Grimtoof da Unksnagga slammed into the back wall of a muddy hut. He grunted as he shook off the effects. His heavy armor whined as he shoved away from it and leapt at his young adversary. The hulking ork, nearly twice his size, grabbed his head with a mighty powerfist and threw him beyond. Grimtoof was given a momentary rush of speed and vertigo. A grin crawled across his countenance just before his head crashed through the wall of the mekboy's shop.
Dakka-Bolt Lug'ead was inside, tinkering with his new project. he finished pounding a delicate whirly bit into place when Grimtoof's head came through his concrete structure. Dakka-Bolt glanced up and squinted at Grimtoof as his bionic eye adjusted. When it focused, Dakka-Bolt recognized his warboss and smiled a toothy grin, "Er, hiya Grimtoof."
Grimtoof burbled quietly and drooled in response. Suddenly, his head was yanked from the wall leaving a crumbling hole. Dakka shrugged and went back to tightening a flash bit onto his Shokk Attak Gun while his gretchin assistants moved a stack of boltgun crates in front of the new window.
Outside, the new Warlord Gargrazz Da Oomie Busta' hefted Grimtoof up by the bionic leg. Grimtoof babbled with orky pleasure from the giddy feeling of dizziness he got from hanging upside down. Gargrazz cocked his head sideways at the illegible ork, "Yer had enuff yet, Grimtoof?"
Grimtoof fibbled again and let out a hefty amount of spittle in the affirmative. Gargrazz smiled and plopped him down on his head, "Dere now, ya see? I funk I could talk yers inta joinin' me warband. Grotsnik, help me mate here see wot you can do wit his thinky bitz ter straighten 'im out."
Doc Grotsnik suddenly lurched forward on his cybernetic body and buzzed in response. The orks standing around him cleared a path as soon as they learned they were in the presence of "Mad" Doc Grotsnik. Grotsnik ambled forward on his surgically implanted cyboar body. A random boar paw clawed stiffly at the ground. His smile cracked a big toothy grin as he hefted a large chainsword in his crusted fist. His other hand dug mindlessly in his hip bag for the largest needle he owned.
Grimtoof was just shaking off his dizziness as Gargrazz ambled off to tend to other bitz of the small ork town. With bleary vision, Grimtoof saw the approaching Grotsnik, he mumbled almost audibly, "Err... do it again mate..."
Grotsnik pressed the stud on his chainsword and smiled even broader, "Where'z yer hurty bitz, sir?"
Grimtoof, finally, shaking off the last bit of vertigo, focused on the whirring chainsword. His eyes snapped to the gaping maw of Grotsnik's toothy grin. He immediately backpedaled on his hands and dragged himself backwards right into a stone wall. He gave a nervous smile as Grotsnik slowly closed in on him. "Er, Hiyuh Grotsnik," he murmured, "I'm feelin' a bit better. Dat won' be necessary."
Grotsnik tsked in response and twitched an eye. It rolled back into his sloping forehead and shot back into place when he slapped his steel cranium with his third artificial arm, "Now, yer know I can't just let yer get up'n leave after takin' a nasty bit'a hurt like dat. Dat'd be 'gainst me hippocritik oaf. Dis won't take long."
The chainsword descended and Grimtoof, for the first time in his orkoid life, winced.
Gargrazz looked over his assembled mob. The boyz all waited for their new warlord to speak. Gargrazz knew the importance of the dramatik paws, so he had been silent in mid-sentance for over three hours now. A gretchin attendant yawned and Gargrazz shot him a sideways glance. The little grtchin suddenly froze, mid yawn, and stuffed a small squig into his mouth. He chewed dilligently on the succulent morsel. Gretchin, the smaller, distant, cousins of the orks, were good for little else than hunting for squigs and clobbering upside the head when one was thinking.
Gargrazz decided that the boyz had had ample opportunity to let his words soak into their unusually dense skulls. He opened his mouth to speak. He was interrupted by a low hum coming from over the horizon to the West. A gruff ork from the Blood-Axe clan, in disgustingly Oomie-type camouflage, came bounding up behind him. Gargrazz whirled around and hefted his powerfist to deal with this interruption. The panting ork skidded to a halt, just out of powerfist range, and snapped a sharp salute. Gargrazz rolled his eyes and whomped the ork upside the head for treating him like an Oomie Nob. The ork pinwheeled forward into the dirt. "Wot'z dis 'ere interruption all'bout?"
The ork spit out a mouthful of dirt as he regained his feet, "A Deafwing Gunship is 'proaching, Sir. We fink dey's got a big army wif dem."
Gargrazz smiled. Being a bigboss in Grimtoof's army, he knew the history of this planet. He was aware of the many years of altercations and skirmishes that Grimtoof had held with these Mork-forsaken Oomies. That is the primary reason he had stepped into his boots. It was time to wipe this little planet, Trimidea, clean of Oomies and their like.
"Bring me da Warphead."
Two burly boyz from the bad moon clan immediately chraged off to find the Weirdboy Warphead. Meanwhile, Gargrazz set to formulating "Da Plan". Usually, Da Plan involved charging headfirst into battle. A good scrap always involved charging headfirst into something. Sometimes, however, it wasn't your own head. But this time, Gargrazz had the notion that this attack might be a little different. That was why he had called on the Weirdboy. He planned on finding out what these Oomies had in mind. He scratched the plate in his head absently while Da Boyz patiently waited. Ork patience implies figiting and scratching. Some loaded bolters, others sharpend axes on their leather tough arms. Finally, four Bad Moons enetered the town square that Gargrazz dominated the middle of. They had with them a sedated old ork. He limply dragged a copper staff behind him as the four minders carried him along. When they were a few yards in front of Gargrazz, they ploped the old ork down on the ground and slapped him. The ork barely moved. Gargrazz frowned. One of the minders weakly smiled, "Ee's 'ad a busy season, boss."
Gargrazz strode up to the limp weirdboy and lifted him by the shoulders. The oddboy merely sagged from his own weight. Gargrazz could feel a small static charge build up in his arms. Weirdboys were always a lightning rod for weird powers and magiks. Gargrazz gave him a little shake and frowned even deeper. He dropped the Weirdboy to the ground and turned around in a frustrated huff. He signaled Kaptin "Flashgit" badrukk and his ork mechanic, Dakka, to his side. He cast a slightly miffed glance at the limp weirdboy, laying face down in the dirt. One of the minderz nudged him with his foot. "Get yer boyz in line, we'z gonna' have a good scrap."
Badrukk grinned and Dakka jumped up and down while he clapped. He had dozens of new bangy bitz to try out. Badrukk took Gargrazz' hand and pumed it, "Pleasure to do bizness wit'cha, boss."
Gargrazz smiled and was about to respond when a large explosion thundered about a kilometer off. Immediately, the warphead jerked up three feet into the air. His eyes bulged and his temples flared. Arcs of miniature lightning flew out in all directions from his body and struck the closest orks to him. They reacted with alarm as the grizzled old ork let fly with a monstrous belch. His body wracked with spasms and he shot forward about six feet and crashed into the dirt. He propped himself up on his arms and wearily dry-heaved an enormous mass of plasma and energy. The coalescing mass moved forward slowly away from the warphead. Boyz scattered to get out of the way of the energy wave as it slowly crawled by them. The mass moved straight through the brewery and beyond, out of sight of the company.
The ork then collapsed in a heap. Spent from the wave of death he had just released. The four minders who were responsible for him ran up and hefted him up, carrying him like a battering ram. They ran to their strategic position on the battlefield where the highest concentration of orks were-- where he could subconsciously draw on the most power. Ork Weirdboyz were channels for orky power. When a battle got into full swing, most weirdboys were overwhelmed and naturally shot out bursts of pure orky power from assorted orifices. Many ork warbands had learned to harness and focus these magic bouts of flatulence then use them against their foes. As the ork minders hurried off with the elderly ork, he baegan to regain consciousness. He whimpered as he futiley struggled against the grip of the four minders.
Another explosion ripped through the trees again. Crackling could be heard and orky chants of "Ere we go! Ere we go!" drifted up from the unseen skirmish. Without a word or order from Gargrazz, the mob of boyz and gretchin lurched forward into the pitch. Gargrazz bellowed an enormous, "Waaaaugh!" and leapt forward at breakneck pace. Dakka bolted off to his workshop with a runtherd and snotlings in tow.
Gargrazz tore along the edge of the battlefield. He could see the dispersed points of his mob come together. Teams of gretchin dragged out the mekboy'z new inventions. Among them was a large missle, nearly the size of himself, being shoved into place by two grunting gretchin. Their little bodies shoved against the weight of the missle and they inched it into place. Another crew of gretchin were nimbly pulling the tight arm of a squig catapult down and loading it with a buzzing clay pot of voracious buzzer squigs.
Gargrazz bellowed another "Waaugh!" as he saw the mighty steel beast, called the Gobsmasha, thunder forward into a small copse of brush and bramble. Two lurching , robot dreadnoughts of Grotsnik and Dakka's creation jerked forward. The cramped ork drivers randomly swinging the heavy armament placements in all sorts of different directions. Occasionally, a heavy bolter would pepper the tree line as the driver belted a chorus of, "Orf We Go Inter Da Scrap Wit' Mighty Gork Stompin' Da Flashy Bitz Outta Da Oomies." It was one of Gargrazz' favorite jingles, and he found himself humming it as he raced towards the group of disorganized Deathskullz.
The Deathskullz were careless in setting up their position. It was bad enough that they didn't like getting stuck in with the rest of the boyz, but they could at least lay down some covering fire. He wondered why Badrukk hadn't seen to them. He'll soon find out why, and deal with things accordingly. Hopefully, it meant he would get a chance to bash some heads.
A slim, toothed, grin cracked on Gargrazz' mug as a half squad of tactical space marines broke from the tree line. With less than a half thought devoted to the Deathskulls, Gargrazz pivoted on one boot and broke straight into the five marines. A few bolter rounds pinged off his armor and one lodged somwhere in a vent and exploded. Gargrazz felt bitz tear into his flesh from the damage. In just seconds, the microscopic medisquigs that coursed through the suit had patched his flesh with a fungus paste.
Slamming headfirst into the squad, with teleskopic legs screaming, Gargrazz sent one of the marines sprawling backwards into one of his own. With a sring and a snap, five sharp spikes sprung from his arm and impaled themselves in the head of the closest marine. Triggering his syringe squig, a fast dose of "Doc's Speshul" was injected into his veins, and Gargrazz' powerfist found its prey with a blue-green crackle and a spray of ceramite shrapnel and blood-red gore.
With an enormously dexterous spin, he clocked the next marine under the chin with the butt of his plasma gun. The marine fell in an unconscious heap.
The last two marines had untangled themselves and brought their bolters to bear on the massive warboss. Gargrazz, unthinking in his blood-red hatred, dove on the two with fists flailing. Both bolters fired, one into Gargrazz, the other, inadvertently, into the leg of another marine. Gargrazz grinned off the wound and charged his powerfist. After pulping the the two, Gargrazz remembered his Deathskulls and bolted off to the bunker they were holed up in.
Badskab Rotgut hefted his missle launcher. He rested the weapon on his shoulder and scanned the horizon. The weapon weighed almost nothing because his mega armor took most of the weight. he disliked being kept back out of the battle with these ungainly weapons, but unfortunately, he and his squad of Bad Moon Nobz were the only ones Dakka trusted with his heavy machinery.
A stray squig scurried by. Rotgut dropped his gun with a crunch and snapped the squig up. It was a fat, ripe eatin' squig. It splorched as he grabbed it with his hamfist. The squig squirmed for a moment before he popped it into his mouth. The nob chewed away at it as he brought the weapon up to his targeter eyepiece. The magnification instantly brought the trees closer to him. Rotgut, startled, dropped the weapon from his eye and looked at the viewfinder from the side. "What'z wrong, Gut?" asked his partner, Snaggawort.
Gut looked up at his partner and pointed to the view finder, "Da shrubby stickz snuck up on me in da eye hole!"
Snaggawort chortled, "Naw. Dakka put doze bitz on so's we can see dem like we'ze closer to da fight."
Gut smiled. "Aw, dat Dakka is a real mate."
Gut put the viewfinder back up to his eyepiece and the zoom lens whirred into place. He noted the Space Marine emblem tattooed on the side of the viewing screen. Maybe Dakka's not so great after all. He's using Oomie technology. Gut shrugged it off and filed the complaint away into the grey matter files of his soupy brain, "We'll have a scrap about it later," he said to himself.
Meanwhile, he panned across the tree tops, waiting for something Oomie to poke its fleshy pink head up over the horizon. Suddenly, an enormous floating box-like shape hummed up over the treeline. Birds and wild buzzer squigs scattered in a dozen different directions. With his new zoomie bit Gut could see an enormous Deathwing Space Marine Corp icon bolted to the front of the gunship. He smiled to himself, it made a nice target. The boyz in his command had already taken aim and were launching volleys of missile shells at the hovering beast. A few had bounced off the hard kevlar armor. One tore off a plasma weapons mount on the side, and yet another put a nice, neat hole through a wing. Damaging it little, however. Gut grinned and presed the firing stud on his missle launcher. The missile bolt shot out of the launcher and trailed away towards the gunship. Gut flung an enormous, "Waugh!" to the great gods Gork and Mork as the missle approached the gunship. The ship's large battle cannon, mounted on top, slowly swung around to face the small group of Bad Moon Nobs. The missle closed and slammed into its target.
At first, nothing happened. Rotgut harrumphed to himself. Then suddenly, the ship expanded and strained against an internal explosion. Finally , the ship exploded into a gigantic fireball. Pieces of metal tore away from the explosion in hundreds of tiny trajectories. The shock wave from the explosion nudged Rotgut and he squinted into the firey explosion.
Snagga elbowed him and winked, "Nice shot, Gut."
The battle momentarily stopped as all combatants on each side took in the enormous explosion. The giant, ominous figurehead of the gunship was no longer hovering over the battlefield. Gargrazz smiled as he watched shards rain down over the woods. He then redoubled his efforts to reach the deathskulls as he heard the roar of engines on his left. The Evil Sunz Mob had finally gotten their warbikes primed and they were charging, full-throttle into the center of the battlefield. leave it to the Evil Sunz clan of boyz to make a loud mess of the battlefield. Their souped-up warbikes and tricked-out cycles roared and gunned over small hills and knolls.
A gunshot sounded. Gargrazz whirled and saw the sound had come from Nafflug's battlewagon. It had backfired as it ripped across the open battlefield towards the direction of the gunship's wreckage. Hordes of gibbering, yammering gretchin crawled all over each other to stay on the wildly bouncing vehicle as it raced towards the battle. A high falsetto "Ere we go! Ere we go!" chant came from the speeding vehicle. Ya gotta' hand it to runts, they may be small an' dumb, but they sure do like to fight.
Gargrazz chuckled as he watched the procession of skarboyz scramble to catch up with Mad Doc Grotsnik. He had the look in his eye. The one that told Gargrazz that he was on another one of his experimental drugs again. The skarboyz, his hesitant entourage, huffed and puffed to catch up with the psychotic painboy. He was charging forward, at breakneck pace, shouting, "Shooty! Shooty! Dakka-dakka-dakka!"
Gargrazz sidestepped a ravenous cyboar that charged by in front of him. The pack raced towards a group of Space Marine bikers who had just emegrged from the cover of the trees. Their erratic patterns and complicated maneuvers were lost on the blood-thirsty boarboyz, who raced straight for the bikers with axes hefted. The closest boar boy muttered a, "Scuze me, boss." as he depressed the injection button on his cyboar.
Steam shot out from the side of the boar as it popped a wheelie on its rear cybernetic wheel attachment, spraying dirt and debris. The mounted boy shouted a garbled "Wauuurgh!" as he suddenly shot forward at deadly speed. Gargrazz paused to watch the boy get up on his stirrups and heft a two-handed poweraxe into a Space Marine's helmet. The marine slumped forward on his bike and careened into one of his companions. The two bikes tangled and slammed into a tree.
At that instant, a hail of bullets tore over a small hill and riddled the boarboyz mob with bullets. An enormous Oomie dreadnought lurched over the hilly rise, missile pods opened and dumped a streaming rain of rockets on the Deathskull's battle bunker. Deathskulls scattered and ducked behind bits of cover. Gargrazz always admired the efficiency of the Oomie Assault Kannon and Missile Launcher. Many of his boys fell to the onslaught. A few went unscathed or sustained minor enough wounds that allowed them to maintain their mounts and positions.
Gargrazz surveyed the damage on the bunker. He saw the mob of Deathskull boyz take up positions inside and around the bunker. Now they were cowering inside a building! A few occasional blasts erupted from inside the bunker and shot out through vision slits, only to land in random places around the battlefield hitting little, if anything.
A rag-tag, blue-faced ork, cowering behind a bunker support, popped a shot off at a Space marine Hover Bike that had just floated into the clearing. Its flamer doused the area
with molten death. The scrappy ork's gun gave a rapid fire burst of three shells that went whistling towards their intended target. One shell bounced off the body of the bike. Another implanted itself in the head of the bike's driver. The third went stray, The driver of the hover vehicle leaned forward in his seat and the bike slowly arced in a small semi-circle. The gunner tried to jump clear of the vehicle before it connected with a large rock on the top of the hill. He screamed as he was engulfed in the explosion before hitting the firmament.
Gargrazz guffawed as he halted in his tracks, "Har, har! Dat'z me boyz!" Satisfied with their attempts, Gargrazz looked beyond to see how the mob of Badruckk's Flash Git Pirates were faring.
The mob was clustered around an enormous body of Oomie armor. Gargrazz recalled back to his conversation with a Blood Axe Kommander about a powerful suit of Oomie armor and instantly recognized this to be what they called "Terminatin' Armor". Gargrazz also knew that Oomies didn't give this stuff away to just anybody. It was only given to the nobs and warlords of the Oomie mobs. Folds of ork Pirates swarmed the behemoth. They battered at him with their plethora of wargear. Nothing even dented the shell of the giant, steaming beast. The large Oomie lifted an arm and brought the other down and pointed at a group of Space marines. A blue glow encircled them and built slowly.
Gargrazz felt a familiar tingle at the back of his neck-- magick!
Most orks aren't as keen on the movements of wierdboyz and magicks. He could recognize an Oomie Librarian wherever he may be. He checked quickly to see if the Weirdboy Warphead was anywhere in sight. Ork warpheads, though lacking the presence of mind of a Librarian, were more than capable of reducing them to gibbering wrecks by overloading them with Orkoid warp energy-- usually on accident. Control is not a warphead's strong suit.
Unfortunately, there was only the roar of the Evil Sunz mob and the snarl of the boarboyz. He felt a strange tug at his chest. Something stirred inside him. Mork and Gork didn't like Oomies taht much. They liked Oomies that dabbled in magick even less. He could sense the stirring of their combined wrath building inside of him. He was confident that this was the place, here and now, to prove to the great gods, Gork and Mork, to call on his Waugh.
Gargrazz swelled where he stood and raised his powerfist in the air. His chest heaved and the ground rumbled slightly. Gargrazz, with a deep breath, roared.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, the Space Marine Commander Morgan was overseeing the weapons support battery within their own captured bunker. He discussed his plans for his Space Marine attack force with his secondary Librarian, "There are six positions that the Emperor has deemed necessary to occupy. The first is this stronghold that we're currently in. The second and third, are these two seperate groups of trees."
Morgan shifted the weight of his jump pack as he indicated the remaining points, "We also need to occupy these four areas here. One of which is the ammo dump. I've been given reports that it is occupied only by a small squad of gretchin. We'll send over our remaining speeder to wipe this area clean of their existence with the Emperor's wrath. I..."
The Commander was cut off by a roar that penetrated his very mind, "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!".
The psyker librarian, new to the call of the Waugh, stumbled momentarily, "What, in the Emperor's name, was that?"
The Commander's shoulders dropped slightly, "Shit."
Things were not going well for Nozteef Warphead. He was constantly being assaulted by waves of orky energy from the warp. All this orkish activity and fighting made him very sensitive to the way all of his molecules bounced around inside his body. He hated fighting. He hated scraps. He hated the very mention of a boltgun or chainsword. He struggled against the grip of the four minders whose job it was to keep him right were he didn't want to be. Occaisionaly, when he would jerk and spasm with ork energy, the four would turn and aim him at a desired target, preparing for whatever burst of ork energy launched forward.
Nozteef was weary. He'd been through three weeks of this now. He never got a chance to hole himself up in his secluded warphead tower, surrounded by his massive stone pillars of copper and iron, away from the grumblings of ork civilization. All he really wanted was the chance to sit down with his pet squig, Squishy Bitz, and mull over the possibility of catching a butterfly.
He felt the familiar tug of his charges angling him in the proper direction again. He could feel his innards turn circles again. His ears popped with static and his fingers tightened. With a giant spasm, his mind tried to reach out and grab a stray Space marine inside a giant, lurching vehicle in the distance. Fortunately for him, the power drained before it could reach him. Nozteef relaxed and drooled.
After a moment, however, there was niggling. Then there was a tug. Then there was a downright pull at his spinal chord. Nozteef's neck muscles tightened into a rictus of pain and his eyes screwed shut. The minders stirred uncomfortably. They dreaded when new powers came to the forefront. Nozteef's body loosed with no ill-effects. He breathed a weary sigh.
Then they all heard it, the Waugh.
The ork's minds flooded with orky power. Nozteef's even more so. They all felt an inner strength build up their insides. They were all washed with the giddy, euphoric feeling of their first battle. Nozteef felt enormous power rise up out of his neck and coalesce over what the Oomies called a "Razorback". He almost heard the ork minders' gasps as a gigantic, ecto-plasmic foot came down out of the sky and land on the vehicle.
The orks cheered and whooped as the towering form of Mork danced on the battlefield. Huge, crashing footsteps tore up the forests and glades as space marines and boarboyz scattered. A giant footfall landed smack in the middle of the Razorback. Explosions tore through the gun turret as it popped off in a tremendous arc and landed thirty feet away. The vehicle buckled under the weight of the foot and mechanical innards shot in all directions. What remained was a charred and smoky hull, folded in half, through the middle.
Nozteef opened his eyes to see the remains of the vehicle and the image of Mork coalesce into vapor. One of the minders gave him a polite pat on the head. "Did yer do dat, Nozteef?"
The warphead went limp in their arms. The material world drained away before his eyes. He looked deep into the swirling colors of dark and light within the etherial warp. His aura glowed like a massive beacon. A few miles?... feet? ...inches? ...away, Nozteef saw an enormous shape lumber towards him.
Nozteef had seen demons before, but he didn't believe in them. They were the fancy of those Chaos beasties that the orks every once in a while had to face. The demons usually ignored him, but this one had some interest in Nozteef...
In the material world, the warphead struggled and gibbered in a half dazed manner. The minders looked at each other questioningly, not sure what was going on. Then, suddenly, the body of the warphead was pulled out of their firm grips and into a shimmerig hole floating before them. When the weirdboy's feet had disappeared into the hole, it sealed up and closed with a thunder clap.
The minders gazed silently at what once was a shimmering hole. Now, nothing more than a few swirling protons of plasma. One looked over at his companion and cracked him across the skull, "See?! Ya broke 'im, Durshak!"
A flash-git Pirate from Badrukk's mob lumbered up to Gargrazz. His bionic bit dangled limply from his arm. Gargrazz recognized the squig attak arm and the gaping gash across the pirate's chest. The tear had gouted large amounts of green ichor, but it had quickly sealed and clotted. Orks are naturally tough fighters.
The ork closed his bionic cage attachment meant for containing a ravenous squig that was released in combat. He spoke up, "Uh, hey boss. I've jus' come ta' give yer a report on da' battle."
Gargrazz flexed his power claw still reveling in the glory of his new Waugh, "Yer?"
"We'z been scrappin' wit a big green Oomie whut been givun' us some trouble. We wuz caught orff guard 'cause one o' dem skinny Oomies, da... ur... 'Ass-ass-kickin', I fink dey calls'em, attacked us," the scruffy pirate guffawed, "Haw haw! But us n' Badrukk are givin' 'im a scrap to fink about!"
"Yer, and what uv der Sunz' boyz?"
"Dey been cut down to one. Dat'z Grubgut. E' took a las-shooty blast to da kop an grinned it orf. 'Is 'elmut is a bit crispy-bitzed though."
Once again, Gargrazz smiled at the physical resiliance of the ork metabolism, "Un da' Gobsmasha?"
"Yer, dat'z gone too. Summfink made it go up in bitz n' pieces," the ork danced in place for a second, "Boom! Dakka dakka dakka! Har har! Kinda' like da big floaty 'ulk in da skies!"
The scrappy pirate then gave Gargrazz a questioning glance, "Did yer see Mork, boss?"
Gargrazz smiled, pleased with the fact that the boyz finally got a chance to see one of the Great Gods, "Yer, I saw'um."
"Yer, wol' dat 'Azorback wot' ee' danced on?"
"Yer?"
"Wol', itz gutz opened up 'an out came a couple of floaty Oomies. Ya know, like der stormboyz jumppacks?"
"Yer?"
"Wol', da snakebite boarboyz? Dey came an gave a good scrappin' to 'em. Dey was cut down ta'... um... wot'z more'n one?"
"T'ree."
The boy smiled, "Tanks boss. Dey was cut down ta' t'ree."
"Good. So's we're winnun?"
"Um... yar, boss. Yar, I fink so."
Zodgry elbowed a fellow gretchin next to him. "Oy, get yer stinkin' autogun out me rib!"
The offending gretchin withdrew his gun and stuck his tounge out at Zodgry. Zodgry balled up a small green fist and shook it at the rascal, "I'll show yer! Yer jus' wait til' da scrap is done!"
The battlewagon they were all in, bounced again as it went over some rough terrain. The horde of gretchin, all clambering over each other, were thrown a few feet into the air out of the shell of the wagon's bed. Most landed back in with a thump. Others were thrown out. Those that were thrown clear hit the ground running and scrambled to get back into the racing battlewagon. One was flung up to the banner pole that waved above the vehicle. He grabbed desperately to the hem of the banner, fearful of being dropped into the workings of the motor that roared, coughed, and sputtered below him.
Zodgry rubbed an elbow that had been bumped on the landing. He always had dozens of hurty-bitz after the scrap and gretchin didn't heal as fast as their orky masters. After the next pot hole the vehicle careened around the corner of an ork building and the vehicle slowed. That could mean only one thing, it was time to get off.
The mass of gretchin clambered to get out as Nafflug, the ork driver and owner of the battle wagon, bellowed their orders, "Awright runtz! Dis is where ya get off! Da ammo dump is right on da other side of da brewery! Get to it! An' don' let der Oomies git dey're pinky mitz on'it!"
The vehicle slowed to a mere ten miles per hour and the gretchin all jumped for their lives. Zodgry ducked into a little ball and rolled fifteen feet to break his fall. His blunderbuss clattered around and whonked him on the head. He stood himself up and shook off the ill effects as he watched Nufflug give a whoop and peel off to the other side of the battlefield. Now safely away from the boss-ork, many of the gretchin took it upon themselves to chide and insult the ork with rude gestures and remarks behind his back. Zodgry felt the lump on his head from where the blunderbuss hit him. Hurty-bit number two.
The mass of gretchin fell in line behind Nakiri, the leader, and they started their charge towards the ammo dump. Zodgry ran as fast as his little gretchin legs could carry him. He dragged his blunderbuss in one hand and carried a small dagger between his teeth like he saw an ork do once in battle. When the gretchin renewed their chant of "Ere we go!", Zodgry dropped the blade from his mouth on accident. He stopped to pick up the fallen weapon and got kicked by another passing gretchin. Zodgry yelped and tumbled a few feet. That would make a few more hurty bitz. He hasn't even seen one Beekie yet.
As Zodgry peeled himself up and started to make his way back to the group, he heard a soft hum behind him. Nothing in the ork arsenal made a "soft hum" everything was loud and caucauphonous. He turned to see a hovering vehicle about twenty feet off the ground come hovering around the corner of some trees. Zodgry's eyes widened in terror. He broke out into a dead run, holding the gun with both hands.
He soon broke into the crowd of shuffling gretchin and he screamed at the top of his tiny lungs, "Oomies! Floaty Oomies! Run!"
The mass of gretchin increased their efforts to reach cover on the other side of the brewery hillock. A few sturdy gretchin turned and aimed their autoguns at the swiftly appraching vehicle. The few potshots that were made merely glanced off of the armour of the space marine driver and gunner. Zodgry maintained his pace and dove over the low levy that contained the small pond at the base of the brewery's waterfall. He tripped when trying to clear some brambles and fell face first into the pond.
Zodgry lost all sense of direction momentarily and thrashed around under water for a moment. He finally found some purchase and shoved with his feet. When he broke the surface, he peered straight into the pilot end of a heavy flamer mounted on the space marine vehicle. It hovered a mere fifteen feet off. The weapon was priming itself to fire.
Zodgry took a deep breath and ducked under water. He was just in time to feel the scorching wash of napalm death roar over the surface of the water. The water instantly heated to a near boil and Zodgry panicked. He was stuck under water because the surface was aflame with floating napalm. He quickly started backpeddling underwater to a space with no fire above him. He wasn't worried about air too much. Gretchin were capable of holding their breath for long periods of time. He'd spent years mucking about in the squig drops hunting for squigs underwater to serve as delicacies for his ork masters.
Finally, Zodgry found a hole. He scrambled up in mock-dog-paddle and broke the surface. Flames roared around him, but he could see. Several cries from the burning gretchin rose up around him. He brought his soaked blunderbuss closer to his chest. Then he heard the familliar hum and whipped around. The hover vehicle was floating almost above him, the gunner had spotted him and was taking aim with his boltgun. Zodgry brought his arms up futily to block the shell. He screwed his eyes up tight as the barrel drew a bead on him.
The shot never came. A lascannon beam connected with the body of the vehicle and sent it spinning. Zodgry ducked under water and swam for shore.
He came up at the opposite end of the pond and saw his savior. The gigantic ork dreadnought towered over him. It's heavy bolter weapon was thudding away at the hover vehicle while the missle launcher belched forth a missle rokkit. The rokkit impacted with a massive explosion, however, the vehicle's armor absorbed the shot. The driver wrenched away at the controls as he fought to regain stability. The machine lurched to the right, then shifted left. It finally spun in a graceful arc and sped off back towards the cover of the trees.
The dreadnought driver gave an electric, "Waugh! Dakka dakka dakka!" as it fired its heavy bolter into the air. The few remaining gretchin ran to the dread and scurried over the ammo dump with newfound vigor thanks to the safety of their mechanical ally.
Zodgry, however, collapsed in a heap on the muddy bank of the pond. It wasn't long before he was out cold.
When Zodgry awoke, he found himself sunk into the murky bank. A pond squig had crawled up onto his back and was basking in the sun. Zodgry shook off the effects of fatigue and glanced around. He was alone. The ammo was gone. The dreadnought was gone. There wasn't even a gretchin, ork, or even snotling to be seen. His heart pounded. He was alone. He was left to fend for himself.
Had they won? If so, where was the ammo? If the orks had lost, he wasn't safe. He had to find a hiding place. He hurriedly rinsed off the brackish filth and shook the water out of his blunderbuss. The squig had crawled over to the charred remains of the gretchin that poked him in the battlewagon. Zodgry gave a stiff upper lip and strode back into the ork town proper.
When he arrived at the town square, he found a huge mass of orks cheering and shouting. He couldn't make out what was going on, but it didn't look like defeat. Then again, orks never really had defeats. Just wins where they came out behind. Numbers of gretchin and snotlings played amongst the feet of the orks and Zodgry even recognized a few of those from his own mob. As he started towards the mass, he noticed a lone solitary ork sitting near the squig drop. He sat with one arm around his legs, which were brought close to his chest, and the other rubbing a shiny new steel plate hammered into his cranium.
When Zodgry got closer, he recognized the ork to be his old warboss, Grimtoof. He was currently rubbing the fixy-bitz that Mad Doc Grotsnik had installed into his hurty-parts. Zodgry always liked Grimtoof and almost felt sorry for him. Close encounters with painboys can sometimes be psychologically bad for the mood. Zodgry hefted a small squig that was crawling by and carried it over to Grimtoof. Grimtoof looked up at the small gretchin and burbled, "Me 'ead 'urtz."
Zodgry just smiled and offered the squig to Grimtoof. Grimtoof gave a lopsided grin and accepted the squig. When he ate it, static sparked from his ear tips. Zodgry got the feeling that he gets at the back of his neck whenever he gets too close to the weirdboy. He backed up and stared at Grimtoof, who was happily munching away at the squig. When Grimtoof paused to scratch his nether regions, a static charge jolted him up. He loooked around to see what caused it. Finding nothing, he sat back down.
Zodgry turned with a sideways glance to Grimtoof and worked his way back to the crowd of orks.
Still watching Grimtoof, Zodgry bumped into a large ork. He turned quickly and stammered, "Urm... sorry, boss..."
"Zodgry! Where ya been!? Da vict'ry celebration's unner way!"
Zodgry was then hoisted up into the air and dangled in front of his runtherd master, Nafskum Zodgit. Zodgry stammered, "Wot's wrong wit' Grimtoof, boss?"
"Oh, 'ees da new Weirdboy. Grotsnik did somefink odd to 'is thinky-bitz."
EPILOGUE-
Nozteef drifted. The demon had had his fun. Weirdboyz were usually immune to the antics of demons in the warp, but sometimes they were able to drag a weirdboy completely into the etherial world. Nozteef now had nothing to do but wait. Wait for eternity.
The occasional demon would sometimes break the monotony, but very few would sit down to have a conversation. Occasionally, he'd see the enormous rips in the warp that the Shok Attak Gun would create. One hole would open up, showing a small glimpse of the material world, then another would open up a few feet away. Then a shimmering transparent tube would extend from one to the other. After that, it was only a manner of moments before a horde of snotlings would go gibbering through.
Nozteef would always sigh with the memory of the material world. There was no such thing as etherial butterflies.
Nozteef suddenly heard a muffled thunderbolt. He whirled around and saw a demon dragging another being into the warp. This time, however, it was an Oomie. As a matter of fact, it was the same big, green Oomie that was called the "Librarian" from the battle he was at. The Librarian let out a curse and charged his force sword. With a monstrous bellow, he sliced the wayward demon in half. He turned to exit through the tear in the fabric of the warp, but it closed immediately. He dropped his sword to his side and the power drained from it. He slumped and looked around. The psyker caught the weirdboy's eye. This would be something new...
End.
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