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Da Isle Of Doom Chapta 1 | |
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Chapta 1 |
Supposedly away from the camp in order to search for food, but in reality hoping to find anything that they could barter with before the orks took everything Nagla and Plugnum found the ventilation shaft concealed by more than three decades of plant growth. The coverings had at one time been tightly secured, but the years without maintenance had taken their toll and they were now succumbing to rust. “Give us ya dagga.” Nagla said to the other gretchin. “No, lets me at it.” Plugnum replied. Nagla scowled and spinning around rapidly he delivered a swift blow to Plugnum’s nose. “Aaargh!” the gretchin screamed, clutching at his nose and dropping his knife. Nagla reached out and grabbed the weapon from where it had landed. He was just about to begin prying open one of the ventilation shafts when Plugnum lunged at him, pushing him forwards into the vent cover behind him. The weakened cover gave way in an instant and sent both gretchin tumbling down the shaft, screaming. They landed in
a heap at the bottom of the shaft, finding themselves in a darkened
room. “’Ang on a mo.” Nagla replied and he crawled away from the shaft, feeling about for something he could use for illumination. He felt the distinctive coarse weave of a blanket and he ripped off a corner with his teeth. Then he took a flat piece of stone and a bent nail from the tiny bag he kept tied to his belt and use these create a spark and ignite the scrap of cloth. Now lit by the burning fabric, the gretchin looked around the room they had ended up in. “Dis is git stuff!” Plugnum snapped. “I sees dat.” Nagla replied as he too saw what remained of the furniture in the long deserted room. At one time it had been some sort of barracks with bunks for at least twenty humans. The contents of the room appeared intact, though the assorted printed images decorating the walls had begun to flake away and some of the furnishings not fixed down had toppled over at some point in the past. Plugnum rushed up to the nearest bunk. “Pew!” he exclaimed, clutching his nose and stepping back when he smelt the mould that had spread across it. He spotted a broom leant up in the corner and used this to push aside the pillow that the fungus seemed to have grown out from under and there he found a small paper packet. Whatever had been inside the packet had obviously proven a suitable growth medium for fungus spores, but there was nothing worth stealing. Meanwhile
Nagla headed to a tall cupboard on the other side of the room and finding
it unlocked he opened it. When he saw what the cupboard contained his eyes
widened. “Let me sees it!” Plugnum snapped, running to the cupboard as well. “Geddof!” Nagla shouted, snatching the knife away from his comrade’s reach, “Get ya own, dares more in dare.” Plugnum looked inside the cupboard and on the shelf below the human clothing that was hung up in a neat row he saw a row of knives identical to the one Nagla held. Grinning Plugnum plucked one off the shelf for himself and examined it. “We’ll get a tooth for each one of dese.” He said as he saw the quality of not only the knife itself, but also the rigid scabbard that looked like some sort of tool in itself. “Well I is keepin’ dis one for meself.” Nagla said. “I is ‘avin’ one an’ all.” Plugnum replied, “But dares more of ‘em in ‘ere wot we can sell. Maybe dare’s more in each of dese things.” And he waved at the other cupboards between the bunks. Nagla looked around and tried to count the cupboards. “We is rich!” he said, “If each one of dese ‘as more fancy git choppas inside ‘em we’ll make loads.” Plugnum smiled. “Dese is just choppas.” He said, “Maybe dare’s somethin’ bigger and better in dis fort somewhere.” “We’ll be even richer.” Nagla said, also smiling, “Quick! Make some torches and we’ll go ‘ave a look.” Each brandishing a burning torch made from pieces ripped from bunks and now armed with human manufactured knives instead of their own crude blades the two gretchin crept out of the barracks and into the darkened hallway outside. Though there was nothing specific to suggest that anyone or anything living aside from them in the mysterious underground complex, gretchin were by nature cowardly creatures and they made sure to make as little noise as they could as they moved. “Which way?” Plugnum asked while the two creatures checked in both directions from the doorway. The flickering light of their torches illuminated signs on the hallway walls, but these were printed in gothic, the language of the humans and neither gretchin could understand it. “Does it matter?” Nagla replied, “We is da first to find dis place, we can takes our time in searchin’ it. Come, we’ll ‘ead disaway.” “What dataway?” “Cos dis is da way wot I was lookin’ in when I said it.” Nagla said and he set off ahead of Plugnum. Grunting, the other gretchin just followed. The winding, mazelike hallways of the underground complex were in a similar state to the barracks that the two gretchin had first arrived in. Overall they were in good condition, but it was clearly a long time since anyone had been down here. Here and there the decayed remains of potted plants that had perhaps been used for decoration by the previous occupants had given way to clumps of fungus that were able to survive down here despite the total lack of light. The presence of this fungus did not come a surprise to the gretchin. Orkoid species were a blend of animal and fungus and reproduced by shedding spores, in all likelihood the spores that had found their way down here were orkoid in origin, but lacking a better environment for growth they had not been able to develop into the more advanced forms of orkoid life such as gretchin or the orks themselves. Finding a set
of stairs they opted to head downwards. They travelled down three flights of stairs, ignoring the intervening two levels as too dull at first glance until they came to a level where the door looked to have been blasted off its hinges into the stairwell. “Gits!” Nagla
suddenly exclaimed as he held up his torch to look through the doorway and
Plugnum jumped. “Dey’s dead.” He said, “Look.” And he held his torch closer to the humans. There were three of them lay on the floor in the passageway outside the stairwell, two wearing armoured uniforms while the third wore lighter clothing. The bodies of all three had long since decayed and now they were mere collections of bones laid out where they had fallen. Nagla and Plugnum crept forwards; watchful for any signs that whatever had killed the humans may still be nearby despite the time elapsed since their deaths. “Dey got shootas.” Plugnum said in a whisper, pointing to one of the armoured corpses that was lay next to a shotgun and he reached out to take the weapon. He wrapped his hand around the shotgun’s grip and attempted to lift the bulky firearm from the floor, but the gretchin accidentally placed his finger over the trigger and as he lifted he pulled back on it and the blast echoed down the passageway. Both gretchin
screamed and leapt back away from the weapon. Plugnum released his grip on
it and also on his torch, letting it drop to the floor where it landed on
one of the bodies and ignited its clothing. “Ouch! Wot was dat for?” Plugnum asked. “Ya lost us dat shoota. We coulda ‘ad three teeth for dat. Now follow me and don’t touch nothin’ unless I says so. Goddit?” “Goddit.” Nagla began to walk away and behind him Plugnum paused before following, taking a brief look behind them. There instead of the total blackness he expected did he see a faint glow that was not coming from any fire. “’Ere Nagla,” he said, “come an’ take a look at dis. The passageway was lined with closely spaced doors that were more heavily built than any the gretchin had seen so far in the complex. All of these stood open and it was from beyond several of them that the glow was coming. It was a pale light that was strong enough for them to see by even without their torch and it revealed more bodies. Again these were human now reduced to skeletal remains and were a mix of armoured soldiers and others without armour. However, even some of those who had not been soldiers seemed to have been holding weapons when they died though there was no indication of who they had been fighting. “Let’s ‘ave a
closer look.” Plugnum said and he began to walk towards the nearest open
doorway when Nagla grabbed him. The room was a tiny and almost featureless space with what looked like a single bed along one side. But when the gretchin saw what was on the bed they froze in fear. “Wot is it?” Plugnum said as he drew the knife taken from the barracks. “I dunno.” Nagla said, “I aint never seen ought like it. But I’ll bet some mek or runtherd will give us a fortune to ‘ave a look at it.” And he grinned. The form on the bed was a fleshy mass that spilled over the side and it was only when the two gretchin crept closer that they noticed it still possessed what looked like atrophied limbs and flattened human features set into its bulk. “Is dat a git?” Plugnum asked. “Course not.” Nagla answered, “Git’s aint dat fat and dare arms and legs is more like ours, not dem little flappy things. Plus dey ‘as proper ‘eads and skin wot don’t glow like dat.” The mass twitched suddenly, panicking the gretchin and they both jumped back away, ending up against the far wall. They were both about to flee from the tiny room when the mass glowed brightly and a tentacle shot forth, slamming the heavy door shut before either could reach it. The gretchin huddled together with their knives drawn and gazed at the pulsing mass and they screamed in terror as the rest of the creature attached to the tentacle made its way into the universe. The orks had been on the island for more than half a year now and some of them were starting to get bored. This was not unusual for orks, who needed to be kept busy or they would invariably turn on themselves. Normally this would not have concerned the biggest and thus most important one amongst them, known as the warboss. But the warboss on the Isle of Selus was a member of the Bad Moon clan known as Grath Da Bludgeoner and though members of this clan were wealthier than others by the simple means of re-growing the teeth that were used a currency in ork society at a much fates rate than other orks they could be just as miserly about spending them, if not more so. Therefore, the inevitable damage that was inflicted on the refining and pumping equipment they were there to keep an eye on as orks fought with one another was guaranteed to stress the warboss. Orks had a sure fire way of dealing with stress - they found the cause of the stress and killed them, but even after a dozen or so orks had been bludgeoned to death and their toothless heads made into a decorative totem pole outside the warboss’ hut this still meant that there was damaged equipment to be replaced and Grath Da Bludgeoner had personally ordered several mobs of orks to move inland and see if there was anything left from the humans’ occupation of the island that was worth recovering. This could be either something that could be used to repair or replace what had been damaged or alternatively sold to pay for it. So long as Grath was not losing teeth because of the repairs he would be satisfied. Naturally enough Rorgun of the Death Skulls clan had eagerly volunteered for this assignment. The Death Skulls were well known for their looting, or ‘stealing’ as other orks tended to describe it when they did it to things that belonged to them. Grath knew that the amount of loot he would receive would be reduced by trusting Death Skulls to return it to him instead of a less dishonest clan, he also knew that Death Skulls would go to the extra effort of recovering things that others would judge as too much work. With no pretence of stealth the ork force moved inland from the refinery, hacking their way through the jungle towards the old fortress that had been spotted from the air. There was sporadic gunfire as the orks heard noises in the undergrowth and opened fire just in case it was something worth killing, but for the most part the force concentrating on clearing enough undergrowth for them to get their ramshackle vehicles through. When after more than a day of this they finally reached the gates of the fortress it came as a disappointment. “Is dat it boss?” one of the Death Skulls asked Rorgun who was staring at it out of a hatch on top of his battlewagon and scowling. The human fortress was a squat structure with few external features other than the single large doorway facing the orks. The building was clearly ruined and from the looks of the damage Rorgun guessed that someone had attacked it along time ago with some extremely powerful weaponry. This was not a problem for him; the damage could even make loot such as reinforcing metal beams easier to access. But Rorgun’s initial assessment was not good, the handful of antenna towers that had caught the attention of the death copter scouts were rusted to almost nothing and from what Rorgun knew of human buildings there was no way that one of this size could hold enough loot to make the trip here worthwhile, especially since Warboss Grath would be taking most of it for himself. But then Rorgun noticed something else. Set into the ground not far from the building was a much smaller structure that was topped with an angled grill and Rorgun realised why the main structure looked so small. “Its under da ground lads!” he yelled, knowing from experience garnered during raid against nearby alien worlds that although orks themselves preferred fortresses where they could be seen and thus used to intimidate the enemy many species built their most valuable fortresses under the ground like gretchin did with the tunnels that all major criss-crossed ork settlements. He then looked back down into the wagon and shouted to the gunner, “Get rid of dat gate lad.” The ork gunner cackled as he pulled on a massive lever in front of him and the powerful cannon mounted at the front of the battlewagon boomed as it sent a bulky shell towards the remains of the fortress. The shot missed the main door, instead detonating against the thickly armoured wall surrounding it but when a second nearby battlewagon let loose with a turret mounted energy weapon the doors were blasted wide open. “Dare ya go lads!” Rorgun yelled as he clambered out of the hatch and stood on top of the battlewagon, “Get lootin’!” and he leapt down to the ground and began to run headlong for the doorway. The orks spread throughout the complex, searching for anything that looked valuable. Some just took hold of the first thing that caught their eye and began to drag it back towards their vehicles while others instead opted to head deeper into the complex in search of more valuable loot. Amongst those who thought they could find better pickings deeper within the complex was Rorgun himself and whenever the large ork nob encountered another ork in his way he would shove them aside without warning. That was until he encountered two of his troops on one of the lowest levels who blocked his way and just stared at him blankly. “Move!” he barked, but the orks remained where they were, “Didn’t ya ‘ear me?” he added, “I said ya is to get out me way!” and he stepped closer. It was then that he felt a strange sensation. All orks were mildly psychic; generating an energy field that was channelled and manipulated in a crude way by the shamans known as weirdboys and it was through this field that Rorgun became aware of something else nearby. Growling he drew his axe and pushed his way between the two orks ahead of him, ready to inflict severe harm on whatever creature lurked ahead. But as soon as he passed between the other orks Rorgun came to a sudden halt as the sensation became stronger. There was something around a corner just ahead Rorgun knew. Whatever it was he could not see it but he knew it was there and calling to him, urging him to obey. Rorgun scowled. There was no way he was going to take orders from alien and brandishing his axe in front of him he took began to take another step. Before his foot came down the alien took control of Rorgun’s mind Just as it had done with the other to orks and he knew nothing more. |
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