‘You’re… a hrukni-faced little monster in a crown made of mushrooms,’ snarled Borik. ‘I spit on you and your ugly damned moon.’

The crack of his cheekbone breaking echoed through the chamber. Borik’s head jolted sideways with the blow, the ringing in his head redoubling. Skragrott hefted his skull staff, now spattered with Borik’s blood. He looked as though he were contemplating another blow. Instead, he allowed his leer to resurface.

‘I got business here, stunty,’ he said. ‘I’m doin’ the Bad Moon’s bidding, and I can’t be leavin’ nuffin’ to chance. You might just be some nobody, but you got a lot of guns and gear if dat’s true. Me, I reckon yooz a messenger or something, tryin’ to run off and get help. Tryin’ to spoil fings before the real fun begins. Well, lucky you, I got some time to spare. Da Loonshrine ain’t proper carved yet, and ’til it is we can’t do our ritual. So dat means my ladz get to run rampant for a while and ’ave some fun. And meanwhile, I get to ’ave some fun of my own, wiv you.’

‘Keen on the sound of your own voice, aren’t you?’ said Borik with a grimace. He tongued a loose tooth and winced. Blood trickled down his chin. ‘Why are you doing all this anyway?’

The grot king threw back his head and shrieked with laughter. The lunatic mirth cut off as suddenly as it began, and Borik noted with alarm that the other grots had backed away further. Clearly, this was a recognised sign of Skragrott’s patience wearing thin.

‘You think I’m some stupid little grot chief, gonna try to impress you by gabbin’ all my plans out just so yooz can run off wiv wot’s in my brainbox and tell your mates?’ asked Skragrott. He leaned in again, and this time Borik felt the crackle of barely suppressed power. The Loonking locked eyes with him, and it felt to Borik as though he teetered on the brink of some terrible precipice, powerless to pull himself back from the edge.

‘I’m the Bad Moon’s will made manifest,’ hissed Skragrott, his eyes glowing fiercely. ‘I’m malice, and I’m spite, and I’m cruelty and cunnin’. I’m da one that’s worthy, and soon enough I’m going to be the one everyone calls Master. But not before I find out what’s… in… your… skull…’ He punctuated each word with a smart rap of the bloodied skull between Borik’s eyes. The blows were sharp and painful, sending sharp jolts through Borik’s brain.