JustEight Day One – Dear Horde

Dear Horde,

Look, let’s get down to bone tacks, shall we? I hate you. You hate me. But the moon hangs low in the north and the herds of fennybuza have come from the mountains to feed, so it’s inevitable. In the next few weeks, the first so-called adventurers from the cities of man will descend upon our valley. As the forty-ninth chief of the Warsorrow line, it has fallen to me yet again to try and defend our lands against the invaders.

First things first, can you slagfraggers stop carrying so much gold onto the battlefield? I don’t have time to go through a whole economics lecture for you, but there is one important concept we all must grasp. If we carry gold onto the Plain of Glory, and the humans slay a good number of us (which they probably will, as they have for generations), that gold can be turned into better weapons, stronger armor and curative items. We are quite literally stabbing ourselves in the foot!

Second, let’s turn to tactics. Let it be clear, I am not a strategic genius. The Warsorrow Clan inherited the leadership role because of large fists, a proficiency with blunt objects and hygiene practices that might be called cursory at best. However, this blazfarn practice of patiently attacking the adventurers in small groups has to stop. Either we swarm all at once and overwhelm them, or we hold defensible positions. Everything we’ve been doing clearly hasn’t been working.

Okay, I’m tired of being polite. Why in the name of Great Kriwukeg are we jobbing out to the humans every single spring?? It’s not like there’s a ton of mystery to the way the humans show up. Let’s break down their usual forces, shall we?

Sword Guy. Sometimes he’s wearing full armor, sometimes he’s inexplicably just wearing a loincloth yet his skin is darn near flawless. Sometimes come in Praying Variety, which means they’re exceedingly holy when they run us through.

Magic Man. These break down into Helpy and Hurty varieties. Both are annoying. They’re usually wearing thin robes that somehow take multiple hits from swords, arrows and even fire. You can often tell them apart, as the Helpy ones usually wear white and object to the whole affair before helping to kill us anyway. The Hurty ones dress in darker colors, wear long beards they’re always stroking inscrutably. Sometimes they have weird glossy skullcaps that I do not understand the physics of.

Arrows. Distance attackers who are way better shots than any member of the horde. Most of the time they’re going on about communing with nature and feeling the voice of the forest. Usually high as blazfarn, Bows are always surprisingly effective, usually at the most dramatic possible moment.

Sneaky One. Because when you’re invading a hostile environment, you need a guy who can pick pockets and sneak around like nobody’s business. He’s either standoffish and laconic or a quip machine that everyone else wants to chuck in a lava pit. Still usually manages to get in a dramatic strike when all seems lost.

Musicy Type. Whatever you do, when you see a human with a harp, do not take him out. He’s probably annoying the adventurers. If you kill him, they will get stronger.

Your first takeaway should be: When an adventurer slams his impossibly large shield to the ground… ignore him and focus all attacks on the members of the party wearing white. There’s no point hacking away at the sword people when some cheater in a white robe is undoing all your hard work.

Also, how is it that every year like a thousand horde troops fall to at MOST a half dozen humans? Please explain this to me, since my father is no longer alive to do so. How do they overcome such incredible odds every time? Why? WHY? With enough of our clan swinging a heavy club, we should be winning through pure dumb luck.

Finally, the following individuals are hereby assigned the role of protecting the latrines due to their performance during basic training.

  • Kigrok Strongscream
  • Wimivur the Whelming
  • Glaarub Hangnail
  • Tregurk Mammothbrow
  • Aogut Mousefist
  • Xoilet the Marginally Adequete

In closing, I’d like to remind all of you that I loathe your very existence, and despite the inevitable humiliating defeat of the upcoming raids, I look forward to them for having to see less and less of your inept carcasses. May the Great Vvanu curse you all.

Vokuhr Warsorrow – 49th Scion of the Winter’s Moon – Reluctant chief of the Northern Horde