The orders had been given, and Bork had moved his horde with all possible speed. The halflings awaited! Food. Cake. Small, fat, chewy little ones. It was a dream come true for the ogre, so much so that not the wind nor the snow could dampen his enthusiasm. Now only was he to be paid in shinies and food, but he would get them for eating!
Vasili and his men have caught up to Bork tohave this conversation). Hold on to your Rhinoxen there Bork. Did your talking Gnoblar not inform you of Von Urenbach's orders? The Halflings are not to be harmed. That doesn't mean just physically. It means there town as well. We're NOT just going to go in there and commandeer whatever you want. Do you want to eat well through the winter, or just this one day? I know Ogres and Gnoblars can handle snow, so we're not going in and taking over; we're going to build a good working relationship. I'll guarantee you'll be the first to eat, provided I establish rapport with the Halfling and his advisors. We're not OCCUPYING any of the mills either. That's what you have your equipment for. We're not here to subjugate. Do you understand the need to ration things? I know gnoblars don't eat a lot, but you need to make sure they get something. Otherwise, they'll be useless to us. By the way, do you happen to know how many gnoblar trappers you have in your force?
Bork stood there, dumbfounded. Where the Kislevite had roughly a hundred sixty men under his command, only the forward elements of the party had reached the ogre. There were hundreds upon hundreds of gnoblars around. Some were properly clothed, others weren't. They spat, kicked, screamed and stole. Several were stepped on by the men's horses as they tried to crawl under them for warmth (nobody ever said that gnoblars were smart). Bork did his best to listen, but after he heard that he was to be the first to eat everything else besides the word "rations" went over his head, mostly because he remembered a mercenary once "shared" his rations with Bork. And by shared, it meant that he was scared to death of being eaten by a hungry ogre that he just gave it.
Bork nodded his head with enthusiasm. "Bork eat first!" He pumped his fist in the air and bellowed loudly. The assembled gnoblars took up the cheer, glad that their master was happy. And through it all, Vasili could see at the edge of the "army" were a dozen men wearing white. They were dressed from head to toe in honest to god clothing appropriate for the cold, and each held a bow. The gnoblars, apparently, were used to their presence, as they simply swarmed around the men without a care in the world.
Vasilli straightens in his saddle, relieved he's temporarily resolved a problem and says,"Ok Bork, we haven't gone far from von Urenbach yet, so we'll return to Grossferre and let your men warm back up. There we'll finalize things with von Urenbach as Hilde Scholz might have some more information from him. Follow us back". Vasilli has his men move at a slow pace, so the short legged gnoblars can keep up. After instructing his men to continue the slow pace, Vasilli falls back to Bork's position in line and dismounts to walk and talk with Bork. " You know Bork, I once had a good relationship with an Ogre tribe my people had made an alliance with in defending Kislev from a Chaos invasion. So when I saw you dressed in the blue and white of Middenheim and pledging to von Urenbach, I was happy. But if anything good is going to come from this war, we all have to work together for von Urenbach's benefit. That means that none of us just take off from the rest. Can you keep your eyes on prize? If we come out the victors in this when this is all over, I'll host you with honor at my father's court in Erengrad. Have you ever been a guest at a noble's feast? Lot's of delicious food Bork. Just try to think what you need to do here in Middenland to accomplish that goal. In the mean time, I see your gnobbies aren't equipped well for this campaign and I wonder just how expendable you consider them to be. They do make up the bulk of your force and you'll be needing the great majority of them once we meet the enemy....... we'll all need as much of our forces as we can muster". Vasilli remounts his horse and gallops forward to rejoin his men.
Bork marched back to Grossfurre. The man with the silly hat kept talking, but Bork wasn't listening. He knew that there was food waiting for him. He'd eat first, and that was all that mattered. He figured that it must have been the wife gnoblar that did it, and for that he was justly proud. Still, he had a listening gnoblar on hand. It had a piece of paper and scribbled furiously on it as the man with the silly hat talked.
Hours later they reached Grossfurre, and Vasilli road off to the rest of his army. The listening gnoblar proudly turned over its notes. They read "Feest", "deelisee-us", "foood" and "preyez." After several minutes of staring at the paper, Bork grinned and took off running. Straight toward's the Kislevite's supply train. Bork couldn't have been happier to see the food promised to him!
As normal, Romanov had his 30 Streltsi (handgunners w/short halberd for rifle rest) guarding his army supply train. The Streltsi saw the Ogre running towards them and the sergeant started in with his firing commands, "READY...". Vasilli heard the sergeant's beginning fire command and quickly turned to see what was happening....."AIM"!... Vasilli yelled out,"BORK! Stop where you are!". (Would the Ogre actually continue running straight into 30 handgunners?)
OOC: YES! Bork is an idiot.
IC: Bork, with a grin on his face, continued his full forced run. He was an ogre! Invincible! Hungry! He had been through blood and death time and again, charging through artillery barrages without a scratch. Where his kin had been blown to pieces he had always made it to the enemy line. He had always feasted. Behind him the gnoblars cheered, seeing their lord and master in all of his glory.
Seeing an ogre barrel down at you is a gut wrenching experience, especially to a man who had witnessed the effect of such a charge before. All it took was one man. One man to fire. The shot rang out, hitting Bork square in the chest. No soldier ever aimed for the head. But once that shot rang out, twenty nine others did as well. Spots of red exploded on Bork. He was a large target, and these were the Steltsi. The elite of Kislev, perhaps the best shots with a handgun in the old world. He kept coming. His legs, his arms, all over his chest...gaping wounds opened up. Smoke filled the air. Vasili was yelling something. So was Romanov. The Gnoblars were still cheering, believing their lord to be immortal. Bork kept going, confusion written on his face. One foot in front of the next. His step wavered, and blackness creeped around the edges of his vision. He could see it, the supply train, infront of him. It had all happened to fast, and the ogre didn't have time to process the information. One foot. The other. Another. His step faltered, and with a crash Bork fell into the red snow. He reached a hand out, clawing to get at the baggage train. The Streltsi were reloaded. Blood gushed out of his mouth. He looked at Vasili, with eyes full of pain and confusion. "I...I eat first?" And then his head fell into the snow. And he knew no more.
The cheering among the gnoblars stopped, and a silence fell over the horde. And just like the gunshot, it only took one gnoblar. A gnoblar screamed. In its little brain it realized that anything which could kill Bork could do the same to it. The gnoblar screamed, and it ran. Soon every gnoblar around it did so. Even those who had no idea what was going on soon took too flight, terrified at the mere idea that something could terrify their kin. Some buried themselves in the snow. Others, foolishly, ran straight towards the castle. Most ran to the hills, alone or in groups. And into the depths of winter. Before long the horde had completely vanished, leaving only a few of the stupider gnoblars running in circles. That, and Bork, who still lay where he fell.
