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Chapta 1
Chapta 2
Chapta 3
Chapta 4
1.
Karat da Squiglad strode from his home
when he heard the approach of the vehicle. Karat was a runtherd, he spent
his life rearing and training the lesser types of orkoids. This included
both the gretchin and snotlings that were smaller versions of the orks
themselves as well as the various subspecies of animal squigs.
”Out da
way runts!” he bellowed, knocking his gretchin servants aside. He came to
a halt as another ork disembarked from the truck and looked at him. This
ork wore the traditional dirty apron of a painboy, the medical specialists
of ork society. “Well?” Karat said to the newcomer.
“I done it.”
The painboy replied and he waved at his own gretchin servant who promptly
dashed to the back of the vehicle, “Feed some of dis to ya squigs and
dey’ll grower bigger and faster dan dey would without it.”
At the rear of
the truck the gretchin was dragging a large barrel from its flat cargo
carrying area. Suddenly the gretchin cried out in alarm as he lost his
footing. The barrel that had been precariously balanced at the edge of the
truck tipped over and came plummeting down, the gretchin rolling aside
just in time. There was a sudden crash as the wooden barrel splintered and
the bright yellow fluid held within came spilling out.
“Ya wrothless
bleedin’ grot!” the painboy bellowed, furiously, “Ya spilt da lot! Its all
gone!”
“Oi!” Karat
shouted, “I aint payin’ for somethin’ wot ya grot just poured all over da
ground.”
“No worries.”
The painboy said, “I can brew up another lot for ya.”
Karat
scowled.
“I wanted dat
stuff for when da next lot of caravans was leavin’.” He said, “I can’t
wait for another lot to be brewed up.”
“I can do it.”
The painboy said, “I’ll just need to charge ya few extra teeth for da
rush.
“No chance!”
snorted Karat, “Ya aint getting’ no teeth from me. Sod off!” and he turned
on the spot and stormed back inside.
The painboy
turned around and glared at the gretchin who had spilt the precious growth
serum.
“Look wot ya
done!” he shouted, “Dat’s just cost me fifty teeth.”
“Master I is
sorry!” the gretchin pleaded as the painboy strode towards him. But before
the diminutive creature could beg for forgiveness any further the painboy
grabbed hold of a piece of the destroyed barrel and with a vicious roar he
brought it down on the gretchin’s head.
The gretchin
screamed in pain as his master continued to rain blows down upon him and
he tried to crawl away.
“No ya don’t!”
the painboy shouted and he brought a heavy booted foot down on the
gretchin’s spine, snapping it. Then he aimed the end of the fragment of
the barrel straight down and rammed it through the gretchin, impaling him
through his chest.
As the
gretchin lay dead the painboy merely turned around and got back into his
truck before driving away, leaving the body behind.
As a species
orkoids blended elements of both animals and fungi and they reproduced by
emitting spores that given a suitable place to grow could then develop
into any of the myriad forms of orkoid life, from a simple fungus to the
mighty squiggoths and squigosauruses that could rip apart the most heavily
armoured tanks. As a part of this cycle the death of any orkoid triggered
a rapid release of such spores and as such the body of the dead gretchin
soon began to break down and thousands of microscopic spores were cast
out.
A number of
these began to settle in the area immediately around the body, where the
yellow coloured growth serum had collected in the shallow dips in the
street. Many of these promptly sank into the fluid, and denied a suitable
place to germinate their existence came to an end without getting the
chance to become an new life form. However, by a remarkable fluke one of
the spores instead landed right at the edge of one of the pools and
instead of being drowned in the fluid just began to soak it up, the serum
saturating its structure. The vehicle to come speeding down the road drove
through the puddle without its driver noticing anything more than a slight
bump as he drove over what remained of the gretchin and speeding off
without giving it a second thought. But the passage of the vehicle
catapulted the serum-soaked spore back into the air where a strong breeze
carried away from the city of the orks and out into the fertile
countryside…
“Ah Hazug,
come on in.” Warboss Kazkal Kromag, largest and thus most respected ork on
the planet said and he waved Hazug Throatslitter of the Blood Axe Clan
closer, “’Ow’s da work goin’?”
“Da bridges is
almost done boss.” Hazug replied, “Den we’ll be able to send our big
wagons over to da other side of da river and clear it out.”
Warboss Kormag
grinned at the news. A recent attempt by human forces based in the ruins
on the far side of the river to overthrow him had been narrowly avoided.
There was a tunnel running beneath the river from the area of the city
occupied by the more loyal human population, but it was too small for the
largest of ork vehicles and the warboss was in a hurry to have the ruins
cleared out.
“Good, good.
Now we was just talkin’ about wot to do with dat gateway thingy.” Kazkal
said.
Part of the
human plan had involved an ancient eldar structure that had lay buried
since before the orks had conquered this world. The structure allowed
direct access to the planet from some other place so far unknown to the
orks through some means that the best mechaniaks could not fathom out and
there was considerable disagreement on what to do with it.
“Ya knows my
opinion boss.” Hazug said, “Blow it up before we is up our necks in
eldar.”
“Bah!” another
nob exclaimed.
“Got a problem
with dat Skargak?” Kazkal asked.
Skargak was a
member of the Goffs clan; they regarded themselves as the toughest and
meanest of all orks and dressed in black to prove it. Only slightly
shorter than the warboss he was his most likely successor.
“Build a fort
dare boss.” Skargak said, “Dat way if any pansies reckon dey can come ‘ere
lookin’ for trouble we’ll ‘ave a bunch of lads waitin’ for
‘em.”
“Dat’ll take
too long.” Another nob replied, “Just bury it. Dare’s no way through if it
under a squig-load of rock.”
Skargak
snarled.
“See.” Kazkal
said to Hazug, “I gots too many choices.”
“Perhaps ya
could just cut up da gate and do somethin’ different with each piece
boss.” Hazug commented, despite the risk of the warboss realising that
Hazug as having a joke at his expense.
“Another good
idea. Dat’s got some wisdom behind it, dat does.” Kazkal replied, nodding,
“Make a note of dat one too.” He then said, looking in the direction of
one of his human servants. As a Bad Moon, the richest of all clans because
of the rate at which they grew their teeth, Kazkal Kromag flaunted his
wealth by staffing his palace with humans rather than the much cheaper
gretchin. These he still used, but only for the more menial tasks, such as
clearing way the bodies that inevitably seemed to pile up if left
unattended to.
“So is dat why
ya asked me ‘ere boss?” Hazug asked.
“Nah.” Kromag
replied, “One of da tradin’ caravans got in yesterday and dey was sayin’
dat one of da git farms dey normally deals with was flattened when dey
passed it. Now I thinks dat it could be some lads wot is ignorin’ me new
orders about not killin’ gits unless dey starts it.”
Despite the
recent action taken against the warboss by some of the local human
population, Hazug had been able to negotiate a deal whereby those loyal to
the orks would be supported by the warboss in exchange for a regular
supply of human-made ammunition for his own use. As part of this deal
Kazkal Kromag had issued an edict forbidding the killing of unclaimed
humans without good reason on the grounds that technically they all
belonged to him now. This had not gone down well in all parts of the ork
population and already there had been a few battles between those
rebelling against the order and the nobs Kazkal sent out to enforce
it.
“So ya wants
me to go out and ‘ave a look, right boss?” Hazug asked.
”Exactly.”
Kazkal replied, “If someone’s killin’ me gits den is gonna fine ‘em a
mouthful of teeth each. And to make it easier to collect I’ll just take
dare ‘eads off. Make sure ya tell ‘em dat Hazug.”
Hazug
smiled.
“Don’t worry
boss.” He said, “I’ll tell ‘em.”
The truck
bounced across the open country as Hazug drove it as fast as he could. In
the passenger seta beside him sat Sophie, his loyal human servant. A crude
tattoo on her arm of a pair of crossed axes marked her out as the property
of the Blood Axe clan, meaning Hazug given that he was the last of his
clan on the planet. She clutched a large, crudely drawn map that had been
supplied to Hazug by the trading caravan that had reported the destruction
of the human farm. The ork traders had asked for a modest fee of three
teeth for the map, but Hazug had haggled them down to one tooth and he
would agree to stop hitting them.
“I don’t
understand.” Sophie said as she looked at the map, “The farm should be
around here somewhere.”
“Stupid git
just can’t read a map master.” This came from the rear of the truck where
Hazug’s other servant Ratish Brownskin was sat, peering over the shoulders
of Hazug and Sophie. Ratish was a gretchin and thus his attitude towards
Hazug was one of sycophantic servitude.
“Look! There
it is!” Sophie sudden cried out and she pointed towards the horizon where
the top of a building could just about be seen.
“Lucky guess.”
Ratish muttered.
“’Ang on.”
Hazug said as the truck swerved suddenly and he drove straight at the
building.
Sure enough
the building was just one of a small that made up a typical human farm.
Ork trading caravans frequently stopped at these places and though the
humans would never get a fair trade from the orks, they at least had the
knowledge that the orks were on hand to protect them from any of the
raiding parties that roamed the countryside. Most of the raiders avoided
attacking the farms even before the warboss’s edict however, they didn’t
want to risk bringing down the wrath of the larger trading caravans on
them by wiping out the source of their goods.
The only real
threat to the farms nowadays came from feral orks who were newly hatched
from the fungus patches and had yet to be properly civilised. Fortunately
these orks seldom travelled in groups of more than about a dozen or had
any weapons more advanced than bows and spears, so the thick stone walls
of a farm house should have provided these farmers with adequate
protection from a feral mob until civilised orks could arrive to beat some
sense into them. But whatever had attacked this farm had used more than
just bows and spears.
The building
tip that Sophie had first seen was the highest point remaining. In fact it
was the top of the only wall left standing, the rest having collapsed into
piles of rubble. Hazug brought his truck to a halt and turned off the
engine. Then he jumped down to the ground and drew his pistol.
It had rained
heavily recently and the ground was still sodden with water, so there was
a squelch with each step that Hazug took as he walked towards the
ruins.
”Oi!” he called out, coming to a halt, “Is dare anyone
‘ere?”
There was more
squelching and he glanced around to see both Ratish and Sophie picking
their way towards him across the muddy ground.
“What did
this?” Sophie asked as she surveyed the damage.
“Kannons
master?” Ratish suggested.
For a moment
Hazug considered this a possibility. But then he realised that though the
buildings had been destroyed there was no evidence of any sort of
explosive weapon being detonated here, scorch marks or shrapnel for
example. It was as if the building had just been knocked over.
“Well dey is
all dead alright.” Hazug said, “But I don’t knows why.”
”So what are we
going to do?” Sophie asked.
“We is goin’
‘ome for tonight.” Hazug said, “Den we’ll come back tomorrow with some
lads wot can tell us wot ‘appened.”
Hazug had
worked with Mek Batrug several times before and he trusted the mekboy as
much as it was possible to trust someone who had an obsession with
tinkering with absolutely every machine he could get his hands on to
‘improve’ it. The other ork however, was previously unknown to Hazug. He
was simply the first runtherd he had run into when he went looking for one
and with the promise of a tooth in payment or punishment by the warboss if
he turned down the job he had agreed to come and take a look at the ruined
farm.
“Well ya was
right about dis not bein’ da work of kannons.” Batrug announced, “And it
wasn’t no wagon bein’ crashed into it either. If it was, den dare’d be
some bits of da wagon wot fell lyin’ about.”
Hazug looked
towards the runtherd.
“Oi Gorthug!”
he shouted, “Batrug says it wasn’t no kannon or wagon. So can ya tell me
wot is was?”
Gorthug was
crouched down, studying the rubble and when Hazug called to him he stood
up and approached him.
“It could ‘ave
been a squiggoth all right.” He said, “Dey is strong enough. But I aint
never ‘eard of one doin’ ought like dis before.”
“Why’s dat?”
Hazug asked.
“Well even
though they is big and tough,” Gorthug explained, “dey still gets ‘urt
when dey bangs into stuff like dis. If it was mad enough it’d ‘ave a go
all right. Or if it ‘ad been domesticated and the rider gave a good enough
smack. But it aint normal for ‘em to just do somethin’ like
dis.”
“Hazug!”
Sophie’s voice suddenly called out.
“Where is
she?” Hazug said, looking around. Concerned that there was something on
the loose that had destroyed a farm, he had warned his servants to stay in
sight.
“Da git’s
wandered off master!” Ratish exclaimed, “Ratish knew it would. Just leave
it behind.”
”Hazug come quick!” Sophie called out again and this time
Hazug determined where the cry was coming from.
“Dis way!” he
snapped and he rushed towards the sound of Sophie’s voice, Batrug and
Gorthug following close behind.
They ran
around the ruined farm buildings to find Sophie staring down at the
ground.
”Look!” she exclaimed when the orks appeared and she pointed,
“What made that?”
At her feet
was a footprint. The rain has washed away most of the tracks, but this one
had survived long enough for them to find it.
“Hmmm.”
Gorthug said as he studied the footprint, “Well dat aint no squig print.”
He went on, “It’s got too many toes.” Then he held up his hands in front
of him and lined them up in his view with the ends of the footprint, “And
da proportions is all wrong for an ork, it’s too narrow. So I’d say dat
dis was made by a runt. A grot or a snot, I can’t be sure.”
“But it can’t
be.” Sophie said as she looked at the footprint, “I mean look at
it.”
“Oi, git!”
Gorthug snapped, “Remember ya place and he raised his hand to strike
Sophie but Hazug reached out and took hold of his wrist before he
could.
“Ya gotta
admit dat dis aint exactly ya normal runt footprint now is it?” Hazug said
to Gorthug.
“No. But
everythin’ fits. Dat footprint was made by a runt.”
“Wot’s wrong
with it?” Batrug asked, scratching his head.
“Well look at
dis.” Hazug said and he grabbed hold of Ratish and lifted him up, waving
the gretchin’s foot in Batrug’s face. The mekboy recoiling at the smell,
“See dat?” Hazug asked.
”See wot?” he asked.
“Well dis is
‘ow big me grot’s foot is,” Hazug said about Ratish’s foot, “whereas dat
print is a big as me trukk.”
2.
From his
throne, Warboss Kazkal Kromag looked down at Hazug and frowned.
“’Ow does a
runt destroy a buildin’?” he asked.
“Well dis
runt’s bigger dan it supposed to be boss.” Hazug replied, sensing that he
was not being believed.
“’Ow much
bigger?” the warboss asked and Hazug turned to Gorthug.
”Well?” he
asked the runtherd.
Gorthug
considered this, taking into account the relative length of a normal
gretchin or snotling foot compared to its height.
“Well without
seein’ it I can’t be exact ya know,” Gorthug said slowly, “but at a guess
I’d say dat its about as tall as a stompa.”
A stompa was
an ork war machine, an armoured walker about twenty to twenty-five metres
in height. Not that orks though in terms of metres or any other standard
units of measurement. They generally went with three basic lengths, too
short, just right and too long.
Kazkal
laughed. A loud booming laugh that made it clear he did not believe a word
of what he was being told.
“Hazug me
lad!” he called out as the other orks gathered around throne also laughed
in support of the larger ork, “I likes a joke, but dis is ridiculous. Now
sod off and don’t come back until ya ‘as found out wot’s really goin’ on.
Take da runtherd with ya an’ all.”
“How did it
go?” Sophie asked when Hazug returned home.
“Da boss
didn’t believe me.” He replied.
”But why not?” Sophie asked as she
followed Hazug up the stairs and into his bedroom, “Didn’t you tell him
about the footprint? What if you got Batrug to speak to him as well? He
saw it too.”
“Nah, da boss
aint gonna believe dat dare’s a runt da size of stompa runnin’ about
unless someone kills it and dumps it on ‘is doorstep.” Hazug replied,
unlocking the heavy metal door set into one of the walls of his
room.
”So what are you going to do now then?” Sophie asked.
Hazug pulled
the door open to reveal a windowless room filled with weapons.
”I is
gonna kill it.” He said, “And dump it on da boss’ doorstep.”
This time the
truck was pilled high with weaponry. Hazug had mounted a large belt fed
gun on the top of the roll cage. His custom rifle along with its under
slung rocket launcher was placed just behind the driver’s seat along with
a plentiful supply of spare ammunition and there were several crates
stacked up and lashed down. These crates were not of ork manufacture, they
were far too regular. These were mass produced examples of human industry
and each one was marked with lettering in the human language of gothic.
LAUNCHER, MISSILE, HYROS PATTERN.
The only place
that Hazug knew for certain that the giant runt had been was at the
destroyed farm, so that was where he headed for. Once there he disembarked
from the truck and looked for anything out of the ordinary. Such as a runt
the size of a stompa.
The rain had
destroyed all but the one footprint left by the creature, but by ork
standards Hazug was an expert tracker and he knew that a trail could
consist of more than just prints in the ground. A trail of devastation
left by something big forcing its way through thick undergrowth for
example and when Hazug spotted that the trees and bushes of nearby
woodland looked to have been pushed aside by something big forcing its way
in between them he smiled.
“Dat way.” He
said.
The light was
fading as he drove into the woods. Unusually for Hazug he kept the truck’s
speed low, unwilling to risk a collision in the growing
darkness.
“Where are
we?” Sophie asked as she looked out of the truck. Here and there she
caught sight of something moving in the shadows, but whatever wildlife was
about it had no interest in approaching the truck.
“Stupid git.”
Ratish said from the gun mount, “We is in da woods.”
“Yes, but
where in the woods?” Sophie said, looking around at Ratish, “And which
woods? There are lots of them.
”Sophie’s right.” Hazug said, slamming
his foot down on the brakes, “We needs to check da map.” And he reached
for the rolled up map that the traders had provided, “Is dare ought to
drink?” he said to Sophie as he unfurled the map and laid it out in front
of him.
Without
speaking Sophie reached behind her seta and produced a large clay flask,
took the cork out and began to pour some of the water it contained into a
pair of cups. The larger cup she set down on the dashboard and the smaller
one she kept hold of and sipped from.
“Ratish wants
a drink an’ all!” Ratish exclaimed and he came climbing down form the gun
mount while Hazug and Sophie looked at the map by the light of a
lantern.
As Ratish
poured himself a drink he felt a slight shudder and glanced towards the
front of the truck he saw that the water in Hazug’s cup was shaking. Then
he looked behind the truck and his jaw dropped.
“Master.” He
said softly.
“Not now.”
Hazug replied, then to Sophie he added, “Well I reckon we came in ‘ere.”
And he tapped at the map.
“But how deep
in are we?” Sophie asked and Hazug just frowned.
“Master.”
Ratish repeated as the ground shook once more.
“I said not
now. We is busy.” Hazug replied. Then both he and Sophie also felt the
ground as it shook and they spotted the cup of water on the dashboard.
Slowly they both turned around and Sophie screamed.
“Aw crap.”
Hazug said, his shoulders slumping when he saw the enormous creature that
towered over the treetops looking back down at them. Then he suddenly
added, “’Ang on! We is elavin’!” and he put his foot down on the gas
pedal.
“Ratish get
back on dat big shoota!” Hazug yelled as the truck pulled away and there
was a roar as the creature they had been hunting for now came chasing
after them.
With no need
to be prompted further, Ratish clambered back up the roll cage and to the
gun mount. He swung the weapon around and lined it up on their
pursuer.
“Ratish is
ready master.” He said excitedly.
“Den wotcha
waitin’ for?” Hazug shouted, “Let rip!”
Ratish pulled
the trigger of the belt fed weapon and held it back, sending a constant
stream of heavy calibre bullets into the creature. Though his target was
massive, the way in which the truck was now bouncing about as Hazug threw
caution to the wind in his effort to escape negated any advantage of size
and barely half of the rounds that Ratish fired actually hit the creature.
The creature roared in pain as one bullet after another tore into its
flesh, but the butts failed to even slow it down let alone inflict any
serious injury and the chase continued with Hazug looking for some way out
of the trees that the creature seemed able to just brush aside as it
pursued them.
Suddenly the
tree gave way to open countryside and Hazug pressed down on the gas pedal,
no longer concerned about driving into a tree he put the speed of his
truck to good use and drove off as fast as it would go. Behind the truck
the creature also emerged from the woods and roared with rage as it saw
the truck slowly disappearing. But then something else caught its
attention. Off in the distance and standing out clearly in the darkness
were the lights of the ork city.
The creature
smiled and set off towards them.
Gorthug
growled as he climbed out of bed at the sound of banging on his
door.
”Its da middle of da bleedin’ night!” he shouted as he shuffled
towards the door, “Dis better be bleedin’ good.” And he picked up the long
hooked stick he normally used for keeping gretchin, snotlings and squigs
under control, ready to use it on whoever was daring to disturb him at
this hour. Opening the door he discovered Hazug and his servants standing
outside.
“It aint da
middle of da night! Hazug shouted, “Look.” And he pointed to where the sun
was just making an appearance over the horizon.
”Well its still
bleedin’ early.” Gorthug said, “But ya’s ‘ere now so ya may as well come
in.”
“I think its
best if ya comes out ‘ere.” Hazug replied and he beckoned Gorthug to step
outside.
The runtherd
grunted and came out of his home. Hazug just pointed in the direction of
the woods where they had encountered the giant creature. Gorthug looked
and frowned.
“Wot’s dat?”
he asked as he saw a dark shape.
“Take a closer
look.” Hazug said and he produced an alien device designed to provide
superior viewing of objects far away or in poor light. Gorthug looked at
the device for a moment then lifted it to his eye and looked through it.
Straight away Gorthug lowered the device again, his jaw
dropping.
“By
Gork’n’Mork.” He said, “Dat thing’s as big as I said it was.”
“Yeah but what
is it?” Hazug asked and Gorthug looked through the device
again.
“It’s a
snotling.” He said, “Yep, definitely a snotling.”
“How can you
tell?” Sophie asked.
“Da eyes.”
Gorthug replied, “It’s got dat vacant stupid look like it couldn’t find
its arse even if it sat down. When did ya first see it?”
“Late last
night.” Hazug said, “We was lookin’ at a map and it snuck up on
us.”
”Did ya ‘ave a light?” Gorthug asked.
“Yeah, a
lantern.”
“Dat’s
probably wot attracted it den. Snotlings like bright shiny stuff. Den if
it followed ya it would’ve seen da city lights and come dis
way.”
“So wot does
we do about it?” Hazug asked him.
Gorthug turned
around and returned the viewing device to him.
“Well at least
da boss’ll believe ya now.” He said, “Good luck with dat by da way.” And
he went back inside and shut the door. As Hazug and his servants stood
there, there was the sound of a heavy bar being pulled across it on the
inside.
There were
fewer orks in the throne room at this hour than the last time Hazug had
stood before the warboss to explain about the creature. At least now he
could confirm that it was some sort of oversized snotling, even if he had
no idea what had caused it to grow to such a size. However, Kazkal Kromag
still appeared unconvinced.
Or least he
wasn’t until one of his palace guards came rushing into the throne
room.
“Boss come
quick!” he shouted, “It’s tearin’ up da city!”
”Wot is?” Kazkal
asked.
“Well, it
kinda looks like a runt. Only its ‘uge. As big as a stompa!” the guard
replied and Kazkal stared at Hazug, who was now smiling.
All of the
orks present in the throne room followed Kazkal up to the roof and looked
out over the city. Sure enough, in the eastern part of the city a giant
snotling could be seen making it’s way through the streets and already
there was the sound of gunfire as the handful of orks already up and about
at this time saw something out of the ordinary and shot it.
“It’s ‘uge.”
One of Kazkal’s court said in amazement, “Even bigger dan ya is
boss.”
A puzzled look
appeared on another one of the nobs.
“If it’s
bigger, den does dat make it da boss?” he said. Unfortunately for this ork
he was standing not only right beside Kazkal Kromag, but also at the edge
of the roof and Kazkal responded to his comment by giving him a
shove.
“Right den,”
Kazkal said as the nob plummeted to his death, “any more daft
comments?”
There were
none.
“Good. Now get
da lads to go kill it.”
“Wot lads
boss?” a nob asked.
“All of ‘em if
dat’s wot it takes.” Kazkal replied.
3.
Ratish and
Sophie were sat at opposite ends of the truck when Hazug came rushing
back, doing their best to ignore one another.
“Master!”
Ratish exclaimed as he saw Hazug moments before Sophie, “Wot’s
‘appenin’?”
“Da boss wants
dat giant runt killed.” Hazug replied as he climbed back into the vehicle,
“So we is off to ‘elp. Ratish, get back on da big shoota.”
Ratish
smiled.
“Yes master.”
he said as he climbed back up to the gun mount.
Drazzok
Headbanga was one of, if not the oldest ork on the planet. As a weirdboy
he lived apart from most other orks due to the way in which the orkoid
species manifested psychic abilities. Unlike other species, where a psyker
would draw power directly from the warp and channel it to affect the
material universe, all orkoids instead produced a form of gestalt psychic
field that would be channelled through nearby weirdboys. Potentially this
gave weirdboys vast reserves of power but it also ran the risk of an
uncontrolled discharge that would cause the heads of not only the weirdboy
but also other nearby greenskins to quite literally explode and kill them
all. For this reason every weirdboy carried a copper staff that would help
dissipate their accumulated power by channelling it into the ground and
lived in a hut known as a weird hut. This simple dwelling was a small
structure mounted on top of a tall copper pole. Within his home Drazzok
could feel safe that his head would remain intact and in its proper place
thanks to the psychic field only becoming strong enough to affect him on
rare occasions.
Unfortunately
there were other things that could disturb him.
He woke when
he felt his bed shaking and he rolled out onto the floor. He had fallen
out of bed not so long ago as well, but on that occasion it had been the
ceiling that broke his fall because of it being triggered by one of the
rare build-ups of psychic energy when a group of madboys had gathered
around the base of his hut’s pole. Madboys were not psykers themselves,
but they were more sensitive to ork psychic field than others and had
become unhinged as a result, often display wildly varying personality
disorders. They tended to revere the weirdboys themselves and often formed
retinues for them. Some of the madboys were still camped out below his
hut, Drazzok knew and he would not put it past them to take it upon
themselves to interfere with it.
“Wot da
bleedin’ ‘ell are dem loonies doin’ now?” Drazzok said to himself as he
grabbed hold of his staff and made his way to the door of his hut. But as
he walked out onto the compact balcony outside he found himself staring at
the giant snotling as it approached.
”Wot da bleedin’ ‘ell is dat?” he
exclaimed.
“Look out oh
great one!” a voice called out from below and Drazzok glanced down to see
the largest of the handful of remaining madboys waving to him. This was
Thuggrim, one of the few madboys to survive long enough to become a full
fledge nob. Like any other group of orks, as the largest madboy he was in
charge of them, though he deferred to Drazzok in all things.
There was a
crash as the snotling reached the far edge of the cluster of weirdhuts,
knocking the first one he encountered to the ground.
The madboys
below took aim and fired, most of them even managing to remember to load
their weapons first while the few other settled for just making the sound.
But their lightweight pistols and rifles did nothing more than annoy the
snotling and it let out a roar and turned directly towards
them.
“Now look
wotcha done!” Drazzok bellowed at the madboys, “It’s comin’ right for
us!”
Sure enough,
the enraged snotling barged through the cluster of weirdhuts towards
Drazzok’s. Sensing what was about to happen Drazzok weighed up his
options. He could try and make it down the ladder, but it was a long way
and he did not want to get caught half way down when the snotling reached
his hut. He could jump of course, but he did not trust the madboys to
catch him. Even if they said they would, they would be too likely to
forget when he was only half way down. That left just one choice and so
Drazzok went back into his hut and hoped everything would work out just
fine.
It did
not.
The hut shook
violently as it was struck by the snotling and Drazzok was flung across
the interior, stopping only when he collided with the copper pole that ran
through the centre of the hut. Then he heard a creaking and the room began
to tilt.
“Aw crap.” He
said as he realised what was coming.
On the ground
below Thuggrim had emptied his rifle’s magazine and was just trying to
figure out why the fresh one he had picked up would not fit without
realising he was trying to load it backwards. It was then that the
snotling pushed against Drazzok’s hut and the ground at the base of the
pole began to give way.
“Garb dat
someone!” he yelled, pointing at the base of the pole and two of the other
madboys dropped their weapons and rushed towards the pole, vainly trying
to keep it upright. The hut came down anyway, crushing one of the madboys
beneath the pole. From inside the hut itself was a cry of alarm as Drazzok
held onto the pole for dear life, “Great one!” Thuggrim yelled when the
hut final hit the ground, “Is ya all right?” and he rushed towards the hut
to help.
The snotling
meanwhile began to come under fire from another group of orks who had been
woken by the noise and come out of their homes to suggest that those
responsible could be quiet or be shot and it began to move towards them
instead.
There was a
groaning sound as Drazzok came crawling out of the hut.
“Me ‘ut!” he
cried out, “It’s bad enough dat Batrug put a dent in me pole, but now da
‘ole thing’s been knocked down by a, by a – Wot da bleedin’ ‘ell was dat
anyway?”
“Looked like a
runt oh great one.”
“Don’t be so
daft. Runts aint dat big.”
“Not normally,
but everythin’ looks bigger close up don’t it?”
Drazzok let
this pass and clambered back into the wreckage of his home only to return
a moment later clutching his staff.
“Right den,”
he said, “let’s go find Hazug.”
“Why oh great
one?” Thuggrim asked.
“Because I
wants to know wot’s goin’ on and every time somethin’ odd ‘appen’s ‘e ends
up in da middle of it.”
Pordor
Meatchoppa had inherited his business when he stabbed the previous owner
through the neck and then served him up as the chef’s special. He watched
from the kitchen door and grinned as he realised that he had a full house
this morning and was going to make plenty of teeth. In fact he was going
to make even more than he normally would from such a crowd because he had
hit upon the idea of adding a few small rocks to some of his breakfast
recipes. This would cause orks to lose any tooth that bit down on them and
there was a fair chance that they would immediately decide to spend it on
an extra beer to dull the pain.
Pordor
considered himself a shrewd business-ork.
The door
suddenly flew open and a dishevelled ork burst in, clutching his rifle by
its barrel.
“Run for ya
lives!” he bellowed, “Da runt is comin’ dis way!” and then he ran back out
into the street, screaming. The ork diners all paused in eating their
meals and looked at one another as they attempted to decipher the meaning
of what had just been said. A handful got to their feet.
“Nobody
moves.” Pordor announced, “I aint lettin’ no bleedin’ runt drive off me
custom.” And he went back into the kitchen, reappearing a moment later
with a large meat cleaver in his hand, “New special,” he called out, “runt
stew.” And he strode confidently into the street, “Right den!” he shouted
to no-one in particular as assorted greenskins dashed past him, all
heading in the same direction, “Where’s dis runt wot I’s ‘eard
about.”
Pordor
suddenly heard the sound of loud breathing from above him and he looked
upwards to see the giant snotling towering over him.
“Oh crap.” He
said just before an enormous foot came down on top of him.
There was
little traffic and few pedestrians in the streets at this hour, despite
the rampaging snotling bring more orks out of bed earlier than usual so
Hazug was able to make good time as he drove through them. The snotling
was easy to follow, it towered over most of the city’s structures and it
was leaving a trail of destruction that a hundred orks would find
difficult to match without access to heavy weaponry.
“Hazug stop!”
Sophie suddenly cried out from the passenger seat.
“Wot?” Hazug
said as he slammed on the brakes and brought the truck to a
halt.
“Look.” Sophie
replied, “It’s Drazzok.” And she pointed to where the weirdboy was running
towards them with Thuggrim and two other madboys around him.
“In da name of
da great Drazzok I ‘ereby requisition dis trukk!” Thuggrim announced as
they reached Hazug’s vehicle.
”Oh shut up ya looney and just get in.”
Drazzok snapped as he began to climb into the front where Sophie was sat,
“Oi git. Shift or get sat on.” He added and Sophie climbed into the back
of the truck where the madboys were now also sat, “Okay den,” Drazzok said
when he was comfortable, “off we go.” And Hazug drove of in the direction
of the gunfire.
Narkor paced
up and down in front of the mass of heavily armed orks filling the street.
Rifles, machine guns and rocket launchers were all loaded and ready. All
they needed was a target.
“Right lads,
we’ll ‘old da line ‘ere. We’ll show dis runt dat ya don’t mess with da
orks.” He said, “No matter ‘ow big it is.” and the assembled orks
cheered.
The gunfire
and screaming was growing louder now and it was obvious that the runt was
approaching.
“’Ere it comes
lads! Stand ya ground and fire when I tells ya.”
There was a
sudden crash as a buggy hurled through the air struck one of the buildings
beside the ork crowd and fell to the ground, crushing several
orks.
Narkor looked
at the wrecked buggy and the body parts sticking out from beneath it. Then
he heard something else, a low rumbling growl and he looked back around to
see the massive form of the oversized snotling staring down at the
assembled ork force.
The snotling
let out a roar.
“New plan
lads.” Narkor announced, “Run for it!”
4.
When the
snotling appeared looming in front of the truck Thuggrim, who climbed up
to replace Ratish on the gun opened fire, sending the entire belt full of
bullets into the snotling’s back.
“Oi!” Thuggrim
then yelled at the snotling, waving his fist at it, “I shot ya! Ya’s
dead!”
“I don’t think
he agrees.” Sophie said as the snotling turned around and looked directly
at them, only to be distracted by a burst of gunfire from another group of
orks that came charging from a side street.
“Everybody
out!” Hazug barked, “Da big shoota’s no good, but I gots better dan
dat.”
“Like wot?”
Drazzok asked.
“Dem.” Hazug
replied and he pointed at the human-built missile launchers.
Hazug opened
up several of the crates.
“One each.” He
said, then he looked at Sophie and added, “Tell ‘ow dey works.”
Sophie smiled
and nodded as she took one of the hollow tubes from its crate.
“The
instructions are here.” She said, pointing to a set of images labelled in
gothic printed on the side of the weapon that showed a human soldier
preparing and firing it.
“Yeah, but ‘ow
does an ork do it?” one of the madboys asked and Sophie sighed.
“Like this.”
She said and she began to go through the loading process.
They formed a
single line, everyone from the truck holding one of the rocket launchers
over their shoulders. Even Drazzok who as both a weirdboy and a member of
the ultra conservative Snake Bite clan normally avoided any form of
technology, especially anything not made by orks.
“Wot we aimin’
for master?” Ratish asked.
“Da runt.”
Drazzok said and one of the madboys turned towards Ratish.
“Not dat
runt.” Hazug said, reaching out and pushing the madboy’s missile launcher
to face the correct direction. Then he added, “Just go for da chest. Dat’s
normally a good thing to aim for.” Then he paused as the group all lined
up their weapons on the snotling. “Ready… Steady… Let rip!”
In unison the
missiles were launched and sped towards the snotling. Moments later the
salvo hit home and there were explosions accompanied by the screaming of
the snotling as the explosive warheads tore away chunks of its flesh. But
as the smoke and flames cleared, the snotling was still
standing.
“I’ve told ya
about dat before! If ya aint gonna die, we aint gonna play!” Thuggrim
yelled, waving his finger at the snotling.
The snotling
roared in anger and stepped towards the group. From amongst them all one
in particular stood out to the snotling’s simple mind and it reached out
towards them.
“Hazug help
me!” Sophie screamed as she was lifted from the ground.
“No master,
let da snotling ‘ave ‘er!” Ratish yelled, “Maybe it go away.”
There was the
sound of engines accompanied by a screeching as a group of
flamethrower-equipped half-tracks came racing around the corner and opened
up on the snotling.
The snotling
lifted up its arms, still clutching the screaming Sophie and let out a cry
of its own. Then it began to back away from the flames, carrying off
Sophie.
From his
position on the palace roof Warboss Kazkal Kromag smiled as he saw the
snotling being forced back, even if it appeared to be uninjured despite
everything thrown at it.
“Boss!” a
voice called out from behind him and Kazkal looked around to see a mekboy
running towards him, “I just got word from da airbase!” the mekboy said,
“Dey say Nagrippa’s dethcopta lads is ready to go.”
Kazkal
grinned.
“Send ‘em in.”
he said.
“Why didn’t da rokkits stop it
master?” Ratish asked as the group was rushing to get back into the
truck.
“I dunno.”
Hazug replied.
“Aint it
obvious?” Drazzok asked.
“No it aint.”
Hazug said.
“Well
somethin’s made dat runt grow bigger dan it’s supposed right? And bigger
is better yeah? Everyone knows dat. So think about wot else ‘as got
better.”
“It’s
‘ealin’.” Hazug said, “Unless we can do somethin’ dat can kill it outright
den it’ll just keep on ‘ealin’ any damage we do’.”
“Exactly.”
Drazzok said.
”But ‘ow does we kill it in one go master?” Ratish
asked.
“I just needs
to find a weak spot dat’s all.” Hazug said, “An eye, or an ear. If I
shoots a rocket down one of dem I’ll get right to da brain. Even a
snotling needs its brain every so often.”
“Ya’ll ‘ave to
get close.” Drazzok said, “Real close.”
“Let go of
me!” Sophie yelled as she struggle in vain to break the snotling’s grip on
her. The ork flamethrowers were continuing to drive the snotling back and
enraging it even further.
The snotling
looked around, searching for somewhere that seemed to offer some respite
from the unrelenting ork assault. Then it saw something that looked
promising. Or to be more exact, two of them.
Gargants were
the largest of ork surface fighting machines and the pair that Kazkal
Kromag had commissioned were some of the larger ones of their kind, only
the enormous mega-gargants were larger. Still incomplete they were
surrounded by crude scaffolding that allowed the ork mekboys to carry out
work on the upper levels of these giant walking machines that were part
war engine and part effigy of the ork gods. All this meant nothing to the
snotling though, all it was interested in was getting up high out of the
reach of the ork flamethrowers.
The
scaffolding around the nearest gave way as soon as the snotling tried to
grab hold of it, it had after all been designed fro ork workers less than
a tenth as tall as the overgrown snotling. Instead the snotling took hold
of the armoured hull of the gargant itself and one-handed began to pull
itself up the side of the war machine. When it reached the shoulder the
snotling stood up tall and roared, lifting its arms above its head and
Sophie screamed again.
Then there was
a distant sound that slowly grew in volume an d the snotling began to look
around, searching for its source.
Sophie heard
it too; it was a simple rhythmic sound that was definitely getting
closer.
Whumph,
whumph, whumph.
From the seat
of his deathcopter, a bizarre ork built hybrid of motorbike and attack
helicopter Nagrippa of the Evil Suns looked down at the snotling below
him.
“Squadron
forty!” he yelled at his pilots, waving at them also “Dive!”
There was the
chattering of gunfire as the first of the deathcopters swooped down on the
snotling, firing. The snotling reacted in the same way it had to every
other attack, it roared in anger and looked to see what was attacking it
now. It saw the swarm of ork vehicles swooping down out of the sky, their
machine gun and rocket armament firing non-stop. The snotling paused for a
moment to set Sophie down on top of the head of the incomplete gargant and
then it turned to face its enemies.
Hazug braked
sharply, bringing his truck to a halt at the base of the base of the
gargant and reached for his rifle and its under-slung rocket
launcher.
“Wait ‘ere.”
He said as he climbed down form the truck.
”Where’s master goin’?”
Ratish asked, peering over the side of the truck at Hazug and Hazug looked
up at the snotling.
“Up.” He
said.
Nagrippa
flinched as the snotling’s fist passed less than an ork’s length from his
deathcopter and he turned to try and get out of reach before the creature
could try again. Behind him the next deathcopter pilot was not so lucky
and the snotling swatted his aircraft from the sky, sending it plummeting
to the ground below.
He looked at
the snotling again. So far his pilots had hit it with dozens of high
explosive rockets and hundreds of bullets that could cut an ork in half at
extreme ranges, but all they seemed to have done was make it even angrier.
He could see something moving about on the head of the gargant, something
that looked like a cowering human but as far as he was concerned it was
nothing that mattered to him. All that mattered was carrying out his
orders to kill the snotling and so he brought his deathcopter around for
another pass.
Hazug was out
of breath as he clambered out of a hole in the side of the gargant to find
himself standing on its shoulder, with the snotling towering
overhead.
“Hazug!”
Sophie called out from the head, looking down at him and waving, “Up
here!”
“Stay dare! He
shouted back and he unslung his rifle.
Another pair
of deathcopters flew past and the snotling spun as it knocked another out
of the sky. As it did so, it caught Hazug with its heel and knocked him
backwards to land on his back. It was then that Hazug saw something that
gave him and idea.
His plan had
been to try and get up high enough to fire his rocket into the snotling’s
eye, are or even down its throat. But there, beneath the loincloth that
the snotling had thankfully fashioned for itself before reaching the city
was another orifice. It may not be close to the snotling’s brain, but
Hazug was certain that firing a rocket there would do a lot of damage. He
brought his rifle to his shoulder, aiming straight up and then fired the
rocket.
A look of
sudden surprise and confusion appeared on the snotling’s face as the
rocket found its target. Almost immediately this change to a scream of
pain as the tail fire of the rocket ignited the highly combustible gases
that had built up inside the snotling’s digestive system. Then the rocket
detonated and blew open the snotling, spilling burning flesh and bodily
waste all over the upper portion of the gargant. Hazug rolled over to
avoid getting a face full of this, while Sophie screamed as she tried to
find cover.
Still the
strike was not instantly lethal to the snotling and it continued to scream
in pain. But the damage was enough to prevent it staying on its feet, and
the snotling fell sideways and tumbled over the side of the gargant’s
shoulder plating.
Hazug
scrabbled to the edge of the shoulder and looked down to see the screaming
snotling as it bounced down the side of the gargant until landing in a
lifeless heap, the ‘crunch’ of breaking bone audible even from this high
up.
“Ya does
realise,” Drazzok said as Hazug climbed back into the truck, “dat ya just
defeated a snotling da size of a stompa by shootin’ a rokkit up its bum
dontcha?”
Hazug
shrugged.
”Dese things ‘appen.” He said.
“Not to anyone
else dey don’t.” Drazzok told him.
Behind them
Sophie, who like Hazug was covered in the contents of the snotling’s gut
sat down.
”Does anybody mind if we just go home and never talk about
this again?” she asked. |