"Birth of a Slayer"
a short story by
Tim Winn
Twin9881@acc.fau.edu

********************
*See note at bottom*
********************


     The band moved further into the mine.  Ulf wasn't so
sure he wanted to be point, but he had little say on his
position or duty.  Ulf Gurbachen is an eighth generation
Tunnel fighter, and he would do his family proud.  This
particular assignment was going to be a breeze.  The 12th
patrol was a training regiment and that usually meant the
easiest patrols.  Ulf and his four fellow rookies would be
brought along slowly, for dwarfs have all the time in the
world.  Durk Barracks had trained many soldiers in the past
and this group would surely be like all the rest.
     Ulf Gurbachen sat staring into the vast expanse of the
dark mine.  "Ulf, wadda ya seez down dere?" yelled a heavily
armored dwarf.
     Ulf snapped back into reality, "Nuttin Sir!  Just a
buncha rats!"
     "Well move it then!"
     "Yes Sir!"
     As the group clamored down the path, Durk noticed
something odd.  The rats weren't emitting the correct infa-
red patterns.  Durk had seen a million rat signatures in his
time, and these were no ordinary rats.
     "Halt!" belched the stumpy dwarf.
The regiment immediately stopped in their tracks.  Fear began
to creep into the young soldiers.
     "Waddiz it, Sir?" Ulf asked.
     "Nuttin, just get me one 'a dem rats over dere!"
     The scene that followed was a comical one.  Five armored
dwarfs chasing after a bunch of rats with their patrol leader
barking orders at them as fast as he could speak.
     "Over dere!"
     "No, over here!  I think I got one!" cried one of the
group.
     "That's justa rock, you idiot!" yelled another.
     The melee continued for several minutes.  There were
dwarfs slamming into dwarfs, running into walls and generally
making fools of themselves.
     "Got one!" yelled Ulf at the top of his lungs.
     "Well, bring it to me.  I need ta look at sumthin," Durk
growled.
     Ulf carried the odd looking rat over to Durk, who had by
this time fired up one of the lanterns.  What they saw
astounded them.
     "Whaddiz it?" asked one of the troop.
     "Dunno.  Never saw nuttin like it in all me dayz,"
puzzled Durk.  The rat looked as if it had been dipped into
some kind of colored tar or resin.  The poor creature's hair
was a tangled mass of matted orange.  The only part not
covered in orange was the tip of the rodent's nose.
     "That why they lukt funny to ya?" asked one of the
youngest dwarfs.
     "Yup, I know'd sumthin was wrong, but what coulda dun
this to 'em?"  Durk seemed more concerned than the rest of
the party.
     "Hey, Cap'n!" shouted one of the soldiers.  "Look what I
found over here."
     Durk walked over to the wall where the young dwarf stood
puzzling over what he'd found.
     "What izzit?" asked Ulf.
     "I dunno, looks like some kinda purple mop," replied
Durk.
     The young dwarf reached down to pick up the peculiar
looking item.
     "Ouch!  It bit me!" screeched the dwarf as he slung the
purple mop against the wall.  The troop all jumped back and
brandished their swords, axes and hammers.
     "Hold it!" shouted Durk.  "Just waita sec 'fore ya go
an' start a rukus."
     "Look, I'm bleedin'!" wined the young soldier 'bitten'
by the mop.
     "Dat's justa lit'el prick, stop yer winin'," scolded the
elder dwarf.  The wound did, indeed, look just like a prick.
As if his finger had been stuck by a needle.....or a tack.
     "Hey Cap'n, this thing is a funny lookin' mop, and its
got deze funny little tacks all over it," observed Ulf.  He
had scooped up the purple 'mop' with the end of his axe and
was inspecting it from arm's length.
     "Pewouuu Wheeee!  Whats dat foul smell?" complained the
closest dwarf.
     "I dunno, but it sure stinks awful bad," chimed in the
next.
     By this time Durk had made his way over close enough to
get a whiff.
     "Dats Greenie blood you smell there boyz!  Get uzed to
it, cuz down in deze tunnels, its the only smell ya need ta
know.  Now c'mon boyz, lets find them nasty Gobbos and show
'em who'z boss!"
     The group starts down the tunnel with Ulf at point, and
Durk taking up the rear.  The young fighters had never
actually seen a Greenskin, much less fought one.
Anticipation of getting their first kill drives the band
onward, further down into the blackness of the mine.  About
twenty minutes later, Ulf spots something on the wall.
     "Halt.  I think I see sumthin on the wall over dere,"
shouts Ulf.  He cautiously approaches the wall and finds
something scrawled onto the cavern.
     "Dis way, Stunties," was scribbled on the wall with the
same stuff the poor rat was bathed in.  A crooked arrow
pointed further down the mine.
     "Ya think we can take 'em Cap'n?" questions one of
soldiers.
     "Greenies are nuttin' ta be 'fraid of, we could probly
take out a whole camp 'a the foul, stinkin' little beasts,"
grumbled Durk through clenched teeth.
     "But sir, there's just the sixa us.  Whattif theres more
than ya think down there?"
     "I've been patrolling deze tunnels since 'afore you was
a stirrin in yer daddy's pants, boy, and I know there aint no
stinkin Gobbo camp in dis tunnel.  Besides, ya can tell that
the scribblin on da wall was fresh.  Deze stupid Greenies are
justa lookin fer trouble, and we gonna bring it to 'em!  Now
lets go find us a Greenskin ta kill!"  With a twinkle in his
eye and a snarl on his lip, Durk takes the point.  He could
virtually smell the goblins lying in wait around the next
bend.
     The party turned the corner expecting to see a bunch a
goblins running amuck, instead of charging into battle, Durk
simply stood speechless and stared at the freakish sight
before him.  There stood four orks, two goblins....and a
snotling, if you want to count him too.
     "What in the name of Grungni........?"  Durk couldn't
even raise his two-handed axe.  The rest of the patrol
actually dropped their weapons in disbelief.
     What stood before the patrol was no ordinary group of
Greenies.  They were all wearing bits and pieces of an
assortment of armor.  There were pieces of mail, plate and
even leather armor attached at strange angles and to odd
parts of their bodies.  The snotling was wearing what was
left of a mail coif as a dress, and the largest orc proudly
wore a leather belt around his neck as sort of a choaker.
Except for one of the goblins, their heads were all covered
with brightly colored wigs of some sort.  They were spiked
straight up in the air and one wore part of his wig as a pink
and yellow beard.  Funny thing was, the wigs were tacked into
the crazy Gobbos' skin.  The goblin without a wig eyed the
purple 'mop' attached to Ulf's belt.
     "Hey Snag, dey gots my wig!" screeched the goblin.
     "Well, luki' 'ere.  Gots us a buncha Stunties," the
largest orc boomed.  "Didn't yer momma tell ya its not nice
ta steal.  Give lil Gorko 'is wig back an we might kill ya
quickly!"
     "I duuno what kinda infernal creatures ya are, but me an
my boyz are gunna haf ta kill ya!"  Durk managed to regain
some composure after the initial shock.  He lifts his Axe up
in a defensive posture and looks at his men.  "Pick up yer
damn weapons boyz, we gonna have ussa fight on our hands!"
     His troop quickly snaps out of it and grab their weapons
from the floor.
     "Luk at dat axe, must be a perty good one," snarled a
goblin who noticed the size of Durk's axe and the funny
scribbling on its blade.  Durk's axe is of the finest dwarven
craftsmanship and has been inscribed by one of the Clan
wizards with a magical rune that allows Durk to cause extra
damage on a single attack one per day.  The rune is eerily
glowing in the darkness of the tunnel.
     "Luks kinda like da one ya got from da last Stunty we
kilt," boasts the second orc.
     "Ya, it does kinda luk like it," Snag comments as he
reaches behind and pulls out a Two-Handed Axe almost
identical to Durk's.
     "Dat Axe belongs to da Barracks Clan.  How did ya git
yer filthy hands on such a weapon?" Durk asked, but it was
starting to creep in that this was not a group to be taken
lightly.  If what the orc said was true, and they had killed
a dwarf for that axe, then Durk would surely make them all
pay with their lives.
     "'Nuff talk, Greenies.  You are all gonna feel the wrath
of Grungni on yer stinkin' heads!"  And with that Durk
charges the largest orc with his fiercest battle cry.  One
might have expected the Greenies to part before him, or to
run screaming away from the charging dwarf; but instead they
reacted like a well-oiled machine.
     The snotling jumped beneath Durk's feet, causing him to
stumble just enough that Snag was able to sidestep his
initial assault.  As Durk regained balance, Snag was upon him
like a flash.  The other Greenskins charged the patrol with
clubs, swords and axes held high.  The young group of dwarfs
met their charge with equal ferocity and a mighty battle
ensued.  These Gobbos were certainly of a different ilk than
those Durk was used to dealing with.
     The snotling was on his feet in seconds, he then dipped
his tiny hand into a pile a bat guano and smeared it under
each of his eyes.  The tiny warrior then grabbed his broken
shortsword, which he held like a two-handed weapon, and
charged into the fray.
     Durk feigned with an attack that would have caused most
orcs to over compensate and thus open for a killing strike.
Snag was too wise to fall for such an attack, he gracefully
parried Durk's feint with his own axe and delivered a vicious
kick to Durk's shin that sent shivers on pain coursing up his
leg and into his thigh.
     "You rotten Gobbo, I oughta......." grumbled Durk as he
fought to regain his balance.
     Snag was on him again, this time with a well-timed
reverse handle thrust that Durk was barely able to dodge,
he then quickly turned and swung his axe in a wide arc that
caught Durk's shoulder with a sickening crunch.
     "What da matter little man, never fight anyone who
fot back?" Snag begins to mock Durk as he feels he has gained
an advantage.
     Meanwhile, Ulf and his five patrol mates are fighting
for their lives against a foe that is well organized and
skilled in the art of fighting.  The orc swings his sword at
Ulf's knee, barely missing tearing it off at the joint.  Ulf
counters with a swooping chop that lands squarely on the
thigh on the orc.  It screams in agony as Ulf's blade digs
deep into its filthy flesh.
     "C'mon guyz, these greenies aint so tuff!" screams Ulf
as he dislodges his axe from the orcs thigh.  He looks over
just in time to see a fellow dwarf take a solid shot in the
solar plexus from one of the goblins, knocking the breath
from his lungs.  The snotling jumps behind his legs and the
goblin pushes him over the snotling.  With terrible accuracy,
the goblin then drives his club into the throat of Ulf's
fallen comrade, shattering his windpipe.  Gunter scrapes and
claws for breath, but to no avail.  He can no longer draw
breath through his crushed throat.
     With renewed vigor after seeing one of their one fall,
the patrol begins to gain an advantage over the two goblins.
Lugan, the youngest dwarf, swings his two-handed hammer and
hits pay-dirt as it crushes the rib cage of one of the
goblins.  The Gob drops his weapon and clutches his side,
just as Malor's axe lops off his head.  The last goblin is
finally overwhelmed by the four remaining dwarfs.  He falls,
but not before he lands a telling blow that surely breaks the
jaw of Tokkan, who drops to the ground in agony.
     The three dwarfs left turn their attention to help Ulf
and Durk with their struggle.  They forget about the devious
little snotling crouched in the shadows, waiting for an
opportunity now that his Gobbo buddies have all been slain.
It climbs up the wall to where the spiked-log trap lays in
wait.  He grabs onto the largest spike and cuts the rope that
holds the wicked device in place.  The three dwarfs never
even see it coming, for they have turned their backs, sure
that the only threats left were the two orcs battling Ulf and
Durk.
     The snotling screams triumphantly from his perch on the
quickly arching log-trap.  The three dwarfs turn in just
enough time to see their killer.....a Green-skinned, yellow-
wigged little snotling swooping down like some nightmare
Daemon from another place and time.  The spiked log rips into
their ranks, rending mail shirt and breastplate on its way to
the soft flesh it so maliciously seeks.  The three young
dwarfs are impaled on the vicious spikes.  The trap worked to
perfection, claiming three young dwarven lives.
     The snotling from hell was thrown from the log by the
impact.  It bounces off the cavern wall and lands in the pile
of bat guano, knocked out cold.
     From his vantage point, Durk could not see that his
patrol has been reduced to one by the wicked trap sprung by
the evil little snotling.  It would not have mattered,
because Durk is fighting for his life.  His left shoulder is
completely numb from the wound suffered earlier.  He now
fights with one good arm and the heart of a true dwarven
warrior.  Durk ducks a clever attack by Snag and drops to his
back.  Snag quickly swings straight down at the seemingly
prone dwarf.  Durk had hoped he would, rolling just to the
side to cause Snag's attack to miss.  Then rolling back onto
the orc's weapon, causing the filthy creature to lose its
grip and its balance.  A well placed kick to the knee helps
Snag find his way to the cavern floor.  Durk uses his good
arm to reach over and grab the stunned orc by the ear.  He
then delivers a brutal head-but that splits the orcs forehead
wide open.  Durk scrambles to his feet as Snag wipes the
blood from his eyes and tries to find his weapon.  As Snag
gropes, nearly blinded by all the blood, for his axe; Durk
summons the magical strength bestowed to him by his axe.  His
next blow is a massive chop that sends his blade deep into
the chest of the floundering orc, rending every piece of rag-
tag armor it had placed on its torso.  With that final blow,
Durk stumbles to his knees as his useless arm hangs to the
side.  So weak he can barely manage to turn around, he sees
the final stages of Ulf's battle with the second orc.
Powerless to intervene, Durk simply watches and hopes his
young student survives the grisly affair.
     The orc was noticeable limping after the blow to his
thigh, but very effective nonetheless.  He came at Ulf with a
low strike that was easily parried, but if left Ulf's heavy
weapon down low and out of position for the orc's next,
devastating move.
     The orc charged right at Ulf, and before he could raise
his axe the foul greenie was on him.  His teeth barred and
the room suddenly filled with a sinister laughter as the orc
seemed to be enjoy the throes of war.  The impact of the
charge sent Ulf tumbling backward and into the wall.  The orc
was quick with his sword and followed Ulf into the wall with
the point of his weapon.  Ulf tried to move, but to no avail.
The jagged point ripped through Ulf's mail shirt and into the
mushy flesh of his bicep, ripping the muscle almost clean off
the bone.  Ulf roared in agony as the weapon found its mark.
     Durk looked on, fearing the worst and knowing he could
not help his wounded friend.
     Ulf blinked away the tears and let his butchered arm
fall limply to his side.  He then brought a vicious knee into
the groin of the maniacal orc.  The orc doubled over in pain
and Ulf sent another, blistering knee into the side of the
prone orc's head.  The Gobbo tumbled to the side and was
struggling to regain his feet.  Ulf summoned up the fury of
the mighty Grungni and in one fell swoop, his axe sank deep
into the orc's torso, sending blood and bone spewing out of
the sinister looking wound.  Ulf, after prying the weapon
from the orc's chest, stumbles over to Durk who is lying
crumpled on the cavern floor.
     "Cap'n, Cap'n are you alright?" Ulf manages through
blood and tears.
     "Yeah Boy, Yer 'Ol Cap'n is doin' just fine.  Just git
me off this filthy floor 'afore some more o dem hellish
gobbos come callin!"
     "What are we gonna do about the men?"
     "We gotta leave 'um 'ere, until we can send sum healthy
folks down to git 'em."  Durk begins to cry.
     "I aint never lost a single rookie in any of me patrols,
<sob> I don't na whattum gonna tell da boyz' parents?"
     "Me whole family will be disgraced, I gotta tell 'em I
lost four good soldiers to nuttin more dan five stinkin
Greenies!  Me's lost every bit a honor me ever had!"
     Ulf helps Durk struggle to his feet.  Durk spots the
buckets of purple, orange and yellow tar.  He solemnly walks
over to the orange vat and dips his good arm down into the
sticky, viscous substance.
     "Cap'n....no, there was nuttin' we cud do!"  argues Ulf
as he knows now what Durk is getting at.
     "Leave me be, boy!" Durk growls.  "You just go back an
tell 'em what happm'd, and tell em to send sum body after me
men.  And don't ferget to take me fam'ly's axe back with ya,
that filthy gobbo has had it long enuff."  Durk takes handful
after handful of orange tar and turns his hair into a spiked
mess.
     Durk's demeanor begins to change, and as his tears begin
to dry and he begins to slowly walk away from the grisly
sight, he says, "Tell me wife and me family that me luvs 'em.
     Ulf has no choice but to start his long journey back to
his home...without his most honored and trusted Cap'n.
     ......and long after Ulf and Durk are out of sight, a
small greenish form begins to stir.  His tiny face virtually
stuck to the floor by the bat guano.  With a great deal of
effort, the little snotling pries himself loose from the
vice-like grip of the bat droppings...and begins his own
search.  For Crimmy the Stuntie Slayer will not soon forget
what happened on this day.


                              TO BE CONTINUED.........????




*****************NOTE**************************************
     The brilliant idea of the Stunty Slayer is not my own.
I only wish I could be as imaginative.  The Stunty Slayer
idea belongs to Chris Clements, to whom I extend a genuine
"thank you" for his wonderful creation!!
***********************************************************