This story is an unofficial story based, without permission, on the Warhammer/Warhammer 40,000 intellectual property owned by Games Workshop Ltd.
A fine morning mist descended on the ramshackle Ork kamp as dawn finally arrived. The Ork Boss sat upon the overturned boulder polishing his kustomized plasma shoota whilst breathing in the fresh air, his form silhouetted by the appearance of the twin suns on the horizon. He looked on with a slight disappointment as the signs of life started to amble around his kamp, allowing himself a small chuckle as one of his Boyz slipped on a sleeping Squig. His peace and quiet would soon be over, but he didn't mind, his thinking had been done and the call had to be answered.
An irritable looking Bergob appeared from his makeshift hut picking the remnants of his Squig breakfast from his teeth.
"Wot da zoggin 'eck iz dat noize?"
Bergob's answer materialised almost immediately, as Slab the solidly built Mekboy roared into kamp on his warbike, pulling behind it two enormous girders that were partially shrouded from view by the dense exhaust fumes.
"SLAB, wot yoo got there?" Bergob shouted after the Mekboy as he sped past with a most toothy of grins, finally coming to a halt in the centre of kamp under the enormous Bad Moonz banner that flapped lazily in the breeze. Slab loved to be the centre of attention, and he certainly was that now, as the inhabitants of the Bad Moonz kamp sauntered over to take stock of what the Mekboy was up to.
Grin still in place, Slab jumped off the warbike and proceeded to walk round to the rear of his metallic stead to untie his girders. His decorative multi-coloured waistcoat had for once been buttoned up, and his general appearance looked less grimy than usual. Bending down onto one knee he unfastened the girders, at the same time experiencing an unusual tingling sensation on the back of his neck. He was no longer alone…and he knew it. Four enormous pairs of leather and metal boots stood before him, he could see them from his knelt position as he looked from under his brow.
"I reckonz ya must av too many teef tooz be buyin dis good stuff Slab, wot do ya fink Bergob?"
"I finks dat if 'e az been sellin me stuff again, den I iz gonna cut an 'ole in 'im, das wot I reckonz."
Slab took a single glance skywards and his fears were confirmed. There in front of him stood Bergob, Gash, Nuckle and Hedrek da Boss's retinue of Nobz. All clad in mega armour with the various enhancements that the Mekboy had added since his time in the kamp.
"Yooz gonna sharez dat loot wiv us den Slab?" Hedrek produced an evil lookin smile.
Slab looked left and right as if searching for a quick exit from the problematic Nobz, only to find all routes blocked by other members of his curious klan. A posse of 'Ardboyz joined the melee, pushing their way past Skorcha and his Flameboyz, drawing a wicked gaze from each of the Nobz.
"Wossup Slab…Oomie got yur tongue?" Hedrek proceeded to laugh as he realised his own humorous comment.
"I will givz ya six big teef fer dat gear yooz got Slab" Gash rolled the six large canine teef around in the palm of his hand.
"Nuffin is fer tradin or fer sellin, dis stuff iz fer Gork en Mork." The onlookers' fell silent…heavily toothed maws fell agape. The words seemed to hit home to every Ork except Drooz the 'Ardboy who was tinkering around with the warbike.
"Now dat iz a shoota Slab, yoo iz feevin good dees days." Drooz gripped tightly onto his newly discovered prize that was discretely lodged in the fairing of the warbike. Not discretely enough for Slab, as his facial expression turned to that of sheer rage. A stormbolter in pristine condition was worth loadza teef in da kamp.
Every Ork in the vicinity, apart from the four Nobz, hit the floor as the psychotic 'Ardboy started to open fire at everything that moved. Blowing apart Gretchin and Squig alike, even taking Brogz leg clean off. Drooz screamed with shear delight as he sent everyone diving for cover in his moment of carnage, oblivious to the fact that his own existence would soon be over. The burst of plasma disintegrated three quarters of the 'Ardboyz body, leaving a single green arm clutching an overworked stombolter that simmered on the ground where it now lay.
"I seemz to be killin more of me own troopz deez dayz than anyfin else, yooz stoopid 'Ardboyz neva lurnz nuffin."
Gragslak Diamond Toof thumped his way past the four statuesque Nobz who looked on with amazement at the still twitching arm of the vaporised 'Ardboy. The rest of the klan backed away from the warbike, clearly sensing da Boss's anger. Most Boyz would say "it woz not wurf being toasted by da Boss when 'im iz mad" Gragslak had "Toasted" about twenty or so Boyz recently for various different reasons. Most of da time it woz for not finkin enuff. Finkin, now this is how Gragslak earned the title of "da Thinka" in Orkdom. Gragslak Diamond Toof da Thinka. He always liked the way Oomie words were written, so he adopted the Oomie word for "Thinking" and made his own Orkish improvisation to it.
He stood an impressive height, bigger than each of the Nobz, and suited in a very well crafted piece of mega-armour made by the hand of Slab. Four great necklaces of canine teef draped around his neck, six even larger teef swung on chains from his impressively maintained plasma shoota. The ornate Bad Moonz standard was strapped to his back so that all could see his position within the klan. He was da Boss, he had the welf and he also had da brainz. But most impressively of all was Gragslak's lower jaw and teef, fashioned completely from Barandt diamond, one of the most sought after treasures in the known worlds. Mad Dok Spitblood who was once a part of Klan Nazdreg had painstakingly crafted the jaw and teef for the winner of the Glog World pit fights. Gragslak thought it was ironic that this was his prize as he had had his bottom jaw torn from his face by da Goff Boss Kilzzenuff in the final match to the death.
"Yooz get Brogz ova to da Doks hut, get iz leg fixed up good, we iz gonna need all da Boyz we can be gettin." Hedrek and Gash lifted the wounded Ork, beginning their short journey to the hut of the resident Painboy. "Woss bin goin on 'ere Slab…where you bin gettin dis gear?" Graglsak trudged over to the Mekboy who was prizing the stormbolter from the clutches of the once 'Ardboy Drooz.
"Me az bin 'avin dreamz boss, ever since we az bin on dis world. Itz Gork and Mork Boss, dey keeps talkin to me. Dey wantz me to build big stuff. Dats why me got the gear from da Oomie base kamp over da ridge."
Excited squeals and whoops echoed up from the ecstatic Boyz, accompanied by bolter shots that rang out loud as they were fired into the sky. The Warboss raised his arms into the air, signalling that he wanted some form of quiet, his klan actually responded.
"Dees is good dayz to be sellin, buyin and feevin. Da Godz av been speakin to us, dey wants us to build big stuff. Yooz knowz what dat meanz, dey wants us to WAAAAAAGGGHHH
WAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH
The cry of Waaagh sparked an immediate response from three stout Orks who stood as spectators rather than participants on the edge of the jubilant scenes. Each dressed in highly decorative robes adorned with gold buckles and buttons, their steps of apparent retreat becoming increasingly brisk with every passing moment. The Weirdboyz should have known better than to outsmart their Warboss who had already assigned a watcher to each of them.
A mound of earth erupted in front of the Weirdboyz spraying each of them with dirt and grit from the small blast, covering their well looked after garments to obvious displeasure.
Yooz goin wivout us." Hedrek's yellow toothed grin announced the end of the Weirdboyz escape. "We iz gonna be lookin afta yooz Boyz well good dees nex few dayz." "Skorcha, you and Blunt don't be lettin dees three out of yaz sight, else da Boss will toast ya like 'e did ta Drooz." Hedrek shoved the three Weirdboyz into the nearest hut. Skorcha and Blunt taking up their sentry position outside, with far from happy expressions strewn across their faces. "I guess dis meanz no loot fer yooz Boyz den…. more welf for me." Hedrek chortled as he left behind the two menacing looking Boyz and three very worried Weirdboyz. It wouldn't take the Nob too long to catch up with the rest of the klan who were already heading toward the abandoned Oomie base.
"Woss it gonna take fer me to shut yooz up." Gragslak swivelled his plasma shoota so that it rested about an inch from the 'Ardboyz face. A large gulp echoed up from the throat of Mukzog the 'Ardboy, causing sniggers and teeters to echo out from various klan members hidden within the Oomie base.
"Dey don't be knowin dat weez 'ere, da walls of da base proteks us from dem skan fings dat dem Oomie nancies 'av got fer trakkin fings, das right ennit Boss." Gash looked over his right shoulder for acknowledgement from the Warboss. A vicious looking gaze was Gash's answer, along with the Boss's sign for everyone to keep quiet. The sign being the Boss's hand imitating the chatting Boyz then pointing the plasma shoota at the hand and pulling a fake trigger. The immediate silence was the indication that the Boyz understood all too well.
Gweezel scuttled down from the high parapet of the base dashing across the dirty courtyard and skidding to a halt alongside Gragslak who was sat snugly behind a large metallic crate.
"Dey don't knowz we iz 'ere, dey don't knowz we iz 'ere." Gragslak's large hand covered the excited Gretchin's face, bringing the sudden burst of noise to an abrupt stop. "Yooz done well Gweezel, now grabz a gun and hide 'til dey get 'ere." The Warboss indicated to where he wanted the Gretchin warrior to take cover. Gweezel duly followed the whispered order.
"Nuckle, iz da kannon ready?" Turning to his left Gragslak could see the thumbs up from the Nob in charge of operating the shoulder mounted plasma cannon. Nuckle was hidden behind two large metallic storage crates with a tarpaulin covering him and the hefty weapon. He was positioned dead centre of the base aiming the kannon at the only land-based entrance.
"Da nancies won't be expectin Nuckle and da kannon will dey boss." Mukzog did not have time to feel his hand depart his body as the Warboss's axe sliced the appendage off with proficient ease. "If ya skreamz den I will kut yer 'ead off en all." The 'Ardboy furiously nodded his understanding as the green blood gushed forth from his arm.
Small tinkering noises could be heard from outside of the base as the Emperors marines checked the perimeter for traps and signs of life. Gragslak could hear chatter between the marines and he knew that this meant they were 'appy wiv fings. He could also make out the blue armour of the Oomies from the small gap between the two crates from where he was positioned. One of 'em 'ad a big gold bird on iz chest and uvver fancy stuff on iz armour. Dat stuff iz gonna be mine he thought, grinning as he best could with a bottom jaw made of diamond. Nuckle gazed almost lovingly over at the Warboss, like an expectant dog waiting for his owner to throw him the stick, Nuckle just needed the thumbs up to fire the kannon. The fifteen Oomies marched in an arrowhead formation in to the grounds of the base; they were now only sixty or seventy feet away. Fifteen versus forty were pretty good odds even in Ork standards.
The Warboss lowered his hand and the two Gretchin Ladz pulled the tarpaulin sheet off Gash and Nuckle, exposing them and the kannon to the Oomie 'Ardboyz. An almighty roar and a blinding light introduced the base to a firing of a plasma kannon. The marines were helpless as they looked on with visible fear, within seconds they were no bigger than grains of sand. Not only had the Oomie 'Ardboyz been blown to shreds but most of the front of the base had also be blown apart along with any Boyz that had been positioned near to the entrance. Hundreds of bolter rounds then sounded out across the base as the klan of Orks fired fanatically after hopeful targets. Gragslak's mega armour whined as he got to his feet, he sniffed the air and then paced through the diminishing bolter fire towards the crater. He was joined at the edge of the crater by most of his klan who looked on with astonishment.
"Where iz da bodies Boss?" asked an extremely confused Flameboy who stood next to the Warboss scratching his head. Gragslak looked down at him and burst out into laughter.
"Boss one of em iz still livin." two Boyz beckoned for Gragslak to join them just outside the base. With his torso mangled to a near unrecognisable state was the Ultramarine Captain who lay motionless but still alive.
"Yoo iz da Oomie Kaptin aint ya." Graglsak lifted the gargling body off the ground so that he could speak to the marine on a face to face basis.
"Ork filth, death to all foes of the Emperor." The Captain spat a mouthful of bloodied saliva over the face of the Ork Warboss as he attempted to plunge a dagger down into the Boss's head. Diamond met dagger as Gragslak's bite made short work of the attacking blade. "Oomies, yooz just don't fink some of us Orks can fink, where iz ya Boyz Kaptin, did me da Ork Boss out fink dem all?" The Warboss threw aside the remnants of the marine Captain.
"Take dis place apart Boyz we av Gargants to be makin'."
Hive World Terra