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As my fellow Americans on here are undoubtably aware it's football season again! So I decided to write a little footbal inspired ork story based on a very famous press conference. (who doesn't love it when coaches melt down?)
For those of you who don't remember the orginal rant can be seen there. http://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_N1OjGhIFc
Take it away boyz
Da Post Game
by Lord Trebor
The Space Marines had conducted another brilliant assault, killing many greenskins and driving the xenos horde further back into the wilds. Casualties on the Space Marine side forced the Emperor’s finest to dig in and fortify their position rather than pursue. Still it was a victory and the Space Marines thanked the Emperor and blessed his name.
The Orks on the other hand…
Battered, bruised, bloodied, and bloodthirsty, the orks were forced to retreat, many of their beloved trukks, wagons, and deffkoptas reduced to smoking wrecks. Whole mobs lay dead, cut down by bolter fire as they charged forward. Only a heroic and ultimately suicidal charge by a squad of nob bikers had kept the defeat from turning into an all out rout. It took two squads of space marines and one squad of terminators to finally bring the mad bikers down.
Huddled together in a cave, Boss Nooreg da Tyrant turned to address his troops, his one good eye looking at each lad in turn. His cybernetic leg had been blown off (again!) and a chunk of metal was stuck in his left arm. But he wasn’t about to see the dokk yet.
The ork boyz knew they were in for a rough time. Nooreg hated loosing. This was the third time in a row that the orks had assaulted been forced to withdraw while fighting these particular Space Marines. Nooreg was not pleased. The warband wasn’t pleased. After loosing three scraps in a row, moral was sinking and orkish optimism could only last so long.
“Doze stoopid humies,” said a boy. “I can’t believed we lost to em-” The word “lost” had barely escaped the boy’s throat when Nooreg shot him through the head.
Orks never lost.
“Da Space Marines are who we thought dey were!” Nooreg said.
Silence. The warband listened as their boss tried to rally them with his impressive ork oratory skill. By Mork, he’d improve the moral of his warband or Gork be damned!
“What?” said another boy.
“Da Space Marines are we thought dey were! Dat’s why we took da scrap to da damn field! Dey are who we thought dey were!”
What’s dat mean, boss?” The boyz were a bit confused.
“Dey are who we thought dey were! Dat’s why we tooked da damn field! Now if you want’s ta crown der asses, den crown em! The Space Marines are who we thought dey were!”
The fiery passion of Nooreg’s speech awoke something in the heart and soul of each boy, nob, grot, and squig. Suddenly it became clear. The Space Marines are who they thought they were. The only thing keeping the boyz from routing those armored gitz was the orks themselves. They are who we thought dey were. Suddenly anything was possible. Space was the limit.
Suddenly the Waaagh! was back on.
The orks were ready to take the fight back to the Space Marines.
They were who they thought they were.
A perfect, amusing, satirical example of Orkish logic. Props; and a football. Maybe a football.
Last edited by rafis117; October 2nd, 2009 at 23:48.
Terminator armor going critical would be like Three Mile Island only very, VERY angry, and carrying a hammer.
LO rules in a nutshell: Don't post unit costs, be polite, rep posts containing of win.
Hey nice going just about the only fluff i managed to read without skipping a few parts the first time i read it (except from that one about the grot)
Thanks guys! I knew there were some football fans on here that would get it.
"Da playoffs? Don't talks about da playoffs! Da Playoffs?!"