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Hey all, to note I'm a fan of orks and I collect the blood axe clan. My painting isn't too precise on them, but my friends say the camouflage on them is cool. But I thought since I've collected them for quite some time and quite like my orks I'd write a short story of my ork warboss (Yes I know, it's quite a long story, but it's hard for me to write short stories).
Anyways to comment and warn about my own work, I haven't had much practice with ork dialect so that may be a little crude and that it's slightly from an ork's point of view (I need practice at doing that) and I'm just hoping I make up with it for the story, action and background like most writers do smile .
Though still feel free to criticize on my gramma and anything you thought should have been done, it's one of the things that's helped me do good enough on my literature writing.
*
Standing at somewhat attention inside their hut, the Blood axe’s ork nobz gathered around the bullet-hole covered table with what looked like a map with pieces of painted scrap and wood on it. Feeble Gretchins used sticks like shuffle boards to move the pieces across the table when one of the nobz gave out a suggested strategy or when gretchin from the kommandos reported in of enemy movement.
As the Nobz observed the gretchins work, they fixed up and made sure their armour was looking smart enough incase their crazy warboss made them do another bizarre uniform expectation. They were pretty eager though for today plans against these strange speed cult mob that had infested the planet just after the blood axes had wrenched it from imperial clutches.
It was surprising though that they were eager after knowing that their side hadn’t been doing so well in the first two months of this war over the planet. Once the speed freak lot had found out that their tribe mainly consisted of almost entirely foot troop, they had performed hit and run tactics against them, making fun and insulting the blood axes as well as killing lots more than them.
However it was just the fact the Blood axes were cheered up by the fact it was a morning of war council, their hadn’t been one in a while with warboss Wakgot in such a bad mood at the way the speed freaks had been fighting them. There was not much else more thrilling (Other than fighting) for the nobz of the blood axes than observing the enemies position of the intel they gathered, debating and arguing over their so-called genius plans and then see how effective it was after the fights.
“Ten-hut!” Rumbled a bull ork voice.
Clasping arms against waist and raising chins sluggishly, the nobz gave their greetings to their warboss erupting from the darkness. There were heavy thuds and whinging of machinery as Wakgot came in with his full load of mega armour, being the only one allowed to wear mega armour seeing as it was a form of distinguishing himself as leader and a sure way no one could overthrow him as orks normally did. Wakgot also didn’t have any camouflage like his other nobz standing infront of him, claiming it was because the humies’ leaders never wear camouflage and needed to look different, when really it was just that he kept forgetting to get his armour painted camo.
Following him was his variety of nob bodyguard or otherwise called as staff amongst the blood axes. Numbering about ten of them in heavy scraps of armour like the other nobz, they still distinguished their rank as Wakgot’s staff with fancy cyborg parts.
Leaning his half cyborg and jaw clamped face over the map, Wakgot skimmed his eye sight across the map to get an idea of the enemy’s movement and gave a quick curse at their tactic before telling his nobz. “At eaz.” Letting them his nobz slump forward again. “Right Lieutenant Gutzwing, whatz our intel on da enemy?” Referring to one of the stormboy nobz he selected on random.
Hesitating for a minute at how it was Lieutenant this time and not sergeant took Gutzwing a while to acknowledge. “Um der goina across here sir, into dat city?”
While Wakgot leaned over to look at where the gretchins were shuffling the pieces indicated as the speed cults to the city, the other orks sighed at how Wakgot was mixing up the titles again. Sometimes one of them would be called sergeant and then the next day major corporal or something else, whenever Wakgot forgot what their real title was or the fact that he wanted to use tongue to say a title he liked on a random ork.
This though meant the nobz had to be careful what to call Wakgot as. Their warboss leader would change to things such as general or captain or let alone admiral and if you called him the wrong title that Wakgot was referring himself as, he would either smack the nob of the head the side of his power claw or make him polish the entire warband’s boots. Though Wakgot was just as worse when it came to the mobz, they’d get mixed up just trying to remember if they were squad two hundred and seven or Alpha four and if you didn’t remember in time to respond to Wakgot’s commands, the punishment would be just as silly.
After of looking over the map, Wakgot tapped the tip of his power claw against one of the pieces the speed cult was heading for and asked. “Wotz dis?” This time referring to one of the gretchins.
“Da squarez ar’ buildingz sir un da long rectanglez are roadz General Wakgot!” Panicked the gretchin covering his face and hoping he got it right.
Staring at the gretchin and confused at why it was protecting itself with its arms, Wakgot decided to curse to himself stupid Gretchin and focused back to the map, the nobz then noted done it was general this time. Looking over the map a bit more, Wakgot finally grinned maliciously and said. “Boyz I hav a plan, but itz gonna require da biker boyz.”
There was then a load moan from the nobz telling themselves not them. The biker boyz didn’t actually come from their own tribe and at most they didn’t belong. It was the fact that their closes lot to be even called their ally was an Evil sun tribe, that were known for being reckless and just as hyper as most speed freaks or most other Evil sun tribes.
The reason they were somewhat allies was because Wakgot had used the bargaining skills that he picked up from trading with the humies, which opened up relations with the other tribe, seeing as their warboss always thought they were getting a good deal from the trading. Nonetheless their tribe still occasionally attacked their tribe whenever they saw them either because their warboss never took the time to see who it was he was charging at or just the fact that Wakgot forgot they were on they were allies.
Still gaining bikers in the end, they did prove useful for the plans Wakgot needed them for. Yet they were a pain when it came to the Blood axes trying to force the warbikers to place camo colours over the red they had over them and the fact they were restless orks that always needed to have their bikes chained so that they could be restrained from driving off to look for enemies. Worse of all was getting the warbikers to listen to their plans while they drove around in circles with their chained bikes.
However with the plan already locked in his mind Wakgot grinned maliciously pleased with himself as he was already laying out his moves for the enemy in his mind.
*
Cutting through the wasteland on their fast motor vehicles, the warband of Speed freak Speedgrit rushed onwards leaving a storm of dust and smoke chasing after them. Today was another morning and the warband were hastily rushing forward to have some more fun with their prey. It was so funny to rush past and around the Blood axe tribe and then see the furious camo-coloured orks yell and chase after them. Fact was that it made Speedgrit’s tribe show that speed was just as good as anything else and loved how it compared with the foot running Blood axes.
Brooming in front of the tribe was the warboss Speedgrit with his Power claw hanging beside him, wanting to see if he could take the slow-moving enemy warboss’s head off before their clan went back out of distance. Behind him was his handful of Nobz who drove on with the best and well made warbikes in the tribe.
Looking on head, Speedgrit had then just noticed infront of the tribe standing was a handful of other orks with rockets strapped to their backs. It was hard to identify what tribe they were from or what they were doing, all Speedgrit knew was that they were standing in his way and decided to cry out “Waaagh!” Hollowing in joy for blood.
With the boyz ahead knowing that they had caught Speedgrits attention, seemed to hesitate for a moment with their armed choppas and sluggas, but then suddenly lit up the rockets on their backs. The next thing Speed grit and his Nobz then saw was the orkz randomly fire off into the sky and going sidewards into the ruined city that was next to them.
Taking a moment to acknowledge what had just happened Speedgrit let out a bellowing cry of rage that he realised they were stormboyz from the Blood axe tribe. Seeing them fly away like that made Speedgrit believe that those un-orky lot of greenskin or otherwise yellowskinned knew they couldn’t win to his awesome might and ran whenever they saw Speedgrit and his tribe, how so un-orky and cowardly.
Giving a bellowing roar to continue the charge, Speedgrit’s boyz followed up with their own roars and drove forward. Even though the stormboyz were fast to, they weren’t as fast as Speedgrit’s lot and failed to catch any of his boyz whenever Speedgrit quickly raided them. This though made Speedgrit bet that the stormboyz were going to try and hide in the city.
Driving through the way the stormboyz went, they dashed right into the city and into the narrow street to find them. There was evidence that the stormboyz had came through this way with how two or three of them had failed to control their jetpacks and splatted head first into some of the already cracked buildings.
Only looking out for flying orks either still in the air or landing ontop of roofs, Speedgrit had failed to notice that he was being aimed at by guns all around them. An unfamiliar waaagh! Voice rang out, that made Speedgrit immediately panic as he guns ripped open fire from both his flanks all around him. It became a hailing barrage as his warband continued to drive right through it being shot off their bikes or skidding off course from their wheels shot flat or completely confused only to crash into the walls or rubble.
From a far enough distance, observing the laid out trap being put into play, the blood axe orks cried out things like genius and cunning repeatedly to their warboss as they never had once see a strategy he had played out before.
Wakgot was grinning that it was too cunning for any ork to do, especially how he kept praising himself that it was a good idea he didn’t put his orks in the city on the paved roads where it would defiantly wipe out the enemy warboss and anything infront, his boyz would just get smashed aside or would make a wall of wrecked bodies or carcasses to protect the speed freaks. Firing above from their flanks though made the speed cult unable to reach his boyz and retaliate and was spraying bullets all across the warband.
The only thing that Wakgot wished for was that his ladz controlled themselves to await the signal to fire to do more impact damage or were better shooters and see more of those accursed speed freaks get shot off or have their precious bikes destroyed.
But ah well you can’t have everything, Wakgot recalled a humie saying once. Giving out a loud Waaagh! From his lungs, Wakgot set out the next phase of their plan. With his ladz adrenaline so built-up from watching the splendour of their own successful strategy play out, Wakgot and his boyz behind him charged forward now eager to get in there.
Amongst the destruction, Speedgrit was fighting to control his warband under the heavy hail of bullets that was now losing its base as the enemy shootas were starting to need to reload their guns. There was no chance that Speedgrit would get to as he felt the familiar sound of a screeching noise in the air.
Landing and hitting into the Speed freaks, the Stormboyz appeared amongst the chaos wanting to get their choppas in there, hacking and kicking dropping orks off their bikes as they begun laying waste into them. There was still the occasional hail of fire from the shootas, as orks wanted to continue firing a little longer but knew it was time to get in there and started filing out of the rooms, downstairs and out the door.
Choppaing and hacking now emerged in the desperate fight for the speed freak warband. They were managing to mow over these foolish Blood axes with their bikes, but with the amount of carnage across the pavement of wrecked bikes and disembowelled bodies. Speedgrit had just resorted to halting his bike and sitting on in, bashing his powerclaw at anything that came close to him.
Things though weren’t too bad for the speed cult though as their trukks had finally caught up with massed reinforcements suited for this kind of warfare, foot troops. The transports ploughed into the green madness, knocking foes and allies aside to welcome themselves and eager red-armoured orks uploaded with hollowing joy as this was true good to be true.
Some of the other trukks though were missing that Speedgrit swore he had a more vehicles than this. That was maybe because Wakgot succeeded in directing his own restless warbikers to go around the rear to not only close off a retreat, but to harass the enemies rearguard, resulting in distracting less than a quarter of Speedgrit’s boys.
With the field almost equalled now, it didn’t help Speedgrit and his warbikers get out of this right mess and were still outnumbered by the Blood axes amongst them. It begun to blind Speedgrit though with pleasure at the sight of close-quarter combat as orks fire point blank range at one another and leapt with animosity against each other in zeal of carnage, that soon Speedgrit was being overwhelmed by it and lost all sense of tactician.
Bowling into the melee, Wakgot and his nobz behind smashed right in, lobbing orks and junk aside with the single mighty swing of their big choppas or crushing their foes in between their power claws. The other blood axe foot troops followed behind firing their sluggas in the midst of the combat at anything and swing their axes or blunt swords at anyone they believed to be an enemy.
Levelling his rokkit-kombi shoota, Wakgot let open the missile on it, whistling out with a screech and exploding against one of the trucks that had been shooting it’s big shoota into the combat. Orks were swallowed up in a fiery storm as the rokkit had hit into the fuel tank and left nothing but mere scrap and ashened meat.
Wakgot always did considered himself a pot shot with his rokkit, grinning. Though onto business, he lifted up his powerfist and made an ork warbiker drive into the metal arm, making a horrible splatter as the ork foe was beheaded. An boy then tried challenging him, dashing towards him with his choppa axe in the air, Wakgot however merely fired his shoota into the challenger’s chest leaving that foe at that.
None of them impressed Wakgot, as ork urges were cringed at him to look for a proper challenge. Thumbing across the battlefield as Wakgot tried sniffing out, hoping nose would guide him for some odd reason he began to get irritated at all the wearingly orks getting in his way regardless who’s side they were on.
Gork (or maybe mork) though finally answered his prayers, when twirling biker that had somehow exploded in the air, tumbled across the bloody green mass, cleared a path for Wakgot. Ahead of him was Speedgrit trying to drive his bike forward, but failed to notice that he was tangled in amongst a pile of corpses were keeping him going anywhere.
With Speedgrit’s power claw, size and the best good looking bike amongst the lot, Wakgot gave out a bellow challenge after he had came to conclusions that Speedgrit was the enemy warband’s warboss. Hearing the war cry, Speedgrit saw Wakgot moving his massive weight to fight him, but with the slow pace he was coming at enraged Speedgrit as he didn’t want to go at it with someone who was such a slow-poke which Speedgrit consider weak and stupid, so tried double hard to get his warbike to move.
Unable to get his bike moving and the mega armoured boss managing to close the distance with adrenaline speed, Wakgot was on Speedgrit before he knew it. Smacked the back of his powerfist against the speedfreak warboss’s jaw and sent him hitting into the ground, made to fight the way Wakgot liked, ork to ork on foot.
Not walked in ages though, Speedgrit wobbled as he tried to clamber onto his feet, finding it unbelievable that he had forgotten how to stand without a bike or probably because he failed to understand what was happening.
Thinking Speedgrit did not hear his challenge the first time, Wakgot bellowed out again and fumbled forward with his powerfist raised to plant Speedgrit into the ground. In quick reaction, Speedgrit still knew how to use his arms and raised his own powerfist, clashing post powered gauntlets causing the ground to almost shake.
As the two were struggling to press their powerfists at one another, Wakgot recalled that strength wasn’t the only thing you needed to win a fight and brought up his rokkit-kombi shoota to Speedgrit. Before Speedgrit could wail at how unfair this was, Wakgot fired open point blank into his foe.
It took thirty seconds for Wakgot to empty his ammunition and Speedgrit’s body had been rattling and vibrating as he fired into him, but when the Mega-armoured warboss was finally done, Speedgrit was left smouldering and covered in so many bullet-holes in him. Surprisingly enough, Speedgrit was still alive twitching and hissing, even with his skull penetrated and his ribcage blown apart.
Seeing the warbiker warboss lay though, Wakgot had chilled for a minute to recall how he had once looked like that before he became he led his Blood axe tribe. As a bullet whizzed behind him, Wakgot snapped out of it and remembered he had business to attend to; he lifted his foot above the warboss that had irritated him for so long and stamped down on Speedgrit’s head.
With that, it was only a matter of time until the other Speed freaks acknowledged they were losing and going to die, that they succumbed to panic and cut down before the Blood axes foot troops and their own warbikers that arrived.
Observing the dying carnage, Wakgot grinned pleased at how the Blood axes had regained the planet as theirs and his way was best.
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