After years of affordable living in the wild places of the Realms, not even the Beasts of Chaos have proven immune to market forces. The rising costs of building materials have put forested areas at a premium, forcing herds to downsize purely to keep the rent affordable.
“Used to be we’d hunt along acres upon acres of these woods,” mused local Beastlord Gorn Gruffhorn. “Now we’re down to a clearing we have to share with a local farmer’s gryphcow herd.”
The crunch has not all been bad news for the Beasts, as necessity has again proved the mother of invention. To evade probing landlords all members of the herds have now mastered the ability of vanishing into the undergrowth, appearing only when they are needed. The Cygor have also been pushed to pull their weight and get a real job, joining Chaotic seminaries to train as priests.
Shock and dismay amongst the forces of Chaos this past week as the Tzaangor, previously a force shared both by the Disciples of Tzeentch and the Beasts of Chaos, abandon their previous flexibility and set up shop firmly in the Tzeentchian camp.
“We understand the Great Deceiver to be unpredictable, but this really gets our goat,” claimed a local Beastlord affected by the change. “They might be half Tzaan, but don’t forget they’re also half Gor!”
The finest Bray-Lawyers that the Greatfrays have to offer have been assigned the task of keeping the valued Tzaangor, but their lack of literacy has proven to be a significant hurdle. Efforts to bring the legal battle into the arena of headbutts have so far failed to yield any results.
The motivations of the Tzaangor remain a mystery, but rumours of significant stocks of cheese soon to be revealed by the Disciples of Tzeentch are the most likely culprit. Whether the tasty treat will be shared with the converts remains uncertain, with previous allotments previously being monopolised by daemons.
Today marks the annual Proclamation of the Coming Beastening, a regular event put on by local beastman Merinok the Prophet. Every year the aging Gor stands upon his rock on the border of town, and vows the impending victory of beast-kind.
“You shoe-wearers’ days are numbered!” wheezed Merinok, leaning heavily on his club. “The Brayherds are rising, just you wait!”
Commentators have advised onlookers to take these doomsayings with a grain of salt, pointing out that Merinok has been saying this for years without much success. One particularly omniscient seer was able to peer into alternate realities, and revealed that even in other dimensions beastmen have tended to receive a low estimation from their opponents.
Sadly it seems Merinok’s days of prophecy are numbered, with the elderly gor hanging onto life by a thread. Rumours indicate that his health is such that the only food he is able to consume is soup, a suggestion furiously refused by the Beastman.
Followers of the Prophet may have reason to hope however, as news filters through the Realms of the victories of a herd of Bullgors in the Vega Plains. Upon hearing the news Merinok was able to launch into a second lengthy diatribe, wowing the town’s inhabitants but reportedly not impressing the other Beastmen, who have apparently heard it all before.