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It was all well and good bringing orcs in from different tribes that were usually at war with one another when it was just an idea discussed inside the safety of the War Room, but it was a little trickier putting it into practise. No sooner had the pale, young orc men that War Boss Vandegraaz had given him from the caves set foot in the desert of the Lowlands, than the settled-in soldiers from the farming village raised an almighty fuss and had to be firmly swagger-sticked before they could start a fight with the new recruits. Corporal Rave was having none of it - they would be eating, drinking and fighting side by side, clothed in the same uniform and upholding the same values. He quickly moved on to giving them fresh orders before anyone could ask what values the Kaos Army had, exactly, as they hadn't quite decided that one yet.

"Coming along nicely," Anar remarked as he scanned the new buildings that had been erected in his absence.

"Yeah, some people are working hard around here," the velociraptor said with a tone, "unlike certain long-eared mammals. Swanning off making friends and having a jolly time."

Shaking his head with a faint smile, Anar didn't bite, "wouldn't want to get my nice new jacket dirty now, would I?" and he promptly left the sound of dinosaur spluttering behind him.

The Dragon was still tinkering with the console to the Warpways, scribbling portal co-ordinates down that were fantastically long, so as to include intricacies such as planet, time and dimension as well as the usual latitude and longitude. He lifted his long, scaly head and beckoned his General over with a wave, "I see you're doing well with the whole recruiting thing. I've got your Lieutenant bringing in some more skilled personnel from other worlds, just to speed things up here a little, you know, show our soldiers how to do things properly."

Anar's ears flicked, "oh yes? Proper qualified builders, that sort of thing? I noticed we've got a door on upside down, but I didn't want to say anything..." actually he did, but the Corporal had a bloody big stick, and he didn't.

"Exactly. Goodness knows we need them, one of the orcs managed to nail his ear to a wooden beam earlier, which reminds me; we need a medical wing and a proper team of doctors and nurses instead of a first aid box full of Smurf plasters. I'll have Lieutenant Rap on that next. So where are you off to now?"

"I'm off to the mess hall for a coffee, that's where." Anar saw a bony eye ridge lift behind the sunglasses, "but in answer to your question, I'm off to the swamps; this next bunch of orcs are going to be harder to reach. I think I'll take a tank, that should be fun. I might steal an orc from each faction while I'm at it, get them used to the idea of different orc tribes working together."

"You've no concerns that they'll fight amongst themselves and show you up?" He asked lightly.

"I've got concerns about lots of things, sir, but they'll behave if there's sweets in it for them."

The Dragon laughed and Anar really needed that cup of coffee so he nodded his farewell and walked into the main building where it was a reasonable temperature. The newly-hired kitchen staff had quickly learned that the funny grey guy with the long ears and black jacket didn't have to queue for food and was rather partial to a bacon sandwich, so they immediately scurried into action upon his entry through the cafeteria doors. These were a race known as skaven, large walking, talking rodents with round ears, twitching whiskery snouts and snaking pink tails. Rats, that's what they were, and they were in charge of the kitchen. Corporal Rave would launch into an enthusiastic rendition of UB-40's 'Rat in me kitchen' whenever he stood in line for food until Rap hushed him and Anar hadn't dared let his smile be seen in case it only encouraged him. The head cook had a name, of course he did, but they had fondly given him the nickname of 'Roland' after the furry puppet character of the same name back on Earth television in their youth. Roland had been a good sport and changed his name badge on his chef's whites, even though he had absolutely no clue what the officers were on about. All he knew was, he had a sudden popularity and a decent wage. Skaven were not known to have either, as a rule.

"Roland! Hey, how's it hanging?"

"General, sir, good to see you," he squeaked with a fair attempt at a salute, "it's hanging fine. Bacon sandwich?" it was phrased as a question, but the menu item was pushed forwards under the officer's snout in anticipation of a positive response.

"Nice! I'm going to get fat, eating these all day. Oh well," Anar shrugged. It would only be a matter of time until the gym was up and running and he would be expected to keep in shape. Ugh. He wasn't built for exercise, the only things he'd ever run from were hard work and responsibility. He'd tried some of Rap's yoga once and managed to bruise his nuts after inadvertently doing the splits. The small raptor had been very impressed at first and then just about pissed himself when Anar had hit a high note. Goodness only knew what carnage he was capable of with actual weights. Still, being in charge meant leading by example didn't it, and his days of unlimited bacon sandwiches were numbered so he may as well enjoy them while they lasted.

As soon as he had finished his coffee that he had wrestled from the incompetent machine lurking in the corner, the mess hall filled up with Corporal Rave's orcs hungrily clutching trays and loudly wondering what was on the menu today. It was all Earth fayre and watching a species accustomed to eating spit-roasted pig on a stick try to tackle spaghetti bolognese was quite the experience.

Rave followed behind but skipped the food line to be served immediately. He spied Anar and scowled again, "are you still loafing around? Some General you are! We've been sweating buckets out there. Bit of hard work would do you good you know, keep that gut of yours in check."

All eyes were on him. Orcs may be slow, but they knew when someone was being insulted and they knew what their tribe leaders would do if it was them being spoken to like that.

Anar stood up with his plate and mug in hand and tidied them away on the trolley. He didn't speak a word, he simply approached the rude dinosaur and hissed very quietly, "I am sick of your shit, Rave. Don't stand there trying to tell me you've worked up a fucking sweat when all you've done is stand around shouting orders, I'm perfectly aware that you haven't lifted a finger to do one sodding thing around here so you"- with a movement as fast as lightning he snatched Rave's precious swagger stick out of his grip and brought it crashing down on his dark green head with an audible 'crack!' -"can do one. And never speak to me like that again!"

Rave clutched his head and swore before picking his torture implement up off the floor grumpily. He swivelled round on his men who had found all of that very entertaining, "who's laughing? I'll wipe those smiles off your faces..."

As soon as they had a few competent soldiers in their ranks, Rave would be finding himself in a windowless room filing paperwork, Anar vowed. The big green git had it coming!

Now he just needed two semi sensible Privates and a tank. He wondered how Rap was getting on with those skilled craftsmen. It would be worth checking in on him before heading off to the swamp, the orcs under his command were guaranteed to be far more competent than Rave's bunch of misfits.

The small velociraptor was having a grand old time nipping in and out of portals, bringing in builders, carpenters, mechanics, weapons experts and medical personnel for their shiny new army. They all turned up looking very confused until The Dragon chatted to them, pulling his sunglasses down and smiling that damned smile of his. Then they were all nods and compliance.

Anar's stomach pitched. You couldn't trust a dragon! He'd been a bloody idiot, hadn't he? How many times had he been manipulated and wasn't even aware of it? Come to think of it, there had been a whole thing in the Underworld involving a dragon, hadn't there? But he couldn't remember any of it. Of course he couldn't! The Dragon had him wrapped around his little talon. He pulled down those sunglasses and did goodness knows what and you just accepted it.

He strode over, seething, "you were there in Hell!" he roared, pointing a grey finger at the scaly creature rudely. "You wrote on my return papers and sent me here! It was you! You're the whole reason we didn't get home! And don't think of doing the sunglasses thing with me again, pal, I'm onto you!"

Spreading his claws open apologetically, his boss dropped the smile and tried to speak in between the aardvark's ranting. He took a breath until he'd finished. "It's true," he admitted.

Anar swore, bunching up his fists. He'd never thumped a dragon but there was a first time for everything!

"Please, allow me to explain..." he backed away, wisely.

"Explain?! I'm at the arse-end of the universe trying to put together an army of monsters with all the military knowledge of a handful of movies and TV shows! When I should be on Earth learning how to be a Warlock!"

The Dragon's gaze softened, "but don't you see, Anarchy, you are learning how to be a Warlock. You think it's all about magic, but there's so much more to it than that. Your family once held positions of power throughout the worlds and it was I who put them there. Every war, every conflict, there was a Warlock behind the scenes running the show. I've waited all these hundreds of years while your bloodline was stagnant, working quietly in that stuffy office in the Underworld waiting for you, waiting until we could start all over again. And here we are. I have my General Warlock back where he belongs, and this time I'm not going to make the same mistakes as before. I promise you. This time we'll do it right. Together. I told you that I thought that you could be a great man, and I meant it. All you have to do is let me command your every move, and you can conquer whole galaxies..."