The Epistolary

     The lone epistolary walked on, silently cursing whatever foul god lying behind the situation. The orks on the planet had seemingly quadrupled overnight, and a large chaos force had landed a few days ago. The PDFs couldn't beat any of them, and he was the only marine on the planet. The chaos and ork forces seemed even in power though, so there might still be a chance left.
     Suddenly the marine erupted in a burst of movement, and the grot that had been aiming its blasta at him wriggled in his fist, "Go to the lord of the waaaagh, and tell him that I am the new warlord. Disobey and I'll rip off your legs."
     The skinny little creature nodded fiercely, and when released, it darted of towards the ork camp in a speed that only fear could enable. The epistolary followed in a much more dignifying tempo. As he came upon the camp an ork positioned itself in his way, with a large battleaxe raised in order to strike him down. A quick whack with the force rod sent the ork crashing to the ground and the creatures lower jaw flying.
     Suddenly orks came running towards him from every direction, a plethora of rag-tag weapons ready to kill the intruder. However, they all stopped as a thunderous voice boomed out, "DA MARIN IS MINE, ALL MINE!"
     As the crowd halted, an enormous ork started plowing through them in order to reach him. The beast was almost eight feet tall despite its hulking nature, arms thick as a normal man, skin almost black and a five-foot sword in its right hand. This was obviously the warlord.
     "So, a contestant for the title of warlord, I suppose."
     "ME WARLORD, NO CONTY-THINGY. MARIN DEAD!!!!"
     "What an uttermost interesting coincidence, I was just to say the same about you."
     The epistolary opened himself to the warp, channelling its destructive power through his force rod and prayed to Dorn, and the ork charged. The greenskin's first blow was deflected by the force rod, and as a response the marine fired of a pair of round into the ork with his bolt pistol. The creatures though hide, in combination with the difficulties of proper aiming, sent the bolts ricocheting of the raging ork.
     The second sweep by the choppa was ducked, and the counter thrust by the force rod hit the ork firmly under the cheek, the warp energies giving him a blow the would have crushed a suit of terminator armour. Simultaneously a boltpistol round chaught the warboss in the chest, blowing up a half-foot wide hole. The ork staggered backwards, regained composure and charged again.
     Hardly slowed down by it's wounds, the ork unleashed a storm of blows, the epistolary being hard pressed to keep the blade away from his body, until a sweep with the choppa chaught him on the left shoulder, sending him flying through the air. The great ork laughed as he rose warily, and then charged for the third time.
     Knowing that his life was about to end, the epistolary draw upon the warp once more, bathing himself in more and more of it's vile power, feeding the force rod with more until it was pulsing with what seemed a life of it's own, the power of the waaaagh making it's way into the forces wielded.
     The warlord prepared to strike, but before the blade had completed the arc the force rod struck the hand it was wielded with. The choppa shattered, metal shards flying in every direction and the arm exploded from the elbow and down. Screaming in rage the ork tried to strike the marine down with his left fist, but it impacted upon the force rod, exploding like the right ram. As the ork stood screaming in rage and chock, the epistolary thrust the force rod through the orks chest, straight through the heart, and the releasing all the warp energies in on go. The ork was burnt to cinders in an instant.
     The epistolary supported himself with the force rod, making sure that none of the assorted greenskins could see how tired he really was.
     "Now, any one else who thinks he could do as warlord?"
     Looking at the burnt heap that had been their last warlord, the crowd took a step back away from him.
     "Good. Now, there is a force commanded by the four vile powers intruding on my domains. Everybody, who thinks he's a boy or nob is to go and beat them, everybody who refuses is no better than a hair-squig. Follow the sun for a vile and you will find them. Off you go."
     Not surprisingly, everybody went. The epistolary even allowed himself a smile, when the ork and chaos forces had obliterated each other, it would prove easy for even the PDF to mop up the survivors. The emperor willing it would.

[Editor's Note: Gargrazz would never condone dis sort a' ork weediness...]

End.

The Epistolary

Go back to da Ork Library