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Much to Anar's disappointment, Vandergraaz did not have particularly interesting hands. They were neither incredibly mighty nor amusingly small. The name Thunderfist had likely been earned in another way. He didn't have much time to contemplate on this, however, as he was stressing about the very good possibility of being eaten by a pedigree warg.

The War Boss of the Nargelect - tribe of cave-dwelling pale orcs, sat on a throne hewn from the surrounding rock, and had two of their large wolves either side of him. They weren't collared or chained like Fido would be back home. They were incredibly well behaved and didn't howl or yap or bolt out towards the nervous aardvarkian guest.

These orcs as a race, were of slightly smaller build than the ones he had met at the village, though they still had the pointed elf-like ears and the jutting tusks from their bottom lips. As for their intellect, well, he was going to find out soon enough.

Anar's guide had led him to his revered chief, who held council in a large fire-lit cavern, and they had exchanged pleasantries with respectful bows and token smiles. His eyes kept slipping to the wargs though, and Anar hoped, really hoped, that the orc he had spoken to had been winding him up about the whole combat thing.

"You admire our treasured wargs, General?' Vandergraaz asked with a smile, reaching out a pale hand to a fluffy ear and petting it, fondly.

Anar gulped, "admire... sure. I have magical pets, too," he added bravely, hoping that might count as Brownie points.

The war Boss frowned.

'Ok, maybe not', Anar thought.

"We do not meddle with magic. It is against nature. You will not use

it here."

Holding his hands out placatingly, Anar assured him that no, he had no intention of using any magic. He didn't mention that he couldn't even if he wanted to. That might sound too much like a weakness of sorts.

"Our wargs are our strength, General. Unlike those other tribes-," 'other' here was almost spat, "-we do not use metal implements in battle. We use nature's allies. In return, they are rewarded with the flesh of the fallen and a dry, comfortable bed. It is a working relationship we have had here for many generations."

Once again, Anar was reminded of early human cave-dwellers back on Earth who had domesticated the wolf with the same sort of idea. Until the wolves had evolved and domesticated themselves. Wolves had provided much-needed protection for the overgrown monkeys, and were rewarded with comfort. Then at some point, millions of years ago, some of those wolves had branched off and evolved into walking, talking dog-people. Scholars still argued over it all to this day, how only some had anthropomorphised and others had not, keeping their ancient forms. It wasn't just wolves, neither, as Anar's far distant animal ancestors - much, much further back than General Warlock - had all been small snuffly African land mammals that burrowed about snaffling up termites. They didn't have to worry about being pally with warring factions, lucky sods.

"But anyway, on to the business of the day! The Dragon has asked us to listen to your proposition. So, let us hear it. What do you want from us and what can you offer in return?"

This time, Anar wasn't feeling so confident. If these orcs weren't into weapons, then he had to really hope they liked shiny things instead. And was having big wolves running about an army base going to be a good idea? But he had his orders, and the War Boss hadn't mentioned anything about testing him yet. Fingers crossed. He slung The bag - or should he start referring to it as The Backpack? - off his lapelled shoulders, and showed Vandergraaz Thunderfist what the Kaos Army was all about. No weapons demonstrations today, though.

The War Boss was, as predicted, not too sure what to make of the rifle and laser-blaster when presented to him, but he was very interested in the tiny, glittering, shiny stones that had come from a nebula cloud at the far edge of the universe. Anar attempted to explain about the Trans-Dimensional-Warpways without using the 'm' word that this particular tribe had such a dislike for. Gems from space did sound pretty rad.

Vandergraaz let them tumble between his fingers and his eyes lit up keenly. "I do like precious stones. They have a natural beauty that is unmatched. The Dragon, though, uses a lot of magic, does he not?"

"These haven't been conjured using any sort of sorcery, if that's what you're worried about. The Dragon collected these himself from a cloud of dust, far out in space, that will some-day be a star in your sky, using the Warpways - not magic."

"Hmm. Good. A long time ago, my people's ancestors were treated badly by magic-users. They promised wonderful things, but all they did was bind them to their bidding. That was when the Nargelect teamed up with the enemies maltreated hunting wolves, and they all escaped here, to live a life far away from the threat of sorcery."

"That explains a lot," Anar said aloud. "The Dragon is a being of fantastic magical ability, but, we are building this army from the ground up. There's no arm-waving and - poof !- stuff just happens. No. We have soldiers building, crafting, training, making... "

The war Boss sat back, the sparkling gems still curled in his average fist and he set his shoulders back. "I could give you some of my young men. I am aware that these caves are not exciting enough for them and they wish for adventures in far-away lands. It would be good for them to have the feel of the sun on their backs and smell the tang of blood in the air - some of them barely get up before nightfall, lazy things. However, in order to prove yourself a leader worthy of their following, there is a little test for you to endure..."

Shit. His mouth went dry, but he spoke anyway, "I have to defeat a warg?" his stomach knotted. He regretted the extra bacon sandwich for breakfast.

The war boss was delighted, "yes! Astounding! How did you guess? Come, to the pit! You will show us your mettle."

From either side, two burly orc guards swept in and held Anar's upper arms in a way that told him resistance was futile. He made a grab for The Backpack and his trusty blinding torch which he'd clicked off earlier, and graciously allowed them to lead him away.

Once more Anar found himself in front of an audience. The rest of the tribe were seated above him on smooth, carved steps. It was like an underground gladiatorial theatre. And he was in it. So, this was a fine situation to find himself in! He'd have to bring down one of their precious giant wolves, but not actually kill it, as that would really upset his hosts. And he'd have to do it without being turned into a squeaky chew toy in the process. Fighting was fine, on the whole; he'd clonked Alexis Crowley about the head more times than he could count back in Hell, and during his studies at Infernal Holy College too. Rave had been given a few thumps for his insults. On the flip side, he'd taken a fair few punches himself. It was par for the course in a good scrap. But how did you hit an animal that had six inches of fur protecting it?

He had to formulate a strategy, and swiftly!

He'd pull some sort of tasty beef jerky from The Backpack to throw and distract the mangy beast, that was step one.

He would then use the ridiculously super-bright torch to blind it, that was step two.

Then there was the bear spray. It must work on wolves. If it could bring down bears then it would absolutely bring a wolf to submission. Once the audience heard it whimper and saw it paw at itself in clear pain, they would have no choice but to declare him successful, that was the final step of his three-step plan.

Wait 'til the guys hear about this, it's gonna sound so badass! He was almost pumped up now with adrenaline. Bring it! General Warlock's first victory! He could have 'Defeater of wargs' on his resume.

Vandergraaz help up a perfectly normal hand and a hush fell about the dimly-lit subterranean space. A grate at the far end of the pit slid open with a metallic creak, and Anar immediately took a wide-footed stance, flexing his fingers, ready to hurl tasty jerky and pick up the torch. Beyond the rusty bars came a smell of damp fur, and his long ears could hear growls and howls that would be drifting through from buried tunnels. His enemy approached.

One long, steady breath before he sprang into action. The grate slid closed again. Anar blinked. Ok, maybe the warg was shy and needed some prompting before it attacked. They'd try again. Yes?

He looked to Vandergraaz who was grinning, amused beyond measure. "Defeat the warg, General. Do what you must to bring it to submission."

"Well I would but..." he was going to say it wasn't there until a little yip got his attention and he whipped his head around. A small fluffy bundle was tumbling over itself by the grate. A pair of big, bright eyes shone from the gloom and a stubby tail wagged. "What the...?"

They'd put a puppy in the arena! A round, cuddly warg puppy.

Anar reached for his torch but hesitated. This wasn't on!

"I'll tell you now, General, no-one has ever successfully completed this test. All participants have yielded." He patted the huge, maned wolves either side of him as a reminder that this could always be worse.

Well yeah of course they bloody yielded, who's going to punch a puppy? He flicked out his leg but couldn't bring himself to kick it, neither. This was a really unfair trial!

The little warg declared war on his shoelace and pounced with a tiny snarl. It fell back with a soft thump onto its fluffy, tailed bottom after giving the evil cotton boot-string a chew.

"Why don't you use one of your wonderful war weapons?" The War Boss taunted.

"If I kill it, I'll be dog dinner!" Anar protested.

The orc nodded, "true. And you cannot use magic, neither. What will you do, General? Will you yield?"

Bets were being taken amongst the onlookers. They were expecting him to surrender. A few rebels pointed to the puppy and made throttling motions, as though hinting he could make the puppy pass out by suffocating it, but that was monstrous too! The little mini warg sat and looked at him sadly, and started yowling.

Anar sat down on the hard, uncomfortable floor of the arena, and let it climb into his lap. This was a ridiculous thing he was being subjected to, but he'd almost gotten used to chaos by now; you just had to do crazy stuff back. He pulled The Backpack - The Rucksack, maybe? That might sound better - towards him and pulled out a squeaky rubber chicken. The puppy launched at it, biting and tossing it side to side as it made the most awful noises in that way only squeaky rubber chickens can. It sat in-between the aardvark officer's legs, bringing the shrill dog toy to yield and Anar looked up to the orcs who were now all awwww-ing and ahhh-ing.

Vandergraaz folded his arms, a pleased expression on his face.

The dreadful plastic screaming subsided and his new little friend stretched and gave an almighty yawn, curling its pink tongue and baring its teeny pointy teeth. With a flop, it promptly fell asleep.

A thunderous clap began and Vandergraaz roared with delight, "incredible! You're the first guest to bring one of our wargs to heel. Well done! Well played! I thought you were going to kick her for a moment there, and that wouldn't have gone down well, but you found a peaceful solution. I really am impressed."

Holding the sleeping warglet in one arm, and his possessions dangling from another, Anar passed through the now open gate that lead back up the steps to everyone else and accepted his congratulations with many nods and 'thank you's. This wasn't quite going to be the amazing daring story that he would have liked to be able to tell Rap and Rave back at base, but he was in one piece, and he had acquired more orc soldiers for the Kaos Army so that counted for something.