There is nothing quite like an Orkish hangover. While not the head-pounding nightmare of a long binge, it had a very strong dizzying effect, as well as making one incredibly sleepy. When I first awoke from my alcohol induced coma, I could barely sit up before crashing back to sleep. This repeated three seperate times before I stayed awake long enough to recall the previous nights plans, and how I was missing out on the best few hours to start things properly.

I managed to stumble to my feet, avoiding the various bodies sprawled about me. A Squigg and two Gretchins had curled up beside me during the night, lacking any covering to maintain their body heat. It would have been cute if, well, they hadn't been ugly as sin. I took one look at Grikkle, who was fast asleep, and decided I wasn't the only one who had to wake early. I pinched the Grots ear, hand over his mouth to stop his screech. He ended up biting my hand as he woke, leaving a few teeth marks a a tiny trail of blood, but it felt more like scratching my back with a stick, and not sharp canines burrowing into my skin. Orkish pain resistance was a remarkable thing.

The Grot grumbled and griped as I ordered him to fetch various tools from his workplace, and to meet me at the raid sight. A light shove sent him on his way, and soon after, I was on my way as well, heading to the previous nights raid. Last night had been a whirlwind of great ideas, and not so great ideas. But of all the plans I had thought of, they all relied on one key feature. A safe place to work and store equipment, and some form of guards and workers. And I just so happened to know a relatively unused area, full of scrap materials, and probably a bunch of homeless workers. Namely, the Ork camp we’d trashed the previous day.

And so I made my way out of my tribe’s fort, carefully stepping between sleeping Orks and Squigs. While it was sorely tempting to nab some goodies on the way, it wouldn't do to risk making enemies this early on, and besides, I had all I really needed at the moment. Any more stuff and I'd have to leave things lying around, where any sneaky git could just nab it.

The fort, as well as the tunnels leading to the raided tribe were almost completely empty of traffic. The occasional sleeping greenskin was curled up in the road, too drunk or too lazy to reach their usual sleeping spots, but besides them, it was clear of any threat. The trip took less than a minute, what with there not being a massive crowd to hamper my movements.

The entrance was completely ransacked. Hardly any structure remained upright, and even the collapsed buildings were starting to show marks of scavenging, most easily removable metal ripped from the remains. Fortunately, it wasn't completely ransacked, and this was just the outside. No doubt the further in I went, the less trashed the place would become.

Eager to start on my grand scheme, I practically flew through the various tunnels, looking for a nice, secluded cave with a single entrance. The place had several poor options for a base, and my Orkish mind was surprisingly capable of memorizing their location in the labyrinthine cave system. I even backtracked twice just to make sure I really knew where I was going.

Finally, after nearly twenty minutes of exploration, I found the perfect spot. Behind the remains of a small warehouse, whose guts were spilled all out the front, was a small crevice, just narrow enough to keep some of the biggest orks from entering, or medium sized orks from bringing any heavy duty weaponry and armor. Said crevice opened up into a fair sized mushroom garden which not only had plenty of mushrooms and Eating Squigs, but also had a few pens for several of the rarer Squigs variants. and I could just make out the steady snore of lesser greenskins coming from a ramshackle hut that leaned against the cave wall. With a grin, I moved back to the warehouse, and started hacking down a section of wall. With a few careful blows, I was able to create a makeshift door, which I hauled halfway into the crevice. It took careful maneuvering and plenty of trimming to make the new door fit fully into the crevice, while allowing it to be shifted to the side for passage. In addition, I wedged two iron bars between the rock wall and the door, to keep those inside from opening it. Those little Grots weren't going anywhere.

A sense of elation filled me. The plan was running smoothly, the first pieces falling into place. Now all that remained was getting Grikkle, and finally settling on a name. Somehow, despite many attempts, I could only think of edgy anime names. There was just something wrong about a truly Orkish name. Perhaps a pun? UrMad NoStump would be a great name, if it didn't make me want to cry. Maybe Twoface? Nah, Superman would probably bust in and sue my ass. Not that he'd even be the strongest hero in this universe, what with there being sun destroying weapons and all.

Nothing really stuck by the time I made it to the entrance. Grikkle popped out of hiding with his back of various tidbits, a cautious look on his face. “Wotz we doin’ ‘ere, Boss? If’n you wanted some scrap, der’s plenty to snatch at the Dakka Pile.” The question took a moment to register. Surely I'd talked about this last night? I'd gone over some of the better, and less personal, ideas with the Grot last night, gauging his reaction. He'd done nothing but praise, as was his primary function, but he seemed to have a nervous twitch when I mentioned some of the worse plans. Whether it was amusement or fear of being caught up in the danger, I couldn't tell. But I'd definitely told him about my base plans, and I didn't recall him having any real reaction. Was he just forgetful, or maybe... Did he just nod his head and ignore me?!

The thought, which should have been obvious from the start, was a low blow. The beer had gotten to my head. I might have forgotten to keep my distance with Grikkle, which could be a serious problem. And I NEEDED the Grot. I needed his knowledge, his expertise, and his help with my future underlings. It was time to reel him in good, here and now.

I reached into the bag beneath my shirt, and carefully withdrew a small, almost Grot-sized Slugga, weathered and battered, but fully functional, and very loud. The perfect weapon for the little Grot. I watched his reactions with carefully concealed intensity, and to my relief, his eyes widened with surprise and greed as the weapon entered his vision. I kept the pistol just out of reach, and lowered my head close to his, almost kneeling to get right in his face. I stared him dead in the eye as I gave him my best pitch.

“Grikkle. I don't talk big and sleep it off. If I decide to do sumffin, it gets done. You ‘ear me?” The little goblin nodded, unable to pull his eyes from the weapon. “Look at me, Grikkle. Good. I’z got planz, ikkle greenskin. Back dere is a nice little spot wif a bunch o’ tribeless Gretchinz and Squigs and such. I’z going in dere, and startin’ on my planz. You’z can be at my side, my “Ead Grot, in charge of all dah little onez, wif dah best and most killy weaponz, an’ makin’ dah biggest gunz and shipz eva! But dat means ‘ard work and lots of killin’. Can you ‘andle it? If not, you’z can stay a weak pet, dah smallest Grot ‘round while I lead dah bestest of dah bestest. So wotz it gonna be, Grikkle? Pet, or Boss?”

The goblins eyes widened even further as he listened intently. I could almost hear the gears turning as he considered my offer. And by taking the time to THINK about it, he passed the first test for the REAL head Grot position. He'd do for now, but if he slipped up, and someone better showed up, he'd be back to being a pet.

Finally, the Grot slowly nodded, then stopped to ask one question. “If I be ‘Ead Grot, does dat mean I getz to drive dah ship?” And with that, I knew he was sold. I nodded, seeing the deep seated greed in Grikkle’s eyes. I'd unwittingly stumbled on Grikkle’s secret passion. And despite the tendency for Orks to 'forget' their promises, I honestly meant to keep mine. If Grikkle could fly, he'd be a pilot. And if not, he'd get the first prototype of the shittiest ship I could find, and stay as far away from the first test launch as possible. And to be honest, I doubt the Grot would really mind the second option all that much, given the almost feverish expression on his face.

The Grot took the pistol in as close to reverence as Orkishly possible, fingers running across the weapon as if trying to memorize every nook and cranny, every rusted bolt and jagged crack. And with hands born for it, he pulled the magazine free, checked it for rounds, slipped it back in and fired into the ceiling with a shrill warcry. I matched his enthusiasm with a roar of my own, adding another Slugga’s firepower to the cacophony.

After taking delight in pure destruction, the two of us made our way to my new home. Two new partners, who'd have to rely on each other through the hell that was to come.