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Author MessageThe Tale of Kracka-Khan
Abecedar
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Post: #1
The Tale of Kracka-KhanAbecedar 03-04-2015

Here is my entry to the Scribes Contest No 2
The Tale of Kracka-Khan

Kracka-Khan looked down at the barely moving body near his feet. It still breathed but at present could no longer be considered an immediate threat. In return the beaten one looked back up at the victor. With deliberate intent, Kracka-Khan slowly placed a booted foot upon the chest of his defeated foe.

"Serve me and you will live"

"Why would I?" came the laboured reply from the downed Khan, “What would you be?”

"I would be a Khan of Khans!"

The signs were easy to read. The mouth said yes, but everything else said no.   The shape of the mouth, the eyes, the tenseness in the jaw and neck muscles.   All said betrayal as soon as his back was turned. That was not what he required.

"You lie poorly," was his reply as he pushed his blade fully through the ex-Khan's neck.  

"Who leads this tribe now?" he demanded.

"You do... Kracka-Khan... You do!" came a few shouted replies.  His next question was one they’d never heard asked before.

"Who would have led next if this this one had died in battle instead of against me?"

"Me," came one grunted response. A few others shuffled a bit and looked like they might have wanted the job but were habitually hiding their intentions.

"Then come here, what is your name?"

"Digga," said the mean-looking hobgobbo.

"Would you be Digga-Khan? Would you lead your tribe? Swear loyalty to me and they are yours."

"Yes I would."

"Then on your battered soul swear your loyalty to me and then go prove your right to lead this tribe upon those of them that would deny you."

That made two whole tribes that were sworn to him, not counting his own small one. So three of the master’s tribes were his, that was if he could maintain and ensure his control over them in the coming days. So far two other Khans had denied him with their last breaths, but their tribes had descended into utter chaos as they squabbled over who among them would lead. Only a few remained to test and take control of. He turned and made his way back through his loyal disciples. Those last dozen survivors of his tribe that guarded his back as if it was their very own. Something else that he had failed to notice as being unusual for his kind.

As they left the dwelling area, a shape blocked his way. He instinctively began to draw his sabre. In the same half breath he felt his disciples fade back and their stances become ones of submission; realising it was one of the masters, he bowed and re-sheathed his weapon.

The Dawi-Zharr looked at the Khan. "You have been busy," rolled out the gravelly statement. "But this is not to be your destiny, oh Khan-of-Khans. For you have been chosen to be a part of something else than the endless battles amongst your kind here..."


This is the full size version of my entry.  it is based around my emmisary to "Fuggit Khan"

The Tale of Kracka-Khan:



Kracka-Khan looked down at the barely moving body near his feet.   It still breathed but for the present it could not be considered a danger.   He then turned his gaze in a semicircle at the hobgoblins clustered around, looking at them as his new subjects and as always a source of potential threats.   Seeing none willing to challenge him he turned his head to look back down at the one he had just defeated.

In return the beaten one looked back up at the victor.  He had seen his opponent before this fight.  But compared to then this intruder khan now appeared a bit bigger, more muscular than normal for a hobgoblin and his attitude and demeanour were more imposing.  These apparent changes hadn’t concerned him though muscles were not enough.  He knew he was a more skilled fighter than the challenger, or he had been as little as a full turning of the seasons ago when he’d last seen him fight.

With deliberate intent, Kracka-Khan slowly placed a booted foot upon the chest of his defeated foe.    “Serve me and you will live”  
“Why would I?” came the laboured reply from the downed Khan, “What would you be?”
“I would be a Khan of Khans!”

The signs were easy to read. The response slightly tardy but spoken too quick.  The mouth said yes, but everything else said no.   The shape of the mouth, the eyes, the tenseness in the jaw and neck muscles.   All said betrayal as soon as his back was turned.  That was not what he required.  
“You Lie poorly” was his reply as he pushed his blade fully through the ex-khans neck.
A short sharp twist to remove it and he stepped back.  

“Who leads this tribe now” he demanded.  
“You do.. Kracka-Khan.. You do” came a few shouted replies.  His next question was one they’d never heard asked before.  
“Who would have led this tribe next if this one had died in battle instead of against me?”  
“Me” came one grunted response, a few others shuffled a bit and looked like they might have wanted the job but were habitually hiding their intentions.  
“Then come here, what is your name?”  
“Digga” said the mean looking hobgob.  Kracka Khan took some time to survey the hobgoblin before him and was pleased to see some intelligence hiding behind its eyes rather than only pure cunning and mean-ness that he expected.  
“Would you be Digga-Khan?” he asked suddenly “Would you lead your tribe? Swear loyalty to me and they are yours.”   Straight away he witnessed the actual thought as it crossed the face before him in an open display that was not often seen among his breed.  
“Yes I would”.  
“Then on your battered soul swear your loyalty to me and then go prove your right to lead this tribe upon those of them that would deny you”.

One of his lieutenants brought him a jug of their sour beer and drinking it eased the severe dryness and thirst that the fight had created.  He signalled for another jug as he watched his newest captain Digga-Khan as he brutally subdued the couple of claimants to his position.   That made two of the larger tribes that were now sworn to him. Adding them to the remnants his own one made a total of three of the master’s tribes that were now his to command. That was of course if he could maintain his control over them.  The coming days would bring those challenges to light and he would deal with them.   The other two khans he had defeated had also denied him with their last breaths but their tribes had descended into utter chaos as they squabbled over who among them would lead. It was useless to attempt to control them yet.  There was only one more tribe that needed to be met with and taken control off, the others being numerically smaller would easily fall in line.  He thought on what he was trying to achieve here.   Not just his own domination over the others, which was only an ends to a means.  They could be so much more than what they currently were.  But theirs was a system that was long ago founded on conflict and short sighted gain.  The unity of purpose and belief he felt they needed was he realised a basic problem with-in their very own blood.  Until recently he’d thought, acted and believed the same as all those other hobgoblins around him believed.  During his life he too had fought, stolen, schemed and murdered as he rose to lead his tribe.   Something had changed him and he knew not what.  He turned and made his way back through his loyal disciples who turned to follow him after confirming his safety.  Those last dozen survivors of his tribe that continued to guard his back as if it was their very own.   Their very actions were something else that he had failed to notice as being unusual for his kind.

As he left the common grounds heading for his dwelling, he remained deep in thought when suddenly to him a shape blocked his way. He instinctively began to draw his sabre and he lifted his trademark whip up to guard. In the same half breath he felt that his disciples had faded back and their stances had become ones of submission; realising it was one of the masters he bowed deeply and re-sheathed his weapon.  

The Dawi-Zharr stood silently looking at this hobgoblin, this singularly most successful Hobgoblin Khan.  One that was essentially his personal creation, a protégé, well an experiment would be more accurate. The drugs and training this select few had received had created some very interesting observations, but it was time to end the experiment.    “You have been busy” rolled out the gravelly statement.   “But this is not to be your destiny, oh Khan-of-Khans”.  He looked at Kracka’s followers, the ones who had been with Kracka when the rest of his tribe had perished.  “You others leave now, find places of your own among the tribes, much is expected of you all.”  A small delay in obeying earned them an even harder glare from the black eyes of their overlord. Their training was very deep and it would be interesting to see how long it stayed with them.  “Now Kracka-Khan you must come with me.  For you have been chosen to be a part of something other than the endless battles amongst your own kind here.”

With that, Kracka-Khan was wrenched from the only home he’d ever known and sent into a far corner of the empire.   His master’s mission of diplomacy held close to his own heart.   His own mission to rule held much closer and his mind held tight to the concept of it having been merely delayed.

The Dawi-Zharr thought on what he had wrought with Kracka-Khan and his followers.   The Blood-bowl team he had created with them had been eminently successful.  The extensive training he’d given them had built up their sense of self and the resultant team bonding had aided their success.  This team building was what he believed Kracka-Khan was trying to achieve with a take-over of the Hobgoblins Tribes and a team orientated united hobgoblin force was not to be allowed.   Maybe choosing someone as intelligent as Kracka-Khan was dangerous but a lesser intelligence would have been much more of a risk as that type would have quickly lost its sense of place and would have been destroyed by now.   The drugs and injections he had forced upon them had strengthened and bulked them up quite visibly.  Very quickly they had taken to this regime with relish and had no longer needed coercion.   But it was now time to remove the evidence of his tampering from view.   He knew he had bordered upon some of the forbidden practices that had originally been a part of the process that had created the race known as Black Orcs.

But that glittering trophy did look very impressive upon his shelf.


Last Time I Bled for my Hobby  =  27 June 17(ouchy); 15 June 17
Last Time I glued my fingers together = 30th, 29th & 27th June 17; 16 June 17

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Legend of Lord Kvackd'up
Zhek'dars tales  =  tbf.

This post was last modified: 10-27-2015 07:19 PM by Abecedar.

03-04-2015 03:10 AM
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Admiral
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Post: #2
RE: The Tale of Kracka-KhanAdmiral 03-10-2015

Ace story! Well done, Abecedar. Cheers!


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03-10-2015 09:31 AM
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Abecedar
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Post: #3
RE: The Tale of Kracka-KhanAbecedar 03-10-2015

Thanks mate.  I found it easier to write something around a kernel of "truth" from something or a game.   In this case a model who was a member of my BB team and is now in the emissary program.


Last Time I Bled for my Hobby  =  27 June 17(ouchy); 15 June 17
Last Time I glued my fingers together = 30th, 29th & 27th June 17; 16 June 17

Army Blog

Short Stories
Legend of Lord Kvackd'up
Zhek'dars tales  =  tbf.

This post was last modified: 03-10-2015 06:36 PM by Abecedar.

03-10-2015 06:35 PM
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