[Archive] The Shapeshifted Scout, by Zhargonidus


[align=center]The Shapeshifted Scout, by Zhargonidus[/align]

Once upon a time, there was a silent and stealthy scout, who used to remove his hat and cover himself in ash before sneaking up on Greenskin camps. He was uncannily good at keeping a low profile and report back on things which other scouts failed to see. One day, the scout’s master needed a spy planted right in the middle of a vast tribal Orc campsite, yet the scout despaired and could see no way to approach, yet alone infiltrate such a rowdy place. It would surely be his death.

Out of desperation, the scout visisted an outcast witch, who skulked among the rocks and starved as she tried to eke out a living on lizards and stray Gnoblars. So hungry was she, that the crone accepted a mere payment of bread and ale in exchange for brewing a forbidden elixir who would help the scout achieve his impossible task. The witch instructed the scout to drink the brew at the outskirts of the Orc encampment.

So he did, and the Chaos Dwarf shapeshifted into a primal barbarian, a snarling and snorting Orc, little more than a furless boar standing upright coloured green from sickness. In the form of this untamed beast did the shapeshifted scout wander unhindered into the Orcish camp, and at first no one seemed to take notice of the stranger.

Yet as the shapeshifted scout slinked near the huge dried dung pyre which served as the Warboss’ campfire, the big Orcs in the retinue of the Warboss soon noticed the meek and quiet Orc who behaved little better than a wretched Goblin, for he did not brawl, did not bawl, did neither yell nor fart nor bash nor stomp. The Orcs caught his smell but not his noise, and they wondered: Who was this silly tenderfoot?

Offended, the big Orcs started picking on the silent shapeshifted scout, who merely cringed and tried to keep back from their prying eyes. This sneaking away only provoked the savage brutes to punch and kick the shapeshifted scout, who in response once again tried to melt into the background and remain silent and still, whereupon the Warboss himself enraged at such un-Orcish behaviour, and charged at the weakling and rent him in two with a mighty swing of his rusted blade. The shapeshifted scout fell dead before the Warboss’ warty, stinking feet, transformed back at the moment of death into an ashen Chaos Dwarf spy, cut in twain. For such is the fate of those who do not know to act hard when in hard company.

- The Shapeshifted Scout, by Despot Zhargonidus Doombeard, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories, of our present time

Fuggit Khan:

For such is the fate of those who do not know to act hard when in hard company.

"When in Rome..." :sick


“…do as the Romans.:stuck_out_tongue_winking_eye:


Illusion is all in the details. What you don’t think of will bite you. Nice fable again.



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