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Fiction Spawning of Bob - Blood Dish (discussion thread open)

7. Knowing

Kuada-Boc screwed his finger around in his earhole. It had no effect on the muted background noise. “I have felt this before. In the bowl.”

“I felt it too, just before you threw the quango to me.”

“And I felt it as I broke Run-back’s ribs. That glorious moment took forever to end.”

“I thought it was just me,” Kuada-Boc frowned. “There was powerful magic in that bowl. Where did it come from?”

His companions had no answer.

“I think it is best if we keep the magic part quiet. We'll tell them we found the bowl, and that's it.”

The trio advanced a step and waited for their slowly chanting escort to catch up.

“It’s going to take a long time to get to the top of the Pyramid of the Sky. Does anyone want to play I-Spy?”

“Shut up, Resva.”

-----

Tlanxla was one of the largest and busiest temple cities in Lustria. Aside from the Great Pyramid of the Sky, which was dedicated to the eponymous Old One, Tlanxla, there were lesser temples and shrines to Huanchi, Chotec, Tepok, Xholanka, Quetzl and Sotek, among others. A full suite of spawning pools, beast pits, barracks and granaries supported the higher functions of the city.

It was an odd experience for the three patrol lizards to see all of that almost frozen. But it still smelled the same, and some other things were never going to change.

“I want to poke one, just to see what happens.”

They slowly approached the Infinity Stair which led to the pinnacle of the Great Pyramid.

“I know that you are bored Brocnos, but keep your claws to yourself. Nothing good comes from poking a battle mage.”

“What if I just-”

“Please shut up, Brocnos. We are about to be led in front of one of the most ancient and powerful beings on the planet with what everyone is assuming to be an object of near unlimited destructive potential, but which I suspect is the inside out skin of a reed-rat. I want some quiet so I can decide between begging for mercy and blaming you.”

They mounted the first step.

“What if I-”

“Just count the steps to keep yourself occupied.”

They mounted the second step, and then the six after that in silence.

“Well. That’s me out.” Brocnos lowered his hands.

They mounted the ninth step.

“I-Spy, with my little eye, somethings beginning with ‘S’.”

“Resva, if I decided to choke you to death right now,” Kuada-Boc murmured, “there is no one who would be able to stop me.”

-----

The view from the top of the pyramid was stupendous. Like the mysterious bowl, the structure was built using the incomprehensible technology of the Old Ones, and it followed all of the same exceptions to the rules of physics and scale as every other edifice they had built. Nothing similar had been constructed, or even attempted, in the all of the millennia since the creator gods had been lost from the planet.

The star-chamber which sat in the centre of the roof terrace was like a stone hut compared with the scale of the mountainous building, but, as the time-warped lizards slowly drew nearer, they saw that it was an impressive structure in itself. It seemed to take an age for the four icon bearers to fan out to each corner of the squat chamber. In the meantime, Priest Tedroit performed a glacial gesture which indicated that Kuada-Boc and his troopers should pass under the heavy lintel.

In the shadows of the star-chamber's arch, there were temple guardians who towered even over Brocnos. Their hard eyes followed the patrollers, which clearly indicated that they defied the stultifying effects of the priests’ ritual. Kuada-Boc had no doubt they would intervene instantly if he posed some threat to the great slann mage priest who waited within.

“… something beginning with ‘T. G.’”

However, he would probably still be fine to throttle Resva if the urge got any stronger.

The inside of the chamber was almost dark. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Kuada-Boc realised that a half-light came from a wash of stars which were painted on the ceiling. He saw the brief flash and the trail of a meteor and corrected this notion. The stars were not painted on. They were the actual stars above, those which were normally screened by the vault of the day time sky.

His eyes further acclimatised and he saw the bulk of his Lord, Jeri’joens, slumped on his massive floating throne like an overfed blot-toad. The patrol leader crept cautiously forward to see the slann more clearly. The mage’s bulbous eyes were closed. Given that Kuada-Boc knew that the great mages were sometimes in a torpid state for centuries at a time, he thought he might have found an opportunity to get rid of his burden and escape.

He went to place the quango in front of the throne. “No point telling something to a sleeping slann,” he told his comrades. “Let’s just leave this and go.”

“You can keep no secrets from the Great Lord Jeri’joens. He sees all. Except for that which he doesn’t see… by which I mean that which is unseen... which is okay because he sees what is unseen… even without seeing it... That is to say, he knows all… especially what is unseen. Tell him what you know… leave nothing unsaid… because he also knows what is unsaid… and hidden. He knows rather a lot about that kind of stuff… and everything else. Everything.” If priest Tedroit had followed the patrol lizards inside the star-chamber with the aim of informing them, he had missed the mark by a considerable margin.

Brocnos put his claw up. “If the lord knows all, why should he need to be told anything?”

Tedroit frowned at him. “If I tried to explain that which cannot be known… unless you are him,” he jerked a thumb towards the slann, “… who knows all… even that which is unseen… and that which is unsaid…and hidden… you probably wouldn’t comprehend the… you wouldn’t comprehend the incomprehensible things that would clear this all up for you… because you are not him. If you were him, they would.”

The scar leader shrugged. “Fair enough. I couldn’t have expected a clearer explanation than that.” He shoved Kuada-Boc forwards. “Tell Lord Jeri’joens.”

“Tell him what?” Kuada-Boc lamented. “I don’t know what I should tell him.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” chided Brocnos. “Tell him what he knows. Everything. And do it quickly - I’m getting hungry”

Kuada-Boc took a pace forward and tried to swallow against the nervous lump in his throat. It didn’t help much, because his mouth had decided that it was getting out of the saliva production business. “O Mighty Lord Jeri’joens. We were on a patrol into the Northern Amaxon Wastes, and there we found a… a thing. It was a bowl.”

“No.” The slann’s eyelids opened a slit. Kuada-Boc couldn’t see the lord’s pupils but the light of the myriad stars reflected from the dark orbs like the infinite depths of space. “No,” the ancient creature repeated in a voice that rasped like a hundred millennia of nocturnal mouth breathing without a glass of water. “Not a bowl. It is a dish.”
 
When I ask for moar...that is to say that I...and possibly....possibly others might want moar.... because moar is wanted by others......and also by me...but what I am saying.....I'm saying that moar would be good...MOAR?!!?!?!?!
 
8. Telling

The distinction was lost on Kuada-Boc, but he wasn't going to argue the point. "Alright, dish, then. As you like. Let me start at the-”

“-beginning. I was there." The echoes of Lord Jeri’joens' hoarse interruption took a long time to dissipate as they chased themselves around the starfield.

Kuada-Boc paused, with mouth open, until the cosmic sussuration settled. The expectant silence that followed was even more unnerving. He noted to himself that anything that touched on metaphysics was not something he wished to discuss with a near eternal being. He selected his words carefully and continued. "In that place, there were was an ancient carved r-”

"-record," the great slann interrupted again, "I have seen it."

Kuada-Boc was left with his mouth stupidly open again. “r-really? Oh. The plaques show-"

"-the Child Races of the Old Ones, striving together. I have seen them."

Priest Tedroit coughed quietly in the background. "I told you so," he mumbled into the hand he had used to shield his mouth.

Kuada-Boc couldn't meet the slann's slitted gaze any more, mostly because the slann's eyes had drooped shut again. The skink looked down at the quango in his hands. "We found this thing," he said. "It is-”

“-an inside out armadillo. I know this."

Brocnos cuffed his leader on the shoulder. "That's what I said. Remember?"

"Ow! Brocnos, just... don't. O Lord Jeri’joens, there were others there, of the-”

“-Fourth Race. I have seen the wild Fahanns before."

“Yes. And there was… there was something else I wanted to keep-" Kuada-Boc tailed off. Not needing to complete his own sentences of late had made him a little bit lazy. "-quiet. There was-" the skink wondered if the great mage had nodded off. "There was magic. Hello? There was magic. I wanted to keep it-"

"-quiet? The magic was not quiet. I have heard it. Others should have heard it." The slann's eyelids shot open and he turned the bottomless black orbs of his eyes towards the stars above him. "But none have responded," he sighed in a much softer voice.

"Lord, I want to know, this bowl-"

"It is not a bowl." The eyelids slid back down and the black orbs became a sliver again.

"This dish, then. Why did the Old Ones build it like a temple city?"

"It is not like a temple." Lord Jeri’joens lifted his hands high and wide with the palms facing down and inwards. "A temple receives." He brought them down and in until his fingertips touched and his hands formed a triangle in front of his chest. The angle of its sides corresponded exactly to the pitch of the Great Pyramid of the Sky.

Then he let the sides collapse together and the palms met with a wet slap. He kept the heels of his hands together and spread his palms and fingers out like an opening choke-spore flower. "A dish transmits." He pushed his palms upwards toward the heavens as if he was pressing a spherical object overhead. The black eyes closed completely.

"What does it transmit, lord? Lord?”

There was no answer.
 
9. Working Out

"Well, I think that was everything, then. We'll just be..." Kuada-Boc hustled Resva and Brocnos towards the door.

Resva recalled an important detail. "That savage, he said something, remember? 'You team play here. Raiders' or something. 'Next big moon'."

There was a hissing intake of breath from the centre of the chamber and Kuada-Boc found that he was turning around against his will and better judgement. Lord Jeri’joens was leaned forward, almost toppling off his floating throne. His star bejewelled eyes were wide open and fixed on the skink leader with a searing intensity.

"Prepare," he rasped.

"Uh, okay, then. ‘bye, Lord Jeri’joens." Kuada-Boc managed to get his cohorts out of the star chamber and back to top of the infinity stair without further incident. “What are we going to do now?” he hissed. “And don't just say ‘prepare’, Resva, or I will throw you off the edge.”

“Well, we should, umm, make preparations then,” said Resva. “But for what?”

“I don't know what, but I know when. Some stupid big-mouth said ‘big moon’. That's less than a half lunar cycle away.”

“Don't blame me. That's what your Biggest Fahann said.”

“He is not my Biggest Fahann. What else did he say? ‘You team play here. Raiders’? It makes no sense.”

“Well ‘here’ must have meant the bowl. We have to go to the bowl and ‘play’.”

“And by ‘play’ I assume he meant ‘do pointless unarmed combat with an egg’.”

“I guess so. And we need to go there during the ‘big moon’.”

“Which is crazy. There is a reason Tlanxla doesn’t send patrols into the northern wastes at the peak of the lunar cycle. The orc land greenskins are always on the move during full moon. If we ran into raiders, we would be hard…”

All of the colour drained out of Resva’s crest, and he reeled away the brink of the Pyramid of the Sky. After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped off into the void. Resva’s reflexes and Brocno’s strength were all that kept him from the choice of oblivion. There was a brief struggle as they wrestled him back away from the edge.

“What the hell?” Brocnos growled. “Explain yourself.”

“The other Fahann said it. ‘Ork land’, remember? And the Biggest Fahann said, ‘Raiders’. Orkland Raiders. Do you get it now? In less than half a cycle, under the light of the chaos moon, we are to cross through Amaxon and greenskin infested jungle to get to a great big bowl, where we are going to face Orkland Raiders in pointless unarmed combat with an egg. Let me jump over the edge.”

“No.” Brocnos snapped. He tightened his arm lock around Kuada-Boc’s chest and neck.

“What am I going to do, then?”

“Prepare,” was Resva’s simple response.

“Aaauuugh. If you let me go, I won’t jump. I will throw Resva over the edge.”

…

…

“Do you promise?”

“Brocnos!”


edit 12/3/16 - experimental alternate ending
edit 12/3/16 - minor word change
 
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The Orkland Raiders? What could it all be leading up to? Hahaha! I thought that was pretty clever! Maybe an illustrated training montage is in order? Good preparation for the visual media contest.
 
10. RAW

Brocnos slackened his grip slightly, but not enough that his captive could escape easily. “Having a leader who has lost his wits is a problem,” he said slowly, “but the rest of us have a fair understanding of the bowl thing. With some practice we might be able to hold our own against raiders. With some losses.”

Kuada-Boc groaned. “As it is, I can’t walk down an avenue holding a practice javelin target without eating a square meal of abuse and ridicule. And you suggest we practice orc cuddling and egg juggling when there is nowhere in the city or surrounds which is out of public view. The experience will be similar to lying on your back with your mouth wide open under the terradon rookery. In the middle of fig season.”

“Good. You are feeling better.” Brocnos released his grip entirely. “Where should we go to prepare?”

Resva looked at the sprawling city below. “The Plaza of Heroes would be suitable.”

“Idiot. There is nowhere more central or public other than the Great Pyramid itself.”

“Usually, yes. But ever since you dropped the ‘quango’ from the top of the Great Pyramid and into the middle of the Plaza of Heroes, it has become strangely deserted. So have the Shrine of the Mighty, the Hall of Fame, the Pantheon of the Lost and all of the buildings and streets as far back as the Drudge Barrio. I will go and collect the others.” Resva scooted down the Infinity Stair.

Kuada-Boc stood up, dusted himself off and peered over the edge. “I’m not sure what good we are going to do with that bunch of misfits even with practice. Brocnos, do you think you can get me in to see General Fliroda-Gotar? He might loan us the Elite Guard if we say it was Lord Jeri’joens’ idea.”

“You cannot speak for he… he who… he whose will does not need to be uttered… because it is so powerful… his will, that is. His words… when he does utter them… which he will sometimes do even though he doesn’t need to on account of his unutterable… will… are also powerful but they are…are not for you… or others somewhat like you… to bandy around willy… nilly. Look, I’ll talk to Fliroda-Gotar. Is there anything else you need?”

Priest Tedroit’s unexpected voice in his earhole made Kuada-Boc almost about jump out of his skin and off the pyramid again. “A nerve tonic, maybe?” he whimpered, “A really big one, with a twist of lime.”

“No.” Brocnos steered his leader towards the stairs. “You will need a clear head-”

“-so that I can feel it clearly when it gets pulped by orcs?”

“So that you can lead us to victory.”

“I didn’t volunteer for this, Brocnos.” The skink began the long tromp back down the stairs.

“You didn’t need to volunteer. You were spawned for this.”

-----

Kuada-Boc did a quick count of the lizards on the plaza. Eight saurus warriors, One kroxigor and nine skinks, including himself. “Where is Chaffi?”

“He was coming back with me,” replied Resva, “but when I mentioned the Orkland Raiders he went a different way. Really really fast.”

The patrol leader shook his head. Chaffi was the only skink he had ever seen who could pull off the double flee manoeuvre solo. “We’ll make do without him. How did you go with the elites, Brocnos?”

“The Elite Guard were willing, interested and completely useless. No matter how I tried to explain, they can’t understand the idea of non-lethal combat. Not even unarmed combat. I swear that Scar Irazona’s carnosaur spear is fused to his hand.”

“I had much the same experience with the Venom Cohort. The idea of closing to grappling range with anything more deadly than a cabbage head was utterly confusing to them.”

“The Death Shadows were worse,” Resva scowled. “They were downright rude, and they refuse to even take part in any activity that doesn’t allow them to hang upside down from a tree for days on end. Stupid chameleons.”

“Ta’kul, how did you go persuading the…”

The kroxigor was turning this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of the end of his stubby tail. It was as if he had never seen it before.

“Never mind. It seems that anyone who has not seen the bowl thing already just can’t understand the point of the… activity, so they won’t be able to substitute for us. We are going to get smooshed.”

“I am not going to get smooshed.”

“Chaffi? Is that you? Where did you get those?”

A slowly staggering collection of bastiladon scutes was weaving from the Arch of Victory end of the Plaza of Heroes.

“I, ah, borrowed them from Chief Dar. When he wasn’t looking. Whoa-oa-oa!” Chaffi lost balance and shunted several steps towards one of the buildings which fronted the square.

“Be careful Chaffi, if you side step like that too often, you will end up in the Hall of Fame. And the heavy armour is a dumb idea. You’ve only survived this long because of your speed.”

Chaffi wobbled and fell over with a sound like a load of coconut shells being dumped out of a sack.

Brocnos had thoughtful look. “It might not be such a bad idea. I’ve got this.” He tapped the bony crest of his skull. “It doesn’t slow me down too much, and you skinks are too squishy to tackle orcs.”

“Light armour then,” mused Kuada-Boc. “Not for the legs. Just the head and shoulders.”

“And chest,” added Resva.

“We can all trot off to the armoury to ask for something suitable later. “For now we should check our understanding of the details of the… bowl thing. I want everyone to write down what they remember.”

-----

“Whoa.” Kuada-Boc surveyed the glyphs and diagrams that the self-elected rules committee had scratched onto the polished marble flagstones of the Plaza of Heroes. The defacement took up about one third of the horizontal surface. In places it crept up onto the walls of the adjacent buildings. There were several sections which had been vigorously crossed out by others who had interpreted things differently, or who felt that the rules as they were written actually intended something completely different. “There is no way we are going to be able to get anyone else to join us if we can’t simplify this down to four pages.”



Edit 13/3/15 - changed receiving abuse to being referred to as eating something nasty
 
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spawning of Bob said:
The idea of closing to grappling range with anything more deadly than a cabbage head was utterly confusing to them
Click to expand...

spawning of Bob said:
“They were downright rude, and they refuse to even take part in any activity that doesn’t allow them to hang upside down from a tree for days on end. Stupid chameleons.”
Click to expand...
Those lines crackes me up! Now I'm excited! Now I am going to look up the rules for blood bowl and get my own team of charging chucks.
 
11. RAI

“I’ll try to summarize what we’ve got, so we can at least we can start ‘playing’ without having another argument. Here goes.” The patrol leader took a big breath. “A cohort of eleven warriors starts in one half of the arena, opposite an equal force-”

“If a force of brutal, hulking, pig-eyed, mouth-breathing, stinking greenskins can be considered equal.”

“I meant equal in number, Centra. The first team has the quango. They try to carry, pass or throw it to get it into the past the second team. If one of them holds the quango while it is in the end zone, he does a touching little dance. Then it starts over.

“Except the force of brutal, hulking, pig-eyed, mouth-breathing, stinking greenskins will try to prevent this by dumping the quango holder onto the ground like a sack of tubers-”

“That is correct-”

“-then they will kick and stomp his prone body in an effort to reduce him to-”

“Centra, please stop interrupting. I am trying to reinforce my status as chief pessimist of our happy group, and you are in my swamp.”

“I am not being a pessimist. I am being a realist.”

Resva made an observation. “An optimist calls a realist a pessimist.”

Kuada-Boc blinked at him, then looked around the tense huddle. “Have any optimists infiltrated our stoic ranks? Didn’t think so. Now shut up.

“The push forward ends if the second team manages to ‘sack,’ as you say, the quango carrier. The first team- Yes Centra, don’t bother saying it,” Kuada-Boc sighed, “-the surviving members of the first team reset their battle line and try again. If the first team drops or otherwise loses control of the quango, the second team takes possession and the roles are reversed.”

Centra stuck his claw up. “You missed a step. The horribly wounded get dragged off into a freshly dug out pit in between each push.”

“Lucky them. After each... touch dance, reserves can come onto the arena and get the numbers back up to eleven."

"If there are enough of us left."

“I don’t think I can flee continuously for much more than an hour. Two tops. Not in such a small area.” Chaffi raised an important point. “How long does this go on for?”

“Until there are none of us left standing,” ventured Centra.

“That can’t be right.” Said Kuada-Boc. “There were winners and surviving losers on the plaques. The good news is, there must be a time limit. The bad news is we don’t know how long it is. Our two objectives are to do… touch dances and have some of us survive uninjured for the duration of the… activity.”

“What if we just hide in the dugout until the time runs out? Or just stay out of the way while the Raiders do lots of touch dances?” Chaffi was eager to explore non-painful options.

“Then we are dead. The… activity pacifies greenskins. That seems to be its purpose. If we don’t participate properly, they will revert to normal behavior. Even if they don’t, would you like to try getting out of that soup bowl past thousands of disappointed Fahanns? Hungry and disappointed Fahanns?

“Okay, let’s line up in formations and plan out a few different pushes. We’ll start with the one we tried in the bowl.”

“The signal word idea was good,” Centra defied history by having something positive to say. “It gives us a moment to start moving before the defenders can respond. But you can’t say ‘quango’ every time or we will confuse our different plans. You need to think of more code words.”

“Yes, true.” Kuada-Boc looked around for some inspiration and his eyes lit on the façade of the Pantheon of the Lost. Each of the niches contained a carved representation of one of the Old Ones. “Let’s call the first plan, ‘Tlanxla’.
 
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spawning of Bob said:
please stop interrupting. I am trying to reinforce my status as chief pessimist of our happy group, and you are in my swamp.”
Click to expand...
I don’t know why this isn't in coffee mugs and bumper stickers? But that is a great slogan. Definitely hanging that up at work!
 
12. Attention

Word must have got out that the quango was in fact a stuffed mammal, not a soon-to-be-hatched calamity. The cowering citizens of Tlanxla resumed their usual activities and it was an inevitability that some of them passed through the Plaza of Heroes. Actually there were rather a lot of them, including a fair proportion of the Elite Saurian Guard and the Venom Cohort. They also didn’t seem to be passing through. They clustered under the Arch of Victory and spread along the edges of the plaza.

"Oh great. Fig season begins." Kuada-Boc mentally prepared for a storm of heckling as he distributed his patrol into serried lines and echelons. Then he had them move around at something a little slower than walking pace. He had no doubt that it looked every bit as stupid as a Bretonnian Formal Dance, just without the large quantities of nerve tonic and soft music that usually went with knightly fore-play. And horse-play.

There was a murmur, but no heckling.

“They are being very well behaved,” noted Resva quietly.

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“They aren’t even sniping each other. This bowl... activity is having an odd effect. A pacifying effect.”

“A pacifying effect on the First as well?” Kuada-Boc stared up at the Pantheon of the Lost. “The Old Ones’ Great Plan is mysterious enough without adding this.”

“Or this is the Great Plan.”

“So, the purpose of the creation of this entire world is to have a dead armadillo carried to the end of a field? I was somehow hoping for more.” He raised his voice for all of the patrol to hear. “Set up again closer to the end. This push will be a feint to pass left followed by Ta’kul driving to the right, with me and the quango behind him. Let’s call this one ‘Huanchi’.”

There was a swell in the murmuring of the crowd that could only have signified approval.

Kuada-Boc was baffled. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

-----

Resva clapped an open claw on Kuada-Boc's shoulder armour. "It's not far to the bowl now. You didn't need to be so pessimistic about getting through the Amaxon Wastes so close to lunar cycle peak."

"I was pessimistic about getting through undetected," Kuada-Boc grumbled, "and I am certain we will have been spotted by now."

"I don't think the patrol has ever moved this efficiently. Even Bone-head has stopped chopping everything down." Resva peered ahead at the Brocnos and his squad. "Although the armour is a bit conspicuous."

Conspicuous was a good word. Each member of the patrol was wearing garish red and yellow shoulder padding, and the skinks wore domed helmets that looked like half eggshells, which was a ridiculous notion in itself.

"I'm not talking so much about us being detected, Resva. It's them." Kuada-Boc waved a hand back over his shoulder without breaking stride.

Following behind the patrol was the full glory of the First Host of Tlanxla. The army looked even more glorious than usual because, as far as Kuada-Boc was aware, it had never marched all under the same colours before. There were yellow and red banners, yellow and red spear pennants and yellow and red shield fetishes. A few of the more fanatically minded warriors wore yellow and red face paint in a pattern reminiscent of the dripping fangs of the insatiable First.

Resva walked backwards for a bit and looked at the vanguard. Aside from the army’s large number and mass abandonment of the principles of camouflage, remaining undetected was being hampered somewhat by small sections of the force intermittently blowing horns and bursting into incomprehensible war cries. Old Blood General Fliroda-Gotar saw that Resva was looking back and he waved enthusiastically with an oversized yellow and red latexa tree sap claw. Conspicuous was a good word.

"They are being unusually well behaved, too."

"Yes, they are being unusually well behaved, but I don't think the same will be true of any greenskins we come across. If there is a significant war-band in these parts there is going to be a blood bath. And if I'm going to be miserable, I would prefer to be alone. Why did they have to come?"

“They are have to come because Lord Jeri'joens wills it. Therefore you cannot know why... because his will is beyond knowing... for you anyway."

Kuada-Boc decided he didn't care anymore, but Resva was still curious.

"Do you know why the lord has sent tens of thousands of warriors to this event, Priest Tedroit."

The High Priest stiffened,"Do you question whether one who has... has served at his throne... the big floating one... for many cycles... many many cycles... that being me...does not know the reason for his will... which is known only to few… or in fact one... that being him. No.”

Kuada-Boc’s tail spasmed. “Why are you here, Tedroit?”

“To offer… for surely you will need it… and I can offer it… being well qualified to do so... guidance and knowledge… which is two things… which I can offer…simultaneously. Actually, I’m not sure."

Kuada-Boc heard new sounds filtering towards them through the jungle. More horns and war cries. The chants were harsh, brash and even more incomprehensible than those of the first. Greenskins.

The patrols leader's head crest drooped. "It is too late for guidance and knowledge, priest. We are going to have need of a healer."

Priest Tedroit nodded and he called to one of the members of his own retinue. "Healer St'fen-D'anq. Join us."

-----

It had been a battle for the patrol lizards to struggle their way through the heaving press of bodies which barred their way, but they had eventually fought their way down to centre of the arena floor.

Kuada-Boc turned slowly and tried to determine the number and disposition of the forces that surrounded him. His twenty thousand cold blooded compatriots had split into several cohorts to surround the bowl, and then they had forced their way down at several points around the perimeter, displacing an even greater number of hooting greenskins. A still larger contingent of Amaxon Fahanns clung to every surface around and between the islands of cold blooded and chaotic animosity.

General Fliroda-Gotar creaked down the steep stair with some difficulty and decided that he would make his stand about one third of the way down. Kuada-Boc was astonished when he saw the orc brute at the end of the row stand up and bellow a command at his horde-mates beside him. They grumbled and snarled. Then they shuffled along to make enough room for the decrepit Old-Blood and his personal guard to sit down beside them.

All of this occurred without even the tiniest bit of disembowelling.

"Huh. I wasn't expecting that, either."
 
The last part reminds me of that situation where one hells angles leader threw one off thier prospects down the stairway cause he was unfriendly to a guy in a wheelchair. - don't know if unusually well behaved fits to describe this but it would fit a green skin
 
13. Match Up

Kuada-Boc lowered his gaze to arena level and looked into one of the dug-out pits. There he saw the Orkland Raiders for the first time. The patrol's opponents also wore head and body armour, but theirs had a black and white checkered theme. In various places their clothing and bodies were daubed with a crossed swords emblem.

The smallest of them were of goblin kind. They wobbled around and gibbered through sharp toothed grins. Their erratic movements indicated that there was probably a temporary shortage of really high potency mushrooms back in Orkland.

There was also a stone troll. Kuada-Boc didn’t consider the bag of boulders to be such a major threat, as long as the First team skinks stayed out of reach of its long arms.

A bigger worry were the orcs. They were a little broader than Kuada-Boc's saurus warriors. Without scaly skin they were possibly a little less resilient, but bitter experience had shown the patrol leader that even an injured orc cannot be diverted from its goal by anything less than a slab hammer blow between the eyes.

However, the most terrifying thing on the whole arena was much closer to hand. It was Brocnos. The scar leader's scaly lips were pulled far back, displaying more teeth than Kuada-Boc felt a saurian was entitled to own. He threw his arms into the air and shouted, "Spawned for this! Yeah!"

Different sections of the crowd responded in different ways. The First contingent roared in unison and the Fahanns jabbered excitedly. The greenskins booed and threw offerings of food onto the pitch, which was somewhat of a mixed message.

Biggest Fahann waddled up and clasped the patrol leader by the claw. "Kuada-Boc, good. Go look good dugout.” The plump Amaxon shooed the lizardmen towards the pit which had been prepared for them. It didn’t seem so much like a shallow grave, as a shallow mass grave.

Resva stalked around the back edge of the dugout. “If worst comes to worst, it is slightly defensible and we could make a stand- what is this?” Fragments of fragrant leaves started to patter down on his helmet and shoulders. He looked up at the first tier of seating behind the pit.

Directly above him was a cheerful and toothless face. A painted face. The Amaxon shaman-cum-healer-cum-chef had found a prime vantage from which he could jabber and sprinkle herbs.

“No no no, not him. I want to swap dugouts before I get eaten.” The scout brushed greens from his shoulders and made to move towards the narrow exit.

“Resva, I’m sure he means no harm to us cold bloods. Here comes one of his buddies with…oh.”

One of Face-paint’s followers was pushing himself along the row of spectators with three medium sized iguanas. Roasted. On sticks. He handed one each to Face-paint and the other trainee and then tore a big chunk of white flesh from the third with his teeth. Face-paint gave a happy hoot and started to gum his treat enthusiastically.

“I want to go out there with the orcs.”

Resva soon got his wish, and so did the rest of the patrol, because Biggest Fahann started pushing them towards the pitch again. “Make line, Kuada-Boc. Here Therref.” The lizards were forced onto the arena and saw that other fahanns had done the same with the Raiders. Waiting for them in the precise centre of the bowl was an important looking personage who enjoyed a complete absence of respect from the crowd.

The reason for this ‘Therref’ choosing to stand at the centre of the bowl was obviously strategic. The Fahanns shouted derisively at him and the greenskin supporters escalated their barrage of food offerings to the extent that whole cows were being catapulted onto the field. Therref merely stood slightly out of range, aloof and unbovinated.

Therref was human, or at least semihuman. He was clad in a close fitting tunic which was starkly decorated with black and white vertical bands. On his face he wore a curious device which held a pair of crystalline disks in front of his watery eyes. Clenched between his teeth was a small silver object which was shaped like a snail shell.

Resva whispered to Kuada-Boc’s. “I think this one is meant to control the conduct of the… activity, but I don’t see how he is going to-”

Therref pursed his lips around the snail shell and blew lustily. “PHEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!”

“Ow, what the…” The scout tore off his helmet and clamped his claws over his earholes to block out the shrill and painful sound.

“That would be how, Resva. Now line up meekly so he doesn't do it again."

The lizardmen distributed themselves in a row facing the half way line. The orcs and goblins slowly did the same.

Kuada-Boc was close enough to Chaffi that the patrol leader could hear his quiet observations. “Look at this one,” the smaller skink said. “A missing eye and a stiff leg. He won’t be a problem to evade.” The black orc in question took his time to limp over and line up in front of Chaffi. He was at least half again as tall and twice as wide as Kuada-Boc and Chaffi combined, and he had a pained expression on his scarred face.

Kuada-Boc's counterpart was a gangly limbed goblin who wore an oversized black and white helmet. His overall appearance was like a large mushroom. Then the goblin grinned. This made him look more like a large mushroom with sharp yellow teeth.

The patrol leader wasn’t sure if the fierce fungus was due a greeting of some kind. Fortunately, his indecision was interrupted by Therref. The pied-pheeper was slowly running the gauntlet of the two opposing forces, making each warrior lift his arms and sometimes poking at them with a stubby finger. When he got as far along as Chaffi, Therref grasped the skink’s shoulder armour and gave it a sharp tug, almost pulling the skink of his feet. The one-eyed orc gave a snorting chuckle and Therref pivoted to face him. He must have sensed something untoward, because he stopped his routine and held his hand out, palm upwards.

The orc snarled for a split second, then recomposed his broken features into a look of baffled innocence. Therref did not withdraw his hand. The snarl reappeared. The orc slid his hand down into his breeches and rummaged around for a moment. Then he withdrew a long, spiked wooden club from one trouser leg. He dumped it onto Therref's hand.

Brocnos was aghast. "Why didn't I think of that?"


Edit 19/3/16 - changed goblin name
 
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