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The air was rancid with death and the dirt was soggy with discarded bodily fluids. The roar of the crowd was ferocious and deafening driving Bashgad onwards. He flung his bloody choppa wildly at anything that moved cleaving body parts off of his opponents before they could even see what hit them. At seven feet, 8 inches, and 300 pounds of muscle, he bested even the next tallest ork in the arena by a foot, never mind that he was a few shells short of a shoota clip. His dark green skin bore the hundreds of scars he had earned fighting through his long life of 8 years. He was a whirlwind of death and it seemed that no one could stand up to his prowess with the choppa, but little did he know in less than five minutes he would be dead…
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Snikgib was tiny even by gretchin standards. While most gretchin usually stand at the height of a human, Snikgib only reached a measly four foot, eight inches. As a result of his diminutive status he had become a sneaky and cunnin’ little git. He learned when to strike and when to play stupid, the latter being a true challenge. Given the budding intellect of the orks, which isn’t saying much, how can one argue with an ork when the ork with the "propa’ answer" is decided by whichever one is left standing after a good face krumpin’? Being as cunnin’ as he was had kept him alive this long. “Only anuva few months and Is be six,” he thought to himself. “Is a old git…”
Not only had his cunnin’ helped him reach such a ripe old age it had kept him alive so far in this pit fight. “’Oose squig joose did I ‘ave ta piss in do get thrown in ‘ere wif dese crazy gits,” he whispered to himself. “Oh yeah, Is remember now…” Snikgib quickly worked his way through the butchery and feculence before him, his size aiding him as he ducked and weaved between the legs of falling and flailing orks. “Maybe Is didn’t ‘ave ta really take a piss in ‘is squig joose,” he said as he quibbled over the details of his predicament, “but he started it! Is was jus’ mindin’ my own stuffs when he looked at me funny…” He held a back and forth conversation validating the actions that got him thrown into this arena involuntarily only a few minutes ago and like any good self argument, he was winning.
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Snikgib slowly slithered his way closer to Bashgad. “Always da shado’, neva da sorce,” he said under his breath. “If ‘e knos Is comin’ dis could get ugly,” he thought to himself. Dragging his hands through the muck he quickly spread a thick coat of the filth over his body. He reached behind his back and pulled out his “choppa” in preparation. By ork standards it was merely a butter knife, but it had seen its fair share of blood.
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Bashgad was emerging the better ork. Git after git were falling at his feet with his choppa stuck in their tiny skulls. He roared in victory as he dropped another ork, “Is dat all yoose panzee gits got?!” He kicked a headless body off the top of the pile surrounding him to clear himself of his handiwork. He slammed his blade into the lifeless body of an ork within his reach to free his hand, and steady himself, to exit the circle of death. He cleared the pile and his feet landed in the ichor tainted mud with a sickening squish. He turned around looking at all the orks that surrounded the pit and let out an authoritative roar. “Is da biggest and da bestest so Is da one in char…” he shouts at the top of his lungs interrupted by movement from another pile of bodies. “I’ve neva seen dis dirty git before,” Bashgad thinks to himself, “whoose he tink he is tryin’ ta one up me!” In a fit of rage Bashgad charges the single ork, “Finally, som’one worrvy of a good krumpin!”
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As Bashgad stood chest deep in dead bodies Snikgib tightened his grip on his choppa and started to slowly lurch forwards. “Dis was it…da time wuz here. Chop fast and dun stop choppin’ till he stops movin’,” Snikgib thought to himself. As Snikgib lined himself up for his leap Bashgad stopped mid-sentence and turned. Sensing trouble Snikgib froze. Was he spotted? Was he smelled? Then suddenly in a fit of rage Bashgad runs off out of his reach. “We’z gunna hav ta do dis da hard way,” Snikgib whispered to himself, “dats ok…”
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Even though the lone ork was skillfull enough to best a group of his peers he lacked the experience to krump ‘eads with Bashgad. As quickly as their battle had begun it ended with Bashgad’s hands around his opponents head, removing it with a sickening rip. The body now laying in front of Bashgad was oozing ichor. “Wat a waste…I fot dis was gunna be a good one,” he said kicking the body hard enough to move it a few feet. Bashgad returned to his pile holding the last ork standing’s head. “Is da biggest and da bestest so NOW Is in char…,” he said for a second time being interrupted. However, this time it was by something of a much more diminutive stature. Snikgib, now standing on the pile of bodies with his foot on Bashgad’s choopa, asked “You finks yous in charge eh saskwatch?”
Laughter, hoots, and howls erupted throughout the crowd. Bashgad, stunned, didn’t find it all that funny. He knew this sneaky lil’ theivin’ git! Bashgad asked, “’Ow da ‘ell are you still kickin’ ya stinking lil’ grot?”
“Might ‘ave sumfin to do wif ‘ow much you suck at krumpin’ fings,” said Snikgib with a mischievous smirk on his face.
With that comment Bashgad flew into a rage. His choppa was still lodged in the body on the pile but he wouldn’t need it. This weedy git was half his size and was as big around as his thigh. Snikgib was a runt if Bashgad had ever seen one. He would break him in two with the first hit. Roaring wildly Bashgad surged forward to rid the arena of this weedy lil git to secure his victory. “Da sooner dis git is a pair uv shoos on my feets da better,” he thought as he flew forward.
The “hard way” was fast approaching and Snikgib couldn’t go back now. It was time to make this big git pay. “Da bigga dey are da furver dey gotsta fall,” thought Snikgib, “and dis git gots a long way down.”
Bashgad reached the pile of bodies and threw all of his momentum into a massive punch aimed for the weedy lil head of Snikgib but all he found was air. His balance faltered as he found the pile of dead bodies at his feet. He fell forward and struggled to raise himself back to his feet to finish the lil annoying git. It was then that he felt the grubby little hand on the back of his shirt. Snikgib had climbed on his back after he had made the brute stumble. “What tha zog do ya fink yer doin,” yelled Bashgad?!
Snikgib had a handful of Bashgad’s shirt squirming and climbing for his shoulders. “Is…gunna…shows you…’ow its……dun,” grunted Snikgib as he fought his way up the massive orks back inserting his choppa in place of missing foot and hand holds. “Yoose big bastards…always fink…..you own……..da joint. Lookin’ at…..everyone….funny like,” exasperated Snikgib, with each pause being a moment taken to extract and replace his choppa in a new, fresh, unmarred spot on Bashgad’s back.
Yelling and roaring out of embarrassment Bashgad fought to remove the small green rat from his back. Each time his hand swung around to reach for the gretchin the small choppa was deftly replaced and the small annoyance with it. Snikgib, like a oil squig, was impossible to get a grip on. Bashgad’s fingers flailed about in a desperate attempt to stop the annoyance but each time they found nothing but a fleeting feel of the gretchin’s skin or clothes. Snikgib finally reached Bashgad’s shoulders and double fisted his choppa. “Yoose gots nowere to go now ya stinky lil git,”said Bashgad as he reached up and firmly grabbed Snikgibs neck. Just as his hands encircled the skinny neck he felt a sharp sting on top of his head and felt his grip go weak. His hands slipped down to his side as his knees gave way. Now resting on his knees he felt the green rat jump down from his shoulders and saw the weedy git standing in front of him. “You kno’…yoose should really get ur teef back ‘cause whoosever taught yoose ‘ow to krump musta been a panzee, “ said Snikgib. Bashgad tried to retort but couldn’t say a word. Snikgib pushed over the towering brute collapsing him to the ground. “Yoose know, you wuz stoopid to bring me in here t’day. But dats ok…I brought you somfing,” said Snikgib. With that statement Snikgib pulled down his pants and a warm stream landed on Bashgad’s face. Bashgad tried to do something, anything, but his body had failed him. All he could do was lay there and take the abuse from the weedy lil rat! Snikgib pulled his pants up and kneeled down in front of Bashgad and as his sight faded all he heard was “Wudn’t wan’t ya to go wiffout some fresh squig joose.”
Last edited by Kej; January 21st, 2010 at 18:46.
Very nice! I... well, I feel like I should say more, but... I just liked it! Not much more to it than that!
Good work - do you think you'll be posting some other stories? Wouldn't mind reading more if you do!
I would like to get back into writing more and this is my self exercise. More should follow, time permitting of course. With Student Teaching in a few weeks time will be a tad thin.
Self-exercise is always good! Short stories are great for just keeping yourself in the writing groove, getting instant (or at least, fairly swift) enjoyment out of what you're doing. Or at least, that's how I see it.
Hope you find some time in the future!
Nice read. We don't see many ork stories posted or even from official sources.
Keep up da good work!
"Hey sarge, this lasgun is heavy. I wish we had something lighter."
FF7: ABOUT RANDOM BATTLES