They were warlike and crude. The only things that seemed to interest them were fighting, fighting, and more fighting.
At first, the Greenskins obeyed their Spellcaster's commands. But as time passed, their combative instincts crowded out what little sense they had. They began ignoring orders and even turning on their master.
Yet Greenskins also competed and cooperated with one another. They fought to choose the strongest among them as their Chief, then followed the Chief's orders to go fight. They fought outsiders and other Greenskins alike. The victor became the new Chief of both Greenskin Tribes.
If they weren't fighting, they were on their way to a fight.
That wasn't even the worst part. If Greenskins could only be created through Forbidden Divine Arts, things would still be manageable. After all, Druids were few, and Avengers were rarer still.
But Greenskins were living creatures... which meant they could produce more Greenskins themselves.
Back when Annan had worked as a waiter at the little tavern in Pinglin Town, the breeze had brought him news of the Greenskins.
Now these Greenskin Orcs, as strong as Orcs, more numerous than Brown-Skinned Orcs, and liable to charge off to war yelling "Waaagh!" at the slightest provocation, were gradually becoming a new threat to the Southlands.
Many lords thought the Greenskins would drive the Ratfolk away.
Others worried the Ratfolk would leave only to be replaced by Greenskins.
Those people weren't pessimists. The real pessimists thought the Ratfolk would stay and the Greenskins would arrive anyway.
"Can you talk to Greenskins?" Annan asked with interest, not worried in the slightest.
The Greenskins lived only in the Southlands. The freezing Northern Frontier offered them no place to survive. Hadn't the McKennan Ratfolk spent their two years here holed up in the Northern Frontier?
Serana said Greenskins