The G3 Movement - Origins
First Sergeant Trask Orfin, an Orcish First Sergeant in the Imperial Army, was a simple man, with simple ambitions: To be the very best. He worked harder than any other Orc in his squad, passed training with flying colors, and had the best swinging arm in all of Igsh. He was so good at the Gopherpunt training course (627 meters was the record) that his instructor rewarded him with his own custom, enchanted hammer: "Gopher Cannon".
His posting at the Termitka Prison, therefore, was his gleeful dream. It was safe - he didn't have to fear decapitation on the front line against the League - and he was in a perfect position to enter into the romanticized position of an authoritarian prison guard, beating back riots and standing guard during the most brutal, bloodcurling interrogations. He was due for a promotion, his decorations were many, and he was paid incredibly well for his services.
The Arisen Prison Warden, Captain Yasskul Obadji, was generous in giving out awards and citations - another reason many cadets and privates put through so many requests to transfer into the prestigious establishment. Trask considered himself lucky, and well-off. Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep at night, he'd think of his lengthy, successful future in the Imperial Army, and he'd get so comfortable with that joyous mental image that he would pass into a dreamy slumber to live out the fantasy.
And Trask got his wish one day. The Sergeant's lofty dreams of becoming a General were put on the fast track accelerator the moment a certain front line officer walked into Obadji's prison and - as a result - Trask's life.
Yasskul Obadji stood in his office in the top floor of Termitka prison, hands clasped tightly behind his back and his military uniform pristine as he gazed out of his window into the prison yard. It was his duty as a Captain in the Imperial Army to be infallible, especially since it was his also his duty to keep a watchful eye over the most filthy individuals in all of the Empire territories.
All enemy forces taken prisoner on the warfront were routed to Termitka. They were dangerous, unruly, and rebellious. Who wouldn't be? They were forced out of the hands of their loyal leaders and into the care of Yasker's Empire. Their belief that the League would risk a rescue operation through Nezebgrad (the Empire's capital city) and into Igsh (the headquarters of the Imperial State Military) was incredibly foolish. Regardless, each and every prisoner held faith in rescue close at heart, despite guards reminding them of such hopelessness.
"The League is strong, and our strong will is testament to that! Our forces will flatten your capital, and sav--"
Obadji grinned at the memory. The prisoner who had shouted that was instantly beheaded by the hammer of the Imperial Prison Staff's top sergeant. Obadji even then had the prison yard cleared and let a few guards play a... 'peculiar game of goblinball' for an hour while everyone else was forced to watch. At the end of the game, Obadji stalked into the field, smugly staring down the rest of the prisoners, hands clasped behind his back, grinning savagely. He was like a hawk staring down prey. He was in control.
"Let this be a lesson to you all. The League will not come to save you. Any more talk of a rescue operation will be crushed - literally - with the Gopher Cannon." He had pointed at a lone, tiny Gibberling, whose family had already been taken from him by the dreaded hammer. "Remember, Slovesh. Remember well, and heed."
The Warden's grin curled even more as he remembered Slovesh hide behind a Kanian prisoner in horror after he saw Sergeant Orfin raise the hammer, which had both a picture of a gopher and a Gibberling as well as numerous tiny tally marks beside each, etched into the steel side.
He chuckled darkly at the thought, despite his chagrin at the loss of the Gibberling's parents. His disappointment didn't come from an emotional distress, but rather from a strategical one. Gibberlings were particularly valuable prisoners. Often employed as spies by the League, they were privy to intelligence that many other League soldiers were not. The League was stupid when it came to giving intel to their agents; their operatives knew everything. The names of their superiors, the scope of their operations, everything. Complete lack of need-to-know regulations crippled the League's strategy on a regular basis. And finally, Gibberlings were so small compared to Orcs that all it took to get them to spill their guts about their mission was to bring Trask into the room to stand there with his hammer. And that hammer had a reputation.
A rough pounding on his office door shook him from his thoughts. He growled, activated his glowing green eyes, and turned. He kept his posture. "Come in," he called. An out-of-breath Corporal burst through the door; he hunched forward and heaved with exhaustion, hands on his knees, before stiffening up and managing a hasty salute.
Obadji would have chewed anyone out for slamming on his door like that, but he knew that if this was important enough for chubby Corporal Yaffins to sprint up the staircase, he could forego a slight annoyance. "At ease, Corporal. What's the issue?" He tilted his head slightly.
Yaffins hunched forward again, speaking between breaths. "Sir... It's... It's Colonel Kahruvel, sir... h-here... here for another inspection..."
The Warden snarled, his quizzical expression turning grim. It is coincidental that the moment he ever starts thinking about Gibberlings and their lamentable importance to the war effort, Kahruvel appears. Outranking Obadji by a full two ranks, he could do pretty much whatever he wanted... and Kahruvel had no regard for policy.
The Corporal composed himself slightly. "About 900 meters, sir... closing in..."
The Arisen growled. "Why wasn't I notified sooner?"
"Our gate guard was changing shifts, sir..."
The Warden glanced out his window to inspect the yard and the forced labor mines, and his hidden fears were confirmed, but he remained stoic and composed. He thought for a prolonged moment.
He nodded, and turned back to Yaffins. "Alright. Get down to Orfin, tell him to get 'A' Platoon to move the typical prisoners into their cells. Squads 1 through 3, remain on prison detail. Squad 4 remains on patrol detail as always. Inform Orfin that he and 'B' Platoon are to organize the atypical prisoners into the cave in the Quarry as planned, and then to report back for yard duty. Dismissed."
The Corporal saluted swiftly and turned on his heel. He double-timed it down the hallway, and then down the stairs. After waiting a while, the Warden decided to walk down as well; he wanted to be there when Kahruvel arrived of course, but he also wanted to ensure that portly young Yaffins didn't fall and break his back while he hobbled down those stairs.
Corporal Yaffins did make it down the stairs. Obadji's men were already scrambling about, preparing for the Colonel's arrival. Trask's platoon was so quick in their given task that they were already standing in inspection formation in front of the prison yard, at attention. He nodded in approval, and asked Trask to fall out.
"Let's go to the gate. Show me," the Arisen ordered.
Trask pointed to the gate. "Right this way, sir."
The sergeant passed Obadji a pair of binoculars. "Look."
He did. Spotting the Colonel was simple enough: he was approaching at a steady pace, bare-skinned, the Xadaganian wearing nothing but underpants, combat boots, a bright red cape, and his officer's cap. He was 500 meters and still closing, stomping toward the prison with overenthusiastic fervor.
"By the will of Tep..." the Warden grumbled. "Third time this week. He must be trying to impress a General. Alright, standard operating procedure, same as always." He handed Trask his binoculars back, and Trask just nodded.
And Warden Yasskul Obadji just stood, in his typical locked pose of perfection - pristine military formal uniform, hands clasped behind his back, waiting with a stoic, hawkish gaze.
The inspection went as usual for most of the time. No one dared to comment that the Colonel was, again, in his skivvies. Colonel Admonitor J. Kahruvel carried around a long, serrated Kukri (somehow well hidden), and on his first visit in the past, had sliced the skin and muscle off of a Xadaganian staff sergeant's arm after the soldier started accidentally chuckling at the sight of a full-bird Colonel walking into the mess hall wearing underpants.
The Yasskul showed the Colonel around to ensure him that everything was in working order. The entire facility was spotless, and many of the cells were freshly full of many pining prisoners. Admonitor was a hard man, hard as steel, always ready, willing, and able to beat the living crap out of anyone at any moment.
When the Warden showed him down a cell block, he was careful to watch Admonitor out of the corner of his eye. The colonel had a knack for unexplicably wandering off. Much to the prison warden's dismay, Admonitor suddenly halted.
"Is there a problem, sir?" Obadji turned, and tilted his head quizzically.
Admonitor glared back. "I am tired of being babied around your facility, captain. I don't want to be shown anymore. You may be wondering of my increased visits as of late."
Obadji bowed his head a few inches, making a gesture with his hand out of respect. "I have been curious of your recent pervues, yes m'Lord."
"I don't wish to simply visit," the underwear-clad Colonel exclaimed. "I want the prison to run normally, and I wish to assist in its operation. I do not want a prissy-pants tight ship running around here when I am, I want it to run as it always does."
Until then, a prisoner gazed out of his cell, but hid his face and made a noise when the colonel made his statement about a 'tight ship', obviously stifling a giggle about the tight black underpants. This didn't go unheard or unnoticed, however.
"Give me the key to this cell, captain." His eyes were hard. Angry.
"Y-Yes... m'Lord." The Arisen looked down at his belt and stumbled with the keyring for only but a second.
In this single second, the Colonel lost patience. He turned to the cell, and pulled his vicious kukri from his mouth, pulling it out of his throat. He raised it high; the kukri glowed with angry, amber fury as he imbued it with a white-hot enchantment. He brought it down diagonally, slashing the prison door in two. He roared, and the Kanian prisoner inside scrambled in fear, screaming for someone to save him.
"You want to see a tight ship, you dirty League wretch? I'll show you a tight ship!" Within another moment, the Kanian was split into two halves from head to stomach with the blade, and the prison cell suddenly looked very unkempt.
As the Colonel walked out of the cell, he did indeed have a very tight ship.
The Warden followed closely as Admonitor stomped around the prisongrounds, the both of them shouting at each soldier to 'get back to work' and to 'engage the prison in its normal activities'.
Obadji realized this situation could unfold terrible. He dreaded the fallout, but could do nor say nothing. In doing so, he would reveal what he was hiding fearfully from the Colonel.
The Colonel, in his life, had killed thousands of Gibberlings. But he didn't stop there. He had viciously massacred and mutilated droves and droves of them. He hated Gibberlings. He hated them with a fiery, hateful, vicious passion.
Colonel Kahruvel was so notorious in his executions that the Imperial Army commanders had to find some way to get him off of the front lines, because the mere sight of his executions of Gibberlings in the field of battle was killing Imperial morale. He enjoyed every moment: the gutting, the cutting, the roaring, the laughing...
If he found the Gibberlings, he would certainly kill all of them. The City Council would drop the hammer on the prison staff. Captain Obadji's career would be finished.
Luckily, when First Sergeant Trask Orfin approached Obadji, Colonel Admonitor allowed him to speak briefly with his second-in-command with privacy. They took this opportunity to improvise a plan.
Obadji and Trask cleared the guards out of the top of a prison tower, and discussed the situation.
"I am unsure of what to do," the Yasskul sighed. "If I get the entire prison back to work, the Gibberlings will have to resume as well. The typical prisoners' presences in the quarry will draw attention to them, or somehow entice them to leave. If we send a soldier down there to inform them not to come out, the Colonel may notice the soldier. I trust you more than anyone else here, Sergeant. A working suggestion would be akin to Tensess's blessing right about now."
Trask's armor shifted as he shrugged, making a clunking. "What's wrong with him killing them?"
The Arisen scowled. "Remember the one time we forgot about the Gibberling in the interrogation room?" Trask shook his head. "He played jump rope with his intestines, Sergeant. In front of the other prisoners. Jump rope. That is incredibly extreme, even for us! Though, come to think of it, you were away on leave when that happened..."
"Yeah, but now I wish I wasn't," Trask laughed, but stopped when he saw his captain's angered expression. "Sorry, sir... I could sneak out, though. You could 'order' me to send a message out, and that will give me an excuse to sneak around back and hop the fence. I can sneak down and stay down there with the Gibberlings, to keep them quiet.
"And if he finds the hole? If he finds you in there with them?"
Trask thought for a moment. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."
Obadji sighed, and leaned against the tower's central support, arms crossed. "I don't like the sound of that, but it's the only plan we've got. Do it. I don't want command chewing me out over the loss of all of our most valuable prisoners. Oh, and one more thing: Be sure to remind them of the interrogation room incident. Be honest with them and let them know who they're dealing with here. They know him. They know his methods. That will keep them in line.
"The Gibberling's name was Solomon. Get to it, sergeant."
Trask was careful. He was a little bit afraid; going behind a Colonel's back about something like this went against everything he had ever stood for. Under the wrong circumstances, this could look like treason. He was doing this with the best of intentions of course, but he didn't think the Colonel would care much if he finds him hiding in a tunnel full of frightened, squealing Gibberlings.
He hopped the fence as planned, and hobbled down the quarry's wall, rock-to-rock. The Orc moved underneath some of the quarry's supports, keeping a careful eye out for the Colonel. Obadji had suggested that he'd follow the Colonel around as always, and his joints would change color from green to bright red so that Trask would be able to spot the approach more easily. It grew dark, so it was easier to see such things and to sneak around.
He found the dug-out emergency cave well enough in the darkness. The Gibberlings squealed as he walked in, and he shouted low at them. "Quiet, or I'll punt you into the Astral!" He growled now. "Believe it or not, I'm here to keep you alive, but the moment one of you screws this chance of a lifetime up, I'll make sure the last thing you see, before Purgatory, is Gopher Cannon turning you into a pancake."
They squeaked again as he made his threat, and then drew silent. Orfin reached toward a rock with an arm, drawing it near, and he sat his rump down on it, laying his hammer across a thigh. He stared into the crowd of scared Gibberlings, and spoke low once more. "The man who killed your friend Solomon in the interrogation room is here. He is the Admonitor; you might know him as Kahruvel. The moment he knows of your presence, he will swiftly exterminate and dismember each and every one of you. I can guarantee this. So shut up and stop squirming. If any of you disgusting mongrels so much as sneeze, I'll drag you out and offer you up to him, and that will be that!"
They quivered in silence, and Trask gazed at them, hammer in hand.
But regardless, Trask's heart sank in fear as he heard every single Gibberling squeal out in terror at the same moment, and then start screaming. A red glow was coming from behind Trask. He turned. The light was not coming from Obadji's joint lights, but rather the Xadaganian Colonel's glaring, blazing eyes, with scarlet light billowing forth from them in furious Xadaganian rage. The Orc wondered if his life might end in that moment, if he might be simply killed right then and there by the piercing gaze of the colonel's eyes. Would the colonel execute him?
No. Instead, Admonitor roared out, with Captain Obadji cowering behind him in fear (the first time he had ever been seen trembling in terror, Trask noted). "What, in the name of Yasker, is going on in this HERETIC-FILLED TUNNEL!?"
Trask tried to find the words, and could barely string them together. His plan had almost completely disappeared from his mind. He watched Admonitor reach down his throat and produce his blazing kukri. Suddenly, Trask blurted forth what would spare his life.
"These prisoners, sir! They were trying to... to collaboratively dig an escape! I caught them just in time... I spotted one run in here, sir... while walking out of the prison, sir! I spotted one, yes. He was climbing the perimeter fence trying to leave! He saw me, and then retreated back here!"
"And why haven't you yet SLAUGHTERED THE LOT OF THEM, SERGEANT?"
Trask faultered in terror, his mind grasping for straws; he thought immediately of the Colonel's vicious executions of Gibberlings in the past. "Sir. . ! I was trying to find the one who ran!"
"WHY?! They are all equally FRAGILE, SQUISHABLE, AND OTHERWISE GUILTY OF BEING AN ABOMINATION OF NATURE!" His kukri was raised, and his eyes were fire. Kahruvel stomped toward Trask, murder in his mind.
Trask came up with a last ditch response before he could be executed. "Sir! I wanted to make the other ones... rip him to shreds, themselves! To create an example!"
The colonel stopped short. His furious angry hatred turned into a wicked grin. His Kukri was still raised, but he relaxed slightly. "...... Very good, Sergeant. I am impressed." His kukri lowered. "Very well." His gaze turned to the gibberlings. You, rats. Yes, all of you. I want you to find the one who was trying to escape across the fence. I want you to shred him into tiny pieces, or I guarantee you that you will all suffer dearly. Eliminate him."
The crowd of Gibberlings, in the darkness, rustled around. Only the colonel could see the display, with his glowing eyes. Trask and Obadji traded glances for a moment, and they both knew the Gibberlings would ultimately refuse the task - there was no one to choose. After a few moments of nothing but noise, Kahruvel looked at Trask... and smiled cheerfully, placing a hand upon the orc's shoulder. "Very well. Sergeant Orfin, would you like to join me in a friendly competitive game of Gopherpunt up in the field, in the morning?"
Trask was dumbstruck, but he slowly began to nod, still catching his breath from his life being in danger a mere minute ago. "Yes sir. I would be honored, and delighted..." He hefted his hammer, and the trio walked out; a few guards remained posted outside to keep the Gibberlings in place...
For their fate at dawn.
Colonel Kahruvel, Captain Yasskul Obadji, and Sergeant Trask were quite chummy in the morning. They reclined together in the warden's office, with Kahruvel at the desk and Trask and Obadji sitting in the two chairs in front of it. The Arisen had already resigned himself to his fate. His career was over, but oh well. He had vodka. He desperately tried to forget the incident of the Gibberlingpunt game (as Kahruvel and Trask referred to it), and knew it was going to be a political storm. He was sure now that the Colonel would try to have the charges dismissed, but his hopes were low. Kahruvel was actually quite a nice guy, despite his... excentricities, and his extreme hate for Gibberlings was admirable despite causing so much political damage to the war effort.
"You know," Admonitor laughed, "Trask... you really have something special in that hammer of yours. And I'm not just talking about the tallymarks beside the Gibberlings. Fourteen kills is nothing compared to mine, mind you; I lost space on my rear for tattooed tallymarks many a decade ago. But the hammer's spirit, and your connection to it, is truly unique. You serve your Martyr well. And it's a real joy to be able to give a poor, wretched creature a slight moment of flight before the final finish, don't you think? I'd say it almost makes up for them being so disgustingly ugly that it urges every sane person in the vicinity to slaughter them in an instantaneous blur of fury. Wouldn't you agree?"
Trask nods, and laughs too. He was obviously enjoying this. He had, until now, been rarely able to exert his anger against Gibberlings en masse, even during usual prison breaks, as the Gibberlings are too weak to even consider facing the well trained prison guards. "I do agree, sir. I just wish we could end their suffering whenever we wanted to."
"Oh, but we can, Sergeant! We can!" The colonel exclaimed. "You see, I'm putting together a war movement, and I need your help. You'd be a perfect right hand man, and I know a good warrior and a good patriot when I see one."
Obadji tilted his head. "A war, sir?"
"Yes, a war. We may already be at war with the League, but there's an even more wild threat out there, one much more dangerous than the League as a whole. Elves and Kanians are bad enough, but even their existence in this prison or that yard is acceptable. But Gibberlings..? When I was but 17 years old, I once saw a Gibberling approach a young Orc child. The abomination scared the child so deeply that it forced him into a cardiac arrest. Luckily, a doctor was nearby and saved the eight year old's life. I hear that orc boy now refuses to leave his home. An orc! Can you believe it?!"
Trask and Obadji gazed, never having heard the story.
"Yes, my friends," the Colonel spoke. "Gibberlings are so filthy that they scare the youngest of children, even of orcs, into untimely deaths. This is why I am inviting First Sergeant Trask Orfin to join me in my quest-- No, my life's calling and mission, to face the Gibberling Threat. With hope, effort, and a little luck, we may be able to eliminate these foul beings from every corner of Sarnaut. They must be eliminated without a second thought, removed with extreme prejudice."
Colonel Kahruvel reached into Obadji's private reserve in the minifridge, a bottle of vodka producing itself. He popped the cork. "Let's drink, my friends - to our new, important war. In the name of Yasker, this Empire, and - Yasker forgive me - even for those poor League fools for having to put up with these monsters in their day-to-day. Here begins our greatest effort: Our Great Gibberling Genocide!"
Captain Obadji jumped at deafening sound of a Gibberling slamming against his window - some guards were playing Gibberlingpunt with Slovesh, the last remaining 'atypical prisoner'.
Join the G3 Movement today - It's easy! Just copy and paste the BBCode text below into your signature to signify your allegiance to Colonel Kahruvel's rightful quest to eliminate the Gibberling threat, and to signify your desire to crush Gibberlings on sight! Together, we can end this treachery.
Together, we can win the war, as one united Empire! Don't let us down, soldiers.
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