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Da 'Ole Of Death Chapta 2 | |
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Chapta 2 |
Hazug Throatslitter of the Blood Axe clan lay back on his roof and looked up at the night sky. The points of light he saw were not only the stars whose light had taken many years to reach this place, but also the signs of the spacecraft orbiting the planet adjusting their positions to do their best to avoid collisions. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and held it as he listened to sounds of the city at night. There was the sound of music from an assortment of locations where orks were gathering to relax, and with those gatherings came the sounds of shouting and sporadic gunfire from personal weapons as disagreements were settled. Occasionally there came a cheer that drowned out the other ambient sounds when the crowds at the fighting pits witnessed something suitably entertaining. Then from beneath him came a crashing sound that dwarfed even the sounds produced by excited orks. Hazug got to his feet and walked to the nearby hatchway that led down into his room. “Wot’s goin’ on down dare?” he yelled. There was the sound of footsteps as a pair of figures dashed into view at the bottom of the ladder below, one was a similar creature to Hazug but considerably smaller with a nose that had clearly been broken at some point and coated in a thick layer of grime. This was Ratish Brownskin, the gretchin who had been following Hazug around since he had first met him during an investigation into the death of another ork earlier that year. Close behind Ratish was a human only slightly larger than the gretchin who had also been hanging around Hazug since that same investigation. One of the type of human known as ‘female’, though the purpose of this term was still a mystery to Hazug and she had refused shed any light on the issue when Hazug had asked. She answered to the name Sophie. Between the two of them they kept Hazug’s home clean, prepared his food and ran errands as Hazug needed them. When not carrying out the tasks Hazug set for them it seemed to Hazug that they spent most of their time arguing with each other, usually about who was of more use to him. “It was him!” Sophie yelled pointing at Ratish. “It woz ‘er!” Ratish shouted at the same time, pointing back at Sophie. “Just get ‘ere da pair of ya,” Hazug shouted, “I’m tryin’ to relax and ya is both disturbin’ me wreckin’ da place.” Hazug went back to where he had been lay, and lay down once more as his two companions emerged through the hatchway and joined him in looking up at the sky. “Wot is we lookin’ for master?” Ratish asked. “We is just watchin’ da ships comin’ back from hittin’ da tau,” Hazug told him. “Will Two Heads be with them?” Sophie asked, enquiring about the mutant ork who had joined Hazug in his fight against the tau and had subsequently joined the attack on their empire. “Dunno,” Hazug said, “now keep quiet and just watch.” The ships returning from the tau empire appeared as spots of light in the sky that came from nowhere, shining much brighter than the stars around them as their massive engines fired to decelerate them from the vast speeds they had built up on the voyage home and moved across the sky rather than staying still. “Look there’s more of them,” Sophie exclaimed, pointing towards a new cluster of moving lights that had appeared. The lights of the engine flames flickered as the ships drew closer and their crews began to reduce their deceleration, ready to enter orbit. The light from one of the ships caught Hazug’s attention as it moved in a different direction to the others. It too manoeuvred to enter orbit, but Hazug had to sit up to keep it view as it moved much closer to the horizon. As he sat up Hazug saw a pale green light flash from over the horizon, followed by another flash from the point in the sky where the ork spacecraft had settled into position. Almost immediately after this there was another flash, this time of bright orange flame that lit up the entire sky as the massive ork cruiser was destroyed in a massive explosion. “What happened?” Sophie exclaimed as the three stared at the many new spots of light created as the wreckage of the cruiser entered the atmosphere and began to burn up. “Da engines must ‘ave gone wrong,” Hazug said, not quite sure whether he believed it himself or not, “it ‘appens from time to time. Unless…” Hazug paused. “Unless wot master?” Ratish asked. “Well dare wos dat green flash just before.” “Does that mean the ship was shot down?” Sophie said. “Maybe,” Hazug replied. “So what are you going to do about it?” asked Sophie. “Sod all, it’s not my problem. I’m off to bed, you two can clean up ya mess in da mornin’.” In a desert far away an elderly human prepared for bed. From outside a brilliant green flash lit up the sky outside, then heard a mighty clap of thunder. Supported by a staff, he moved as quickly as he could. Outside there were only the sounds he heard every night in the desert. But then a mighty boom came from overhead, and the old man looked up to see a massive ball of fire streaking across the sky. The fireball grew larger as it lost altitude. It passed directly over the old man before it disappeared over the horizon. There was a further flash of light and the dull thump of an explosion. The old man bowed his head and shook it slowly before he went back inside to bed. With Hazug gone for the morning, Sophie and Ratish were left to clean up the room before he returned. As usual without the ork there to keep an eye on them it was not long before they began to argue over the best way to go about this, and who was responsible for which particular task. Ratish decided that the best way to persuade Sophie that his way was best was to wrap his arm around her neck and hold her pinned under his arm unable to stand up straight until she gave in. “Say I’m right!” Ratish yelled as Sophie struggled to get free of his grip. “Not a chance,” she gasped as she tried hitting Ratish over the back of his head. Unfortunately for her gretchin, like the larger orks, had very thick skulls and a limited sensitivity to pain so hitting him with an empty hand did nothing to persuade him to let her go. Pausing for breath, Sophie noticed something out of the ordinary. “Ratish wait,” she said. “Give in,” he replied. “No, just listen.” “I aint lettin’ ya go till ya give in.” “Just listen for a moment, what do you hear?” Keeping Sophie pinned beneath his armed, Ratish stood still and listened. “I don’t ‘ear nothin’.” “Exactly.” Ratish suddenly realised what Sophie meant. It was mid morning and the ork city should have been full of the usual sounds of orks going about their lives, from vehicles moving through the streets to weapons fire. But the only sounds were far off, there was nothing from nearby. Ratish began to drag Sophie towards the balcony. There the pair saw that the street below was deserted and scattered with various items that had been dropped and abandoned. Then there came a sound from within the building, a clump followed by a jangling. Still keeping hold of Sophie, Ratish turned towards the direction the sound had come from. Clump. Ding, ding,
ding. The sound came from a slightly different direction, and Ratish and Sophie both turned to follow it. Clump. Ding, ding,
ding. The sounds were closer this time, and they were coming up the stairs from the street below. Clump. Ding, ding,
ding. Now the sounds were in the hallway outside the room, and were getting closer to the door. Both Ratish and Sophie had heard similar sounds before, the clump came from a staff being banged onto the floor as its owner used it for support, while the jangling came from many charms and bells intended to warn others of the individual’s approach. Clump. Ding, ding,
ding. The sound was right outside the door now, and the handle turned slowly before the door was pushed wide open. “I is ‘ere to see Hazug,” Drazzok the weirdboy said as he stood in the doorway, “where da bleedin’ ‘ell is ‘e?” “Er, e’s gone out,” Ratish stammered as Drazzok strode into the room and sat down at the table in the middle of the room. “Well den, let go of dat bloody git and sod off and get ‘im ya stupid grot,” Drazzok said impatiently. Ratish released his grip on Sophie, who immediately stood upright and began rubbing her neck, and ran out of the room and out of the building. “Well wot are ya waitin’ for?” Drazzok said to Sophie, “Make yerself useful ya git and get us somethin’ to eat.” In the yard behind Mek Batrug’s workshop, Hazug lifted the rifle to his shoulder and looked down the sights. “Customised just like ya asked,” Batrug told him, “Ya can fire it like a regular shoota or if ya is up against wagons or kans ya can launch a rokkit from da mounting underneath da barrel.” “Is dis da trigger for da rokkit?” Hazug asked, indicating a secondary trigger located on the bottom of the weapon. “Dat’s da one.” “Wot about dis one?” Hazug then asked as he pointed to another control, what looked like a basic two position switch that was located above the grip. “Dat’s an extra special modification,” Batrug told him, “push it forwards and ya get da turbo-dakka mode. Da firin’ rate goes up and ya can shoot off a full mag much quicker dan normal. Give it a try,” and Batrug gave Hazug a magazine of ammunition for the weapon. Hazug slammed the magazine into place and cocked the weapon. He pointed it towards an empty fuel drum at the end of the yard. Gretchin working nearby scattered in panic as they saw he was getting ready to fire. With the selector switch forwards, and the gun lined up on his target, Hazug squeezed the trigger. There was a loud roaring as the gun fired accompanied by a massive blast of fire at the muzzle, and a stream of empty cases spat out of the ejection port to scatter over the ground beside Hazug. After just a moment the weapon stopped firing and there was a ‘click’ as the bolt closed on an empty chamber. “See,” exclaimed Batrug, “told ya. Jobs a good ‘un!” Hazug pulled back the bolt and checked the gun, wanting to check that it had not simply jammed, as ork firearms were prone to do often. With the chamber open he saw that the magazine was indeed empty and that the gun had not malfunctioned. Then he looked at the drum he had aimed at, which now had sunlight shining through numerous holes that had been punched clean through it. Beyond the drum was a workshop belonging to another ork mekboy, who lent out of a window in the wall facing Batrug’s workshop waving a piece of machinery in his hand that had a hole through it. “Who’s shootin’ me gubbins?” the angry mek demanded. “Me,” Hazug called back, cradling the customised weapon in his arms, “got a problem with dat?” The mek looked at Hazug and sized him up. Being one of the ork leadership known as nobs Hazug stood considerably taller than the mek, and added to that he was holding a large gun. To orks size makes right. “No, no problem,” said the mek, “it was just a good shot and I wanted to congratulate ya, dat’s all,” and with that the mek disappeared back into his workshop. “Not bad,” Hazug commented. “Not bad?” Batrug replied somewhat offended, “Dat’s da best shoota I’ve ever made. Probably better dan any shoota made by any mek anywhere in fact and all ya can say is ‘not bad’?” “So ‘ow much is da best shoota ever den?” “Seven teeth.” “Four.” “Six, and I’ll
chuck in ‘alf a dozen rokkits with it.” Batrug beckoned to one his gretchin servants. “Oi Krobit, bring out da box of stuff for Hazug.” And the creature dashed into the workshop before returning dragging a crate behind him. “Dis da one master?” the gretchin asked sheepishly. “Dat’s it, now stop skivin’ and get back to work,” Batrug snapped as he kicked the gretchin away. “Ere ya go,” Batrug told Hazug as he removed a belt of large calibre bullets from the crate, “dese should fit dat big shoota ya grot found just right, dare’s two hundred of ‘em in ‘ere.” Hazug nodded in acceptance as Batrug returned the bullets to the crate and removed a much smaller and cruder firearm, a short single barrelled gun that hinged open to be loaded. “Dis should be good for ya grot, it takes regular bullets so ya shouldn’t ‘ave any problem findin’ ammo for it.” Hazug took the gun and opened and closed the breech a few times as he inspected it. It was clearly very old, and had seen a great deal of use. “It’ll do,” Hazug said, “now wot about da hummie weapon?” “Dat took some work,” Batrug told him as he pulled another firearm from the crate. Unlike either the gun Hazug had test fired or the one he was holding now this one had been carefully engineered. The size of the weapon’s carefully shaped plastic grips indicated that it had been intended to be used by the humans who had originally made it. While it was suitably sized to allow it to be fired with one hand, there was a folding grip towards the front where a second hand could be used to steady its aim. A compact stock could slide out from its back and a sling was fitted for easier carrying. Hazug had seen this gun before in the hands of a human assassin working for the tau before his death in the local warboss’s headquarters. Being of no use to an ork other than as a souvenir Mek Batrug had been able to buy the gun later on. “Git guns need special bullets,” Batrug told Hazug. “I know dat,” Hazug replied. As a Blood Axe he had considerable experience of dealing with humans, and had spent time even with representatives of the Imperium, the galaxy spanning human empire that claimed dominion over all humans. “Dat’s why I asked you if you could make ‘em.” Batrug pulled several long thin plastic magazines from the crate. “Dare wos plenty of magazines left lyin’ around by da gits,” he began to explain, “and da guards wos willin’ to sell ‘em real cheap. Same with da used bullet cases, and dare wos some unused bullets still left in some of da mags. I copied ‘em to get ya eight full mags, but dey is expensive.” “Ow expensive?” “A tooth per mag, no less.” “So ‘ow much is da lot den?” Batrug paused and waved his finger in the air as he mentally calculated Hazug’s bill. “Twenty one teeth,” he said, “call it twenty cos I got loads of parts thanks to ya when you took me to da ruins.” Hazug pulled his money pouch from his belt and began to count out enough teeth to pay Batrug what he owed him onto a nearby workbench. As he finished counting out the payment he noticed that he still had plenty of money left, at least another twenty teeth, and he took a quick look around to see if anything else caught his eye. “Wots with dat trukk?” Hazug asked, pointing at a six-wheeled vehicle visible inside the workshop. “Good ‘un, I just finished fixin’ it up after its last owner had to get rid of it on account of a bit fell off da engine and killed ‘im,” Batrug told Hazug as he swept the counted teeth up into his hand. “Lets take a look den,” Hazug said and he strode into the workshop to where the trukk was, “Is dat blood?” he asked pointing at a dark stain on the headrest of the driver’s chair. “Yeah, da previous owner wos drivin’ when da bit fell off and den so did ‘is ‘ead.” “Wot about brakes?” “Wot do ya mean?” “I mean, as it got any? I know wot ya is like for slowin’ down.” “Yeah its got brakes, and at no extra cost either.” “I’ll give ya ten teeth for it,” Hazug said, shaking his money pouch. “Twelve.” Hazug stopped shaking the pouch and stared at Batrug. “It aint even red,” he said, “in fact it aint painted at all.” “Okay ten it is den,” the mek said before turning to one of his gretchin, “Get Hazug’s stuff loaded into ‘is new trukk while we go over ‘ow to drive it.” Hazug clambered into the driver’s seat and looked at the controls. They appeared quite simple, as was the way with most orkish vehicles, and he had had many opportunities to observe other orks driving, including Mek Batrug himself. The lesson was interrupted by a shout from the front door of the workshop. “Master are you still ‘ere?” Ratish yelled. “In da trukk,” Hazug yelled back, and Ratish ran over to him. “Master come quickly, dare’s a weirdo at home and ‘e wants to see ya. ‘E sent Ratish to get ya, so ‘ere I am.” “Its not dat bloody Drazzok is it?” Batrug asked. Drazzok had made several comments regarding his low opinion of Batrug’s driving skills and the quality of his work and the mek boy thus had a similarly low opinion of Drazzok. “It is,” Ratish said. Hazug opened his money pouch and again began to count out teeth for Batrug. “Get on da trukk,” he said to Ratish as paid Batrug for the vehicle, and as the gretchin climbed onto the back of the truck Hazug attempted to start the engine. Nothing happened. “Use da assister,” Batrug said, pointing at a large spanner that was wedged down the side of the driver’s seat. Hazug tried to start the engine once more and this time as it spluttered he struck the dash with the spanner. The engine roared into life. Hazug carefully backed out of the workshop, turned the steering wheel as hard as he could and drove off down the street at speed, scattering greenskins in all directions. “Dat nob’s a natural driver,” Batrug said to one of his gretchin as Hazug’s vehicle disappeared from view leaving a thick cloud of exhaust fumes behind it. Then as the gretchin nodded in agreement, Batrug struck the creature around the head. “Get back to work ya lazy grot,” he said.
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