Galaxy's Edge 2: Front Line - Warhammer 40K Fantasy
 

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    It's what's for dinner daelrog's Avatar
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    Galaxy's Edge 2: Front Line

    Hey all. It's been a few weeks sinve my first installment. You can read that story here (Galaxy's Edge 1: Prophecy).
    Hope you enjoy it, and once again, feel free to give any feedback.

    Galaxy's Edge: Front Line

    Eshrin held his breath as his body traveled over a thousand miles in a single moment. He felt the warmth of daemons reach out for him as he flew by them. There was once a time when he would have reached out for them too. He had fought alongside many of these daemons before. No more though. His former master had been slain by Deneste Ska, the new leader of the Warp Drifters. In that moment as he went through the warp, he remembered that day when he and his brethren had turned their backs to Chaos, an act which would some day destroy them all.
    It had been a bright day as the red sun of their previous base of operations painted the land crimson. His former master, Naxrelm, a lesser daemon prince of the Alpha Legion had gained his status by starting up a number of elite cults, including the Warp Drifters that had set the region asunder. Naxrelm in all his glory had brought his daemon axe against Deneste. Sparks flew as Deneste had brought his own Eldar blade to bare.
    Naxrelm went wild as he swung his axe frantically at Deneste. Deneste appeared calm, confident, and in control. Naxrelm finally saw an opening. He brought all his strength to bear. Earth cracked, smoke covered the two combatants. The Warp Drifters began to cheer their patron, knowing that none could survive such an impact.
    When the smoke cleared, Eshrin had been in shock. He looked in awe as Naxrelm was struggling, trying desperately to penetrate Deneste’s psychic field. With a single motion Deneste spun his sword around. Naxrelm’s head slid off in a gruesome display of Ska’s raw power. Before the Warp Drifters had a chance to avenge Naxrelm, Deneste spoke with strength and authority. He demanded their loyalty. He demanded that they break all ties to Chaos and join his kingdom as his elite fighting force. At first, none of them knew what to do. Break away with Chaos? Was that even possible? It finally dawned on them all that their souls were forfeit now that they had been defeated. The dark gods cared not for them. Their souls would be devoured the instant they died. This was their only way out. That night, everything had changed.
    “Prepare yourself,” he could hear his comrade say in the distance.
    In moments, he reentered the material universe. They were at a lush oasis, filled with flora that rose up forty feet high. One could see straight through the clear, natural waters. Eshrin saw none of it though as his attention was focused on the hundred or so Orks with their backs turned to them. As one, his unit loaded their guns. The Orks heard this and slowly began to turn around.
    “Waaagh!” shouted the first Ork as four lasgun shots brought him down. The squads flamer ignited, carving a burning hole into their ranks. Just as the Orks were about to charge, three more squads appeared from the warp. Wild hollers and shouts emitted from the Warp Drifters as they ran circles around the Orks. The Orks, clumsy and full of rage, could not keep up with the grace of the Warp Drifters who easily backed off.
    “Grotsmasha, how do we fight dese Umies?”
    The Nob smacked the Ork across the face and shouted, “Shut yer yap ya grot kissa!” The Nob had fought his own kind in order to help his leader get into power. They had fought the Beasties back. The Beasties had friends though. These Umies were different than from the stories he had heard about. These Umies were known to Da Red Toofs as ghost Umies. They came from nowhere, striking fast and retreating. As the Orks would give chase, another unit would appear and shoot them in the back. There were only two times these Umies were used. It was either to take out a very lightly defended area, or to get valuable territory for a big fight. The Nobs eyes widened as he grabbed a mekboy by the neck and shouted into his pack, “Umies at da Oasy! Umies at da Oasy!”
    “Uh… boss.”
    “What do you want ya weedy little git?”
    “You just spoke into da squig cooker.”
    Another unit materialized. The Nob and the mekboy looked straight at six pairs of devilish eyes as one stepped forward and threw a strang device. The two could only watch as the device blew up everything around them. “Waaagh!”

    Eshrin strided over the hill and looked at the scene before him. The 7th and 10th legions were already firing their heavy weapons, decimating the Ork stronghold. The Orks could not give any reasonable resistance because more of his brothers and sisters were battling the Ork crews for their defensive weaponry. All this while, he watched as two great Joza war steeds lumbered forward.
    Eshrin smiled to himself, knowing that everything was going according to plan.

    Warmaster Qoljar blew the mighty horn, instilling the power of the three in his fellow Joza. He stood atop one of the two mighty war steeds that was heading straight for the Ork stronghold. Revenge would be his. Rumor had it that the Ork in charge of this stronghold was the so called “Painboss” that had taken out his eye years ago. His hoofs walked forward as he looked below him to see Orks desperately running back to their base. He grabbed a handful of spears and began throwing them at the foul creatures along with all the others on the war steed.
    “This is our time brothers! Hold your vengeance close to your hearts and brace for impact!”
    Joza wrapped ropes around their arms as the war steed began to slam its tusks against the giant gate. The other war steed joined in. The Orks would not be able to reinforce the gate. When the gate was brought down, the Joza would bring doom to the foul Orks. Qoljar licked his lips in anticipation. Like all Joza, he enjoyed mind games and running across the plains. However, years of war with the Orks, better known as the Yzho, or “green filth”, in their own language, had changed it all. They had destroyed the Joza way of life. They had built smoldering factories that polluted the air. They sent raiding parties to all the corners of the world, making nowhere safe. Around eighty percent of their population was dead. No more compassion was left in the Joza’s heart.
    The gates fell back, crushing dozens of Orks that had been trying to support the gate. The two war steeds charged in, crushing more Orks beneath their feet.
    “Let no Yzho survive!”

    In a dimlit corrider, Painboss Scargrin sat. His eyes were burning from days upon days of experiments on the Beasties. The Beasties were tough, tough like the Orks, but they were hairy and not green. That made them lesser creatures. Scargrin had just received the report of the attack. He could feel the foundations of his fortress tremble as two of the Beasties’ giant steeds tore it all to pieces. His apprentices dashed around grabbing what they could. Chemicals, rusty equipment, anything that could be used to kill the Beasties was being brought to bear.
    BAM! BAM! The doors to his personal chamber rung violently as invaders tried to break through. BAM! BAM! The hinges on the door began to bend. Scargrin was miserable, just as he always was. He was never pleased. Experiments went wrong. Subjects died too quickly. Now though, he felt a slight twinge of joy at the thought of what he would do when the goat-headed freaks came through. The door collapsed.
    Joza warriors leapt into the room, hurling spears into two of the Mad Doks closest to the door. In response, Scargrin’s favorite apprentice, Gobsizzla, through a vial that on impact, exploded into a cloud of chemicals that melted the skin of the screaming Joza.
    More Joza came in behind, flanking the chemical cloud and rushed in, trying to outnumber the Orks. Joza fanatics came in with swinging axes, cutting off limbs and heads in a torment of slashes. Mad Doks pulled out guns that shot fire, acid, and even one strange device that catapulted a squig onto the face of an unfortunate Joza whose last vision was a small red blob of flesh eating away at his eyes.
    Joza continued to fall to the fiendish weaponry of the Mad Doks, but it was not enough. The Joza kept coming. One Mad Dok was impaled through the head by a spear just as he was reloading. Another was held down by a Joza while another crushed his head with his hoof. Scargrin could see Gobsizzla franticly throw a severed head of a former colleague at the Joza leader before he was cut in half at the waistline. He began to crawl away, but was impaled throught the back several times by the Joza leader’s bodyguard.
    “You took my eye Scargrin, I will take your life!” shouted Qoljar.
    “Bring it Beastie.”
    The Joza charged into Scargrin, butting him into the wall. The Ork responded by throwing a syringe into Qoljar’s leg. Scargrin used the initiative to launch himself at his opponent. With a cleaver, he swung viciously at Qoljar, but he could not connect. He kicked the Joza in the stomach and brought his arms up to swing his cleaver down onto Qoljar. Qoljar rolled to the side and stuck his sword out, shoving it into Scargrin’s side.
    Scargrin laughed and swatted Qoljar to the side. Scargrin had subjected himself to the most hideous experiments his Orkish mind could conceive of. One sword was not going to stop him. He took his attention off his adversary to see all of his followers dead. Twentry Beasties were staring at him, spears ready. Umies began to enter the chamber. They filed in, surrounding the Painboss. It was no matter to Scargrin though. After all, he was actually having the time of his life. After so many years of doing experemenz, he had forgotten how wonderful a good fight was. He smiled as he threw himself into his audience, falling upon spear and lasgun fire alike.

    Leathaface Da Moocha walked around. He checked his boyz to see if they were properly giving praise to Gork and Mork. He was nine-feet of scar tissue and muscle. His face had been mauled thrice over, making him hideous, even in the eyes of an Ork. His left eye was nearly blind. It was glazed over. His other eye was sharp though. He could see for over a mile clearly with it. It was something he saw that had brought him back to camp. He walked up to a strange Ork totem and spoke, “Big-Head Bug-Eyes, Scargrin’s boyz is dead. Messengers just sent da sign,” his deep voice rumbled, causing the ground to shake.
    He waited for a few seconds, irritated at the waited. Finally, he could see the Orkacle climb down the totem like a monkey.
    In a high-pitched, resonating voice Big-Head Bug-Eyes spoke, “Leathaface Da Moocha tells me what me already knows.”
    “Don’t mock me weirdboy! I be da boss ‘round here!”
    Leathaface felt a pain in his chest, he tensed up and fell to the ground, writhing in pain. “Leathaface Da Moocha thinks he be big. I be da boss. I be da alpha and da omega. Youz gonna start anotha offensive. Break da Umie and Beastie lines.”
    “Leathaface got up, the pain had subsided, “Yes… Big-Head Bug-Eyes.” He began to walk away when he heard a screech. He turned around to see the weirdboy writhing in agony on the ground. “Youz all right?” When he could see that the Ork couldn’t hear him, he walked over and picked the small creature up. “Har, har har! Now who laughing? Now who da big boss?”
    Saliva dribbled from Big-Head’s mouth. Before Leathaface could react, he vomited psychic energy, burning Leathaface. Luckily, Da Moocha was used to this sort of thing happening. He had been hit by mortar shells, flamers, plasma guns, and countless las blasts.
    “He looked down at the Ork now in panic and horror. “It… is… here.”
    Leathaface with slight curiosity bent down and asked, “What is here?”
    Two bulging eyes looked up and said, “Da Angel uv da Warp.”

    “It has been awhile good friend,” said Deneste to Qoljar. He glanced at the Joza’s spear and saw a gruesome Ork head. “I assume that is what remains of Scargrin.”
    “The Yzho refused me the satisfaction of finishing it myself. For that, only the death of more Yzho will suffice.”
    “You will have your chance soon. The Orks are planning a new offensive. I had a brief conversation with Big-Head Bug-Eyes just a moment ago. They will throw everything they have. The new legion will take the full force of it. Mord reinforcement will counter and drive them back. In the frenzy, I will kill their psyker, I would like you to accompany me.”
    “It would be an honer,” said Qoljar as the two locked hands in a firm hold. As they let go Qoljar asked, “What did you discuss with the Yzho?”
    With a smirk Ska responded, “I informed him that I will incinerate his skin and devour his soul. Sometimes the truth can be disconcerting.”

    The day wore on as Ska’s forces prepared for the coming fight. Weapons were checked, ammunition distributed. Legions from all around the area were brought in. Over 2.5 million soldiers waited for the oncoming horde. The 24th legion stood in the front. The fresh troops would earn the respect of the other legions, or would fall under the weight of the Orks. That is how Ska felt it should be. That was not all though. Already tunneling beneath the ground were the Mord, a hundred million of them. Still, there would be catastrophic losses to the legions if that was all. There was one last ace up his sleeve.

    Leathaface had his bulky, feral armor strapped on by his grot slaves. He flexed his wrist to see the powerful crackles of energy emanating from his power claw. He stood up and walked over to his retinue. “All right boyz, we gonna prove that we be da meanest and da greenest!”
    His Nobs shouted in incoherent shouts and hollers.
    “We’z gonna prove dat not even dose stupid mercs from da Deathskull tribe got nothing on us.”
    Once again, his Nobs shouted in approval.
    “We gonna take da fight right to ‘em. Got that?”
    “Leathaface Da Moocha. The Umie leader is gonna kill Bug-Eyes. If the Umies and Beasties break through the lines, then Bug-Eyes is dead,” said a soothing, feminine voice.”
    “What da fug?”
    “If the enemies break throughthe lines, then Bug-Eye will be dead and you will rule alone.”
    If Leathaface had thought it through, he would have remembered that Bug-Eyes had appointed him as Warmaster. If he had thought it through, he would have known not to listen to strange voices. Instead, he listened. “All right boyz, new plan.”
    From within the shadows a figure stepped back into the warp, smiling with yellow, cat-like eyes.

    Millions of Ork charged as one. The air was saturated with the power of the Waaagh! Grotesque walkers lumbered forward, outfitted with chainsaws and razorblades. The power was so intense, that only a few of the leaders could keep themselves from being completely lost in the frenzy, knowing that cunnin’ plans might be needed.
    As the sea of green rushed forward like a tidal wave, the first shots could be heard. The Orks were in the range of the basilisks, and were paying dearly for being so closely packed together. Ork bodies flew into the air. Arms and legs littered on top of more Orks as there was no sign of an end to their numbers.
    Lascannons and missle launchers began firing. More Orks fell in droves. They died in the thousands. They would not stop though. They were still advancing, hurdling over the dead. Heavy bolters were particularly effective. It brought the Orks to a near stand still until the Trukks arrived. The Orks sped forward, bellowing and shouting. The guns turned to the vehicles and instantly turned them to rubble. However, that distraction was just what the Orks needed to close in the final gap. They reached the lines all across the landscape, and battle was joined.
    The wave of red and green, coming from the blood and skin of the Orks reached the humans. Now, it was time for the forces of Ska to pay. Hundreds of humans were lost in an instant, a sacrifice to Gork and Mork. The Orks were on the verge of madness, waiting for that moment when the humans would flee, and the slaughter that would ensue as they mowed them down. That time never came, because the Legions of Ska would not break.

    The Mord hero had no name. It was one of many. It was not an officer. It had about a thousand of its fellow Mord behind him only because it sported the best scars, carried the biggest sword.
    One particularly eager Mord stood up and shouted, “We fight now, follow m…” The creature slumped to the ground as the Mord hero removed his sword from its mouth.
    “We wait until given signal!” None protested. The Mord hero called himself “Runeblade”. He thought it suited him. After all, not too many Mord could claim to have such a large sword in its possession. He found it in one of the Overlord’s many vaults. He had to carve a bloody path through the vault guards. He took what he could carry, and left as fast as he could. Why would he do such a thing? It was not in defiance to the Overlord. It was not because of some old promise. It was becase the Mord only had two codes which they lived by. One was chaos. The other was hate.
    The thousand or so Mord waited impatiently. It would be close to time soon. The creature Ska was going to send a signal to every Mord on the planet. Runeblade brought his black tongue across his blade. He had never fought an Ork before. In fact, the Mord had been isolated on a single planet since their birth. According to Ska, their planet was far away from the wars that raged on between god-like beings and seemingly invincible civilizations. Runeblade looked forward to fighting every last one of these races.
    The Mord were all shocked to see Deneste Ska before them. They had only seen him once before as he told all hundred million going to the planet what the plan was. By then, only ninety-five million were still alive. The other five million were already dead from infighting on the ships and in the caves they were tunneling through.
    “The time is upon us. Kill the Orks. Let none of them survive.”
    Deneste’s image faded and the Mord went bezerk. Though his voice was calm and smooth, all that was needed was to give them a chance to fight. Runeblade was the first of his group to break through the dirt. He looked around to see the battle… but there was nothing. They had tunneled off course. He could barely hear the sounds of battle in the distance. It was a mile, maybe two miles away. A thousand Mord could hear Runeblade’s harsh voice shout, “DROOSHPO!!”

    Meanwhile, Da Red Toof Orks had been caught off guard. Many had fallen beneath the earth and stabbed to death as the Mord frantically climbed up to the surface. The Mord were vicious and merciless. They bit, they kicked, and they hurled their bodies with no concern to their own well-being. Holes began to appear in the Ork offensive and the Ska Legions used this opportunity to isolate Ork forces. They focused their fire on the weak points to open up the holes even more. Fire rained above the Orks, the Mord clawed at them from below.
    Aetius was watching as the battle unfolded. He smiled as things began to turn in their favor. Now the numbers were even. However, the sudden surge of the Mord was giving them the momentum. So long as the Orks stayed preoccupied with the Mord, and they had the artillery to keep the Orks pinned down where needed, they would win. It was at that moment that Aetius spotted a strange group of Orks. These Orks were not green. They were black. They had tattoos painted across over their dark bodies. They carried around strange weaponry that was disintegrating the Mord around them. “My Liege, what type of weaponry is being wielded by those Orks?”
    Deneste, who was standing next to him, used his psychically enhanced eyes to view them. “I do not believe it. Somehow, those Orks obtained gauss weapons.”
    “Gauss weapons? The weapons used by the Necrons?”
    “Aetius, they are heading for the armored column. They have to be stopped or we will lose this battle.”
    Aetius tapped on his helm twice to get the right frequency and bellowed, “Keep those black Orks from getting to the armored column!”

    Eshrin redied himself. In an instant, he was once again in the warp, traveling at an amazing speed. He could feel daemons begin to gather here, this place where so many souls were being released. He felt their pleasure, their saturation. It was ecstasy to him. In another instant though, he was back, face to face with the strangest Orks he had ever seen. They were carrying gauss weaponry and had black skin. Unlike previous Orks, these ones did not seemed surprised at all to see his arrival and began firing.
    “Evasive tactics!” he shouted. The half of his squad that wasn’t disintegrated sprinted away as fast as they could in a flanking maneuver. Eshrin could see Dilania’s squad fair better as they hit the Orks in the back. Her small, elite unit tore into them. Her squad’s flamers burned ten of the foul xenos to a crisp. Dilania herself was not as fortunate. She had teleported right next to the leader of these Orks. The thing was a giant. It was over ten-feet-tall. Without pause, the monster slapped her away with his claw, immediately breaking every bone in her body, killing her.
    Eshrin knew the situation. If those Orks destroyed the armored column where most of their heavy support was located, the Orks would win the day. The Orks had to be taken down, no matter the cost. He looked over to see Guyus, an old friend, clutching onto a warp bomb. It was a small device, but it was very destructive in a small area. The thing released warp energies all around it once thrown. “Protect Guyus! Make sure he finds his mark!”
    The darted around, dodging the gauss weapons. Warp Drifters right and left were falling. More were dying to these Orks, than any had for the entire two year campaign. Frentis’s last sight was a spray of green as his head washed away with gauss energies. Jalrum and Kassro were locked in close combat, outnumbered and outmatched. Orana tried to avenge her sister Dilania, but the Ork leader was unstoppable. Eshrin’s entire squad was dead now. “Guyus! Let their sacrifice not be in vain!”
    Guyus began to nod, but felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down to see blood and spewing from his dying body. With a scream he activated the bomb and rushed straight into the Ork lines. He was cut down quickly, but he had done his service. The bomb went off, and Orks flew into the sky. Around twenty Orks died in that moment. Several more were wounded.
    They began to retreat back. The Warp Drifters exacted revenge for their losses, killing as many of the strange Orks as they could as they fell back into the ranks of the normal greenskins. Eshrin howled in victory.

    “The time is upon us,” said Deneste. “Let the Ork psyker live his last moments in fear.” Deneste gathered around him dark spirits. These were shadowy creatures, created from sorrow and remorse. They floated around him, eager to bring woe to the Orks. “Attack.”
    As one, they soared into the air and came down onto the Orks. They were hitting the weakest part in the Ork line, a spot where the greenskins were already being pushed back. They collapsed under the power of Deneste and his guard. Orks were crushed with one blow from the specters, ill-prepared to fight such creatures.
    Three Ork walkers charged forward to crush the dark creatures. Little did the pilots know that that is exactly what Deneste wanted. The dark spirits pulled out swords of glistening violet and before the Orks knew it, the crude machines were in ruins. The blades the spirits carried were designed to destroy light armor.
    Seeing their kans destroyed, the Orks went into full retreat. Deneste at the front, the 2nd Ska Legion surged forward and pushed deep into the Ork lines. It would only be a few more minutes until the battle was won.
    Qoljar smiled as he stabbed an Ork in the back about to shoot at Ska.

    Leathaface watched as the battle raged back and forth. They were losing now though. He could see one particular section of the Ork line fall. He frowned as he realized that he had been outwitted. He heard one of his bodyguard walk up to him and say, “Boss, we gotz a problem. We need reinforcements by da river over dere. Big Head demands it.”
    “No.”
    “What you sayin’ Boss?”
    “I’m sayin’ dat we gonna let da Umies break through.”

    Deneste reached his mind out through the battlefield. He knew that Katherra had done her job. She had convinced the Ork Warboss to let Big-Head Bug-Eyes die. There would be no Ork reinforcements. He turned around and beheaded an Ork about to bring his choppa down onto him. He flew into the air to get above a Nob with a power claw, jumping in the air to try to bring him down. With warp fires burning through his eyes, he sent crackling energies down onto the Ork champion, burning him to the bone.
    He looked ahead and saw a strange Ork totem a hundred meters ahead.

    Big-head Bug-Eyes could see something flying towards him. It was da Angel uv da Warp. It was coming for him. His tiny heart was beating faster and faster. His breathing became quick and shallow. He prayed for Gork and Mork to save him. It was coming closer and closer. He called on the power of Gork to throw a giant green fist at the abomination heading for him. It hit the thing directly. Big-Head smiled in relief until he saw that his executioner was not phased in the least.
    “Big-Head Bug-Eyes, it is time you died. Ever since you crawled out of the ground and onto this world, you knew that the warp was after your soul. Now it is time it claimed its prize.”
    “No! No, no, no, no, no! I don’t die! You die!” the Ork shouted as he vomited psychic energy onto Deneste.
    The Warp energies flowed around Deneste as if it was water. Big-Head looked in horror as he knew what was to come next. “Remember what I told you I would do to you Ork?”
    “No, I don’t die…” He could feel his skin getting warmer and his soul begin to move.

    Everyone the battlefield heard Big-Head’s screams resonating through the warp. Knowing their Orkacle was dead, the Ork offensive collapsed. The Waaagh! was now weak, the Ork moral had diminished. They fled from the battlefield, hunted down by the Ska Legions, the Mord, and the Joza. Aetius’s commanded the Legions to kill as many Orks as possible. At the end of the day, four out of five Orks were dead or dying. The day had been won, but losses were heavy.
    The 1st and 15th Legions had been reduced to half their number. Virtually all of the Mord on the planet were dead. A few hundred had to be killed by Ska’s own forces to keep the small devils from attacking their allies as well as the Orks. Several tanks had been demolished. Over a hundred Warp Drifters had died, mostly due to the strange Orks that had appeared for this fight. The 24th Legion was almost completely lost. It was all a sacrifice that Deneste was more than willing to accept. His plan had worked as well as he could have ever hoped, and now the last stage would soon be coming into effect. The Orks had a new leader already, Leathaface Da Moocha. With his death, the Orks would be leaderless and scattered. The planet would fall under the domain of the Divine Kingdom.

    Standing nine-feet-tall, the grizzly Ork bellowed to his followers, “We gotz no need for Big-Head Bug-Eyes any more. We got me, da meanest and greenest Ork of ‘em all! We gonna teach dem Umies and beasties how we Orks do it around ‘ere.”
    The Orks began to cheer for their boss.
    “Now, we gonna strike at dem again, tomorrow. Who wit me?!”
    As one the Orks began to cheer again, all except for one group of Orks.
    Da Dark Orks shoved their way forward through Da Red Toofs. Da Dark Orks were far more advanced than their Snakebite cousins on this planet. They had their origins from the Bad Moon Klan. They were born on an ash world, giving them their black, charcoal skin. A long time ago, under the orders of their great leader, Logrim Deathtoken, they raided a Necron tomb and stole several archaic pieces of wargear. After fighting off the Necrons, they became experts at calculating when and where to expect enemies to teleport in. They had experience dealing with a civilization far more advanced than their own. They learned how to fight enemies without fear or emotion.
    Logrim, standing almost fourteen-feet-tall began mocking Leathaface by clapping his hands slowly, pretending to inspired by the speech. “It be a good ting dat we have ourselves da biggest and da greenest. Where would we be witout such a big, bad motha fugga?”
    Leathaface became furious. He had to crawl around like a dog to Big-Head for years. He would not do the same for this Ork. Logrim wasn’t even green! How dare he challenge Leathaface for leadership. “Wut you want? You mercs aren’t need anymore. Go back to yer ship and leave you ungreen panzees!”
    The two Ork leaders walked right up to each other, separated by less than an inch. Leathaface had to bend his head back to look at his larger for in the eye.
    “Wut you lookin’ at?” asked Leathaface.
    With a quick motion, Logrim brought his claw down onto Leathaface, crushing his head to his mid’section. In a spray of gore and blood, Leathaface’s body slumped to the ground. Logrim looked up to see all eyes turned to him. “Listen up boyz! I be da new leader around here. We be dun wit your old ways of silly magiks and motha fuggas like dis one over dere,” he said, pointing his thumb back at Leathaface’s corpse. “I be da champion uv Mork. I speak wit em every day. He tells me now dat we need to kill da leader of dese Umies. We need to kill da Angel uv da Warp. He will come, expecting to meet dat Motha Fugga ove dere. He will come tonight, and wit his death, da Orks will rule not only dis planet, but all da planets in da system!”
    His speech was met by equally energetic applause. After all, the Orks didn’t care who led them, so long as they were going to have a good fight.

    Deneste Ska soared through the clouds. He looked down onto the Ork camp, trying to find their leader. It was nighttime, and the Orks couldn’t see him so far up in the sky. Ska searched until he found what he was looking for. He could distinctly see Leathaface below him. Even without his enhanced eyes, he could have recognized the Ork. He had never seen an Ork so ugly and repulsive in all his life. Something was wrong though. Deneste couldn’t reach into Leathaface’s mind.
    Like a raptor coming for its prey, Deneste swooped down into the camp. He landed gracefully onto the ground to see he was surrounded by eager and smiling Orks. He looked ahead to Leathaface’s body held up on a pole and his head pieced together with nails and bolts, at least, what remained of it.
    “You be da Angel uv da Warp?” asked Logrim, standing right behind Deneste.
    “I am,” said Deneste quietly.
    Logrim kicked Ska in the back and lunged for him. Deneste, feeling a sharp pain in his back, still managed to roll out of the way. He began to fly away, but several Orks threw grappling hooks that latched onto his wings and forced him back onto the ground.
    “I came here to find Leathaface Da Moocha. I see you already did my work for me.”
    “Leathaface was a motha fugga. Now he be a dead motha fugga. Soon, you will be dead too man.”
    “What are you?”
    “I be Logrim deathtoken uv Da Dark Orks. I am da voice uv Mork himself. He speaks to me every day, tellin’ me wut I need to do to bring victory to da Orks. He be telling me now to quit yappin’ and to kill you.”
    Logrim walked over to Deneste and hit him in the gut. Deneste puked up blood and vomit. Logrim hit him again and again. He hit him hard enough that the ropes holding him snapped and sent Deneste flying outside the camp.
    Deneste reached his mind out to the region and found the mind of a Warp Drifter, Ehsrin to be specific. He called out to Eshrin and sent a simple message, “Send all forces to attack, immediately.”
    Deneste groaned in pain. Even his psychically enhanced healing could not keep up with the wounds inflicted by Logrim. This Ork was different, not only by appearance, but attitude. He could tell that this Ork was colder than most. He was brooding, calculating. The Ork’s mind was sharp, too sharp for any Ork he had ever met. Perhaps Mork really did speak to this beast. He slowly got up and saw Logrim charging at him.
    Deneste swung his sword and caught Logrim in the stomach. He slashed open a shallow wound that began to bleed black ichors. Logrim responded by hurtling his body at Deneste, and using his shoulder to barrel into him. Once again, Ska went into the air and back onto the ground again.
    “You tink you can best me? I tink not,” said Lorim as he closed in for the kill. He twitched his head to move his dreadlocks out of his face so he could see clearly. He brought his claw back and shoved it forward.
    Deneste stuck his sword out into Logrim’s hand. The Ork bellowed in pain and stammered back. Deneste went on the offensive and viciously slashed back and forth his his Eldar blade. Logrim became impatient and knocked Ska’s sword away. He used his functioning hand to grab Deneste’s throat, and lift him high into the air. “Any last words man?”
    “Mortar shell,” said Deneste weakly.
    Logrim looked up to see a mortar shell land right next to him. “Fug…”
    Logrim was knocked down by the explosion and lost his grip on Deneste. Deneste used this time to get back into the air and to escape Logrim. Logrim looked up to see Joza and humans pouring into the base camp. He called out, “Time to go boyz! We be needed to get reinforcements!” With that, Da Dark Orks retreated. As Da Red Toofs desperately fought for survival, their mercenary allies abandoned them, running back to their ship, which launched back into space. As Logrim sat, pissed off, the pilot asked him, “Where to Boss man?”
    “Back to da Rok.”

    The Joza homeworld was now apart of the Divine Kingdom. The Orks were annihilated from the planet. None were left alive. The surviving Mord were quickly shutteld back to their own world to prevent any trouble. Most of the Legions headed back to Haven, in order to mend their wounds and replenish their losses. The Joza began to set up a small government which would answer directly to Ska himself. Qoljar met briefly with Deneste before he headed back.
    “So Deneste Ska, you have given us our world only to claim it for yourself.”
    “That is right. It is the price you pay for survival.”
    “Yes, it is,” said the goat-headed alien, looking into the distance of his homeworld. “It is a beautiful world, is it not?”
    “It is. May you enjoy its view until the day you pass into the next life.”
    “Yes, let us hope so. Deneste…”
    “What is it Qoljar?”
    “If I may be so bold to ask, why did you let the Dark Orks escape?”
    “I did not.”
    “Are you saying that they were stronger than you?”
    “Yes. Now go enjoy your world once again Qoljar, and prove to me that your people, and your planet was worth saving.” Deneste walked away, heading for his ship.
    Qoljar though on what Deneste had said. He was not being rude, sarcastic, or patronizing. He was being completely and utterly serious. “Our new ruler is a madman,” Qoljar breathed.
    Deneste walked back to his ship and thought about Logrim. Logrim was stronger than he was. He was lucky to have survived that fight. No doubt the Ork would be back, and Deneste would have to fight him again. Next time escape would not be an option.

    I am heading off to the Peace Corps. It is bery likely I will not be back. Good luck to all of you endeavors.

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  3. #2
    It's what's for dinner daelrog's Avatar
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    254 (x5)

    Hmm. Well, I didn't get any replies to the first installment, and it seems this one is following the same fate. I know the pieces are both really long, but I'd like to think there is at least one person who got through it all and has an opinion. If you have any insight whatsoever, please say so, so I will know if I am taking this story in the right direction.
    I am heading off to the Peace Corps. It is bery likely I will not be back. Good luck to all of you endeavors.

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    Dark Apostle 10th Lyran's Avatar
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    it is indeed a bit long, but when i'm more awake and not swamped with exams, i will read through it. i'd suggest sending adahn a PM with links to your work too, as he's a great person for critiques and constructive criticism


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    Has a monkey! Imperialis_Dominatus's Avatar
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    I like it, but personally I think it's a tad unrealistic that the Orks have scavenged Necron technology. It says in the Necron Codex that all attempts to replicate the technology from battlefield specimens or use the specimens themselves have failed. But then again, the Necron Codex is mainly "We are teh rulexorz! Bow to our l33t pwning skillz!!1!" so if you want to disregard it, I won't complain. ^_^

    Perhaps the Orks had a Mekboy reconstruct the technology, or the Mek innately created some gauss weaponry.

  6. #5
    Pomogromogranite! Aether-Moose's Avatar
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    As with part 1, AWESOME! It's long, but that's how I like my fluff. Deneste is a great character, cool and brooding. I agree that the Gauss Orks were a little unrealistic, but meh, no biggie.

    Write part 3 soon, I demand it!
    Quote Originally Posted by Brett on Quidditch
    I couldn't help but imagine some poor guy looking up to find a Badger hurtling towards him, about to wrap itself around his skull.
    [ 1500pt. Chaos List, C&C! ]
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  7. #6
    It's what's for dinner daelrog's Avatar
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    Yeah, I was curious to see what people would think of the Orks with gauss weapons. The other thing I was wondering to myself when I came up with the idea is if Orks could figure out how to use the guns even if they were able to get some. Maybe, they had help? Hmmm:shifty: .
    Thanks for the feedback, and I'll probably send Adahn a PM tomorrow to see what he thinks. After all, he's been writing some of the best fluff I've seen.
    Oh, and I'll probably have the next installment, "Ivory", up in two or three days.
    I am heading off to the Peace Corps. It is bery likely I will not be back. Good luck to all of you endeavors.

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    Dark Apostle 10th Lyran's Avatar
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    well, i could easily see the deciever trying to use orks against deneste or any other foe


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