Teef

The mountainous Ogor, Grug,  plodded through the Black Wood. With his single ‘escort’ as Lucilen had put it. Their purple skin and black pincers were the only things of note on them. She was attractive, kinda… he wouldn’t be caught with her outside of this patrol. But for a dim mind like his, the strange magic that danced around her was pleasing. Even with the kind thoughts that floated to the forefront of his mind, a primal desire to crush her head never left his thoughts. She was a bringer of excess pain, and he was a bringer of painlessness. That's what was taught to him. But as an Ogor, he wanted to keep her around cause she looked lovely. It was strange.

But then again, so were the reports of missing patrols around the Blackwood. Grug never cared much for the logistics, but Danndraa was furious when she heard a few went missing. So he was out here, with the pretty lady, and VERY hungry. That primal desire overwhelmed his thoughts; he wanted to eat the lady. To crush her head and crunch her bones. He could smell blood, gore, and everything he wanted in his maw. A light sparked to life as he realized he WAS smelling gore. 

Grug placed his massive mitt on the Slanesshi’s head to stop them. Before the woman could try and strike him in retaliation, he grumbled, “Shuddup, I smell sum thin.” 

The woman hissed back at him, “Of COURSE you do. You only ever smell food! We need to use our eyes you simpleton! Stop re-“ 

Grug shushed her by clamping his free hand on her mouth. “Shut yer trap.” Grug had to give himself a moment to think of a proper reason to give her to stop; he couldn’t really. So he went to bullying “I’ll turn yer head round backward if ya don stahp. Ya gut me?”

The woman made a motion as if she were going to stab his arm with her pincers, thought about it, and nodded the best she could in the headlock. Satisfied with the dumb lady’s confirmation, Grug released her head and shoved her in the way of the smell. “Getta move on tiny.” He grumbled as if he were talking to a prisoner who was being particularly disobedient. The woman shot a furious glance back at him, her sharpened teeth barred in a silent threat. A glance of his own set her in motion.

They didn’t need to walk long before the smell of gore became practically overpowering. A rumble vibrated through Grug’s stomach. He had a few pieces of dried meat in his bag, but the fresh, raw, and messy sorts were always so much better. It reached the point where he overtook the woman while walking between the many trees. The blind hunger almost made him miss the first signs of blood. Now his brutish mind had gotten a whiff that something was VERY wrong. He was not afraid; he’d just punch whatever showed its head. The Slaaneshi lady was skittish, though; she saw the blood and readied her long serrated pincers in a readied stance.

That's when the noises started drifting in, the sound of squishing and crunching. Grug was reminded of the blood beasts when they latched onto a blastie person. Grug couldn’t help it now; he smiled, a brutal sign that something would die. Finally turning around the last tree, he saw the carnage. The glorious, delicious carnage. Atop a sizeable blue-skinned warrior, a THING was latched onto him, and the sound of eating emanated from the blue corpse. Then the strange thing turned to stare him right in the eyes.

The small thing swallowed down the chunk of meat. Their eyes furrowed into a glower at Grug; he was less concerned about the glare. More how the body of the thing before him seemed wrong. Black, thin, and rocky. But at the same time seemed so easy to be pulled apart. The dress looked like it was dried paper, and the hair looked the same. But that didn’t matter, really, because the TEETH were mismatched. He had a little deamon in front of him.

“What do you Moose Tracks want?” The shrill voice was reminiscent of the blue and pink Deamons, the changer of ways summoned. The fact that Grug knew all the words flowing through his head was a miracle. But it’s how he understands a voice that was essentially nails on a chalkboard.

The Slaaneshi lady finally caught up; seeing the thing, she hissed a curse. “So YOU are the one killing the patrols. HAH! Who would think one so tiny and weak would be causing so much trouble!” It was a fake bravado; she was intimidated. Grug had fought enough people to know when someone was acting tough. So he looked back at the thing. See if it was doing its own bit of fake confidence. But no, the THING was less a thing and more of…a child?

Grug never cared for children; they tasted nice. But this one? It had a hunger, one he felt. More than an Ogor’s natural hunger. One that was ever-consuming. One that no matter how hard you tried, you could never be satisfied. The Slaaneshi looked up at him, about to say something, but it was too late. His massive hand had already made its way around her skull. A satisfying crunch and squish brought a child-like smile to his simple face. He had wanted to do that for a while, even if that meant the strange magic that made her tolerable was gone now. 

A quick motion with his other hand tore the head from the body with little resistance to his gargantuan strength. Before the small child thing could speak, he kicked the falling body over to them. “Eat it tiny, youz ‘ungry, yeah?” he grumbled. There was a natural hate of giving up food, but it was overwhelmed by the strange sort of connection. 

The child glared at him still; for a moment, Grug thought he would need to fight. But the child fell upon the corpse wordlessly. So the Ogor watched the child devour the corpse like an Ogor baby receiving its first meal. Grug shoved the squashed head into his own mouth and swallowed with satisfaction; it was juicy and crunchy. The satisfaction didn’t last long; he wanted more when the rest of the skull and brain matter was gulped down. He wanted to throw the child off the body and rip off healthy chunks of the Slaaneshi woman. But he didn’t. A primal Sense to NOT take from this small child, thing, girl? 

This was to be a strange moment for the Ogor forever. He Has never experienced a desire to share such as this. Sure Grug has shared the spoils of war to keep his soldiers in line. But this little child was not a soldier. He could crush her, but he didn't; vivid images of tearing her apart flooded his dim mind. The thoughts disgusted him on a primal level. How could he tear apart someone who was SO like him? 

With a crinkling of her hair, she stared up at Grug. Once again, a morsel was forced down her gullet with a gulp. Grug realized he was staring, but he did not care. She stared back, her lips peeling to show the mismatched teeth that decorated her strange mouth. The dripping blood reminded him once more of Ogor children. They were tasty, but she was not. There was no reason to eat her. 

The child attempted to break the silence with that screeching voice. But Grug beat her to it with a calm and collected voice. The calmness was complemented with a pitch as low as a bear’s growl; Grug grumbled, “Muh name’s Grug. Nice ta meetcha.” With an unchanging face, he stuck out his hand in a gesture he had seen many flat Guts do as a sign of respectful greeting. 

The child looked at the hand and then right back into his eyes. They were narrowed into nearly undefinable slits that glowed a sickly yellow, like a Bloodletter’s scowl. Glaring back up at Grug’s eyes a horrible noise escaped her. “What’s the hand for? You gonna grab me and try to EAT ME!? WELL, IM NOT LETTING THAT HAPPEN! ILL CHEW YOU UP SO YOU LOOK LIKE! LIKE! AH SHERBERT! YOU'LL LOOK LIKE FOOD!” The child screeched like a grot caught by a living mushroom vine. 

Grug winced as the shrill voice pierced his ears. But he didn’t flinch away “Nahhhhh, youz seem loik me an yaz can get ‘long all right. Sah I’m wondering if yaz wanna get summah food. I ain’t eatin nuffin dat ain’t meaty. Youz made of…uhhhhh. Youz made of fruits n vegg yeah?” he asked. He didn’t quite know what exactly the child was made of. But it wasn’t meat, it wasn’t blastie stuff, and it wasn’t rock. So it had to be fruits an vegg. 

The eyes of the child widened slightly in surprise, the yellowed gaze going back and fourth between hand and the dull eyes of an entirely unamused Ogor. But eventually, slowly, without a single work. The child laid her tiny, black, clawed hand on Grug’s oversized one. After a moment, she spoke with a less screechy voice, “I’m Ginger Vitus.” The child’s name was Ginger? Ight, Grug can pronounce that. Maybe.

“Ello Gingar, Muh name’s Grug.” He repeated himself
“I KNOW I KNOW” The screech returned, less hostile, more excited now.
“Aight den, do yaz wunna find sum ani-mals ta munch on?”
The mismatched teeth showed themselves once more. No longer a hungry snarl that a wolf backed into a corner, but now a smile. A smile like Grug’s. The smile he now gave to Ginger.
“We gonna be gettin sum den. C’mon tiny, wez gonna get sum nice feasts.”