FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

From the desk of the General

Doubt Squad

Orcs are an interesting bunch; big, dumb, ugly, elf-like lumbering creatures in various shades of green with enormous muscles and very small brains. You can almost hear the hamsters on their squeaky wheels scampering in their heads as they process complicated orders such as 'hold your fire', or answering deep questions such as 'what you were thinking, you dumbass?'. They spend more time polishing their tusks than they do contemplating the meaning of life, not least because theirs are so short and action-packed. However, one thing that orcs are good at is believing the absurd; we all know the tales of them painting their tanks purple because it's stealthy - it must be because you've never seen a purple ninja, have you? This is the kind of crackpot logic that you're up against. An orc shouts: 'dakka dakka!' and an unloaded weapon will fire with deadly consequence. This is commonly known as Unified Belief, when many orcs believe that something is true - even if it flies in the face of universal laws of physics - it is true.

General Warlock likes having orcs in his army, on the whole; they are easily bribed with alcohol and shiny weapons to go into places more sensible races would not and their lax attitude to their own mortality means so-called 'suicide missions' are actively sought out by them because, in their own words: 'we'z goin' out wiv a bang, boys! This'll be a laff.'.

In the rare cases where the Kaos Army has to fight against other orcs it's a whole different kettle of fish. The enemy are equally as bonkers and bloodthirsty as they are, with the same crazy beliefs, fully prepared to die in a shower of bullets while shouting 'I'm a tank! I'm a tank!' which is all well and good except antitank missiles do exist. So, Anar has a strategy for this. General Warlock has a strategy for most things, as unlike the orcs he does actually like the idea of living into old age...

The sunburnt orc with the sign of the Fire Moon painted across its bare chest furrowed its broad brow and scratched at dirty trousers, "so... what you're sayin' is, the Death Machine don't go?" It didn't flinch as a loud explosion ripped up a chunk of landscape in the distance.

"That's right," the other orc who was wearing funny round pieces of glass over his eyes nodded, while tapping at a piece of paper he held in his clean hands, "you see, machines on the whole need a power source and what yours is missing is the actual engine, okay? If you study the diagram, here, you will notice that where the engine should be, you have actually put your portaloo. Without an engine, the wheels won't go round, if the wheels won't go round then it can't cross the battlefield to shoot anything with its lasers."

"Death rays," the Moon orc corrected with a snarl.

"Sorry, it won't be able to shoot its death rays. Your Death Machine will be quite useless. A sitting duck. Quite likely blown up in the first five minutes."

"But... it's da Death Machine..." the orc peered at the paper again, with its straight lines and tidy writing, a neat diagram of their armies most formidable contraption, though it now had a big, empty square at its base where the engine should be. He could see that it would, in fact, not go. "We still gots da flame frower," he argued, though his voice was not quite so resolute now.

"Made out of wood, is it? You do know that wood is itself flammable, don't you?"

The orc looked down at the ground and scuffed its bare feet. "Frows flame like anyfing, it does, I seen it, we cooked dinner wiv it last night."

The intelligent orc was patient; "you know that wood burns. You know the flamethrower will self-ignite if you use it."

"I... I... yeah. Yeah, I know about dat. Course I do. Everybody knows dat."

Adjusting his spectacles, the Kaos Army orc moved onto another target, a group of orcs in charge of Da Flyin' Rage - an aircraft held together by tree sap and a prayer, leaving the Moon orc to slowly absorb the knowledge it had been fed.

They were affectionately known as the Doubt Squad; an elite team of smart orcs who infiltrated (walked right in with a crate of lager) enemy orc lines equipped only with paper and pencil, ready to bring doubt and confusion wherever they trod, using clever illustrations along with mechanical and engineering know-how to convince enough foes that their weapons and machines were utter crap. Because they were. It was only the power of Unified Belief that made them a threat and when that was put in question, when the dumb orcs were put on the spot to justify their insane convictions regarding the effectiveness of using these things in war, it all came apart at the seams. Of course a purple tank wasn't stealthy; snooty high elves wore purple and you could see them buggers a mile off. Of course an empty gun wouldn't fire, that was why you had bullets in the first place. And a war machine with no engine and a flame thrower made of wood was a sitting duck. One that would eventually quack when the war horns blew.