the tribes were the gruntees and peons, with a few grunts mixed in to maintain order.

A small group of nobs addressed the troops. “We iz at ash great moment in da history ob da Shadowclan. Eber sinz we been left heer in Outland by Ner’zhul, we hab had to scratch agh claw for eberee littul ting we hab. Da uzg is broken. Supplies iz tite. Da times iz hard. But now we hab chance to make ash nu start! We hab found a way to a nu uzg. A nu uzg full ob tings to clomp, fuud to eet, agh maybe a place fur uz to make ash nu home.”

“Nub all ob us tink dis da best idea. Sum tink we shuud stay heer.” This was directed towards the Drae’hai contingent, some of which shifted awkwardly on their feet. “But da nobs hab reeched a disishun, agh da ordur is tu moob out! When da time kumz, we is guing to load up and make our way down to da gate. Eech tribe will gu thru to da nu uzg, agh den we iz guin to decide what we iz guing to du next.”


Not all the orcs were assembled, however. In a nearby cavern a gruntee with his group of peons was detailed to guard the supply cache. Not knowing how things stood on the other side of the portal, the Shadowclan intended to bring along a large amount of equipment, food, and other material to support them. Everything was neatly piled up in crates, boxes, sacks and carts. Each item was labeled by content and tribe.

One of the peons stood in the doorway. The gruntee in charge of the guard squad looked up from where he sat sullenly by a small fire. “Ey, Buttergrubbers! Wut lat duin standin ober dere?” The other peons snickered at the gruntee’s joke. The guards all knew that they were detailed to the supply cave as a form of punishment. Each of them had screwed up badly in some fashion recently, and therefore earned a place in the dark damp supply cave on the eve of their great journey. None of them was particularly happy about the situation. In order to amuse themselves they had taken to picking on the peon who was probably in the most trouble of all of them.

“Me name iz nub Buttergrubbers! Agh me trying to listen to wut da nobs is blahin.” The peon walked back from the doorway to the fire with the rest of the orcs. “Me nub can gruk wut dem blahin. Besides, me still got bad ringin in me eerz.” The peon looked like he was permanently hunched over. This impression was caused by the bandages he had strapped across his back. Every now and then he would reach back and scratch underneath the bandages where his healing burns were beginning to itch.

“Har har! Me tink maybe lat hab lissuned to enuff nob blahin by now. Me thawt dat Ghaashblud nob wuz nebber guing to stop screemin at lat! Me hab seen sum mad nobs in me muunz, but me swear me thawt dat nob wuz guin to breeth ghaash on lat! Har har!” The peon just frowned and sat down at the fire. All the other peons, long practiced in the art of sucking up to superiors, snickered and laughed right on cue. One of them slipped away from the fire and disappeared behind a crate.

“Me kept blahin tu him it wuz nub me fawlt! It nebber me fawlt! It alwayz udder orcs gettin me in trubbul! But him nub lissen. Bah...” The peon squirmed on his rock and sulked. From behind his back the missing peon crept up stealthily. He had covered himself in flour and now looked white as a ghost. He moved up on tiptoes until he stood right behind the sulking peon.

“WHERE IZ DA PEON DAT THREW DAT BUUM? IF ME EBER FIND HIM ME IZ GUIN TO GRIND HIM UP AGH FEED HIM TU ME HOWLUR!” The peon screamed this at the same moment as he jump up in front of the sulking peon. With a high pitch squeal, the peon leapt off his rock and fell flat on his back, with cause him to squeal even louder in pain.

The gruntee in charge erupted in laughter. He rocked back and forth on his rock laughing until tears streamed out of his eyes. The wounded peon carefully rolled over off his burnt back and crawled to his feet. “Dat wuz nub funnee. Lat shuud all stop pikkin on me.”

“Har har har! Dat da funniest ting me seen in muuns! Lat iz ash funny peon!” He slapped the beaming peon jokester on the back, which filled the air with a cloud of flour. The other peons all dutifully laughed as well. One of them looked at the grinning peon who was now the gruntee’s favorite, and then started scratching his head. After a moment, he disappeared behind some crates as well.

“Eberee ash alwayz pikkin on me. Eberee ash alwayz kallin me Buttergrubbers agh playin triks on me. It nub wonder me alwayz skrew up. Me nub deserb dis.” All the other orcs just laughed. The missing peon then crept out from behind the pile of supplies with a torch in his hand. The peons and gruntee saw him and tried not to smile.

“Cheer up, Buttergrubbers! We iz guin to a brand nu uzg! Maybe when we get dere lat luck will change. It suur can nub get any worze. Har har!” The gruntee laughed and stomped his feet in part to help cover the noise of the second peon that was trying to sneek up.

Once he reached the back of the pouting peon he quickly jammed the butt of the torch down the back of his shirt. “Run, Buttergrubbers, run! Da ghaash is guin to get lat! Run!” Whatever sort of reaction he was hoping to get, he was probably not fully expecting what he got.

“GETITOFFGETIFOFFGETITOFF!” The peon leaped a full three feet straight up into the air and started screaming and spinning wildly about in a circle like a crazed wolf chasing his tail. The peon had only an instant to laugh before his victim crashed into him and flattened him in his mad attempt to remove the torch. He tried to get up repeatedly, but each time he would get to his knees, he would be knocked down as the gyrating peon swung by in another mad lap.

The gruntee and the other peons all thought this was hilarious. The peon finally deflected off one of the walls and crashed headlong over a box. When he hit ground, he started rolling repeatedly, which finally managed to extinguish the torch. However, his troubles were far from over. Apparently, the ointment that was soaking his bandages was flammable as well. The peon tore the remains of his shirt off and started running again. He ripped at his bandages and they came off one flaming piece at a time. He finally managed to get it all off and collapsed panting against a barrel, completely exhausted. The gruntee stopped laughing when he saw that the pieces of flaming bandage were strewn all over the cave and on the pile of supplies. Some of the crates were beginning to smoke and char.

“Uh oh. Play time ober, peons. We neeb get dis ghaash put out befur da nobs feed all ob us tu dere howlers. Moob moob moob! Get dis stuff stomped out. And nub let any ob it get neer anee ob da buum powder!” The gruntee and peons began moving around the cave, stomping out the pieces of flaming bandages. They got most of them put out quickly, but one crate of shovels had begun to burn brightly before they could get to it.

“Stop standin round luukin at it like nub got anee bwanes! Gu get sum wadur! Hurry up!” The gruntee grabbed a long ax and used it to pull the burning crate a short way away from the rest of the pile of supplies. The peons scurried back to the supply pile to get some water. Two came back with water skins and used them to squirt on the crate, but it did little good.

“Get me sum reel watur, nub dese littul skwirty tings!” The smoke from the crate was starting to bank down from the roof of the cave, and the gruntee coughed. “Hurry up!”

One of the other peons ran over to a pile of barrels, and looked at the one that the shirtless scorched peon sat against. The word “Water” was scrawled across it in large chalk letters. “Get up, Buttergrubbers! Da gruntee needs dis barrel now!”

The two peons tipped the barrel over and rolled it over to the gruntee as quick as they could. When they got to him the flipped it up on one end. One of them began digging at the cork that was jammed in a hole on the side. The gruntee coughed from the smoke and wiped tears from his eyes. “Get out ob da way lat globs! We in a hurry!” He swatted the peons out of the way and smashed the top of the barrel with the axe he was carrying. He then swung out his heavy boot and kicked the barrel over on top of the burning crate.


When the water hit the crate it erupted in tall bright blue flames. “Wut in da skah! Where did lat get dis barrel!?” The horrified gruntee rolled the water barrel over. On its back there was a white chalk label identifying the tribe to which it belonged. Drae’hai.

The gruntee whirled around screamed at the peons. “Lat idgits!! Drae’hai nub drink wadur! Wut in da shak wuz lat tinking!? Buttergrubbers me is guing to clomp lat!” The wide eyed peon opened his mouth to protest, but before a word came out the gruntee had leaped on top of him and began to throttle him for all he was worth. The peon began to turn blue. Just as his eyes started to roll back in his head the gruntee looked up and saw the rest of the peons backing up. But they weren’t looking as him. The were looking behind him. He threw a glance over his shoulder and saw that they were looking at the remains of the burning crate of shovels.

The crate sat on a small rise off to the side of the main pile of supplies where the gruntee had drug it. The burning liquor had nearly completely consumed the crate, but now it was pouring down the side of the rise in a blue stream of fire. It was getting close to several sacks. Written on the side of them was a single word in white chalk: “Buum”.


Back in the main cavern the nobs were finishing up their speeches. “When we gib lat da ordurz, lat iz to follow lat nobs. Each tribe will get dere supplies and gu tu da cabe where da Dushgund of Ner’zhul is at. When we get dere...oh wut in da skah?” The nob stopped speaking and frowned as he looked back over the heads of the assembled orcs. The orcs turned around to see what the nob was looking at. In the rear of the cavern there was a tunnel rising up from the cave where they staged their supplies. Little clouds of smoke were starting to puff out of the tunnel near the roof.

“What in da skah am dose globs duing down dere?” The nob who was previously speaking pointed at two of his guards near the back. “Ey, lat dub! Run down dere and see wut guin on.” The two guards saluted and moved to go investigate. When they reached the tunnel mouth they collided with a gruntee as he emerged screaming. Just as the two guards grabbed the gruntee the ground shook and a tremendous muffled boom reverberated throughout the cavern. Thick black smoke now began to roll out from the tunnel. One by one five peons staggered out of the smoking tunnel

The orcs all began shouting and pointing. The nobs in front yelled for order. They pushed their way through the crowds until the reach the back where the gruntee stood. They marched up to the gruntee that was being held between the two guards. Before they could open their mouths to say a word to him, he whirled around and pointed to the last peon who stood in the back of the line holding his throat. The nobs turned and looked at the peon, and at the same time said the same word.


The peon simply looked at his boots, sighed, and said “Me iz howler grub fur shur.”


Click above image for the full size illustration.

Continue on to part 6.

© 2004 Shadowclan.org