Dasher kept a wide berth from the heavily armored orcs as he narrowly managed to dodge another wave of missile fire from the disciplined ranks of the Bonechewer tribe's archers. For the warlord, it was apparent that the archers were no marksmen by any sense of the word as the warg-mounted goblin continued to weave his way out of danger with plenty of room to spare. The missiles landed harmlessly all around him as Dashers' attention remained solely focused upon the unit of iron-clad orcs that poked and prodded at their master's enemy with their haphazardly designed weapons.

As Dasher continued to dodge the onslaught from his closest set of adversaries, the warlord let out a surprised grunt as an arrow had finally managed to find its mark and struck at the goblins cobbled together suit of armor. The bolt shattered and sent an explosion of shrapnel in every direction. Dasher leaned back in fright as he attempted to avoid the deadly wave of sharp bits of wood and metal that could spell his doom.

The goblin let out a sigh of relief as the last deadly shard of wood flew behind his body. The warlord was fortunate enough to receive superficial injuries.

Dasher's thoughts began to turn towards bewilderment at the idea of why he had rarely seen any of his kind encase themselves in armor in a similar manner as to himself, but such thoughts were quickly put to an end when a sudden and violent thrust from a nearby spear nearly pierced the side of the goblins face. With a hard yank on his trusted companion's neck, Dasher urged the snarling creature to distance itself from the long reach of the nearby orc's weapons.

"Easy now, Gore," Dasher struggled to calm the enraged warg and continued to tug at the bloodied snow-white fur. "We can't have you charging into that mess right now unless you plan on getting the both of us killed."

The goblin continued to struggle with a defiant Gore as the infuriated warg snapped its jaws and swiped its powerful claws at the prodding weapons of their heavily armored foes. Dasher was well aware of what would happen to the both of them were he unable to calm his friend and regain control of the fiery beast's actions. The warlord was more than hesitant to find himself impaled upon the sharp end of a crudely made spear or halberd.

Eventually, the warg had regained enough of its senses and retreated to a safe distance away from the black-iron clad warriors and let out an exhausted huff of air as the creature's eyes remained locked onto the closest orc. Gore's dirt and blood stained fur slowly rose upwards as the beasts inner instincts quietly urged the warg to disobey its master and challenge the threat head-on.

As he let out a slow breath of air, Dasher leaned forward and patted the side of his companion's neck. The goblin kept a watchful eye on the slow pace of the armored orcs as they continued to trudge their way towards the only real threat towards their corpulent master.

With each step that the orcs took, Dasher forced his battle-eager mount to keep a healthy distance away from their far-reaching weapons.

As the warg continued to oblige his master's wishes, an exhausted Dasher scanned his immediate surroundings as he took in the battlefield around him.

It didn't take long for the sweat-covered goblin to find his query as the rotund and massive potbelly orc was almost impossible to miss, even in the chaos of a battle. The obese warlord flailed his arms in the air and yelled out an inaudible order towards the heavily armored orcs. This caused Thok'rul's fattened flesh to swing wildly along with the movements of his treetrunk sized limbs as the cannibalistic master of the Bonechewer tribe attempted to attract the attention of his seemingly elite warriors.

Curious as to what could have been the cause for his adversaries troubles, Dasher continued to scan the battlefield and noticed a change in the flow of combat.

Where the was once a deadlocked stalemate within the center lines of the armies, there was now a change of the tides. The goblin's forces, led by none other than Dasher's most trusted advisor, One-Eye, were beginning to gain the upper hand and slowly forcing the enemy to retreat and restructure their lines.

Dasher nodded his head as he finally understood the reason for his former master's hurried looks of displeasure.

The group of orcs that were now chasing him were supposed to have made quick work of the defiant goblin and return to the battle at hand. Instead, the slow to move group were unsuccessful in their hunt and remained away from the battlefield long enough for Dasher's forces to gain the upper hand and slowly shift the battle in their favor.

Dasher smiled as a plan slowly formed in the back of his mind. If all that he needed to do to help ensure victory was to keep the iron-clad orcs preoccupied and away from the battle at large, then that was exactly what he was going to do. No matter how long it would take.

"Gore," Dasher patted the sides of the faithful warg's neck as he prepared himself for what was to come. "Let's get stuck in it."

Eager to get back into the fight, an exuberant Gore rushed forward and made steady headway towards the one-time distant armored orcs. The defiant warg let out a vicious growl as it bared its yellowed fangs towards its metal-clad adversaries and took a sudden swipe at one of the more exposed members.

The attack appeared to have no effect on the chosen target as the duo rushed out of the groups' reach before any of them could react. For Dasher, this was more than fine for his needs. The goblin understood that so long as he remained clear on his objective, then there was no need for him to try and kill his enemies. All he needed was time, and that was what he was going to get.

Again and again, Dasher and his trusted mount rushed in and out of their enemy's reach. Always ensuring that they were out of harms reach before the slow-moving orcs could react.

In and out they went. At one point, Dasher took the chance to swing his sword against the helmet of one the orc's, but the goblin's reward for his bravery was having his sword bounce off of the warrior's helm, and sending the force of his strike reverberating throughout the length of his arm.

Dasher went in for a similar strike but pulled away at the last second when the orc's formed a defensive circle and struck out at the mounted warlord with their weapons. For his efforts, the goblin received a series of gashes and deep cuts while Gore came out of it unscathed.

Again and again, he went, but the orcs were well protected and more than capable of fending off Dasher's attacks. For his part, Dasher remained unwilling to brave the many opportunities that his adversaries were giving to him. The warlord was more than capable enough to realize that such chances were part of some ploy to bring him down for good.

As Dasher circled the gathered orcs for what had felt to him to be the hundredth time, a sudden realization kicked in. There was no longer a need for him to fight these heavily armored orcs that clung to their weapons as they waited for an opportunity that might never come.

Time was something that he needed to waste, and as Dasher looked around the bloodied field of battle, the goblin saw all that he needed to see for him to make his decision. The Gathered warriors of the Bonechewer tribe were struggling to contain the breaches in their lines, and their numbers were slowly being exhausted to the point where a handful of well-equipped warriors would no longer be the deciding factor in the battles climatic outcome.

In the back of Dasher's mind, the battle had already been won, and the goblin was eager to deal the killing blow in striking down the last pillar that held up the strained forces of his former master.

With an evil grin, Dasher pulled back on his mounts fur and kicked at the beast's hindquarters. The two turned their backs at the confused band of orcs and ran off towards the last location of where they knew Thok'rul the Starving had been spotted.

Bones were shattered, and limbs were crushed as friend and foe alike were trampled beneath the earth-shattering steps of the massive hog as it made stomped its way across the battlefield. A vicious howl rang out from the beasts gaping maw as Terror; the giant hog that served as Thok'rul the Starvings faithful mount, barreled its way towards the upstart warlord that dared to question the Bonechewer's supremacy.

Dasher turned to look back and watched as the monstrously sized mount gored another of its master's minions as the beast continued to carve a bloodied path as it attempted to catch up towards the snow-white warg that carried the diminutive goblin upon its back.

Shock had overridden Dasher's once calm expression as he watched the blood-stained beast made quick work in catching up to the pair of upstarts. The goblin had never realized how fast the mighty hog truly was until this fateful day.

"Upstart," Snarled Thok'rul as the rotund orc finally managed to catch up to his prey. "You've got a lot of nerve to make me work up this much of an appetite."

The cannibalistic master of the Bonechewer tribe slammed an open palm against his expansive belly, causing several of the diseased riddled zits to audibly pop and ooze out a sickening puss. Dasher could only hold back a retching gag as he looked down over his shoulder in disgust.

"What's the matter, whelp!" The diseased orc smacked his lips together, sending slimy spit into the air. "Can't stand the sight of someone who's had more than one meal a day?"

Thok'rul laughed as he raised his right arm and brought down a jagged cleaver towards the still retching Dasher, but the goblin's snow-white companion dodged it at the last second.

Gore went wide as he separated the two dueling warlords from one another. The beast snarled out a vicious growl as he snapped his jaws at the earth-shaking steps of the giant hog as it tried to keep pace with the much quicker pair.

As Dasher regained his composure, the warlord shook his head and spat out a ball of slimy saliva. The goblin quickly blinked away the last remnants of the foul sensation he had felt upon looking at his former master and shook his head for a final time. The warlord tightened his grip around the hilt of his weapon and urged the faithful warg to charge towards their corpulent adversaries.

Thok'rul let out a fierce growl as he swung towards the diminutive warlord, but missed as the goblin ducked underneath the powerful swing and struck at the sides of Terror.

Dasher allowed a wordless curse to escape his lips as he watched the powerful creature ignore the attack and moved to slam into its masters' enemies. As Dasher urged his companion to slow its pace and avoid the oncoming collision, the goblin clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth as he realized the folly of his attack.

'I need something else,' The goblin thought to himself as he hastily scanned his immediate surroundings for a more effective weapon.

Dasher's thoughts were interrupted when the goblin ducked just in time to avoid another swing of the obese orcs cleaver. By instinct, Dasher struck out in retaliation and watched with growing despair as his strike appeared to have left the rotund orc unscathed.

"What's wrong, little whelp." Thok'rul snorted gleefully as he bared his yellowed and rotted out teeth. A stench of death washed over the smaller goblin as Thok'rul continued to laugh at his counterpart's misfortune. "Unable to kill me, are you? Such a shame. Perhaps I can give you a few pointers!"

Sparks flew into the air and metal screeched against metal as the corpulent orc struck down towards Dasher and tore into the goblin's makeshift suit of armor.

Dasher held his breath as pain coursed through his entire body. Blood flowed freely out of the opened wound and dyed the goblins suit of armor in a sea of red. The goblin leaned against the side of his uninjured friend, holding an open hand against the wound, and tugged onto the creature's neck to force the warg away from the far more powerful Thok'rul.

Gore was eager to obey the commands of its master and kept a healthy distance away from their counterparts as the pair of warlords played a dangerous game of cat and mouse.

The warg dodged and weaved its way throughout the battlefield, avoiding a deluge opportunistic attempts on their lives. Gore continued forward, never thinking to pause in its effort to shake off their pursuers until the wargs master had demanded it to halt and return to the fray.

"Gore," Dasher said between gritted teeth as he returned to his usual stance. The goblin looked down at his bloodied hand and let out a sigh of relief. The bleeding appeared to have stopped, and the warlord had a suspicion that the wound was superficial and not a threat to his life. "Find me something to get that bastard."

The warg obliged the will of its master and turned towards the center lines. With bounding steps, the creature moved at a lightning-quick pace and arrived in a matter of seconds.

Dasher wiped the sweat off of his brow as a scene of pure carnage greeted the pair's eyes. Bodies and torn limbs were stacked on top of one another as the two armies continued to direct their dwindling numbers towards their doom.

Battle lust and a craving for blood had befallen the two armies as friends and allies stabbed and crushed their fallen compatriots as their unlucky victims crawled their way to safety or reached out for help. Weaponless warriors used whatever they could to remain alive as their enemies tore into one another and used the bodies of the deceased to shield themselves from any would-be attackers.

Through it all stood One-Eye, now missing the entirety of his right arm, who looked up to the sky and let loose a vicious howl as he stood over a pile of the dead.

'He's going to need a new name.' Dasher allowed a heartless chuckle to escape from his lips as the goblin shook his head at the sight of his blood-drenched advisor.

The warlord returned his attention to the matter at hand and resumed his search for a weapon that would be enough to defeat the diseased and cannibalistic master of the Bonechewer tribe. It didn't take long before Dasher found a suitable target.

Standing tall amongst a ring of skewered bodies and shattered weapons was the group of armored orcs that had given the goblin so much trouble earlier on in his search for Thok'rul the Starving. Before them were an array of weapons that the warlord was eager to retrieve in his purpose of defeating the cruel despot of the Bonechewer tribe.

Axes, swords, and spears stood high above the cesspit of bodies and churning blood, but only one managed to catch Dasher's gaze. A simple, yet brutal spear with a metal head that was narrow near the wooden shaft of the weapon but quickly fanned out and ended with a triple-pointed blade.

Its wielder, one of the armored orc's, had met an untimely end at the hands of the innumerable wave of eager warriors that continued to batter themselves against the immovable force of iron-clad soldiers.

With any luck, the warlord would be able to retrieve the weapon without hassle and return to the hunt for his evasive, corpulent query.

As his eyes remained locked on the acquired target, Dasher leaned forward. The goblin forced his body to go as low as it could go and gripped tightly around the tufts of fur between his fingers. With a kick and a wordless command, the warlord drove his companion forward.

The once pristine snow-white fur of the now blood-stained warg brushed against the bridge of Dasher's nose as the beast rushed forwards into the foray. As the snarling beast moved to keep the two at a safe distance from the distracting orcs long reaching weapons, Dasher leaned to the side and held out an open hand.

As something collided with the palm of his hand, Dasher held back his breath and clenched his fist tightly shut. A sickening rip reached his ears as something tugged onto his body, but the cackling goblin remained ever steady as he looked down at his newly acquired weapon.

Clumps of blood-stained dirt and ragged pieces of flesh fell off of the triple-pointed blade as Dasher gave one final look at the chaotic scene behind him. Two more of the heavily armored orcs had fallen beneath the unstoppable onslaught before them and remained motionless as a tidal wave of grey-skinned maniacs stabbed and tore into their still-warm bodies.

The breach that the Bonechewer tribe had so desperately sought to keep closed would become an unstoppable momentum, and once the final nail had been driven into place, the battle would see its inevitable end.

At last, the battle had reached its zenith as Dasher's loyal soldiers had finally managed to break through the Bonechewer tribe's centerline. Lost in their desires to spill the blood of their enemy and to avenge their fallen brethren, the soon-to-be victorious army poured through the ever-widening gaps of their enemy's formations and drowned the defeated army's forces in a tidal wave of bloodied bodies and broken weapons.

Each death caused by the hands of the gleeful victors caused an avalanche of frightened warriors to drop their weapons and flee the battlefield. Such actions only served to strengthen the resolve of the victorious army as they chased after the deserters and brought them down in a whirlwind of swords, spears, and axes.

Dasher had been forced to halt his search for the surprisingly quick-footed Thok'rul the Starving as a wall of flesh and metal slammed against him and his trusted companion. The warlord struggled to remain upright as the wave of bodies poured past the surrounded duo as arms, hands, legs, and feet struck out at anything close by to avoid being dragged under and trampled.

Desperate hands reached out to grab hold of the warlords' legs as they tried to pull the goblin off of his mount in an attempt to pull themselves to safety, but an angered Dasher struck out at those who dared to bring a single ounce of flesh near him.

Gore let out a fierce growl and swiped down at any who dared to bring themselves close to the beast and its master, forcing the wave of bodies to seek safety elsewhere as a ring of emptiness formed around the bloodied pair.

With nowhere else for the two of them to go, Dasher stood up onto his companions back and brought a hand over his eyes as he searched for any sign of his cannibalistic counterpart. At first, the goblin caught no sight of the difficult to find orc, but as Dasher forced himself to stand on his tiptoes over the wargs sturdy back, the goblin made out the distinctive shape of the corpulent Thok'rul the Starving.

The once fearful and powerful orc chieftain was fleeing the battlefield atop of his boulder-sized mount.

The goblin let out a disgusted snarl of his fleeing adversary as he quickly sat back down and steadied himself over the top of Gore's back.

"Gore!" Dasher yelled out as he nudged the creature towards the direction of their long sought after target.

With no other commands needed, the snow-white warg set out to chase after the obese orc and the mountainous hog that served as his seat of power.

Like a whirlwind, the two trampled, slashed, and jabbed at the unfortunate masses that found themselves in the direct path of the enraged warg, and its defiant rider as the pair quickly caught up to the rotund orc.

"Thok'rul!" Dasher's voice echoed across the distance as he kicked at the hind legs of his mount to help urge the tired yet ever-persistent warg forward. If the warlord were to lose his former master now, then Dasher had doubts as to when he would be able to next meet with the corpulent orc again.

Thok'rul slowed his bestial mount and turned to look back at the upstart of a goblin that had ruined everything for him. The last of the orc's remaining up-armored bodyguards succumbed to their wounds and fell to their knees. An audible pop reached Dasher's ears as his counterparts' giant hog stepped forward and brought down a gore riddled hoof onto the now dead orcs head.

"Upstart! Thok'rul snorted as more metallic pops rang out into the cold, spring air. The orcs' giant of a mount copied it's master's gesture as it shook the dust off of its body. The obese orc's body jiggled in unison with the hog's movements, causing the warlords' rotten flesh and pustule bulbs to pop. Ichor oozed down the cannibalistic warlord's flesh as he raised his arms into the air as a final sign of challenge.

"You think that you have won, but it is I that will be the true victor in all of this. With you dead and your head boiling in my pot, I will lay claim over your disgraceful army and forge a new tribe into existence."

With no more words needing to be spoken between the two warlords, Thok'rul the Starving brought his right leg forward and gave the side of the massive hogs equally impressive head a slow but powerful kick.

An angered Terror rolled its head to the left-handed side as it scrunched up its nose and let out a powerful snort, a hazy cloud of snot and mucus flew from its nostrils as the beast reached out with its right leg and stomped onto the ground. Dirt was violently thrown behind the mighty beast as the mountainous hog lunged forward in a blink of an eye.

With the corpulent duo coming towards them at a frightening rate, Dasher leaned forward and gave his companion a gentle pat on the neck. "Give me everything you've got." The goblin warlord said as he straightened out his back and readied the bloodied spear in his hand.

Gore licked its snout as it lowered itself and made ready to charge at the oncoming enemy. With a powerful kick of its legs, the snow-white warg lunged towards the pairs fleshy adversaries.

It would only take but a few blinks for the two warlords to be upon one another and a split second for them to make that last, fateful blow to end the battle for good.

With the first blink, the orc and the goblin brought their weapons at the ready and aimed at where they believed their opponent would be.

On the second blink, the two warlords were still a healthy distance away from one another. Dasher lowered his body, keeping his weapon pointed towards the heart of his enemy. Thok'rul swung his sword wildly in the air before lowering it to where the obese warlord believed to be where that cursed white wargs' head would be.

It was on the third blink that Dasher acted with complete disregard for his wellbeing.

In one swift motion, the goblin shot himself up into the air and landed his feet onto the back of his trusted companion. "Gore," Dasher yelled out towards the snow-white beast as he raised his weapon above his head. "Turn and run!"

With that, Dasher jumped into the air.

Thok'rul the Starving watched on with a dumb look upon his face as the tip of the accursed goblins spear blocked out the light of the dwindling sun. His mind screamed at him to move his body in reaction towards the threat upon his life, but his meaty arms remained motionless as the metallic weapon plunged into his eye. Blood and fatty puss exploded out of the wound as the rotund orc let out a silent cry of pain.

Thok'rul's life was quick to be extinguished as blood and bone shot out of the back of the unfortunate orcs' head. Hoping that he would be able to dismount the deceased warlord from his mobile throne, Dasher brought his feet out and kicked at the chest of the corpulent orc as the victorious goblin landed hard against the jiggling flesh of the obese orc's chest. Such an action did little towards what Dasher had initially hoped for, and the two warlords remained still as the still charging Terror continued forward, unconcerned with the fateful end of its longtime master.

Dasher tugged at the weapon in hopes to free it from its fleshy prison, but the blood coated shaft wouldn't budge even as the goblin pulled on the weapon with all of his might. Unsure of what else there was for him to do, Dasher looked down towards the hooved feet of the still moving hog and steadied his nerves. The goblin was astonished by how fast such a massive creature could move.

The goblin took a deep breath and readied himself for what was to come next. With a victorious yell, Dasher jumped off of the wobbling flesh of the now dead orc and braced for impact.

Something cracked as Dasher rolled onto the ground, and the goblin let out a cry of pain as his body continued to bounce and roll over the hardened ground. It wasn't until the world before him had stopped spinning did the victorious warlord see what was happening.

Over his right shoulder, Dasher could see the mountainous beast of a hog slowly vanishing over the horizon. It's now dead master remained upright upon its back as the towering creature gradually shrunk out of sight.

To his left were the familiar figures of One-Eye and Gore as they rushed forward to help their fallen leader. One-Eye had begun to yell something towards the still woozy Dasher, but the dazed warlord was perfectly alright with not being able to understand what his trusted advisor was trying to say.

For now, Dasher was perfectly content to let his body fall backward onto the dry, hard ground and let the pain of his injuries wash over his senses.

As consciousness slowly faded from his mind, a jubilant Dasher allowed a smile to stretch across his face. The sing-song tune of happy laughter filled the goblin's ears as darkness overtook his mind.