Gelek wakes as he has every day for the last decade, to the sound of a fight outside. Today, at least, they are camped in the aptly named Badlands, and he was able to claim the second largest cave for his sole use, so he was woken by a proper scrap over brunch rather than the ambient hum of recreational violence that greenskins seem to live for. 

That's good. If they had woken him sooner, he'd need to find someone to make an example of.

He has a pounding headache. The last time he drank from the small sour creeks of the Badlands he couldn't keep any food down for three days (what a waste), so hydration will mean goblin beer. He struggles to remember which brewers both can be trusted not to lace the stuff with hallucinogens and who haven't died at some point in the decade he's spent working with the current Waagh (Waagh Bigmaw, he thinks? Unless Bigmaw died and it's someone else now. He saw the guy at the last battle, he thinks.). He rolls the idea around in his head as he gathers his cloak (human cloth, so it's really more of a scarf pinned in place by wyvernbone clips) around himself, and resolves to try and find the big golden moon that indicates where Gitmal has set up his brewery. 

He stands up, or at least as much as he can inside this cave.