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Zograt – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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Zograt

Andy Clark

Zograt couldn’t see a thing. Or at least, much to his frustration, nothing useful. Stuck at the rear of a jostling scrum, he had a view of Moonclan grots’ backs, a mass of tatty black robes, a forest of pointed hoods and ears, the odd brandished slitta or pokin’ spear and little else. Zograt was small for a grot, his stringy limbs and narrow chest products of long malnourishment. In Moonclan society his weakness marked him out as a runt and, in turn, made Zograt a magnet for bullying, spite and casual cruelty. It was why his nose was an oft-broken mess, why one of his legs was twisted so badly that he walked with a painful limp. It also meant he was too short and weedy to see a squig’s worth of anything from here.

‘Zog dis,’ he snarled, straining to catch a glimpse over the heads of the mob, or to hear through their jabbering clamour. ‘Ain’t goin’ to find out nuffin’.’

Beside him, Driggz shrugged.

‘Prob’ly nuffin’ interestin’ anyways, it’s only Skram ’avin’ a boast, ain’t it?’

Slightly bigger than Zograt, Driggz was the only grot who intentionally spent any time in his company. Zograt reckoned this was mostly a question of survival instinct. By hanging around Zograt, Driggz ensured he looked bigger and meaner by comparison, and so the tribe chose to pick on the runt over him. Still, when the cave dried out you ate whatever ’shrooms grew, as the old saying went, and being cleverer than Driggz, Zograt was able to hold his own in their peculiar not-quite-friendship.

Now, he squinted at Driggz, then at a clump of huge grey troggbonce fungi that grew like puffy boulders nearby.

‘’Elp me get up on dem,’ he said.

‘Wot for? Why yoo care wot’s goin’ on anyway?’

Zograt jabbed Driggz in the chest.

‘Cos if it’s sumfin’ bad, an’ we know about it before it ’appens, we can make sure it don’t ’appen to us!’

Driggz spat and looked truculent.

‘Why can’t I go up on da ’shroomz?’

Zograt shot another glance towards the front of the mob. It wasn’t often Skram Badstabba called everygrot up to Da Big Cave, where the bosses of Badwater Drop made their lairs. Zograt was convinced that whatever Skram had to say, it was important, and he was missing it because he was too short and Driggz was sulking. He considered slinking around the side of the gathered grots to get a better angle. Yet he knew from bitter experience that if he caught the notice of the bigger ladz they would inflict some manner of violence on him and he’d never find out anything. Worse, the commotion might catch Skram’s notice. And of all the greenskins in Badwater Drop, none enjoyed bullying Zograt more than Skram.

Something wriggled in a pocket of Zograt’s threadbare robe. He grinned as he remembered the spiders. There were three in there, fat and juicy. He’d plucked off enough legs that they couldn’t get away, then stashed them for when he next got really hungry.

‘Got two fat leggiez in me pocket, Driggzy,’ he said, reasoning there was no sense in bartering away his entire lunch. ‘Shove me up on dem ’shroomz an’ I’ll give ya both when I get back down.’

‘I could just take ’em,’ said Driggz, but Zograt could hear his heart wasn’t in it. Driggz had little stomach for bullying. He feared he’d get bitten or shivved in the process. And besides, he did consider Zograt to be his mate.

Sort of.

Sometimes.

‘Fine. Git,’ said Zograt, already limping over to the troggbonces. ‘I’ll give ya one leggy now and anuvver one when I gets back down. How’s dat?’

Driggz scowled as he thought hard about that, then gave up and hastened after Zograt.

One unlucky spider and a bit of shoving and cursing later, Zograt found himself hoisted atop the biggest of the troggbonce ’shrooms. He wobbled, feeling as though the bloated fungus might burst under his feet. From this vantage point, Zograt had a better view of Da Big Cave – the lumpen and glistening pillars where stalactites and stalagmites drooled into one another; the outcroppings of glowy Morkeyez, whose bioluminescence threw weird shadows; the boss-huts chucked together from the best scrap, shiny rocks and battlefield trophies the tribe could loot, all festooned with ’shrooms and crawling with bugs.

All these were just peripheral details, however. Zograt’s attention was fixed on the front of the gathering, where Skram strutted about, haranguing his tribe. The Loonboss was big and brawny. He had once managed to slay a full-grown orruk – so tribe scuttlebutt had it – and claimed from it the hefty cleaver he now wore at his belt. His black hood was almost as tall as Zograt, pierced with bones and fetishes that made Skram look all the more imposing. A loonstone amulet hung about his neck, carved in a crude approximation of the Bad Moon’s likeness and glowing fitfully.

Skram wasn’t alone, Zograt saw. Clustered behind him were the freakish figures of his Gobbapalooza, doing their best to look mysterious and threatening. Skram’s favoured grot boss, Nuffgunk Manstrangle, stood near them, expression sour, a brass gong in one hand and a ragged Bad Moon banner in the other. Old Spurk the shaman leaned on his gnarled staff beside Nuffgunk and chewed something that made foamy spittle drool down his chin.

What could be so important as to see all the tribe’s leaders dragged together for this spectacle? Zograt wondered. It wasn’t just a raid, or Skram wouldn’t have bothered with such theatre. Frustrated at his fellows’ inability to shut up and listen, he strained to hear over the jeers, arguments, chattering and spiteful cackles. If he was in charge, he thought, he’d make them all shut their stupid gobs.

As though he’d read Zograt’s mind, Skram grabbed the gong from Nuffgunk and belaboured it with the handle of his cleaver.

‘Shut yer zoggin’ yabber-’oles or I’m gunna start knockin’ off ’eadz!’

Silence fell. Zograt was grudgingly impressed. He wished, not for the first time, that he possessed Skram’s imposing presence.

‘Wouldn’t be da runt den, would I?’ he muttered.

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A Black Library Publication

This eBook edition published in 2023 by Black Library, Games Workshop Ltd, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.

Represented by: Games Workshop Limited – Irish branch, Unit 3, Lower Liffey Street, Dublin 1, D01 K199, Ireland.

Produced by Games Workshop in Nottingham.
Cover illustration by Henrik Rosenborg.

Zograt © Copyright Games Workshop Limited 2023. Zograt, GW, Games Workshop, Black Library, Warhammer, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Stormcast Eternals, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world.
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ISBN: 978-1-80407-519-7

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