Boongaloot was not a stupid Sand Orcis.
He knew very well that in order for his plan to work, he would not only need to rally nearly all of the scattered Sand Orcis clans and somehow get them all to collaborate, but he would also have to do so behind his clan head's back, and without him figuring out what was going on...
That would be a bit more complicated than he had planned for, but it was nothing outside of his skill and ability.
He knew several of the Clan Heads personally, so that might give him a foot in the door, so to speak. He also knew that nearly all the Heads he was conspiring with were decently close to his Clan Head as well...
That was another problem that the ambitious Orcis would have to contend with when the time came.
Boongaloot had been ordered to lay siege to and eventually take over the sprawling city of Bant for his people.
For his clan head.
He was rather fond of the task, as it would finally give him the opportunity to show off what he could accomplish when focused, and he was quite focused.
Focused on not only taking the city for his people, but taking the title of Clan Head for himself.
He had a plan.
He would just have to start small and work his way up.
He had time.
The humans that dwelled within the walls of the great and sizable city were not only comfortable, but confident that nothing would ever dare try to impregnate their precious city.
Not while they had the infallible Gateman Automatons.
Boongaloot understood that comfort.
That confidence.
He put a hand to the long, jagged scar that decorated his right cheek, remembering his own vigorous battle with one of the damnable things some time ago...
He put that same hand to the hard lump that sat in the bottom of his satchel.
The shard of corrupted Aetherite.
It would disable the horrible, towering, powerful Mecha...
It would make his mission for glory and conquest that much easier.
He just had to be patient.
He would act when it was time, and when that time was right.
Until then?
Well...
He had a lot of recruiting to do.
Boongaloot would come to find himself before the great and tattered hut of his very first ally of choice, one brooding, tough-skinned, battle-scared female Orcis who proudly went by the rather accurate name of "Leanback".
This was the Clan Head of Clan Ripstix, and it was extremely rare for a female to obtain the title of Clan Head.
Clan Ripstix was a small, yet well-known and respected rough-and-tumble clan, whom he would rather have at his side in the battles to come than anywhere else.
He would have to not only best her at her bout of choosing but impress her as well.
As he approached the tent, several Orcis to either side of him as escorts, a pair of goblins marched before him, pounding rhythmically on a matching pair of war drums.
Boongaloot knew the beat.
He recognized the tempo.
It was a challenge of the tongue.
Apparently, Leanback knew not only that he was coming, but also what for.
This was far from his favorite form of combat, but the seasoned Orcis would never withdraw from a challenge, and he figured that Leanback would know that much about him.
At least.
Boongaloot squared his jaw and continued at the set pace.
The drums began to ring in his pointed, torn ears, and the bass of the beat felt nice in the cavity of his muscled chest.
His confidence grew with each step.
The drummers began to chant to their beat.
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
The stubborn Orcis would have his way this day.
Leanback be damned.
Boongaloot was no stupid Sand Orcis.
He would do his best to show that.
He bowed his head and stepped into the tent.
-----
Boongaloot VS. Leanback.
The war of words.
-----
He didn't give a fack about the slave or the rabble shit...
This was South Suidelain, that's what he dabbled with,
Not what he traveled with.
He was an Orcis of taste...
Half the goons in his squad had a scar on their face.
-
It was a cold world, and it took might
Or a shard of jagged and tainted Aetherite...
He had schemed, pillaged, murdered, and looted to get what he had.
Still, the facks at the top looked down and figured him bad...
Good.
-
From his youth, he was wild and uncouth.
That's why
The Clan Head had labeled him "Boongaloot".
He should have been named "Young Shake & Bake."
The moves he'd make
Were similar to major quakes.
-
He did it all to break his people from their struggle.
All along...
Leanback kept tightening his muzzle...
He planned, and he schemed on some cutthroat shit,
And hopefully, the next throat to be slit
Wouldn't be his.
-
No, he wouldn't take the chance,
Or let her pull out her lance.
She'd...
Tear his throat away.
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
-
L to the E...
A to the N...
She waited for his arrival.
She greeted him with a grin...
She hadn't eaten today,
So her patients were wearing thin...
She waved at one of her slaves.
They escorted the Orcis in...
-
Her bodyguards were near,
She wouldn't take any chances.
Most Orcis used swords,
But her Orcis chose lances.
"We are Orcis! And Orcis don't SIEGE, we RAID!
So why they fack would we sit at Bant's gates for days!?"
-
She looked him up and down
While she fiddled with her necklace.
She'd approach this one with caution
So he wouldn't get reckless.
She could have him gilled for lunch...
She had sat and missed her breakfast.
But alas,
This one was comparatively
Important on her checklist.
She'd double checked it...
-
She'd weigh the odds.
Measure reactions...
If the outcome looked good?
She would gather her factions...
See.
War wasn't the same.
This one came off as tame...
Battles would surely change,
But he was about to change the game...
-
No, she wouldn't hold his hand.
If he facked up this chance
She'd...
Tear his throat away.
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
-
The odds were looking better
That they'd fight together
Now.
And his Orcis would charge
Through any weather
Now.
But shit could get tight
When you gamble with Aether.
He'd better make his big move
Now than later...
-
He'd recruit other clans
For all types of shit.
From skirmishes, battles, and raids.
All the fights and shit.
If Captain Grom knew,
He would probably squeal...
Boongaloot would be sure
To personally claim that kill...
-
Once they crossed the line
There would be no going back.
He couldn't undo the war
That would come from this attack.
He just needed 10,000.
That would be enough.
To take the city of Bant
Once the shit got tough.
-
Leanback kept telling him
To speak about the Aether...
He held back.
He'd been hella discreet
About the Aether...
Not even Governor Telith
Could imagine this...
Boongaloot and his Orcis, yes.
But him as Champion?
Fack no.
-
He bowed with a glance.
He couldn't take the change that...
She wouldn't tear his throat away.
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
Thump! Thump!
"LEANBACK!"
-----
Boongaloot emerged from the tattered tent unfazed.
The pair of drummers and the ten Orcis guards who accompanied them wore looks of shock and amazement on their sandy brown faces.
He had bested their Clan Head at her own rhythmic challenge.
None of them had the skill or rhythm to do so; each and every one of them wore a long, jagged scar just beneath their chin...
Boongaloot's throat was whole and untorn.
Clan Ripstix would join him in his march against the walled city of Bant.
He would lead them well.
If not?
He would have to quickly become very good at leaning back...