!!xr5GpC4Hw2Q 04/15/10(Thu)21:04 No.9216515|
Your hands continue to glow, so brightly that you can't look at them either. Blinded by your hands, by the creatures around you, enraged by the gitz talking about you when you close your eyes, you don't know what to do.
Then you look down, and there is a staff there.
Gnobbly, bound with leather strips and topped with a fetish made of the bones of squigs you don't even recognise, it's obvious that there is powerful Waaagh power involved here. When you pick it up, the brightness doesn't seem so bad anymore. The Orkz in your head stop making fun of you and wait silently, eager to see what you do next.
You figure that getting even for Spekkit is as good an idea as any.
Raising the staff high above you, you begin chanting without realising you knew the words. You hop back and forth from foot to foot, shaking the staff above your head like some sort of weird git.
A weird boy if you will.
The horrible blur circling you isn't a blur anymore. It's a mass of tentacles and fangs and other squiggly things. But that is easier to deal with - squiggly things are what Orkz eat afterall. The last pie you had probably had more tentacles and teeth than that wimp. You cackle and point your staff at it.
The sky darkens, and when you look above you see the familar horned demon descend. You shake your head and he liquifies.
The sand itself seems to become horrible and squiggly, but you point your staff at the ground and it too obeys your commands. Voices in your head speak up again:
"Hurhur, dis is too easy. I fink we should go rile up some more gitz from da Warp and see wot 'e can do wiv 'em."
"Nah, 'ez done enuff. 'ez good but we dunt wont 'is 'ead to explode."
"S'pose you're right. Let's drop 'im off back at camp."
Everything goes black, and when you wake up you're in familiar territory. Not camp, exactly. But only a few miles off.
You're still holding the staff.