Da Boss Of Da Dead Epilogue
Home Page About Me Writing Warhammer 40,000 Fiction Da Boss Of Da Dead Prologue Chapta 1 Chapta 2 Chapta 3 Chapta 4 Chapta 5 Chapta 6 Chapta 7 Chapta 8 Chapta 9 Chapta 10 Chapta 11 Chapta 12 Chapta 13 Chapta 14 Chapta 15 Chapta 16 Chapta 17 Chapta 18 Chapta 19 Chapta 20 Chapta 21 Chapta 22 Epilogue Star Wars Fiction Star Trek Fiction Other Writing Warhammer 40k Intro Galleries Video Modelling Projects Links	Graffgan’s footsteps echoed down the corridor. Gretchin had been over this section of the hulk and declared it safe but he did not trust them not to lie about something like that. Gretchin would undoubtedly find it hilarious if there was a violent decompression and all of the orks were blown out into the vacuum of space. Therefore, he still wore the heavy armoured suit that would allow him to survive by supplying him with air and stopping him from either freezing or exploding. He had however, removed his helmet so that it would not get in the way or impede his vision, as had most of the other orks exploring the space hulk. It now dangled from his belt where he could get at it if he needed it. A sudden sound caught his attention and as he shone his torch in the direction it had come from he though he spotted something moving amongst the multitude of pipes running across the ceiling. ”Get outta dare ya bleedin’ runts!” he bellowed. Obviously a group of gretchin had moved in ahead of the orks and would undoubtedly be stealing everything they could. He strode forwards and looked up into the ceiling, “I gots me slugga right ‘ere.” He shouted, drawing his pistol, “Now gets outta dare before I puts a few rounds into ya.” Something within the pipes again and Graffgan stared closely, pointing his pistol upwards. The thing that reached out at him was not a gretchin, Graffgan knew that instantly. It moved too quickly for starters. Plus it was too big and had too many arms. The thing scooped Graffgan up off the deck in its two clawed arms before he could get off a shot while it knocked the pistol from his hand with one of its smaller pair or arms. Its bulbous head extended towards his face and opened its mouth wide, to reveal two rows of massive sharp teeth. A tubular tongue darted out of the gaping maw and jabbed Graffgan in his neck and then the creature released him, dropping him back to the deck with a crash. Graffgan lay on the floor for a moment, a voice in his head telling him to get back up. “Oi Graffgan!” an ork voice suddenly called out from back the way he had come, “Wot’s goin’ on down dare?” Graffgan smiled as he got back to his feet and picked up his pistol. Then he turned towards the ork dressed in a similar manner to himself that was striding towards him. “Come and ‘ave a look at dis.” He said, still smiling.
	Copyright Notice The Warhammer 40,000 universe is the intellectual property of Games Workshop Ltd. The fiction presented here is a derived work. It is completely unofficial and Games Workshop Ltd has not endorsed any of it.

Background image miniature design copyright Games Workshop Ltd

This Web Page Created with PageBreeze Free HTML Editor