|Battle Report for Muvvers's Rooin|
|The fog hung thick over the sludge river Shame as the motley crew slithered and crawled their way through the hive debris; buildings lay in ruins and great, rusting buttresses flew into the air above, further than the weak, lizardine eyes of the scavvies could comprehend.|
"Hmmm," sniffed Mother, "Smelz lyk peyook."
"Wot iss this playc, Muvver?" asked Slippr'y Whyppt, his long, fleshy tentacle drawing patterns in the rubble at his webbed feet.
"This iss the Watery Loo, peccal. Ooh luk, zumbis." Mother pointed to the five shuffling, plagued corpses which had emerged from the gloom, drawn by the smell of the wretched gang.
"Warty hoo, muvver?"
"Naw, Watery Loo, werr ovver muvver dyyd."
"Anuvver muvver, muvver? Ow many muvvers is ther?" replied Slippr'y, looking as perturbed as his horrendously scaborous face could.
"Muvver, kwikkly!" hissed Cankerwyrm, scrabbling on all fours back up the hill of broken machinery and collapsed buidings where Mother stood, "No edds in gaggles."
"Bladdy bawdly guntts," spat Mother, "Ee'll shew 'em baggers, innit Throx? Babbies, sprid owt and cross dem bridges, ruff up dem no edds."
Like lightning, the band splintered into three, diving behind the shambling screen of Emperor-forsaken undead which offered them cover. The two massive Scalies scrambled up the ruins of an old factory complex, flanked by the silent twins. Mother grabbed her mutant sons and rushed up to the decrepit toll bridge which swung wantonly in the cool breeze above the river which was clearing the fog. In the middle of these two horrendous groupings, Lunefaced Jak clicked his long horrific claw and scuttled off to the river banks with the white faced Hoodoo slinking behind, his great sword pulled out behind his back.
The filthy rabble pushed forward, but a great, grumbling roar ruined their surprise assualt.
"Yu stoopid gyt," spat Mother, clocking Spyttle Fyngers on the back of his head with the butt of her autogun, the three-armed freak stumbled and tripped.
"Itt wont me muvver, it werr dem zumbis."
It was too late, the Delaques had seen the gang by now and opened fire, dropping three of the zombies to the floor. Sylent Nyyt slipped into the cool, rank water of the sludge river and waded across, his ragged skirt slowing him down. He peeled off shot after shot with his trusty autopistol and downed a young fool from Clan D'Estine who had wandered out too close to the gang, impetuous to a fault.
In revenge, the Delaques shot back, and in fury at the unholy sight swarming towards them, the elder Delaque pulled out a flame-thrower, forcing the mutants now on the rotten toll bridge to duck, catching Mother as she jumped from the top of the bridge.
"Ow yoo bawld guntt!" shouted Mother, clutching her arm, "that bladdy urt!"
Seeing Mother's distress, one of the massive Scalies dropped three storeys to the ground and bellowing in fury, pulled a huge spear from a noose on his back; mustering all his strength, the great beast roared and threw the vicious device straight at the eldest of their opponents. With unnerving accuracy for such a clumsy creature, the spear struck true, finding rest through the forehead of the Delaque leader, denying him the dignity of even dropping him to the floor, instead pinning him to a grey rockcrete wall, stone dead.
The Delaque could stand no more and fled into the night. Mother stood, having put out the fire that had caught her skirts and screamed a blood-chilling curse into the sky,
"Wee iss gon kill ewe all, man-thyngs! Run! Gow tell yor babbies att Muvver iss com to eet yer eeys! Ahahahahahahaha!!!"