Part the second.

Rumours of the wealth of Nome started to spread, and it wasn’t long before word of the new city reached the Province of Tuskanii, up north, which wasn’t a good thing...

The Tuskan War Office, wot was the only govenmint wot they had, decided that, because the rumours told of  some wealth, and because their favourite “holiday”€¯ destination Spagbologna seemed to have disappeared, they should arrange a “friendly”€¯ visit to Nome, which was an even worserer thing...

They decided to send a small diplomatic delegation of 500 of their biggest Ur-Ooks to  have some diplomatic negoshiashuns with the city of Nome in typical  Tuskan fashion. This would include taking with them the big maces,  swords and spears, and as an afterthought some catapults and onagers for target practice along the way, and which was the worstest thing that could be.

Romcedes got word of the imminent visit from a passing Gnome merchant before he died of being taxed, and this news sent him greener than a bileful Goblin.

Romcedes knew all about the Ur-Ooks, having been about a bit. He knew that the Tuskas were big and vicious, strong and cruel, and the toughest breed of Orc-kind in the  known world. The Tuskas claimed descent from the very first tribe of  Orcs, the Ur-Tuskans who had inhabited the whole area senteries senturies - a long time ago, and he knew they were trouble.

There wasn’t no panic among the sitizens of Nome, there wasn’t no wailing in the streets, nor did any of the populashun dig holes and bury their valuables, grandparents and children, and the suggestion that the River Khyber was dammed with the stuff that ran down the legs of the Nomans is a vile untruth!

The Orcs who had joined the city from  Spagbologna advised Romcedes to deal with the Tuskas in the traditional  Spagbolognasian manner, wot was to run away to the hills as fast as you can and then wait until they’ve gone, then wait a bit more to be safe,  and then come back and rebuild the city and bury those that didn’t make it out in time. Many of the Nomans agreed with them that this was a very good idea, until someone, there is always that someone, pointed out that the city was built on the very hills wot the Spagbols used to run away to, and there wasn’t nowhere else.

Romcedes hadn’t survived all these years, the trials and tribulations, the gallons of Grappla, oh and his brother of course, without developing cunning, guile, quick wits, and a cold-blooded ruthless streak.

He went to the oracle of the she-wolf to make offerings, think a bit, and get dead drunk on  Grappla wot is a particularly potent local spirit brewed from the waste left over during the fertilizer making process. The great Romcedes did achieve Paralytia, and in this blissful state he did have many visions€¯! But once he got past the giant green rats and the groping hands coming out of the wall it wos given unto him to see how he could defeat the  Ur-Ooks with the help of the itinirentā€¦Itirinantā€¦ roving Skirtan sailors who were to be found in the bottom parts of the city wherever they  could find them.

Romcedes called for 100 enormous barrels to be filled with all of the Grappla that could be found in the city and he  had them placed on the road outside the city gates. He had a round up of all the Skirtan sailors who wos ashore, and these he placed in gaily  dressed pavilions, with manicure, hairdressing and gym facilities under the “protection”€¯ of a small guard nearby. The small guard’s name wos Morreese and he enjoyed the work. Romcedes did summon all of the  Spagbolognaisians wot was good at drawing, provided them with parchments and crayons, hid them near the Grappla and sat back to await the Ur-Ook horde.

The Tuskan Diplomatic Mishun duly arrived and predictably fell upon the Grappla. No tale is told of wot happened next, save that  the Ur-Ooks got pished, and those Nomans living near to the city walls  on that side told of hearing Skirtan squeals and screams.

It is  recorded that some days later, Romcedes met with the Ur-Ook Captain Rockcedes and his Priest Soulcedes. Long did they talk, and deep were  their words, wot we don’t know wot they were on account of Romcedes never said. But after these discushuns, and the passing of some coloured-in parchments to the Captain, he and his Priest left, and took their bloodshot-eyed soldiers back North, their marching gait a little more bow-legged than normal.

The very next morning Romcedes  ordered new barracks to be built, to house 2000 Ur-Ooks, together with some housing for officers. He decreed that extensions should be built for the Grappla distillery to enable an increase of two hundred percent  in production. He then called for the Noman harbour to be enlarged and facilities to be installed to cater for 300 ships and their crews, and  he sent his diplomats to discuss giving new and advantageous trade terms to the Skirtans.

There was a boom and a bustle in the city. New “With-a-Spoon”€¯ Grappla Bars opened; Mucky Donald and his mates started a chain of “Unlucky Fried Dwarf”€¯ snack bars; the two Skirtans; Markie and his friend Spencer set up to provide “chainmail for the discerning Orc” Tusko’s and Lidaldi started a price-war that Wallmartyred won by paying for their price cuts by charging their staff for coming to work. It was the eco-gnomics of Boom and Bustle and the Nomans loved it.

Like unto the vomit of a giant, Nome’s sprawling shanty suburbs spread out into the surrounding countryside, absorbing other Orcish villages and tribes and not conkering them like wot some have said.

The  city walls had to be constantly rebuilt to akomidite... acommodite...¦ make enough room for the growing city until some bright spark suggested making the walls in sections made out of Papier-Mache, so that they could be just picked up and moved every time a new bit got added.


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