A little fluff experiment

[Deadstar_MRC]

I don't know if you're coming back to this, but... I thought that you'd gone to the trouble of writing pieces for a few of us, so I might return the favour.

Having attempted to do so, I have new admiration for your works. It took me about three or four weeks to finish this, after I'd had a few false starts that just weren't going to work. So, thanks for the effort you put in!

And here's a little something for you. It's a bit light hearted I suppose, not meant to be taken all that seriously. There's probably a few glaring inconsistencies with the Warhammer 40K Universe, so just ignore them please!

Anyway, here it be; AlbinoAlien's Story

******

“Oi! Whitey! Wot ya doin?”

Albino sneered at the Ork who had just called to him, “I is readin, Goran! Jus’ ‘coz you don’t unnerstand the squigglies…”

“Readin!?” Goran was incredulous, “It be time for lootin’, Whitey! Not Readin!”

Albino supposed this much was true. For a normal Ork this would be true. The rest of the clan had just raided an ‘oomie outpost, killed all the pink-skins they could find, and were busy rampaging through the burning compound, snatching up weapons and armour and anything else they could get their hands on before the fires grew any larger.

But Albino wasn’t a normal Ork. It wasn’t that he was a runt; he was just as big as the other boys. It was his colour that marked him apart.

Albino, as his name implied, was almost white. There was a greenish tinge to his skin, but he was far paler than any Ork he knew of.

And he acted differently to the other Orks, as well. The thrill of battle didn’t hold as much excitement for him. Oh, he would still join in the fight, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

It was words that fascinated him. Words and language and writing. Very odd behaviour for an Ork indeed, but for some reason he couldn’t help it. It was in his blood.

Unfortunately he didn’t know any other Ork that shared his passion. Most of his clan, however, were quite happy to ridicule him for his passion. Just as he suspected Goran was about to do.

Just as Goran opened his mouth again, though, a thunderous roar assaulted him, “GORAN! Wot ya pesterin’ Whitey for? I is the one wot does all the pesterin’ round here! Now sod off before I knock ya teef out!”

Goran backed down as Warboss Skarrob lumbered forward, his ramshackle armour clanking with each step. Albino watched him approach, dreading what was to come. Skarrob never spoke to him unless he was angry, and even then it was only to insult him.

But this time Skarrob had a smile (or at least the Orky equivalent on one) plastered across his face. He seemed to be attempting to be friendly, though he still bellowed as if in the middle of a battle, “I is heard you is good with ‘oomie squigglies, Whitey. Dis right?”

Albino nodded, and Skarrob laughed.

A massive claw clapped him on the shoulder, denting his armour, as Skarrob continued, “Well, Whitey, I is got a job for ya. You is gonna use ya squigglies ta tell tha ‘oomies all about Warlord Skarrob. You is gonna write down all me victories, so all tha ‘oomies know who is been trashin’ their stuff!”

*

“Wot’s that one say, Whitey?”

As a favoured scribe of Warboss Skarrob, Albino had become protected and untouchable. As long as he kept jotting down Skarrob’s victories, and writing insulting messages to the ‘oomies on the walls of fortresses and cities they destroyed, no other Ork would bother him.

They were on an Imperial space ship now, though, not very familiar territory for any of them. But it had shot at Skarrob’s fleet, and in doing so had elevated itself in Skarrob’s list of things to destroy.

However, all the narrow corridors and ‘oomie signs were confusing the Warboss, and once again Albino was proving his worth.

“That one, boss, says; Danger. Do not enter.”

Skarrob roared in defiance, “We ain’t avin no ‘oomie sign tell us wot to do! Smash it, boys!”

Albino stood back as Skarrob and dozens of other Orks began trying to smash through the doors. He suspected they’d take some time, and so he wandered off down the corridor a little way, his attention snared by another sign that read ‘Landing Bay.’

There was a door here too, but Albino recognised the human word for ‘open.’ A simple press of the button made the door hiss open.

He chuckled to himself. This was so much easier than smashing things. Skarrob tended to ignore the ‘open’ buttons and do things the hard way.

Wandering inside what he supposed had to be the landing bay, Albino sauntered around the metal birds sitting idle around the bay. There was a lot to read on them, surprisingly. More things like ‘Warning’ and ‘Danger’ and ‘Keep off.’

No wonder the ‘oomies were so easy to beat, Albino thought. They don’t know what’s dangerous unless they write all over it.

Albino shrugged, noticing there was more to read inside the metal bird. He wandered up the ramp and poked around inside.

There was a strange noise when he pushed a lever from the ‘open’ to ‘closed’ spot on the wall, but he didn’t think it was all that wise to leave things open. He continued wandering around inside the bird, fascinated by everything he found.

*


Back inside the engine room, Skarrob and his boys were busy shooting and smashing their way through everything they could find. They didn’t care what all the ‘oomie signs were telling them; although as they eventually tore open the still active engines and released enough energy to tear the ship apart, perhaps it would have been wiser if they did.

*

Albino stared out into space, at the wreckage of the ship they had been on that was slowly drifting in to the distance.

He supposed Skarrob had broken something important, and that was why the ship had fallen apart. Somehow though, his little bird had drifted away from the collapsing wreckage of the ship relatively intact.

He’d worried for a little bit as to what to do. He supposed it was possible to fly this thing, but he had no idea how.

Still, he’d gone to the place with all the buttons and knobs and levers, and had a look at everything. Nothing was really labelled clearly, though. And so he had no idea what to do.

There was one button that read ‘distress’ though. He thought for a moment, remembering that distress was sort of like trouble. And, given that he was floating through space with no idea how to fly this ship, he supposed that was trouble.

He reached out and pressed the button.

A light started blinking next to the button, but nothing else happened. So he went back to wandering around the ship, poking around to see if he could find anything interesting.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, long after he had grown bored with what the ship had to offer, that a noise at the front of the ship caught his attention. Albino wandered over to the room with all the controls and looked at a light blinking rapidly on one of the panels.

He didn’t know what it meant. But, back at the window, he could see that there was another ship floating in space, one that hadn’t been there before. Maybe they’d seen him?

They did seem to be getting closer. Much closer. Over the next half hour or so, Albino watched the ship as it drew ever closer. Eventually, it seemed to stop along side his little ship, and he heard noises behind him.

Ever curious, Albino went to investigate.

*

Rouge Trader Dunrith held his laspistol loosely in his hand, up by the side of his head, as he stepped on board the shuttle they had located. It had been broadcasting a distress signal, and whereas he would have ignored such a signal from a larger ship, from a small shuttle…

He was a scavenger, plain and simple. A single shuttle floating in space could have all manner of interesting cargo on board. And even if there were still crew alive on board so that they couldn’t just pinch the cargo, they could always talk a few credits out of said crew, or whoever was responsible for them, for going to the bother of rescuing them.

But this shuttle seemed rather empty. None of the lights were on. There had been no heat signature from the engines, so the vessel had to have been floating for some time. And it was a passenger shuttle as well, which meant the chances of valuable cargo were fairly slim.

Dunrith turned to his partner, Tranmere, indicating the dark interior ahead of them, “Looks like we lucked out on this one, Tranmere.”

The other man shrugged, “No harm in looking, though. Might be something we can scrounge.”

Dunrith gave a nod and began to move further in to the shuttle, keeping his eyes peeled. It wouldn’t do well to let his guard down; the shuttle had been broadcasting a distress signal, meaning that whoever was on board had been in some king of danger. It was entirely possible that the threat could still be present, and he didn’t want to wind up dead.

He had a family to support after all, as did Tranmere. The two of them, firm friends since childhood, now travelled the stars with their respective wives and children, two space faring families eking out a living as Rouge Traders.

An unusual noise ahead of him saw Dunrith drop his pistol to a more aggressive position as he swept his torch around the main compartment of the shuttle.

His beam fell on something. Someone. An…

An Ork?

It looked like an Ork. It was pretty pale for an Ork, though, more white than green. Maybe not as large as he had thought an Ork would be. And it was just sort of… standing there. Shielding it’s eyes from the torch beam.

Dunrith heard Tranmere draw a surprised breath behind him, “What the…?”

Dunrith lowered the torch and the pistol, and stared at the Ork in surprise.

The Ork stared back, then gave a tentative wave, “Hello?”

“You… you can talk!?” Tranmere sounded astonished, and Dunrith had to admit he was somewhat surprised as well. He didn’t think Orks spoke Gothic.

But this one was clearly an exception, “Can talk a bit. Know some of your ‘oomie words.”

“So…” Dunrith lifted his shoulders in a shrug, “What are you doing here?”

The Ork shrugged in return, “Don’t know. Da Warboss was smashin’ up a ship. I done wandered off, found this thing and was pokin’ round it. Den the big ship falls to bits and I be stuck in dis thing.”

“But you were broadcasting a distress signal,” Tranmere interjected. “Was it… did you turn that on?”

The Ork nodded, “I saw dis button, sayin’ ‘distress.’ I though floatin’ in space was ‘distress’ so I pressed da button. Is dat how you found me?”

Dunrith nodded, “Yeah.” He thought about explaining the distress beacon, but figured it might be a bit too much for the Ork. He lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, as did Tranmere and the Ork.

A crackle of static in his ear indicated that someone back on his ship was trying to contact him. Most likely his wife, Tabitha.

Dunrith, are you there?

Dunrith touched the stud for his communications unit, “Yeah, I’m here. The shuttle… well, there’s not much to salvage on board. But we’ve found a survivor.”

Are they alright?

Dunrith hesitated, “They’re an Ork.”

There was silence on the end of the line for a few moment, before Tabitha cut back in.

Did you say an Ork?

Dunrith smiled, “Yes, and Ork. As in Space Ork, or Greenskin… although, to be honest, this one’s not all that green. He looks like a bit of an Albino.”

The Ork suddenly matched his smile, “Dat be my name. Albino. Da Warboss and all da uver boys used ta call me Whitey, but.”

Again, there was a bit of an awkward pause before the comm unit cut in once more.

So… What’s this Ork doing?

With a smile, Dunrith touched the stud to reply, “Why don’t you come and see for yourself?”

*

His wife Tabitha and Tranmere’s wife Laura joined them, moving cautiously and keeping their distance from the Ork. But their kids, Mitchell and Rebecca, as well as Tranmere’s kids, Louise and Jonathan, instantly took a liking to Albino.

All four ran over and hugged his legs, and the Ork smiled a toothy grin and hugged them in return.

Rebecca turned back to the adults, “Can we keep him, mummy? He looks funny!”

Dunrith noticed Tabitha glancing at him, “I don’t know, Dunrith…”

Albino just stood there, the kids milling round his legs, with a hopeful look on his face. And Dunrith realised that, despite the reputation of his race, this Ork was nothing like his brethren. And they had no cause to abandon him to a cruel death in space.

“Albino?”

The Ork looked up with that toothy grin still on his face, “Yes… Dun-rith?”

Dunrith laughed as the Ork struggled a little with his name, “Why don’t you come with us, Albino? You can work on out ship, keep the kids amused. Whatever you’d like.”

Albino smiled, “Can I write stories for dem? I is always liked writin’…”

Dunrith shrugged, “Why not?” He stepped aside as the children laughed in delight and took Albino’s hands, leading him back to the ship they called home.

*

Albino proved an asset their operation. He was stronger than a human, and generally proved a great deterrent against violence if any of their deals looked like going sour. He may not be dangerous, but he could look it, when required.

Most importantly, the kids seemed to love him. Dunrith had no idea why, but they did. And, true to his word, the Ork started writing stories for them.

Though Dunrith had no way to compare, he supposed that, for an Ork, they were quite brilliant. Albino was certainly something different.

Dunrith was glad he’d taken him on.

* End *

[Da Mighty Camel]

Well that certainly was... different? To say at least. I dunno what to think really, although I have to give you creds for being creative.

[Seki of Sacred Matyrs]

LOL! Albino the Ork! I'd like to know if he's released a book on his stories... "An Ork's Tale", if you will! =p

Hey, Albino, write me a fluff! =)

Seki of Sacred Martyrs

[eve-bishop]

heheh this is cool, I love fluff/back stories and such. If you have some time and feel like it I'd really like a post please? If you get to it I mean

[Bestia]

*CHants and dances around*
I raise this thread cause I only just found it, and would love to have some fluff about myself ...

if your still doing this .. Please add one for me

[Hive Fleet Ruina]

sign me up for it

[Process]

Do me! ME!

[hamsterlord20]

Oi! ME NEXT!



(btw, im ork.)

[hamsterlord20]

Originally Posted by Deadstar_MRC

I don't know if you're coming back to this, but... I thought that you'd gone to the trouble of writing pieces for a few of us, so I might return the favour.

Having attempted to do so, I have new admiration for your works. It took me about three or four weeks to finish this, after I'd had a few false starts that just weren't going to work. So, thanks for the effort you put in!

And here's a little something for you. It's a bit light hearted I suppose, not meant to be taken all that seriously. There's probably a few glaring inconsistencies with the Warhammer 40K Universe, so just ignore them please!

Anyway, here it be; AlbinoAlien's Story

******

“Oi! Whitey! Wot ya doin?”

Albino sneered at the Ork who had just called to him, “I is readin, Goran! Jus’ ‘coz you don’t unnerstand the squigglies…”

“Readin!?” Goran was incredulous, “It be time for lootin’, Whitey! Not Readin!”

Albino supposed this much was true. For a normal Ork this would be true. The rest of the clan had just raided an ‘oomie outpost, killed all the pink-skins they could find, and were busy rampaging through the burning compound, snatching up weapons and armour and anything else they could get their hands on before the fires grew any larger.

But Albino wasn’t a normal Ork. It wasn’t that he was a runt; he was just as big as the other boys. It was his colour that marked him apart.

Albino, as his name implied, was almost white. There was a greenish tinge to his skin, but he was far paler than any Ork he knew of.

And he acted differently to the other Orks, as well. The thrill of battle didn’t hold as much excitement for him. Oh, he would still join in the fight, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

It was words that fascinated him. Words and language and writing. Very odd behaviour for an Ork indeed, but for some reason he couldn’t help it. It was in his blood.

Unfortunately he didn’t know any other Ork that shared his passion. Most of his clan, however, were quite happy to ridicule him for his passion. Just as he suspected Goran was about to do.

Just as Goran opened his mouth again, though, a thunderous roar assaulted him, “GORAN! Wot ya pesterin’ Whitey for? I is the one wot does all the pesterin’ round here! Now sod off before I knock ya teef out!”

Goran backed down as Warboss Skarrob lumbered forward, his ramshackle armour clanking with each step. Albino watched him approach, dreading what was to come. Skarrob never spoke to him unless he was angry, and even then it was only to insult him.

But this time Skarrob had a smile (or at least the Orky equivalent on one) plastered across his face. He seemed to be attempting to be friendly, though he still bellowed as if in the middle of a battle, “I is heard you is good with ‘oomie squigglies, Whitey. Dis right?”

Albino nodded, and Skarrob laughed.

A massive claw clapped him on the shoulder, denting his armour, as Skarrob continued, “Well, Whitey, I is got a job for ya. You is gonna use ya squigglies ta tell tha ‘oomies all about Warlord Skarrob. You is gonna write down all me victories, so all tha ‘oomies know who is been trashin’ their stuff!”

*

“Wot’s that one say, Whitey?”

As a favoured scribe of Warboss Skarrob, Albino had become protected and untouchable. As long as he kept jotting down Skarrob’s victories, and writing insulting messages to the ‘oomies on the walls of fortresses and cities they destroyed, no other Ork would bother him.

They were on an Imperial space ship now, though, not very familiar territory for any of them. But it had shot at Skarrob’s fleet, and in doing so had elevated itself in Skarrob’s list of things to destroy.

However, all the narrow corridors and ‘oomie signs were confusing the Warboss, and once again Albino was proving his worth.

“That one, boss, says; Danger. Do not enter.”

Skarrob roared in defiance, “We ain’t avin no ‘oomie sign tell us wot to do! Smash it, boys!”

Albino stood back as Skarrob and dozens of other Orks began trying to smash through the doors. He suspected they’d take some time, and so he wandered off down the corridor a little way, his attention snared by another sign that read ‘Landing Bay.’

There was a door here too, but Albino recognised the human word for ‘open.’ A simple press of the button made the door hiss open.

He chuckled to himself. This was so much easier than smashing things. Skarrob tended to ignore the ‘open’ buttons and do things the hard way.

Wandering inside what he supposed had to be the landing bay, Albino sauntered around the metal birds sitting idle around the bay. There was a lot to read on them, surprisingly. More things like ‘Warning’ and ‘Danger’ and ‘Keep off.’

No wonder the ‘oomies were so easy to beat, Albino thought. They don’t know what’s dangerous unless they write all over it.

Albino shrugged, noticing there was more to read inside the metal bird. He wandered up the ramp and poked around inside.

There was a strange noise when he pushed a lever from the ‘open’ to ‘closed’ spot on the wall, but he didn’t think it was all that wise to leave things open. He continued wandering around inside the bird, fascinated by everything he found.

*


Back inside the engine room, Skarrob and his boys were busy shooting and smashing their way through everything they could find. They didn’t care what all the ‘oomie signs were telling them; although as they eventually tore open the still active engines and released enough energy to tear the ship apart, perhaps it would have been wiser if they did.

*

Albino stared out into space, at the wreckage of the ship they had been on that was slowly drifting in to the distance.

He supposed Skarrob had broken something important, and that was why the ship had fallen apart. Somehow though, his little bird had drifted away from the collapsing wreckage of the ship relatively intact.

He’d worried for a little bit as to what to do. He supposed it was possible to fly this thing, but he had no idea how.

Still, he’d gone to the place with all the buttons and knobs and levers, and had a look at everything. Nothing was really labelled clearly, though. And so he had no idea what to do.

There was one button that read ‘distress’ though. He thought for a moment, remembering that distress was sort of like trouble. And, given that he was floating through space with no idea how to fly this ship, he supposed that was trouble.

He reached out and pressed the button.

A light started blinking next to the button, but nothing else happened. So he went back to wandering around the ship, poking around to see if he could find anything interesting.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, long after he had grown bored with what the ship had to offer, that a noise at the front of the ship caught his attention. Albino wandered over to the room with all the controls and looked at a light blinking rapidly on one of the panels.

He didn’t know what it meant. But, back at the window, he could see that there was another ship floating in space, one that hadn’t been there before. Maybe they’d seen him?

They did seem to be getting closer. Much closer. Over the next half hour or so, Albino watched the ship as it drew ever closer. Eventually, it seemed to stop along side his little ship, and he heard noises behind him.

Ever curious, Albino went to investigate.

*

Rouge Trader Dunrith held his laspistol loosely in his hand, up by the side of his head, as he stepped on board the shuttle they had located. It had been broadcasting a distress signal, and whereas he would have ignored such a signal from a larger ship, from a small shuttle…

He was a scavenger, plain and simple. A single shuttle floating in space could have all manner of interesting cargo on board. And even if there were still crew alive on board so that they couldn’t just pinch the cargo, they could always talk a few credits out of said crew, or whoever was responsible for them, for going to the bother of rescuing them.

But this shuttle seemed rather empty. None of the lights were on. There had been no heat signature from the engines, so the vessel had to have been floating for some time. And it was a passenger shuttle as well, which meant the chances of valuable cargo were fairly slim.

Dunrith turned to his partner, Tranmere, indicating the dark interior ahead of them, “Looks like we lucked out on this one, Tranmere.”

The other man shrugged, “No harm in looking, though. Might be something we can scrounge.”

Dunrith gave a nod and began to move further in to the shuttle, keeping his eyes peeled. It wouldn’t do well to let his guard down; the shuttle had been broadcasting a distress signal, meaning that whoever was on board had been in some king of danger. It was entirely possible that the threat could still be present, and he didn’t want to wind up dead.

He had a family to support after all, as did Tranmere. The two of them, firm friends since childhood, now travelled the stars with their respective wives and children, two space faring families eking out a living as Rouge Traders.

An unusual noise ahead of him saw Dunrith drop his pistol to a more aggressive position as he swept his torch around the main compartment of the shuttle.

His beam fell on something. Someone. An…

An Ork?

It looked like an Ork. It was pretty pale for an Ork, though, more white than green. Maybe not as large as he had thought an Ork would be. And it was just sort of… standing there. Shielding it’s eyes from the torch beam.

Dunrith heard Tranmere draw a surprised breath behind him, “What the…?”

Dunrith lowered the torch and the pistol, and stared at the Ork in surprise.

The Ork stared back, then gave a tentative wave, “Hello?”

“You… you can talk!?” Tranmere sounded astonished, and Dunrith had to admit he was somewhat surprised as well. He didn’t think Orks spoke Gothic.

But this one was clearly an exception, “Can talk a bit. Know some of your ‘oomie words.”

“So…” Dunrith lifted his shoulders in a shrug, “What are you doing here?”

The Ork shrugged in return, “Don’t know. Da Warboss was smashin’ up a ship. I done wandered off, found this thing and was pokin’ round it. Den the big ship falls to bits and I be stuck in dis thing.”

“But you were broadcasting a distress signal,” Tranmere interjected. “Was it… did you turn that on?”

The Ork nodded, “I saw dis button, sayin’ ‘distress.’ I though floatin’ in space was ‘distress’ so I pressed da button. Is dat how you found me?”

Dunrith nodded, “Yeah.” He thought about explaining the distress beacon, but figured it might be a bit too much for the Ork. He lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, as did Tranmere and the Ork.

A crackle of static in his ear indicated that someone back on his ship was trying to contact him. Most likely his wife, Tabitha.

Dunrith, are you there?

Dunrith touched the stud for his communications unit, “Yeah, I’m here. The shuttle… well, there’s not much to salvage on board. But we’ve found a survivor.”

Are they alright?

Dunrith hesitated, “They’re an Ork.”

There was silence on the end of the line for a few moment, before Tabitha cut back in.

Did you say an Ork?

Dunrith smiled, “Yes, and Ork. As in Space Ork, or Greenskin… although, to be honest, this one’s not all that green. He looks like a bit of an Albino.”

The Ork suddenly matched his smile, “Dat be my name. Albino. Da Warboss and all da uver boys used ta call me Whitey, but.”

Again, there was a bit of an awkward pause before the comm unit cut in once more.

So… What’s this Ork doing?

With a smile, Dunrith touched the stud to reply, “Why don’t you come and see for yourself?”

*

His wife Tabitha and Tranmere’s wife Laura joined them, moving cautiously and keeping their distance from the Ork. But their kids, Mitchell and Rebecca, as well as Tranmere’s kids, Louise and Jonathan, instantly took a liking to Albino.

All four ran over and hugged his legs, and the Ork smiled a toothy grin and hugged them in return.

Rebecca turned back to the adults, “Can we keep him, mummy? He looks funny!”

Dunrith noticed Tabitha glancing at him, “I don’t know, Dunrith…”

Albino just stood there, the kids milling round his legs, with a hopeful look on his face. And Dunrith realised that, despite the reputation of his race, this Ork was nothing like his brethren. And they had no cause to abandon him to a cruel death in space.

“Albino?”

The Ork looked up with that toothy grin still on his face, “Yes… Dun-rith?”

Dunrith laughed as the Ork struggled a little with his name, “Why don’t you come with us, Albino? You can work on out ship, keep the kids amused. Whatever you’d like.”

Albino smiled, “Can I write stories for dem? I is always liked writin’…”

Dunrith shrugged, “Why not?” He stepped aside as the children laughed in delight and took Albino’s hands, leading him back to the ship they called home.

*

Albino proved an asset their operation. He was stronger than a human, and generally proved a great deterrent against violence if any of their deals looked like going sour. He may not be dangerous, but he could look it, when required.

Most importantly, the kids seemed to love him. Dunrith had no idea why, but they did. And, true to his word, the Ork started writing stories for them.

Though Dunrith had no way to compare, he supposed that, for an Ork, they were quite brilliant. Albino was certainly something different.

Dunrith was glad he’d taken him on.

* End *

whoo, big quote.

anyhoo, the story is inspired! I loved the story! Put that in the fluff section! An albino ork, brilliant.

I don't know why, but even as an ork player I find the idea of a peaceful ork....odd but somewhat fulfilling...

Great fluff!