i n t e r l u d e Moondog surveyed the walls of Resolute Bay through his Yoggo-Skope, studying their defences. The humans had not fallen quick enough in the last attack - they had held on until reinforcements arrived. The Leman Russ tanks were tough, and they constantly patrolled the perimeter. There was no way to enter the city without getting the attention of these deadly machines. The thing about humans is that they like things to be the same. They always have a pattern, they always want to have a plan. Moondog had been watching the tanks, and getting his grot to scratch down the times that they came and went, and there was a time, every day, that a hole opened up. The tank crews had a change of shift and went back to their supply station for refuelling. The southeast corner of the city was held only by a few wretched squads of levies every day for about half-an-hour. A lot of orks could get through a hole in a wall in half-an-hour. He noticed some movement on top of a hill behind the wall, and tried to zoom in his yoggo-skope a bit, but he still couldn't see. Everything was all green and glowey. He bashed the skope against his mega-armour a few times, but he still couldn't see anything through it, even after he knocked out all of its gubbins, leaving it a hollow tube. He tossed the yoggo-tube to his grot and squinted at the city; he then realized that it was not the skope, but something else. A green glowey shape was floating towards him. Moondog gripped the trigger of his kustom-shoota and tensed his muscles, preparing for whatever it was to make its move. Closer and closer it came, and as it drew near, a weird voice could be heard. Moondog's grots cowered behind him, covering their heads and whimpering in fear. Moondog started to charge his power klaw, but then he thought that he recognized the echoey voice. It was chanting something... "..ere we go, 'ere we go, 'ere we go..." Moondog stepped forward. "Oi! Wotz all dis den, eh?" The glowey shape stopped moving about ten feet in front of the Warboss and seemed to look around for the source of the booming voice. It started to coalesce into a form that had arms and a head, but no legs. "I seek da Grodd... where iz 'e... I seek 'im wut iz called Moondog..." Moondog jumped as he suddenly recognized the voice; it was Bez Bez, the Weirdboy prophet, main advisor to Morgrodd Ug-Nazgof, King Overdog. "Bez Bez? Iz dat yew?" "Overdog wuz betrayed; da Morgrodd wuz cut down by Shagrat and 'is boyz." "Huh? Shagrat! Da skum!" Just then, a clamour arose from behind him, and Moondog turned to see his kaptinz and mob-bosses running towards him, carrying Wizbang, the Mek pilot of "Da Buzzard" their transport. He was greivously wounded, but had been patched by Mad Dok Gibz. He leaned forward, straining to speak. "..big 'orny zogger... all red... fires in 'is eyes.." Wizbang shuddered and lost consciousness. Moondog surveyed his wounds - deep gashes had been torn across his face, and the edges of the wounds looked seared. He felt a twinge of jealousy when he thought about the scars Wizbang would have when he healed. Rha'ghuu, one of the Mob Bosses gripped Moondog by the shoulder. "Da Buzzard is a wreck, Boss! Wizbang wuz more den 'aff ded - 'e was scrappin' with somethin' big when we got there, but didn't get a good look." Moondog turned back to the apparition of Bez Bez, but it was gone. He scratched his chin. He cast his gaze to the south, where his ruined transport lay in the distant snowy plain, and then to the far north, where hundreds of miles away at Orkwik Airfield, Shagrat's treachery had overthrown the Darkmoon King. If Overdog was alive, Moondog would find him. If he was dead, Moondog would avenge him. Either way, The destiny of the Nazgof kingdom was in the hands of it's crown prince. "Ladz, da Morgrodd wuz krossed. Shagrat an' da Zagrokk boyz dun 'im dirt... 'e could be ded." Rha'ghuu and the other kaptinz took a step back and looked at each other in astonishment. The only sound was the soft moan of the Netherian wind and the distant rumble of engines. None dared speak. Then a shrill voice pierced the silence. "We are here on this rock, under the banner of Ghazghull, seeking glory and conquest in the name of our king, Overdog Morgordd Ug-Nazgof. There can be nothing greater than to fight such a war as this; enemies surround us while Gork and Mork watch what we do. In the name of our King have we come, and we will add either to his glory or his shame. A traitor has arisen from our ranks. He has come here as have we, in the name of the Morgrodd and struck like a coward in his own name, thinking himself great and mighty. The Gods have chosen our king in the trials of Ogzor; Shagrat had his chance in the pit, but he had not the courage. He has instead shown the gods his cowardice and spit upon the crown. The throne of Nazgof awaits our return - what will we bring home?" It was Moondog's scribe that had spoken and his words had filled the orks with righteous anger. The scribe had asked what they would bring home, and they knew what was meant; it was what every ork within earshot now wanted more than anything; Moondog himself wanted it most of all - Shagrat's head on a spike. As he considered this, his eyes came to rest upon the battered walls of the city before him. A chill wind picked up as the last of the tanks rounded the bend, heading back for refuelling and a fresh crew. Moondog squinted as he watched the guardsmen on the far hill, messing around with something too distant to discern. The clouds gathered on the horizon threatening yet another storm. News of Shagrat's betrayal has spread though the ranks like droppings through a squig, and the whole army had gathered at Moondog's back, smouldering in the icy dusk. All eyes were on their Warboss, waiting for his command. Suddenly, Moondog brought his arm up to his chest and he released a catch-valve on his mega-armour. The seal popped open and hissed as it fell away from the Warboss' massive frame. Steam coiled off of his legs, each as thick as a human's torso, as he stepped out of the armour suit and kicked it to one side. Naked, he turned to face the furious horde of green and extended his arms to either side of him. Grots clambered over his frame, buckling on a lighter suit of armour and other wargear. His scribe carried the bosspole from the mega armour and affixed it to his back. Then Rha'ghuu stepped forward and placed his axe in the warboss' hand. Zug Zug, another of Moondog's Mob-bosses put his pistol into his other hand. Moondog gripped the weapons and held them aloft. "WAUUGH!" Moondog's voice broke upon the army like thunder. The cry that answered was like a volcano. "WAUUGH!" At that, Moondog turned to the city of Resolute Bay and charged full tilt, and his army surged forward behind him. e n d o f i n t e r l u d e Dylan, May 14, 2001