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Da 'Ole Of Death Chapta 16 | |
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Chapta 16 |
Hazug was having difficulty in booking passage. There were few ships in the harbour the next morning, and each one that Hazug checked appeared to have not been in port very long so were still unloading from their most recent voyage and would not be departing anytime soon. “Any luck yet den boss?” Ghukil said when he returned to the truck parked at the perimeter of the docks. “Nah, dare aint no one leavin’ for at least another three days. Except for some wreck dat looks like its about to sink anyway,” Hazug said, “So it looks like we is stayin’ for a bit longer yet.” As Hazug began to climb back into the truck an ork strode up to him. “I ‘ear dat ya is called Hazug Throatslitter,” the ork said. Hazug stepped back down from the truck and turned to face the newcomer. “Yeah dat’s me,” he said, “who’s askin’?” “I is Karfok Graknok,” he said, “I is one of da local runtherds, and I’ve ‘eard a real interestin’ story about wot ya ‘ave been up to out in da desert. Ya needs to come with me for a bit, we needs to talk.” “Dat depends. Where ‘ave ya been ‘earin’ stories about us?” Hazug asked. “Ya brought a pair of grots to da city with ya, other dan dat one still ya trukk dat is,” Karfok said, “and dey aint been lazy about tellin’ all da other grots dat dare’s somethin’ bad goin’ on out dare.” “Yeah dat’s true, but I don’t think dat we should be talkin’ about out ‘ere, so ‘ave ya got somewhere dat we go to discuss it?” Joining Hazug aboard his truck, Karfok directed him to his home on the outskirts of the city adjoining the pens that held untrained squigs. “So let’s ‘ave a look at dis skull wot ya got,” Karfok said after inviting the group into his home. It was a small hut that became crowded when Hazug’s entire warband squeezed their way inside. Inside the walls were adorned with crude sketches of gretchin, snotlings and various breeds of squig with brief notes and labels identifying various features. “Ya ‘eard ‘im,” Hazug said to Sophie, “its in dat bag ya got, ‘and it over to ‘im.” Sophie took the metal skull from her bag and passed it to the runtherd. Karfok sat down and stared at the skull much as Hazug had done when he first laid eyes on it on the shelf in the human outpost. “And is it true dat ya is sayin’ dat dare is a city dat could be full of dese under da ground den?” “I saw da city,” Hazug confirmed, “it looked empty at first, but den I saw a whole bunch of ‘em with shootas. Plus dare was wagons.” “I ‘eard about da wagons from dem grots who ya rescued, dey reckon dat dey is dead ‘ard. Even rokkits didn’t stop ‘em. Wot else d’ya know about dese metal things den?” “Only dat dey is ‘ard to kill. Most of ‘em dat we got I killed with one of dare own choppas.” “Ya still got it?” “Yeah, in me trukk. I aint lettin’ go of dat anytime soon, its too good.” Karfok passed the metal skull back to Sophie before turning back to Hazug and asking, “So, ‘ow much d’ya know about where we comes from?” “I aint spent much time in ya city, and I was planning on leavin’ pretty quick,” Hazug replied, but Karfok shook his head. “No, I mean ‘ow much d’ya know about where all of us come from?” “Wot, orks?” Drazzok interrupted, “We ‘as always been around aint we? Da universe wouldn’t be right without us.” Karfok leant back in his chair. “Dare was a time when dare was no orks,” he said, “A real long time ago, and dare was a war. A really big war dat went on for ages and ages and spread everywhere. But dare was a problem dat stopped anyone from ever winnin’ it ya see. Da problem was dat everyone dat was fightin’ in da war was crap, even though dey ‘ad loads of flash shootas and wagons none of ‘em knew ‘ow to fight proper like, and dis really pissed off Gork and Mork. So dey let out a mighty ‘waaargh,’ and it was big and loud enough to split da universe wide open, and da orks, runts and squigs came pourin’ in. We was sent to show everyone else ‘ow to fight cause only we could do it right. “But because we was so good at fightin’ da war ended soon after dat, and dem wot started it all went away and left us alone to get on with more fightin’. Most of us didn’t bother rememberin’ about da war cause it was in da past and dat aint much us to anyone, but da runtherds still remembered it, and dey made sure dat da next lot of runtherds remembered it too and so on, we keep tellin’ da next lot wot’s gone before cause we need to know about wot’s already ‘appened when we is tryin’ to get da best out of da runts and squigs, just to keep ‘em in line like.” “Ya aint got to ‘ow dat relates to da metal lads,” Drazzok said. “I would if ya would stop interuptin’,” Karfok replied. “I wouldn’t need to interrupt if ya would just tell us wot we needs to know.” “I’m gettin’
to it. “Drazzok will ya just shut it!” Hazug yelled, finally losing his patience with the weirdboy, then he spoke to Karfok, “Go on.” “Well as I was about to say before I was interrupted,” he said staring at Drazzok as he did so, “da main lot dat we ‘ad to fight in da war was a bunch of lads wot was made of metal. It was good fun for da first orks fightin’ ‘em because dey was dad ‘ard to kill. If ya shot ‘em or smacked ‘em dey just got up most of da time, even if dey didn’t dey just vanished for a while before comin’ back for another go. I reckon dat sounds like dis lot ya say is livin’ under da ground ‘ere. Dey ‘ad a lot of forts under da ground apparently, dey lived like dey was dead and buried.” “So do dese metal lads ‘ave a name den?” Hazug asked, “If I’m goin’ to be fightin’ ‘em I wants to know who it is dat I’m fightin’.” “Da only names I’ve ‘eard for ‘em come from da gits. Dey normally calls ‘em necrons or somethin’ similar, but I’ve also ‘eard da word catan used to dare gods.” “Ya said dey went away. Why?” Hazug asked. “Well because da orks beat ‘em of course, like I said only da orks knew ‘ow to fight proper.” “So ’ow did they beat dese necrons den?” Hazug asked, leaning closer to Karfok. “Dare is only one way to stop ‘em without ‘em comin’ back again. Ya ‘ave to destroy dare forts wot is under da ground, dat way dey can’t fix ‘emselves.” Hazug leant back again. “But I saw just ‘ow deep underground dare city is. Dare aint no cannon or rokkit powerful enough to blast through dat much rock.” “Dat’s why dey build dare cities down dare,” Karfok said, “so to blow ‘em up ya ‘ave to go into da city itself and smash it up from da inside.” “Dat would be da city wots full of metal lads with flash shootas protectin’ it yeah?” Roggot commented. “I didn’t say dat it was easy,” Karfok replied, “and I don’t know exactly ‘ow da cities was smashed up, I only know dat dat is wot ya ‘ave to do if ya wants to stop ‘em for good. I was told so by da last runtherd to live ‘ere.” “I don’t suppose dat ‘e told ya ‘ow many lads it took to do any of dis did ‘e?” Hazug asked, “I only got wot ya see ‘ere.” “’E said dat sometimes one was enough. Sometimes a single lad could just sneak in and plant a bomb dat was big enough to blow da ‘ole place.” Drazzok wasn’t about to let this pass. “’Ow can one lad carry a bomb big enough to blow up an entire city?” he snapped, “even a kroozer’s torpedo aint got enough explosive in it to take out an entire city in one go, and it takes dozens of grots to push dem about.” “Da stories aint clear about dat either,” Karfok answered, “dey just say dat it ‘as been done.” “If it’s already been done,” said Hazug, “den I can do it again. But I’ll need to talk to a mekboy first.” “If it aint bad enough dat ya reckon ya can take out an entire city,” said Drazzok, “now ya got to get a bleedin’ mek involved too?” “Well who else can build us a bomb?” Hazug replied, and then he turned to Sophie, “And while I’m lookin’ for a mek, I wants ya to go with me lads and buy some cloth to make ‘em some proper clothes. I’m not ‘avin’ ‘em running round lookin’ like savages. ‘Ere’s some teeth to pay for it, and get anythin’ else ya reckon dey need an all.” Mek Garspark paused when Hazug informed him that he needed a bomb big enough to blow up a city, but small and light enough for him to be able to carry it. Then he responded with a question. “’Ow much does ya know about liftin’ gas?” he asked. “Wot da stuff dat ya put in airships to make ‘em float?” Hazug asked. “Dat’s da stuff, wot d’ya know about it exactly?” “Dat it floats. Oh and dat it burns real good too, dats it. Wot else is dare know?” “Well if ya squash a particular type of it real tight like, ya can get bits of it to stick to other bits of it and ya get a different type of liftin’ gas dat doesn’t burn. But da thing is ya also get a massive bang when ya do it, and dat bang can be big enough to flatten a city. Gits is big on usin’ bombs dat work dat way when dey blast planets from space.” “So ‘ow d’ya squash dis gas enough to get da bang?” “Dat’s easy, all I needs to do is build a kustom forcefield dats like a ball, and fill it with da liftin’ gas. Den I get da forcefield to get smaller and it packs da gas together tighter until ‘kaboom!” and Garspark spread his arms out as he shouted this final work, “Easy peasy. But it’ll cost ya.” “’Ow much?” “Well dare’s a
lot to take into account see, first dare’s getting’ da liftin’
gas…” “…and den dare’s da kustom forcefield to be designed and built…” “’Ow much?” “…and den I ‘ave to get da gas into da forcefield.” Hazug grabbed Mek Garspark by his collar. “Just tell me ‘ow bleedin’ much,” he shouted. “An ‘undred teeth,” Garspark replied and Hazug released his grip. “An ‘undred?” “Yeah, well I aint got all da parts dat I need for a forcefield at da mo, I can get da gas, dat’s easy, all I ‘ave to do is send some seawater through one of me gas makin’ machines and collect wot comes out, but da forcefield will need some really special parts on account of ya wantin’ it to be small like.” Hazug opened one of the pouches on his belt. The losses suffered by his warband in the alien city, added to the casualties they had inflicted on the Death Skull raiders in the desert had provided him with quite a sizeable reserve of cash. It would have been more, but the strange alien guns were quite capable of destroying the teeth of victims and relatively few had been recovered from the Death Skull outpost. Hazug dug his hand into the open pouch and pulled out a handful of teeth. He put the teeth on a workbench and began to count them out. He took another handful of teeth when he had finished and repeated to do so until he had counted out one hundred of them. He now had only a handful remaining. “So ‘ow long will it take for dis bomb to be built?” he asked. “A day to get da parts and da gas, den two more to build it,” Garspark told him. Hazug separated the pile of teeth into two equal amounts. “Den ya get ‘alf now, and ‘alf when its done,” he said scooping one of the piles back into his pouch, “deal?” “Deal, but ya ‘ad better be ‘ere with da rest of dat cash in three days.” “Trust me,” said Hazug as he was leaving the workshop, “I aint got no where else to go.” When Hazug returned to the lodgings the warband had secured by the weirdhuts he found Sophie hard at work outside sewing combat fatigues for the Blood Axes. He was pleased to see that she had selected a dull grey cloth, similar to the shade he wore, and as she did when she made new clothing for Hazug, Sophie had imprinted a green camouflage pattern onto it. Nearby orks were pointing not only at Sophie herself, but also at the patterned clothing and questioning what sort of ork would wear such ridiculous colours. None of them were the size of nobs though, and when Hazug with his rifle cradled in his arms arrived they stopped their insults and got on with anything else they could find to do. “Ya got everythin’ den?” Hazug asked Sophie. “Yes,” she replied, “the ork selling tried to hike up the price because I wasn’t an ork, but Ghukil and Gobnok convinced him to drop his price by threatening to burn down his stall with that flamethrower you found.” “Ah, dey is learnin’ quick,” Hazug said, “so ‘ow many teeth did ya bring back den?” “None.” “None?” “Well we had to buy boots, belts and pouches as well, and then Ratish took what was left for paint.” “Paint? Wot does that bloody grot need paint for?” Just then Ratish himself appeared, patches of green and grey paint now mixed in with the layer of grime that was a permanent feature of his appearance. “Master,” he said gleefully, “come see wot Ratish do for ya!” and he ran back around the building, beckoning Hazug to follow him. Hazug went after the gretchin, ready to give him a beating for wasting money, until he saw why Ratish had wanted the paint. There parked exactly where Hazug had left it earlier was his truck, but now it had a uniform coat of grey paint with crossed green axes on each side and the armoured plate at the front. “Does master like it?” Ratish asked. Hazug patted Ratish on his head. “Actually I do,” he said, and he decided that there was no need to beat Ratish after all.
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