The first ray of morning sun pierced the canopy of the Forest of Gloom, spilling onto the blue-brick walls of Stonewatch and painting the cold stones a warm golden color.
Kurzadh rode Furball, slowly making his way from Blackrock Spire—this giant squig was now two and a half meters tall. Its four thick, short legs left deep prints on the forest path, and the fur pad on its back was warmed by the sun, making it exceptionally comfortable to sit on.
"Alright, shrink down, we're going to the dungeon." As they approached the gates of Stonewatch, Kurzadh patted Furball's head and silently chanted the WAAAGH! magic spell.
A pale green light enveloped Furball. Its size visibly shrunk, quickly becoming as large as a cat. It obediently jumped into Kurzadh's arms and rubbed its furry head against his palm.
Kurzadh held Furball and slowly walked into Stonewatch.
The Orc Boyz on the city walls stopped what they were doing and respectfully saluted him: "Boss!" Their voices were loud, shaking the surrounding leaves.
"Keep working hard, don't slack off!" Kurzadh replied with a smile, continuing toward the underground dungeon.
The greenskins along the way willingly stepped aside, their eyes filled with admiration—in the Blackrock Clan, Kurzadh was not just the leader, but also the "Spokesperson for the Gork and Mork, two warboss gods in warhammer fantasy," who led them to become stronger and brought them beer and battles.
The underground dungeon was located in the deepest part of Stonewatch. Carved from granite, the damp air was filled with the smell of rust and blood.
The cells lining the corridor held the beastmen prisoners captured earlier. Seeing Kurzadh, their eyes filled with terror, and they retreated into the corners of their cells, afraid to make a sound.
"Boss! You're here!" The orc guarding the dungeon quickly hurried over and said respectfully, "Scarface is inside interrogating that ratman. That little guy couldn't take a beating and has already confessed a lot!"
Kurzadh nodded and followed the corridor to the innermost cell.
Through the iron bars, he saw Scarface grabbing a Zaggur slave rat, his fists continually raining down upon it. The ratman's miserable cries rose and fell; it was covered in wounds, yet its belly was still round, clearly bloated from having secretly eaten food from the warehouse earlier.
"Stop hitting him. Let me talk to him," Kurzadh said.
Hearing the voice, Scarface immediately stopped and turned, grinning widely when he saw Kurzadh: "Boss! You came just in time! This little guy stole and ate most of the food in the warehouse last night. He was discovered by the goblin this morning, and after a few rounds of interrogation, he confessed everything!"
Kurzadh walked into the cell and placed Furball on the ground. Furball immediately eyed the slave rat warily, letting out a low, growling 'woof woof' sound from its throat.
The slave rat trembled all over when it saw Kurzadh—although the greenskin in front of him was a goblin, he was more terrifying than the Orc Boyz who had just beaten him. The sharpness in those eyes seemed capable of seeing through all his secrets.
"Tell me, why is your Squeak Clan targeting our Blackrock Clan?" Kurzadh sat on a nearby stone stool, his tone calm but carrying undeniable authority.
The slave rat swallowed, its voice sharp and trembling: "We... our Clan is short on food . The Clan Leader told us to find places to steal food ... Before, Lord Iuka brought us to scout, wanting to see if there was anything worth taking here..."
"Short on food ?" Kurzadh raised an eyebrow. "With how fast you Skaven breed, isn't running out of food normal? But why specifically target us?"
The slave rat quickly nodded and haltingly revealed the Squeak Clan's secret: "Our Clan's population growth is too fast... Although the Clan Leader has been controlling the numbers, after hundreds of years, the base population is too large. The number of new Skaven every year is still too great, and there simply isn't enough food ... This is a common problem for all ratman Clans; our breeding speed is just too fast!"
Kurzadh nodded. He knew that a female ratman could give birth to three to five litters a year, with about twenty pups per litter—at least sixty pups annually! They reached maturity in five years and lived for about twenty years... A single female rat could give birth to about a thousand young in its lifetime! Without external interference, the number of Skaven would keep increasing until they eventually starved to death!
They were one of the fastest-breeding races in the Old World, but he hadn't realized it was to this extent—no wonder the Skaven were always robbing everywhere. It turned out their greatest threat wasn't their enemies, but their own stomachs.
"Then how did your Clan solve the food problem before?" Kurzadh continued to ask.
"Before... Before, the Clan Leader would make us go fight. Regardless of winning or losing, when a batch of Skaven died, the food crisis would ease a bit," the slave rat's voice dropped even lower. "But this time, the Clan Leader said he wanted to save up strength for a big event and wouldn't let us fight casually, so he started cutting the rations of the lower-tier slave rats and sent us to steal food from the greenskin tribe above ground... We've been holding out until now."
"Then why did you suddenly risk robbing us this time?"
"Because... because the Ogre tribe above us migrated!" The slave rat's voice carried a hint of despair. "That was one of our most important food sources. The food the Ogre tribe left behind was enough for us to eat for half a year. Now that they are gone, the food is completely insufficient, so the Clan Leader sent Lord Iuka to scout and try to steal your food !"
Kurzadh listened quietly, his fingers unconsciously tapping the stone stool.
He finally understood—the Squeak Clan targeted the Blackrock Clan not just because they were wealthy, but because they had lost the Ogre tribe as a food source and were forced to risk robbery.
And Iuka's previous scouting was intended to confirm the strength of the Blackrock Clan and prepare for a subsequent attack.
"How many people did Iuka bring to scout? How much military strength does your Clan have now?" Kurzadh asked, his gaze sharpening.
"Lord Iuka only brought a few dozen slave rats... Our Clan currently has over ten thousand Skaven, including more than two thousand Stormvermin and over five thousand clanrat. The rest are all slave rats..." The slave rat dared not conceal anything and confessed everything truthfully.
Kurzadh calculated mentally.
Ten thousand Skaven sounded like a large number, but most were vulnerable slave rats. The only ones with real combat power were the Stormvermin and the clanrat, totaling over seven thousand, which was slightly less than the number of greenskins in the Blackrock Clan.
Furthermore, Skaven lacked solid defensive fortifications. As long as they formulated good tactics, a fight was certainly possible.
"What does your Clan Leader plan to do next? When will they attack?"
"I... I don't know... Lord Iuka just told us to scout, he didn't say when the attack would happen..." The slave rat quickly said, terrified that Kurzadh would let Scarface beat him again.
Kurzadh stood up and glanced at the trembling slave rat on the floor. He had an idea.
Since the Squeak Clan was short on food , they certainly wouldn't wait long, but they also wouldn't attack rashly, as they didn't yet know the true strength of the Blackrock Clan.
Since that was the case, it was better to strike first and "Capture the king before the rogue"—find the Squeak Clan's lair and directly eliminate their Clan Leader, Clan Leader, and the commanding officer, Iuka. Leaderless, the Skaven would naturally crumble without a fight.
"Scarface, watch him closely. Don't let him die, and don't let him run away," Kurzadh instructed Scarface. "I still have things to discuss with him, like how to navigate your Squeak Clan's tunnels, and what the habits of Clan Leader and Iuka are... All of this must be dug out of his mouth."
Scarface quickly nodded: "Don't worry, boss! I guarantee he won't escape even a single hair! If he doesn't confess, I'll beat him every day until he tells us everything!"
Hearing this, the slave rat nearly fainted from fright but dared not resist in the slightest—in front of these greenskins , he didn't even have the right to beg for mercy; he could only obediently reveal all his secrets.
Kurzadh picked up Furball from the floor and turned to leave the cell.
The dampness and blood in the dungeon made him feel a little excited, and he couldn't help but feel eager for a fight.
This war with the Squeak Clan was not only to protect the Blackrock Clan's food and wealth but also to give the Boyz of the tribe a reason to "fight" and allow them to grow stronger in battle.
By the time he reached the dungeon entrance, sunlight had already flooded the plaza of Stonewatch.
The Orc Boyz were practicing with axes on the training ground, the hobgoblin archers were shooting arrows at the target range, and the hobgoblin Sappers were repairing the gaps in the city wall bricks.
Inside the council hall of Blackrock Spire, Kurzadh was hunched over a huge beast-hide map, his fingertip tracing the area marked "Military Structures," his brow furrowed slightly.
On the map, the newly completed "Dark Lair" was circled in red charcoal, with nearby markings for the "squig pen," "Fighting Pit," "Hunting Camp," and "Shaman Hut"—in just half a month, the Blackrock Clan's military structures were all complete, and the list of trainable units on the system panel had lengthened, the dense names making one dizzy.
"The common hobgoblins are enough for moving bricks and mining, but we need some new, fighting units," Kurzadh muttered, rubbing his chin, his gaze settling on the markings for the "squig pen" and the "Dark Lair."
After upgrading the mushroom field earlier, the tribe's hobgoblin population had doubled, but most were laborers who only knew how to swing a hoe. There were still not enough cannon fodder units capable of taking the battlefield.
squig Hoppers could utilize the squig's bouncing power for raids, and Spider Riders excelled at reconnaissance and harassment. These two unit types must be supplemented quickly to deal with the potential Skaven war ahead.
He stood up and walked to the window, watching the greenskins on the training ground outside—the Orc Boyz were swinging axes bare-chested, the hobgoblins were practicing stabbing around wooden stakes, and the hobgoblin Sappers were running laps carrying tools.
With the completion of the military structures, the system offered more and more unit choices, but not every one was practical. Deciding which to prioritize became the most crucial issue right now.
"Let's look at the Hunting Camp first." Kurzadh opened the system panel and clicked on the unit description for the "Hunting Camp." A line of text immediately popped up: [Unlocks orc archer Boy training. Consumes 10 WAAAGH! Points/unit. orc novices can advance to orc archer Boy, equipped with a short bow and arrows, specializing in ranged attacks.]
He couldn't help but let out a sneer.
Giving orcs bows and arrows? That was an absolute joke! In the greenskin mindset, "WAAAGH!" meant charging forward and hacking at the enemy face-to-face. Hiding behind and shooting arrows was "Something only a coward does," and more shameful than being bitten by a squig.
He could almost visualize the orc archer Boyz on the battlefield: shooting wildly into the sky, dropping their short bows before the arrows even landed, and rushing forward to engage in melee with their axes—such a "ranged unit" would be less accurate than hobgoblins throwing rocks.
"Pass!" Kurzadh decisively closed the panel, resolving that even if the tribe was short on ranged units, he would never waste orcs on archery.
The brute strength of these hulking simpletons needed to be used where it counted, not on bows and arrows.
His gaze shifted to the "Fighting Pit," and the description on the panel instantly updated: [Level 3 Fighting Pit unlocks multiple training functions: 1. orc novices consume 15 WAAAGH! Points/unit and can advance to orc Choppa Boy, equipped with an iron choppa and leather armor, specializing in close-combat cleaving; 2. hobgoblin spearmen consume 25 WAAAGH! Points/unit and can advance to Vile Stalkers, equipped with a short dagger and smoke bombs, specializing in stealth assassination; 3. hobgoblin spearmen consume 30 WAAAGH! Points/unit and can advance to hobgoblin Wolf Riders, equipped with a scimitar and round shield, requiring accompaniment by Big hobgoblins and war wolves, specializing in mobile raids.]
"Now that's more like it!" Kurzadh's eyes lit up.
The orc Choppa Boyz would be the tribe's melee backbone. The iron choppa offered strong cleaving power, and the leather armor could withstand light weapons, perfectly filling the gap left by the insufficient numbers of orc nob.
But what excited him more were the two advanced unit types listed afterward.
He first clicked on the detailed description of "Hobgoblin Wolf Riders": [hobgoblin Wolf Riders utilize Big hobgoblins as riders, paired with trained war wolves. They are fast and highly mobile, suitable for raiding in open areas and harassing enemy supply lines. Their drawbacks are low attack power and high morale fragility. Training requires the cooperation of Big hobgoblins and war wolves.]
Kurzadh's excitement instantly cooled by half.
Big hobgoblins were a variant among hobgoblins, larger and stronger than common hobgoblins, and were essential for Wolf Riders. War wolves, on the other hand, needed to be captured and trained from the forest. However, the Blackrock Clan currently had neither Big hobgoblins nor domesticated war wolves. No matter how good the unit was, it had to be shelved for now.
"Looks like we have to put that aside for now." He shook his head helplessly, turning his attention to the last unit—the "Vile Stalkers."
The description on the panel carried a hint of danger: [Vile Stalkers are elite assassins among the night hobgoblins. They must be selected from the most insidious and cunning hobgoblin spearmen and can only advance after undergoing stealth and assassination training in the Fighting Pit. Equipped with poisoned short daggers and smoke bombs, they specialize in stealth on the battlefield, using smoke cover to approach enemies, striking vital points, and quickly retreating. They are suitable for assassinating enemy commanders and destroying enemy facilities. Their drawback is weak frontal combat ability, making them unsuitable for direct battlefield charges.]
"That's the one!" Kurzadh slammed his hand on the table, a glint flashing in his eyes.
When he interrogated the slave rat earlier, he realized that the Squeak Clan's tunnels were complex and labyrinthine. A frontal assault could easily lead to falling into the Skaven's traps. The Vile Stalkers' stealth ability was perfect for this situation—they could slip into the Skaven's tunnels, assassinate sentries, destroy supply lines, and even sneak into Clan Leader's lair to execute the plan of "Catching the ringleader first."
He recalled the system panel's description: "Even the most heinous greenskin warlord must look upon the depravity of this band of hobgoblins with new respect." Although the assessment was slightly mocking, it highlighted the terrifying nature of the Vile Stalkers—they lacked the brute strength of orcs and the impact of squig Hoppers, but they could deliver fatal blows to enemies using the most insidious methods.
"They might still be far inferior to the assassins of Clan Eshin or the killers of the Dark elves, but for the tribe right now, they are enough," Kurzadh murmured to himself.
The skaven assassins of Clan Eshin were skilled in poisons and traps, and the Witches of the Dark elves could teleport in shadows. Although Vile Stalkers lacked such powerful abilities, their training cost was low, the period was short, and they could utilize the greenskins' familiarity with the environment to maximize their effectiveness in the Forest of Gloom and the underground tunnels.
He closed the system panel, walked to the map, and drew a line between the "Fighting Pit" and the "Dark Lair" with his charcoal pencil: "Step one, select a hundred of the cleverest hobgoblin spearmen and send them to the Fighting Pit to be trained as Vile Stalkers. Then, train two hundred orc Choppa Boyz and three hundred hobgoblin spearmen to reinforce the frontline forces."
Next, he drew a circle beside the "squig pen": "Step two, have Skarsnik select two hundred hobgoblins and send them to the squig pen to be trained as squig Hoppers. Over at the Dark Lair, train another hundred Spider Riders to strengthen reconnaissance and harassment capabilities."
Finally, he marked the potential Skaven tunnel entrances on the map and circled them in red: "Step three, once the Vile Stalkers are trained, have them scout the Skaven tunnels first, figure out the location of the Squeak Clan's lair, and prepare for the subsequent attack."
"Boss, what are you thinking about?" Gazlowe pushed the door open, holding the newly compiled unit roster. Seeing Kurzadh writing and drawing on the map, he curiously leaned closer.
"Looking at our new units," Kurzadh said, pointing to the "Fighting Pit" on the map. "I plan to focus on training Vile Stalkers, orc Choppa Boyz, and hobgoblin spearmen. What do you think?"
Gazlowe squinted his small eyes, examined the list carefully, and nodded repeatedly: "Boss is brilliant! orcs are suited for melee, and hobgoblins are suited for ranged combat and stealth. This combination is the most rational! However, we must select the Vile Stalkers carefully. We need to pick the hobgoblins who are best at hiding and most willing to kill, otherwise, the training will be useless."
"I know," Kurzadh said, nodding with a smile. "I'll let you pick the recruits when the time comes. You understand the hobgoblins' minds best."
Gazlowe immediately perked up: "Don't worry, boss! I guarantee the ones I pick will be 'good stock,' each one better at hiding than a squig and more venomous than a spider!"
Kurzadh patted him on the shoulder, his gaze returning to the map.
With the completion of the military structures and the unlocking of new units, the Blackrock Clan's fighting strength was rapidly increasing—they had frontline forces composed of orc Choppa Boyz and hobgoblin spearmen, raiding units of squig Hoppers and Spider Riders, and assassin units like the Vile Stalkers. Coupled with the sturdy walls of Stonewatch, even if the Squeak Clan sent tens of thousands of Skaven to attack, he was confident in fighting them off.
The sunlight outside grew stronger. The greenskins on the training ground were still training enthusiastically, with shouts and the clashing of weapons rising and falling.
Kurzadh knew that this war against the Skaven was not just to protect the tribe's food and wealth, but also to test the combat effectiveness of these new units and prepare for a bigger WAAAGH! in the future.
"Just wait, Clan Leader," he whispered, his finger tapping heavily on the "Squeak Clan" area on the map. "I'll let you know that messing with the Blackrock Clan is the biggest mistake you'll ever make."
In a corner of the Stonewatch dungeon, Yala Yala was curled up on a stone bed covered with straw, wrapped in a faded linen coat
—Kurzadh had specifically had a hobgoblin give it to him, claiming it was "to prevent him from freezing and affecting the interrogation."
The damp air was filled with a faint scent of wheat, which came from the half piece of wheat cake that the hobgoblin who delivered his meal that morning had deliberately given him extra; it was currently tucked into his chest, and its warmth made him feel completely satisfied.
During his time in the Squeak Clan, Yala had never imagined he could have such "Good days."
Before, he was the lowest-ranking Yala, having to wake up before dawn every day to dig tunnels and haul ore, receiving only a small handful of moldy black rye a day.
If he slowed down even a little, the overseer rats' whips would flay his skin.
But in the greenskins' dungeon, although he lacked freedom, he could eat his fill, didn't have to do heavy labor, and could even bask in the sunlight streaming in through the ventilation shaft
—such days were an immense luxury for him.
"Hoo..." Yala let out a satisfied burp, his eyelids growing heavy, and he soon dozed off against the stone wall.
In his dream, he was no longer the bullied Yala, but a Stormvermin like Iuka, wearing fine armor, holding a poisoned dagger, and all the skaven bowed respectfully to him...
"Wake up."
A calm voice suddenly sounded in his ear, and Yala woke up with a start, the fur on his body standing on end.
He looked up and saw Kurzadh, holding the furry squig, standing outside the cell, his pale green eyes watching him with a half-smile.
"B-boss!" Yala quickly scrambled up from the stone bed, instinctively shrinking his neck, his heart filled with dread.
Although Kurzadh hadn't laid a hand on him these past few days, he knew clearly that this hobgoblin was the leader of this group of fierce greenskins .
The fact that he could make orcs obedient and build such tall city walls meant he must be more vicious and cunning than Clan Leader Clan Leader.
Kurzadh looked at Yala and couldn't help but find it amusing.
This Yala had only been in the dungeon for a few days, yet he had visibly gained weight.
His formerly shriveled belly was now round, his face had filled out a bit, and his eyes were much brighter than before
—it seemed the temptation of "eating his fill" was greater for the skaven than Kurzadh had imagined.
"Don't be afraid, I have serious business with you."
Kurzadh signaled the orc guarding the dungeon to open the cell door and walked in.
"I know you came from the Squeak Clan, and I know your lair is deep beneath the World's Edge Mountains.
I need you to take us to find Clan Leader Clan Leader, and locate the Squeak Clan."
Yala's body stiffened slightly, and a hint of hesitation flashed in his eyes.
Of course, he knew the location of the Squeak Clan, and could even draw a map of the tunnels
—after all, he had been Yala for over a decade, spending most of his time digging tunnels and familiarizing himself with the routes.
But the thought of returning to the Clan that had tormented him his entire life filled him with deep resistance.
In the Squeak Clan, he was the lowest rung of existence, an Yala who could be beaten, cursed, and sacrificed at will.
Clan Leader Clan Leader viewed them as consumables, and Iuka treated them as punching bags.
Even if he led the greenskins to the Clan, he would only end up being torn to shreds as a "traitor."
"I... I don't dare..." Yala lowered his head, his voice trembling slightly.
"Clan Leader Clan Leader is very powerful, and the Clan has many Stormvermin, and lots of traps... If I go back, I will definitely be killed!"
Kurzadh had anticipated his hesitation and was not in a hurry.
He slowly walked over to the stone bed and sat down, stroking the Furball in his arms, and said softly, "I know you're scared.
In the Squeak Clan, you are an Yala, doing the hardest work every day, eating the least food , being beaten and cursed by the overseer rats, and bullied by the Stormvermin.
You have to be careful just to survive, right?"
Yala suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with shock
—how did this greenskin know about his past?
"You have been enslaved your entire life, trampled underfoot by skaven stronger and higher in status than you."
Kurzadh's voice was soft, yet it hammered Yala's heart.
"But have you ever thought, why?
Why can those simple-minded Stormvermin, who only know brute force, wear fine armor and eat the best rations, while you can only eat moldy black rye and be bullied by them?"
Yala opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.
He had never considered this question.
In his understanding, Yala were born to be enslaved; this was a "rule" ingrained in their bones.
"It's not that you can't succeed; you just lack an opportunity."
Kurzadh's tone suddenly became passionate, and his eyes shone with a light that Yala could not resist.
"You are familiar with the Squeak Clan's tunnels, you know the location of their traps, and you know the weaknesses of Clan Leader Clan Leader and Iuka
—these are all your advantages!
As long as you are willing to lead us to the Squeak Clan, I promise you that once we defeat Clan Leader Clan Leader, I will give you the position of Clan Leader of the Squeak Clan!"
"C-Clan Leader position?" Yala's eyes instantly lit up, and his breathing became rapid.
He thought he had misheard.
The lofty position of Clan Leader, which controlled the life and death of all skaven, was actually being offered to him, an Yala?
"That's right, the Clan Leader position."
Kurzadh nodded affirmatively, his tone full of temptation.
"When that happens, you will wear finer armor than Iuka and wield sharper weapons than Clan Leader Clan Leader.
All the skaven will bow respectfully to you, no one will dare to bully you again, you can eat as much grain as you want, and do whatever you please
—isn't this what you want?"
Yala's mind was buzzing, and Kurzadh's words echoed in his ears like a spell.
He seemed to already see that day: himself wearing shining armor, standing on the bone throne, all the skaven kneeling before him, Clan Leader Clan Leader and Iuka tied up below, left to his mercy; the grain in the warehouse piled up like small mountains, with wheat cakes, beer, and fresh vegetables readily available, never having to eat moldy black rye again...
"I... I..." Yala was trembling with excitement, unable to complete his sentences.
His whole life had been spent yearning to escape slavery, longing for power and wealth, and now, this opportunity was right in front of him.
All he had to do was nod, and all his dreams could come true.
"You don't have to rush your answer."
Kurzadh saw his excitement and continued to sweeten the deal.
"I know you worry about not being able to control the other skaven.
When the time comes, I will leave some greenskins behind to help you, help you stabilize the Clan, and help you train your army
—as long as you are obedient, I guarantee you will keep the Clan Leader position secure."
This sentence completely dispelled Yala's concerns.
With the support of the greenskins , even if the Stormvermin were unconvinced, they wouldn't dare to resist.
He took a deep breath, abruptly raised his head, his eyes full of determination and fanaticism: "I agree! I will take you to the Squeak Clan! I will help you defeat Clan Leader Clan Leader!"
Kurzadh smiled with satisfaction and patted Yala's shoulder: "Good! I didn't misjudge you! From today onward, you are no longer Yala Yala, you are the future Clan Leader of the Squeak Clan, Yala!"
Yala was too excited to speak, only nodding repeatedly.
He looked at Kurzadh, his eyes no longer holding the fear they had before, replaced instead by reverence and gratitude
—this greenskin had given him a new life, giving him the chance to escape slavery.
He must perform well and absolutely not let this opportunity slip away.
Kurzadh stood up and shouted outside: "Scarface! Prepare some good food for Yala, and find him a clean change of clothes! We set off early tomorrow morning!"
"Got it, boss!" Scarface's voice came from outside, tinged with excitement.
Yala looked at Kurzadh's retreating figure, his heart full of anticipation.
He knew that from the moment he agreed, his life had completely changed.
He was no longer the Yala who was bullied by everyone, but a "Big shot" who was about to become the Clan Leader
—and all of this was thanks to the seemingly ordinary, yet incredibly capable, greenskin chieftain before him.
A ray of sunlight streamed in through the dungeon's ventilation shaft, shining warmly and brightly on Yala's face.
He clenched his fists and swore silently to himself: He must lead the greenskins to the Squeak Clan, he must personally witness the downfall of Clan Leader Clan Leader and Iuka, and he must sit upon the bone throne that belonged to him!
As Kurzadh walked out of the dungeon, a slight smile curved his lips.