creepy and hatboy – the warhammer adventures

lahmia crush the skaven scum

i glared across the smoke-layered battlefield.
hatboy stared right back at me through a haze of blood, sweat and pizza fumes.
his rat ogres shifted uneasily as my black coach of ratty death and rodent doom creaked from its lair behind my giant castle of much lahmia-owny.
his rats eyed each other, long teeth twitching nervously in the sudden quiet as my lahmian queen of the vampires (tentatively named cindy), took a step back and cackled at the moon.
that’s about when the craven crew turned tail and ran screaming from the battlefield, heartily pursued by a bloodthirsty regiment of skeletons who rattled their hideous banner at the retreating rodents.
the banner, like most of my army, was green, and had a smoothie painted on it. the smoothie was red.
red is evil, you know.
as the skellie warriors and the screaming black coach taunted their frightened foes with spiky spears of skin-stabby, i decided then was the time for my battlecry to soar through the undead night, lifting the black heart of cindy to do fast and furious bad things to hatboy’s scattering army of much hasty-flee-makey.
“ah-ha! now you will die at the icy fingers of the army of blood-smoothie!” i pointed at his sour expression. “your blood will make good smoothie. we will drink now.”
i made slurpy noises for effect.
cindy looked interested in this blood smoothie business, but then what vampire wouldn’t be?
hatboy groaned, leaning forward to attempt a miracle. he knew this was his last chance to recall his troops and perhaps save some face in front of ninjagirl, who stood above us, carefully quoting from japanese texts to provide us with the appropriate war-type atmosphere.
i grinned at my super-sidekick as he retrieved the dice from our battlefield. “you’re dicing with death now, ratboy.”
“don’t you ever get tired of saying that?”
i slurped in his general direction.

skaven scum scuttle through the sewers like scum

i smirked at my super-sidekick.
“your tunnel is no match for cindy’s skellie army of skaven-shreddy!”
i sent orders for her to move forward at an arrogant pace. “and take the black coach in for good effect!”
she eagerly followed my command, dragging additional skeletons out of the slime as she went.
“look!” i cried, rolling on a virtual ocean of dice, “we multiply!”
hatboy grunted.
as my black coach wheeled itself toward the tunnel, i sensed another victory. hatboy’s craven skaven scum would be no match for my lahmia queen and her black coach. the skeletons would pick over what was left. they would feast tonight on ratgut soup. i told him so. “the blood-smoothie machine will crush you beneath its boney wheels of wrath!”
ninjagirl nodded in agreement. “looks like you’ve retreated too far,” she said. “you’ve got no cover left. you’ll keep running off the map.”
hatboy kept his skaven on the edge of the map at the end of the tunnel. cindy crawled down the sewers after them, her skeletons itching for blood.
behind them, the black coach swaddled up to the mouth of the tunnel.
and that’s about as far as it got.

hatboy’s measuring tape of cindy-death

the second the coach rolled against the tunnel, its wheels not allowing it entry, my super-sidekick howled his delight and skimmed the dice across the battlefield. “you’ve fallen for it!” he screamed. “you will die now at the claws of my rodent ogres and their ratty rat pals from ratland!”
gasping in shock, i tried pushing the coach into the tunnel, but the tunnel was smaller than it used to be by at least one centimetre, and that centimetre was crucial! the wheels were sticking out too far! nothing would send it forward short of a hammer, but a coach in pieces was not as fearsome as a coach in its full hideous glory!
my god! was this the end!?
cindy was caught in a flood of rats and their giant ogre buddies. she writhed in the slime, then slipped on something and fell into the muck.
“no!” i cried. “get up! you can make it! retreat to the coach! retreat!”
but she didn’t hear me.
hatboy’s skaven slit her throat and left her to float back toward the opening on a river of sewer slime.
“you narrowed the tunnel,” i groaned. “i can’t believe you narrowed the tunnel!”
hatboy held up his measuring tape, a scalpel, and some super glue. “it went on a diet. thanks, jenny cave.”
ninjagirl giggled.
i ignored her and instead chose to rescue the corpse of my vanquished vampire queen. tonight, i would bury her in the garden and swear revenge on her grave.
but, in the morning i would use my arcane arts to summon the mighty count willie the wonka from his ancient tomb.
hatboy poked his head into my room. “how tall’s your new general?”
i threw green stuff at him until he went away.

count willie wonka and the not-so-chocolatey rats of wrath

count willie reared up in his saddle and announced his intentions, which weren’t very nice at all.
hatboy’s skaven screeched their obnoxious reply.
count willie told them all about his skeletal army and the pack of dire wolves. he didn’t mention his creepy band of bloodthirsty vampires because he figured they could see those well enough.
the skaven said something about count willie’s haircut.
“so,” count willie’s eyes glowed a spooky green. “it’s war.”
“woah,” hatboy’s skaven sniggered. “what is it good for?”
“smashing skaven skulls for one thing,” count willie replied, and leapt into battle.
soon, the whole map was covered in blood, but for vampires, that’s just foreplay.

retreat!

count willie rode them toward the table’s edge. “flee, you blasted rodents!” he shrieked. “flee the wrath of the almighty blood smoothie!”
and they pretty much did just that.
hatboy, however, diced for all his worth. “no!” he scowled. “not today, creepy. the day is not yet won.”
and a band of assassins staggered out from behind a hedge.
“what?” count willie screamed. “where did they come from!?”
but it was too late to save himself. isolated by his own arrogant pride, he was easy munchies for hatboy’s hidden crew.
the sneaky assassin scum bit into his back, flinging him to the ground and tearing into his chest in search of a heart they knew they could find sooner or later. ripping the stubby black thing out, they held it aloft, their battlecry chilling the bones of already-dead soldiers who began to crumble where they stood.
“victory!” hatboy cried, leaping onto the coffee table and doing a booty-shake. “can you feel it? huh? eat that, mister creepy vampire boy of gloomy skaven-chewed behind made of something decidedly fake and plasticky! die!”
i couldn’t believe it.
i’d lost again.
to hatboy.
ninjagirl patted my shoulder.
“oh,” i said. “woe is me.”

count willie wonka’s revenge

i sat at my desk and stared out the window.
an owl stared right back through the window at me.
“count willie is dead,” i told it.
the owl preened.
“i thought you might think that way,” i added. “so i want you to take this to some friends of mine.”
hooting, the owl took flight.
“hey!” i yelled. “come back! you stupid owl, you forgot the letter!”

the snigger before the storm

i read the message twice, just to be sure.
then i read it again.
i never expected a reply when i sent my pigeons into the uncharted recess of space, but here it was, in my hands: a reply.
they would come.
they would fight for me.
i would need a general, though. he would keep them in line and inspire them. he would lead them to victory. he would smash their skulls with his fists when he felt like it, because that’s the kind of general he is.
i thought about hatboy’s skaven scum of skeledeath. i almost pitied them.
almost.
“a storm is coming,” i sniggered. “a storm on which the fluffy fur of your feral rodent friends will fly forever on its blackened wings of doom, this, i swear!”

cereal wars

when i mooched down to breakfast, hatboy was crunching his cornflakes over a copy of white dwarf.
i sat opposite and smiled into my freshly poured weeties.
i sprinkled in some powdered chilli and a splash of hot chocolate.
he glanced up from his book.
i pretended not to notice his curiousity.
i stabbed the cereal’s flesh with my spoon.
“die!” i hissed at it. “die, you squidgy rat!”
hatboy flinched.
i chewed the weetie skin flakes with relish. chomping hard on the flakes of yummy spicy morning glory goodness.
“you’re up to something, creepy. something sly by the looks of it, too.”
“who, me?”
“i can smell it. it stinks of sneak attack.”
“golly gosh, no.”
“i’ll find out what you’re up to.”
“yes, my super-sidekick pal of no-info-knowy. you will. you will indeed…”

preparing for battle

i crouched beside my new general. “well?”
he nodded.
“then it’s a deal.”
he grinned at me. his fangs were a trifle on the sharp side. his breath was a bit smelly, but i’d grown used to that during my days of dealing with the undead. “then we’ll follow my plan? we’ll let him make the first move, draw him out into the open. you’ll take out his rodent ogres first, then gather up the rest into a nice scoopy-type net of squishy fur and crunchy bones. i want them all turned into pouches. i want to keep stuff in their skins. what stuff, i don’t know yet, but it will be stuff.”
my general’s eyes gleamed in the dark. he knew what i was talking about.
killing was his business.
and business was looking very good indeed.

final tactical maneuvres

this time he wasn’t going to out-rule me.
no way was i going to fall for that one again.
my vampires would be avenged. their black souls would no longer writhe in shameful torment somewhere within the seventeen pits of hell. no, tonight they would rejoice as rodent blood flowed into the foul waters where waiting zombies would collect it in cups.
i buttoned my shirt. it was an evil shirt.
it screamed revenge in bright orange flowers.

snowball’s chance

“are you sure you want to go through with this? i mean, i’m sure i saw some of his new rat ogres. they look fearsome.”
i rested my toolbox on the kitchen bench and poured my coke. “is he in there yet?”
“he’s practising his rolls.”
“good for him. he’s going to need all the practise he can get.”
ninjagirl fingered the corner of her book, the illustrated art of war. “something tells me it won’t do him any good,” she said.
“that’s an awful thing to say. war takes skill, mental dexterity, and dice. it’s not a one-way street. there’s no certain victories in war! war is merely a battle of hopes and dreams. war is a game of luck. he has as much a chance of winning as i do.”
“really?”
“no. he hasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell.” i frowned into the fridge. “where’s the jaffas?”

prelude to war

hatboy was busy studying his secret plans as i mooched into the room.
i dropped my toolbox on the floor and set my coke glass on the coffee table.
“well?” i asked. “you want to roll to see who deploys first?”
he chewed his bottom lip and kept staring. “i have this crazy feeling you’re about to do something clever.”
“crazy,” i agreed.
“totally mental,” he said. “but it’s been nagging me ever since you did in my snowglobe.”
“i thought you said it was your aunt’s.”
“it is. i was merely using a figure of speech.”
“really?”
“i’ll roll first.”
and he did.

the skaven scouts get it first

sniffing the air, the rat concluded that he didn’t like the smell of this swamp.
which surprised his little rodent brain because he usually didn’t mind swamps. smelly, damp, and infested with insects, they reminded him of home.
he scratched his armpit and loosened his dagger in its scabbard.
the swamp bugs were eerily quiet. he didn’t like swamp bugs. they tasted nasty. all the same, they should have been making more noise.
he wondered, briefly, if it was possible for a rogue kroxigor to haunt this land. he’d heard nasty rumours of travellers being molested in unseemly ways.
and that row of skulls they’d passed a few leagues back. now that was just plain freaky.
he was about to call back to his buddies and let them know all about the nothing he’d seen for the last few hours when he noticed something very big indeed.
it had a large something in its hands and its red eyes glowed like only two red eyes can glow.
it waded through the swamp slime, heading straight for him.
it was big.
very big.
and green, too.
the rat had time enough to ponder the meaning of the strange thing which was suddenly pressed up against his snout before, with an extremely loud explosion of light, noise, and pain, his entire head was sent flowering out behind him to splatter in a jellied heap beneath a rotting tree.
the bugs were extremely grateful for the meal.

from thereon in it gets nasty

the rat ogres charged.
they waved their meaty claws and screamed their defiant cries at the slow-moving orks who waited in a semi-circle at the edge of a clearing and let themselves be charged.
the meanest looking ork licked his tusks and grinned. one huge fist gripped a choppa the size of which would make a demon prince jealous, and the other fist raised one of the most interesting shootas ever created out of spare parts and green stuff.
the rat ogres felt a little confused when the orks just stood there, unmoved by their display of almost-kiwi aggression.
they were even more confused when, without warning, pieces of themselves were being ripped from their bodies as the orks let loose with a cheerful blizzard of explosive shells.
one of the rat ogres huddled in the mud, trying in vain to hold his intestines inside. he heard a splash as a large boot stepped on some of his belly bits. he looked up to see a heavy green head regarding him with an easy grin.
those tusks looked pretty big, the ogre thought.
“you’re not playing fair,” whined the ogre.
the ork drew back a little at this blatant attempt to undermine its superiority, and opened its horrifically huge mouth to let loose a fearsome waaaaaaaagh before bringing the choppa down to cleave the ogre’s confused skull.
ouch, thought the rat ogre as he died. that’s gonna leave a mark.

mopping up

the orks outflanked the remaining skaven, herding them into the centre of the swamp where the frightened rodents attempted to hide among the debris of rotten trees which cuddled up to an ancient fortress of bleached stone.
soon, however, they were surrounded by orks, who brought in an wartrukk which calmly considered the moist walls of the fortress before reducing it to rubble with its patented gun of much-wall-destructy.
some of the skaven argued for surrender. one suggested charging and dying in a blaze of glory.
he was subsequently executed by his fellow skaven who decided such sentiments were both ridiculous and uncalled for, especially considering the current situation.
meanwhile, the orks sat around outside, fiddling with their weapons and waiting for the fear to work its magic.
they loved this bit.

roll on

i grinned at my super-sidekick. “well?”
ninjagirl whistled. “damn nice play, creepy. damn nice.”
“thank you.”
hatboy’s eyes bulged. “but that’s ridiculous! you cheated!”
“no, i didn’t,” i told him. “i merely advanced. i decided i needed to invent guns. big guns.”
“but they’re supposed to be using swords! bows and arrows, maybe.”
“the empire uses guns.”
“that’s different!”
“how so?”
“because they take time to reload! they’re not like your shootas!”
“that just means i’m better equipped than the empire. i can’t help it that they’re still using gunpowder. i mean, that’s so archaic. get with the times, hatboy. it’s the new millenium. no use relying on sticks and stones now, is there?”
ninjagirl nodded. “technological advancement is the tool of victory.”
“you stay out of this! he’s cheating! no matter what you say, you’re only winning this one by cheating.”
“today, to you, it may be cheating,” i told him, rising up above the table like someone out of something spooky. henry v perhaps. “but tomorrow, tomorrow we will only remember the victory. the means to the victory will be forgotten. all that will go down in history is today, here and now, orks came down and smeared skaven tail across a landscape which was once brown and ugly but which is now rather nicely splashed with red. history is not written by the losers, hatboy. it is written by winners! and today, as your foul army is at last buried in the quicksand beneath a crushed castle, i am the winner. so, if you don’t mind, i think i will write history now.”
“damn you, creepy. you and your history, too!”
“just roll, ratboy. roll and die.”

post-war smoothies

the orks made a mess.
the swamp seemed to be buried under a snow of fur and teeth.
hatboy sat beside the battlefield and moaned about his fallen comrades.
they fought well, i told him.
he told me to do someting insanely biological.
“no, i mean it,” i said. “they fought well. you should be proud of them. and what was that warcry they invented just for today? oh, yeah. mummy!!!! i liked it. i also thought you ran away quite well. but then, that is what skaven are all about. running away. you were excellent at it today.”
ninjagirl came back into the war-room with a tray of smoothies.
they were chocolate flavoured.
“it’s a new recipe,” she said. “in honour of this momentous occaision. i call it rat smoothie.”
“really?” i cried. “a smoothie just for me? ninjagirl, i want rat smoothie every night!”
hatboy wept.

Tags: creepy and hatboy, humour, warhammer 40k, warhammer fantasy