Admiral:
Written by: Admiral
Illustrated by: Forgefire
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The Goblins, by Uhr-Kulmbizharr[/align]
Once upon a time, there was a Goblin tribe who roamed the wastelands, scabby and scarred, filthy and sinewy, spiteful and mischievous to the smallest mite. They eked out a harsh living in hostile lands, yet earned success enough to survive as a group against the predations of monsters, beasts and other Greenskins. One day, the chieftain was edgy and spoiling for a fight.
“Ya lookin’ at me?” snarled the chieftain at his head shaman.
“Wouldna’ve looked at yer warty face fer big mushroomz,” piped the head shaman.
“Cor’ ya’d alreadaeh poizoned 'im wiv 'em!” smirked the spear mob boss.
“By stikkin’ 'em out of yer arze,” laughed the archer mob boss.
“Ya couldna’ve hit yer own arze if it jumped up and zoiled yer 'ead down!” snapped the wolf mob boss.
“An’ ya couldna’ve found yer own 'ead,” said the club mob boss.
“Kuz it’s damn stuck in dat louzy wolf arze ya funk waz dinnah,” remarked the nasty skulker.
“Yer gutz fer dinnah!” whooped the nastier skulker.
“I’ll zerve yer dinnah for ya!” yelled the nastiest skulker, lunged with a blade and spilled out the intestines of the previous speaker.
And so it was that the Goblins fell to infighting and decimated themselves, and divided they were weak and few, and now they could no longer survive as a tribe in the wastelands, for monsters ate them, beasts stalked them and other Greenskins stomped them into the ground, killing every last one of the bickering Goblins and scattering their gnawed bones on the rocks. For such is the fate of the disunited.
- The Goblins, by Daemonsmith Uhr-Kulmbizharr the Blind, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories during the foundation of Zharr-Naggrund
