Belegar tugged his beard thoughtfully as he looked down at the small crater. He looked to his right, where Ulthar and a couple of his lads were trying to measure... something to do with the firing position, with a brass device of angles and lenses and a great deal of numbers scrawled into the dirt. Then he looked to his left, where Kragg the Grim was giving the crater the stare of an old and cantankerous Dwarf that is looking for and failing to find a reason to disapprove of something. And finally a cautionary glance upwards, even though some of the more sharp-sighted of the Rangers were keeping an eye on angle and would shout a warning if there was any danger.
On the distant peak, tiny figures he could barely glimpse through the shimmers of heat haze danced back and forth, engaged in what a borrowed telescope had shown him was a series of simultaneous arguments quickly devolving into fistfights. Every now and then, a loser would be determined, and moments later...
zoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOG
whumph
And somewhere in about a 90-degree arc of where the greenskins had aimed, a new crater splattered into existence. They'd yet to get within a hundred yards of the advancing Throng.
"You know," Belegar said thoughtfully. "Mayhaps the manlings legalizing the Zhufokri wasn't such a terrible idea, after all."
"Hmph," said Kragg, in a tone of voice that would terrify most lesser Dwarves, but one that Belegar had learned was only his baseline level of disapproving. "Takes more than one good axe for a workshop to prove itself."
"If you dig a mine and get fifty cartloads of muck and one fistful of gold," Ulthar said thoughtfully. "What you've got there is a gold mine."
"Hmph," said Kragg again. But there was no arguing with a good mining metaphor.
- This will be part of the next update; as it cannot change based on the current vote, I wrote it early and am sharing it early.
On the distant peak, tiny figures he could barely glimpse through the shimmers of heat haze danced back and forth, engaged in what a borrowed telescope had shown him was a series of simultaneous arguments quickly devolving into fistfights. Every now and then, a loser would be determined, and moments later...
zoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOG
whumph
And somewhere in about a 90-degree arc of where the greenskins had aimed, a new crater splattered into existence. They'd yet to get within a hundred yards of the advancing Throng.
"You know," Belegar said thoughtfully. "Mayhaps the manlings legalizing the Zhufokri wasn't such a terrible idea, after all."
"Hmph," said Kragg, in a tone of voice that would terrify most lesser Dwarves, but one that Belegar had learned was only his baseline level of disapproving. "Takes more than one good axe for a workshop to prove itself."
"If you dig a mine and get fifty cartloads of muck and one fistful of gold," Ulthar said thoughtfully. "What you've got there is a gold mine."
"Hmph," said Kragg again. But there was no arguing with a good mining metaphor.
- This will be part of the next update; as it cannot change based on the current vote, I wrote it early and am sharing it early.
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to ever walk the realms of men (certainly better than that unworthy douche Sigmar). 
