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#There was a young lassie named Bilbo,

“I believe Bilbo Baggins was actually a fictitious male, not a female,” said Jandyr over Trogdar’s raucous singing.

#Who fought off the lads with her…

“Pillow. Right, let’s search for a way out of here,” said Short-arse, sharply.

#She licked them and then,

“Pile of rags over here in the corner,” said Jandyr.

#Said won’t do it again,

“Some bones on it with strange markings,” he continued in haste.

#But if I ask her she probably will though.

Short-arse reached into her armour and removed the bones she had pulled from the rancid drain below. Placing them onto the pile, they suddenly snapped from her hands into place, revealing a secret opening as the floor sunk into a recess below. A single rope hung down onto a ledge below.

#There once was a laddie called Remus,

“Time to go Trogdar,” said Short-arse, shoving the Barbarian towards the newly-revealed opening.

#Who had a carrot for aaaaaaaarrghhhh!

The Barbarian landed with a thump on the ledge below. “I’m alright,” he called up, weakly. The other warriors began to scale the rope at a more leisurely pace, eventually reaching the ledge below. From their vaunted position, they could hear guttural voices and high-pitched squeaks in conversation in a room below – a meeting between Orcs and Skaven.

“How about a song?” said Trogdar loudly.

“Shhhhhh!” said Jandyr and Short-arse in unison.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh!” replied Trogdar, somewhat louder. After a few seconds listening, he whispered, “what are we shushing for?”

“I’m trying to hear what the Skaven and the Black Orcs are saying,” replied Jandyr.

“Jandyr!” said Trogdar with horror, “don’t be racist.”

Jandyr turned to regard Trogdar open-mouthed but said nothing, instead shaking his head and returning to listen to the conversation.

“So what are they saying?” asked Short-arse.

“Something about a trade – Rats for ‘da bird’ I think?” replied Jandyr.

“They’ve got a lass down there?” said Trogdar, “I’m not having that! TROGDAAAAAAAAAAAR!”

Trogdar vaulted over the side of the ledge, crashing down onto the floor behind a wall of solid Orc muscle wrapped in thick armour painted black. He let out a faint whimper of pain as he landed on his ankle, turning it on its side.

The Orcs seemed surprised at this sudden appearance and took some time to turn around to face their new enemy. As they did so, Trogdar could see through the small gaps in their armour a second row of creatures – a Goblin Shaman in the far corner who had been picking his nose until Trogdar’s entrance and was now sat with his finger still stuck up one nostril, a bubble of snot forming in the other.

Three Skaven dressed similarly to the ones they had encountered earlier stood near him, reaching into their cloaks, and stood in front was a rather larger rat, who hissed at him. Before Trogdar could even react, he had been struck by a star-shaped piece of metal thrown by the creature, who turned and ran from the room. The gaps disappeared as the Orcs reoriented themselves, facing Trogdar.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” blasted the largest, a vicious looking mace raised high above his head.

“Raaaaaaargh!” replied Trogdar, somewhat weakened by his ankle injury on descent.

As the Orc prepared to rain down a blow to Trogdar’s skull, there was a bright blue flash from the ledge above and a call as if far off of “FREEZE!” The mace froze in mid-strike, bound in ice which continued towards the Skaven and Goblin Shaman at the back, creating a tidal wave with a pointed edge which neatly decapitated the four enemies.

“Sorry about that,” said Jandyr, landing next to Trogdar lightly with sword drawn, “we couldn’t get him to put the book down again.”

“I’d’ve ‘ad ‘im,” said Trogdar, swinging his mace back and smashing the large Orc across the face. To his astonishment, the Orc weathered the blow and returned to look at Trogdar, laughing cruelly as blood gushed from his broken nose.

“You sure about that?” said Short-arse, landing heavily onto the farthest Orc and dragging the Wizard down with her. She began chopping at the Orc’s legs with her axe, but the Orcs fought on, their heavy armour and resilience keeping them in the fight when lesser foes would have fallen.

“Tough lads these,” said Trogdar as the large Orc caught him with the frozen mace under his ribs, “how ‘bout a song to keep our spirits up?”

“NO!” shouted the other warriors as they grunted in effort, both sides taking meaty blows as the struggle continued.

Finally, with blood pooling like a lake on the floor, the tide began to turn as Short-arse feinted one way then buried her axe deep into her opponent’s chest who collapsed with black blood gurgling from his mouth. The Orcs struggled on for a while, but the weight of numbers began to tell until only the large Orc remained, facing all four warriors down and holding them off.

“Try this on for size,” said Trogdar, stabbing the bejewelled dagger into the Orc’s neck. The jewel glowed red again, revealing the small Dwarven figure who howled silently in triumph. “Hang on, I think I can come up with a better line,” he said as the body of the Orc collapsed under its own weight.

“Must be sobering up,” said Short-arse as she examined a bottle labelled ‘Speshul ANTI INVISIBILITI Paint’ on a small table covered in papers.

“Why, got something to sober me back down?” said Trogdar, hurrying over and bumping into the Dwarf. The bottle fell from the Dwarf’s hands and smashed onto the table.

“No I haven’t you clumsy oaf!” shouted Short-arse. Trogdar slinked off to the far corner, sulking at his admonishment.

As the ink began to soak into the papers, scrawlish writing clearly showing the name “Skrunch” could be seen.

“Hey, take a look at this” said Short-arse in amazement. The rest of the paper began to reveal itself, and Short-arse read it aloud describing how, “Skabnoze and the Chaos Warriors were after the Star of the Dawn, who in turn thought Skrunch had the Grunsson axe, but that it was turned to stone by ‘da Kokatrees.’ Do you know what this means? It wasn’t a statue of Lord Grimcrag earlier, it was Lord Grimcrag himself!”

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