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Da 'Ole Of Death Chapta 17 | |
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Chapta 17 |
The fortress had existed for centuries. The humans had built it to provide a secure base from which to patrol the surrounding area, and when ork warriors had overrun it, the greenskins had simply patched the holes they blew in its thick stone walls and used it for exactly the same purpose. In the heat of the midday sun most of the garrison was keeping to the shade, and only an unlucky few were standing watch on the walls when a row of floating metal pyramids came into view. The sentries sounded the alarm rapidly and a nob soon joined them on the walls to see for himself. Realising straight away that these were not ork vehicles that were drifting silently towards them he gave the only order that made any sense. “Get ‘em!” The orks’ small arms were the first weapons to be fired, but only because they were the only weapons that were at the ready, their weak rounds made no mark on the approaching pyramids and many of the rounds fired didn’t even have the range to reach their targets. Next came the shoulder launched rockets, and several volleys roared towards the pyramids with varying degrees of accuracy, but even those that struck them cleanly did no more that leave scorch marks that disappeared moments later. Finally the fortress’s artillery weapons were ready to fire and, with a succession of booms and crackles, an assortment of heavy shells and energy bolts were launched at the oncoming pyramids. These were more effective, and one of them suddenly dropped to the desert sands below. But now the fortress was in range of the weapons carried by the alien pyramids, and in a matter of seconds the entire wall facing them was blasted to atoms by a concentrated volley of energy blasts that erupted from the large crystal mounted atop the pyramids. As larger orks attempted to impose some sort of order on their remaining troops the pyramids reached the gaping hole in the fortress’s defences, when they suddenly halted. A panel on each pyramid slid upwards to reveal a wall of green light behind it, from which stepped hordes of skeletal warriors whose metal bodies glistened in the desert sun. “Waaargh!” One ork after another let out their war cry and charged towards their attackers who responded by raising the strange rifles they carried and firing bolts of green lightning at the orks as they rushed towards them. More lightning erupted from turrets mounted on the corners of the pyramids to engulf those orks who avoided the massed fire from the infantry. The few orks who got close enough to strike any of the metal figures attacking them watched in horror as any damage they inflicted repaired itself almost immediately. The fortress that had stood for centuries was destroyed in minutes. “Wot d’ya mean it’s gone?” warboss Golgoth Zhalrad yelled at the ork nob who had just charged into his main hall with the news that one of the largest fortresses on the continent had been annihilated. “A bunch of bikers who’d been ridin’ around da desert went back and found it dat way boss,” the nob explained, “dey said dat everythin’ ‘ad been torched so dey rode back ‘ere as quick as dey could.” “So wot did it?” “Dunno boss, da bikers said dat dey only saw bits of orks and runts and dat dey all came from da fort’s mobs. Whoever destroyed it must ‘ave taken dare bodies away with ‘em. But dey also said dat dare was no tracks outside da fort to show which way anyone went.” Warboss Zhalrad roared with anger. “’Ow does one of me best forts get wrecked, and dare aint no clues left about who did it?” he yelled at the nob. “Dunno boss.” “Well I wants to know who did it, cause I’m goin’ to smack ‘em back real good like. So get as many bikers and dethkoptas as ya can and tell ‘em to find who did dis, and don’t ya come back until ya know.” “Right boss,” and the nob fled from the hall while the warboss was still willing to let him leave with his life. Still fuming with rage, warboss Zhalrad snatched a roast squig from a plate beside his throne and stuffed it into his mouth whole while the various advisors and hangers-on in the room waited in silence for him to speak again. None of them wanted risk his anger being directed at them should they accidentally say something that offended him further. Finally one of them, a nob in the traditional black leather garb of the Goff clan plucked up the courage to speak. “’Ere boss,” he began cautiously, “didn’t dat Blood Axe git lover say somethin’ about some aliens dat was torchin’ stuff in da desert?” Warboss Zhalrad roared with anger again and leapt to his feet and dived at the nob. He grabbed the Goff around his throat and squeezed hard as the rest of the room looked on in silence. The Goff struggled to shake free of the warboss’s grip but it was to no avail, and it was not long before there was the sound of the bones in his neck being crushed and he slumped limply in Golgoth’s grip. Golgoth let go of the Goff’s corpse and it fell to the floor in a lifeless heap. Then he turned to face the rest of the orks present. “Yeah I think dat ‘e did,” he said calmly, “someone go bring da Blood Axe ‘ere.” No one dared move. “Now!” Every other ork in the room ran for the exit. Hazug watched his Blood Axes sorting out their new equipment around the truck. Just a few days earlier they had been armed with crude bows and arrows and dressed in clothing made of animal skin. Now they had modern firearms, grenades, load carrying equipment and camouflage uniforms of woven fabric. Only their blades remained, the more advanced equivalents of these weapons were more expensive than they were worth. It had been some time since Hazug had last been in charge of a mob of his own, and it felt good to be a real nob once again. “Now ya look like proper kommandoes,” he told the assembled orks, “and I expect ya all to act like ‘em as well. So just cause ya got shootas doesn’t mean dat ya ‘as to go usin’ ‘em as soon as ya see da enemy like most of da clans do, sneak up on ‘em so dey is easier to shoot and get stuck in.” The mob grinned back at Hazug, but before he could speak again they were interrupted by the arrival of a group of ork nobs, the assorted colouring of their clothing indicated that they came from more than a single clan. “Wot d’ya want?” Hazug asked, looking the nob closest to him straight in the eyes. “Da boss wants to see ya and da weirdo,” the nob replied. “I’ve already seen ‘im,” Hazug replied, “he told me to sod off.” “Well now ‘e wants to see ya again, and ‘e wants to see ya now. So come with us or else…” “Or else wot?” Hazug said interrupted the nob as his mob raised their weapons and the nobs before them realised they were facing a well-armed commando group that included a flamethrower. One squeeze of the trigger from that weapon would incinerate them all in one go. “Or else we can wait until ya is ready maybe?” the nob said as he re-evaluated his position. Hazug turned to his mob once more. “Right, Ghukil’s in charge until I gets back,” he said, “I is off to see da warboss again.” Hazug was somewhat surprised that nobs working on behalf of a warboss from the Evil Suns clan would have come on foot, but they had not brought a vehicle so, after collecting Drazzok from the nearby weirdhuts, they had to walk the way to the warboss’s fortress. Once there, they were shown straight in to see warboss Zhalrad. However, rather than being taken to the main hall they were instead taken to a different chamber with a sign on the door that read ‘WAR ROOM – NO FIGHTIN’ IN ‘ERE’. A single table that was painted to provide a map of the continent dominated the interior of the room. Then onto that map small wooden markers had been placed to represent settlements and the estimated locations of forces of orks. Hazug noticed that several of these markers had been placed on their sides, suggesting that they had been destroyed at those locations. Warboss Zhalrad leant on the edge of the table studying it while several of his advisors stood behind him. “Ah Hazug, Drazzok, come in,” he said as the pair were lead into the room, then he pointed at the table, “so where’s dis ‘ole ya was tellin’ us about den?” Hazug produced the map he had taken from the human outpost and laid it on the table, and then he compared the two maps. “Its ‘ere,” he said pointing to the location on the table that matched the mark representing the position of the alien structure on his map. Warboss Zhalrad beckoned a gretchin to the table, and the creature placed another marker where Hazug had pointed. With the position of the alien headquarters now marked, warboss Zhalrad took another look at the table. “Dat means dat dese metal things ‘ave already made it more dan ‘alf way ‘ere,” he said pointing at the table and its little wooden markers. “’As anybody beaten ‘em yet?” Hazug asked. “Nah,” the warboss replied, “we aint even found any survivors from any of dese attacks yet, and we’re guessin’ about wot we got left cause we aint been able to get in touch with ‘em yet. ‘Ow did ya get of dare fort?” “We only met up with a couple of mobs of ‘em before I decide we was goin’ to get out of dare,” Hazug said, “and I was able to get one of dare own choppas which is pretty good at cuttin’ ‘em up. I still lost more dan ‘alf me boys though.” “So ya aint got no sneaky Blood Axe way of killin’ ‘em all den?” “Ya is better speakin’ to da runtherds.” “Runtherds? Wot do dey know about dis?” “Apparently dese metal lads is called necrons and dey‘ve been around a long time, and da runtherds is da only ones who keep track of stuff wot ‘appened dat long ago.” “Someone go get dis runtherd den, wot’s ‘is name?” “Karfok.” “Right, go get Karfok,” Zhalrad told a gretchin who promptly scampered out of the room, “Now wot did ‘e tell about fightin’ dese metal lads den?” “Necrons.” “Yeah right, necrons. Now ‘ow do we fight ‘em?” “’E told me dat if ya want to stop da metal lads den ya ‘ave to find dare base and smash it, otherwise dey just keep on comin’ back at ya.” “’Ow is we supposed to smash up a base if its under da ground? Even a kroozer will ‘ave an ‘ard time reachin’ it.” “I’ve already asked a mek by da name of Garspark about dis, and I got ‘im buildin’ me a special bomb dat will take care of it for us.” “And ‘ow is ya plannin’ to get da bomb into da city?” “I’m goin’ to take it dare myself, sneak into da place, set da fuse and den get out before it goes off.” “When can ya do it?” “I can leave in three days, and it’ll take two more to get dare.” “So dem metal lads will likely be ‘ere well before ya can blow up dare base?” “Dey will, ya can count on it.” The two gretchin clambered over the remains of the battlewagon. It had once been one of the tanks used by the humans who inhabited the planet before the orks invaded, after the invasion had taken place it had been salvaged and put into use by the orks themselves. Now it was nothing more than a burnt out wreck, just the latest victim of the advancing alien warriors. Standing on top of the wreckage one of the gretchin took out a small telescope and looked around. In the distance he saw the tips of almost a dozen metal pyramids disappearing over the horizon, looking to his companion he nodded. The other gretchin lifted a horn to his lips and blew.
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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. |
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