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Post by admiral on May 29, 2018 9:11:59 GMT
The Potter's Slaves, by Uhr-Kulmbizharr Once upon a time, there was a lowly potter who thought that the crafting of mere household pottery was beneath the dignity of Chaos Dwarfs. One day, he sought to rectify this by teaching slaves the craft of pottery.
First, the potter brought in an Orcish thrall whom he tried to teach his craft. The Orc was clumsy and worthless, and he could not fathom how to throw pots on a wheel. At last, the slave Orc managed to pinch and coil some rudimentary pots without handles, which were fired in a kiln. Yet when the Orc was ordered to empty the still-hot kiln for the next load of pots, the stupid slave burnt his hands on the earthware. The Orc smashed all the ceramics to pieces out of dumb, animal rage.
In wrath, the potter maimed and cursed all the limbs of the Orc and put every piece of the slave's body in large pots which he fired in the kiln, broiling the Orc alive.
Next, the potter brought in a Goblin thrall whom he tried to teach his craft. The Goblin was nimble but spiteful, for the slave pinched hidden holes in the bottom of the crude amphoras which he threw on the potter's wheel. The ceramic vessels were fired in the kiln, and sold to a brewery. Yet when the brewer discovered his precious liquids to leak out of the faulty pots, he took the potter to court in front of His mighty idols and their Sorcerer-Prophet overlord, and was duly compensated.
In wrath, the potter bound up all the limbs of the Goblin in a tight and painful package on the slave's back, and then cursed and threw the helpless mite into a delicatessen pit of Snotlings who had gone rabid out of starvation.
At last, the potter brought in a Hobgoblin thrall whom he tried to teach his craft. The Hobgoblin was dexterous and skilled at handicraft for being but a Greenskin, and the slave managed to both throw and fire passable household earthware. The potter found no hidden holes in the pots, and ordered the Hobgoblin to carry the ceramic vessels to his customers. The slave did so, but deviously sprinkled small, rusty iron spikes into the empty pots that were to be used for food storage. Weeks and months later, the mouths, throats and guts of several Chaos Dwarfs were rent bloody by the swallowed metal spikes, and dozens of slaves died out of infections and haemorrhage as the spikes tore them apart from inside and left festering wounds. The potter was nearly ruined as he paid off enraged customers.
In wrath, the potter cursed and flayed the vile slave and nailed the Hobgoblin to a brick wall with his hammer. This time, however, the potter brought in new Hobgoblin thralls whom he would try to teach his craft. He had discovered that Hobgoblins could manage pottery, and now he would set an example to his new slaves in order to keep them away from future mischief. The Hobgoblin villain on the wall shrieked and wailed as fully twelve times twelve cursed iron nails were hammered through his body in sight of his gleeful kinsmen.
For such is the fate of the failing slave. A master may experience the setbacks of trial and error and live without harm should the Father of Darkness and His dread court of shackled Daemons allow it. Yet the slave may not, for he is the weak and immoral scum of the earth and must be dealt with accordingly.
- The Potter's Slaves, by Daemonsmith Uhr-Kulmbizharr the Blind, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories during the foundation of Zharr-Naggrund*
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* To this day, most ceramic vessels for everyday use in the Chaos Dwarf empire are made by Human and Hobgoblin slaves in vast manufactories, assisted by other slaves such as Goblins and Gnoblars who act as porters and carry out various forms of unskilled labour. Hobgoblins possess greater ability for the crafts than do other Greenskins (as is evident in their dress and equipment), yet because of their treacherous nature they regularly experience unspeakable cruelty at the hands of Chaos Dwarf overseers whenever a fault or lethal prank is discovered.
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Post by admiral on May 29, 2018 9:12:30 GMT
The Impious Tanner, by Uhr-Kulmbizharr Once upon a time, there was a tanner who was unobservant of the decrees of his Sorcerer-Prophet liege. It had been dictated that waste from holy creatures such as a Tauruses or Bull Centaurs could not be used to lime and bate hides from lowly slaves and mere beasts. Yet still the tanner did not take heed of this decree.
One day, the tanner received an abundant shipment of waste from the Temple's Bull Centaur stables, yet had no valuable hides to cure with this valuable stuff. The impious tanner figured that no one would find out, and proceeded to lime lowly Orc hides by soaking them in Bull Centaur urine, and then bated lowly Orc Hides with Bull Centaur dung. The bating was done by pounding the dung into the skin to soften the hide.
High Hashut took notice of this transgression of holy law as ordained by His Sorcerer-Prophet, and punished the tanner by invigorating the Orc hides with strength and malignant purpose. The skins then rose in unison, wrestled the impious tanner to the ground and slowly limed and bated him to death with the defiled Bull Centaur waste. Some time afterward, a leatherworker received a shipment of leather from the tannery. In amongst the stacks of green Orc leather, he found the hide of the deceased tanner. For such is the fate of those who would break against the sacred proscriptions of their profession.
- The Impious Tanner, by Daemonsmith Uhr-Kulmbizharr the Blind, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories during the foundation of Zharr-Naggrund
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Post by admiral on May 29, 2018 9:14:42 GMT
The Slavedriver and the Bull God, by Uhr-Kulmbizharr Once upon a time, there was a slavedriver who was miserly yet weak of heart and will. One day, his thralls rose up against him in a wild rebellion. They overmanned the slavedriver and shaved his prized beard, tore off his ears and cut off his nose, toes and fingers before they impaled the Chaos Dwarf and roasted the man alive.
When the slavedriver's shackled soul stood in front of the Father of Darkness to face final judgement, the fiery Bull God deemed him and his life's deeds to have been worthless indeed. The slavedriver protested:
"But, highest one, all my life I have offered adulation and bloody sacrifices in both fire and molten metal. I have practiced all the correct rites without failing and I have done so in sight of your mighty idols, just as the ancient laws and customs dictates. I have worshipped you truly and wholesale," said the slavedriver.
At this, high Hashut snorted, and a storm cloud of ash and cinders swallowed the slavedriver and scorched his soul.
"You have served me in word and ritual, but served me falsely. Your thoughts and deeds condemns you," spoke the Bull God.
"No!" said the slavedriver.
"You dare object to your Dark God's judgement? Fool! You were too weak of heart to crush the slaves under heel. You thought to spare the rod, whip and blade and leave the backs and bones of thralls unscathed, because you skimped with your property and would not wear it out. You thought that nurtured slaves who were not overburdened would live longer and work harder. And you were wrong. For these sins, I let the slaves rise up against you and deal out your worldly punishment, and now I will lay upon you the final judgement," spoke the Bull God.
He then called forth three chained and broken Daemons of fire and darkness, who were charged to forever flay the slavedriver's soul, then maim it and then drown it in molten lead in a cycle without ending. For such is the fate of masters too weak or miserly to suppress their slaves.
- The Slavedriver and the Bull God, by Daemonsmith Uhr-Kulmbizharr the Blind, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories during the foundation of Zharr-Naggrund
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Post by admiral on Feb 13, 2019 10:58:47 GMT
Once upon a time, there was a proud ram of strong stature, with curved horns and a harem of female goats. So many rivals contesting his power did he beat, that he started to believe himself invincible. The proud ram began to challenge the alpha males of other herds, and clashed with them to conquer their grazing goblinsunds and minions. The ram knew nothing but success.
One day, the ram came across a bull at a river ford.
"Make way, or I'll trample your herd," snorted the bull.
"Back off, for I and my ilk will be first to cross," replied the ram.
The bull refused, so the ram challenged him to combat at the ford. Headlong they charged at each other, and the ram was crushed to a gory pulp by the greater creature. This is the fate of those who cannot recognize when they face too strong an adversary to overcome, and stubbornly seeks their own doom.
- The Ram and the Bull, by Daemonsmith Uhr-Kulmbizharr the Blind, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories during the foundation of Zharr-Naggrund*
____________________________________________ * The moral of the story would sit sourly with uncorrupted western Dwarfs, yet Dawi Zharr, stubborn though they might be, have bitterly learned to survive and thrive in the volatile and hostile Dark Lands. This would not have been the case without a cultural emphasis on choosing to fight on terms to their advantage whenever possible, lest the work of generations may be squandered by a single leader's foolhardy pride. This is one amongst many reasons why Chaos Dwarfs manage to dominate, crush and enslave the Greenskin hordes, while the holds of uncorrupted Dwarfs one by one falls to the very same menace.
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Post by admiral on Feb 19, 2019 14:14:14 GMT
Written by: AdmiralIllustrated by: t5p1ny
The Camel-Squig Rider and the Manling, by Zhargonidus Once upon a time, there was a Hobgoblin who excelled at taming and riding the deadly Camel-Squigs. Yet his skill in the saddle-seat was not at all matched by his handling of arms, for he fumbled with his bowshots and did not strike true with spears, and his knives did not stab effortlessly through flesh, but glanced off the bones of ribcages and broke inside his victims. Every weapon he tried his hand at, proved beyond him to master. And so he contented himself with whip and javelins, and put instead all his efforts into riding his feared Camel-Squig, for he claimed that the beast alone would suffice for his armament, swung by his reins. One day, the Hobgoblin's tribe happened upon a Manling caravan bound for the East. They set an ambush and assailed the enemy, and all the Hobgoblins were exhilarated by their success.
"Bring your most skilled warrior to me, for my mount deserves the best of meat, for he can lay low the best of you," declared the Camel-Squig Rider.
Somehow, his challenge was answered by a tall Manling wielding a greatsword, and for a while this foreign Manling darted to and fro on foot, slashing and thrusting at the Camel-Squig's thick coat of fur with his long blade, and evading all its lunges and frothing bites. Truly, the Hobgoblin had found the best of the Manlings.
After a while, the Camel-Squig grew rabid at its prey, and its rider grew vexed at the Manling's defiance, and so he swung his whip in fury and lashed out blunderingly at his foe from a low angle. Yet the skillful Manling managed to both throw himself aside from the lunging beast, and present his blade for the Hobgoblin's whip. He held firm as the whip whirled around the greatsword, and pulled with might and main, thereby throwing the Camel-Squig Rider from his saddle-seat, flat onto the ground.
The Hobgoblin shrieked and ordered his beast to recognize its master and let him live, yet the frenzied Camel-Squig proceeded to gulp down both its former rider and its Manling prey in a red fury. For such is the fate of those who could only master part of their craft, and not the whole.
- The Camel-Squig Rider and the Manling, by Despot Zhargonidus Doombeard, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories, of our present time
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Post by admiral on Jan 27, 2021 10:47:46 GMT
The Taunter and the Giant, by Uhr-Kulmbizharr
Once upon a time, there was a foul-mouthed heathen of a man, gesturing ill signs with his hands and waggling his tongue in a stream of obscene curses and insults that made maidens blush and bull charioteers shy away from his path. So many people did he casually offend, that hundreds upon hundreds of kinsmen, neighbours and strangers harboured grudges toward him and his endless affronts.
One day, the taunter did his wartime duty and served in the infantry. Mace and shield did he carry, and from a distance did he heap scorn and libel upon the greenskinned foe. The battle swung back and forth with all the Chaos of combat, and at one low pulse of the armed clash, the taunter filled his lungs with dusty air and let out such a torrent of foul language upon the Orcs and Goblins, that his own kinsmen recoiled from him.
So vile were the taunter’s flood of swearing and impiety, that the Father of Darkness silently reminded all the other Chaos Dwarfs of all the times the taunter had insulted them and their clan’s honour.
With these grudges fresh in mind, everyone but the taunter saw the enemy Giant approaching, and yet no one said a word of warning, even as the ground shook harder and harder from its heavy tread.
“May the damn Thunderbull stampede over your blasted carcass!” yelled the taunter. “Can you feel the bloody quake in the flaming deep? That is the Bull Father copulating with His shackled harem heifers, and you’re next in line for the rutting, maggots!”
Thus the taunter was caught up in the gleeful joy of slinging his own foul words at others, and grudges were settled as no kinsman raised their voice to warn him of the descending foot. And so the Giant stomped the taunter flat into the ground, and smeared his gory remains across the battlefield like a run-over Snotling. For such is the fate of those who cannot hold their tongue.
- The Taunter and the Giant, by Daemonsmith Uhr-Kulmbizharr the Blind, the renowned Chaos Dwarf author of fable stories during the foundation of Zharr-Naggrund
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