Rain beat relentlessly against the canvas of the small carriage. It had become too dark and muddy for the caravan to continue their journey, so it was agreed upon to set up a perimeter and camp for the night. The rumble of idling motorcycles could be heard in all directions. Each manned by a watchful club member, ready to unleash their machines and run down anything that dared approach the camp. The corpse of an elf lie slumped in the back of the carriage, face twisted in rage, with one mascara lined eye squeezed shut in a sort of grotesque wink, and two arrows jutting out of her stomach.
For most of the Hellscream’s Angels, dealing with bounty hunters was about as routine as trimming one’s toenails. The pale faced goblin sitting as far as possible from the corpse still felt uncomfortable with killing though. He was relieved that he was not the one to kill this void elf. She had snuck into the camp as the crew were setting up their defenses, pouncing on top of a troll, ready to drive her dagger into his skull. Before she could make the killing blow, a guttural warcry pierced the air. As she raised her head, two arrows hit their mark, leaving her to writhe in agony, cursing in her elven tongue while rolling around in the mud, and eventually going limp. The tan skinned orc now sitting across from the goblin was responsible for the kill. The orc sat motionless as he eyed down the goblin. He spoke in a deep rumbling tone.
“You are an officer of the Hellscream’s Angels, and yet you are uncomfortable with the spilling of blood?”
The goblin looked around wearily for a moment before locking eyes with the Mag’har. It had been hours since anyone had spoken to him. This orc was not like the other rookies, all of which who eyed him nervously. After all, there was no reason for one of Ramborc’s own personal Enforcers to come along on a small job like this, a job handed out to newer members as a test of reliability. Despite the goblin keeping to himself, they still felt like he was silently judging them. He didn’t care what they thought, he just needed a change of scenery. And with no friendly magi for miles around, he knew the trip would take at least a week. The goblin looked down at the mug resting in his hands and watched his torchlit face dance in the reflection of the liquid inside. After a deep breath, he spoke.
“Not everyone takes on this kind of work for the wealth. My reasons are a little more complicated than that. When I joined, I never intended on climbing my way to the top,” he chuckled hoarsely, “I guess that’s just goblin instinct for ya. I just needed a job where I could stay on the move, I’m ah… looking for somebody, ya see. I knew I’d have to get my hands bloody from time to time, I guess I just don’t have the stomach for it.”
The orc grunted, taking a large swig from his own mug.
“Do you know why so many of my people ride with the Angels?”
The goblin shrugged.
"At first, it was the Hellscream name that called to us, like a beacon. A name shared by both your world and mine. The longer we spent under this banner, the more we realized how twisted this world’s Horde had become. They were no longer the honorable warriors the elders told us about when we were pups. This Horde fights with trickery and poisons! Two weapons no true warrior could wield!
Though we are now branded as outlaws, we now understand that the Hellscream’s Angels is more than a namesake… everyone who rides under that banner fights like a Hellscream. Though the name has been shared by heroes and tyrants, they all fought as true orcs! We see this world’s own twisted mockery of a Horde, and we refuse to fight for it! For many of my kind, the Hellscream’s Angels is our Horde."
The goblin looked slack jawed at the orc.
“Huh, and I just thought the name sounded cool…”
The orc let out a boisterous laugh. As the two chatted, the rain began to slow and the clouds parted, illuminating the campsite and its surroundings with the moon’s glow. A bulky radio transceiver sitting in the corner of the carriage buzzed to life.
KZZZZT— “Ey Smokey, mon. Da camp be surrounded! We got at least a dozen, and dey look heavily armed. Gonna need ya personal touch for dis one I tink!”
The goblin stretched lazily as he stood up while drawing the revolver from his hip.
“Ya know, big guy, I may not enjoy killing, but I’m damn good at it. Let’s do this.”
The orc knocked back an arrow with a grin.
"Blood, thunder, and smog!"
The elf gave an approving wink as the two departed.