Tales of Waaargh Grimsnaga

[Kierdale]

Some shorts based on my 40k Ork army. Just a bit of fun

 

 

1. The Coming of Waaargh Grimsnaga

Hidden Content

The original name for the planet is long-lost and its inhabitants, newly awakened, are unlikely to utter it to any who dare ask. A servitor-brained Imperial probe that surveyed the system millennia ago designated its star as Duaj-243 and the planet Duaj-243-E, fourth of its system. The planet’s high mineral content was detected in the scans and it was marked for Mechanicus exploitation.

The vessels of the priests of Mars decanted from the warp to discover they were not the only ones with an interest in the planet. However, while they had sought it out, their rivals had discovered it by chance: bearing down upon the main forgecruiser Mars Ultor was a massive Ork Rokk bristling with weapons and smaller vessels. Klaxons blared, shields were rapidly raised and weapons began to power up but it was too late. Escort vessels obeyed the binaric cant of their master-vessel and ploughed into the behemoth asteroid-come-starship but were unable to sway it from its ponderous course, let alone destroy it. The prow of the great Mars Ultor crumpled as the Rokk smashed into it, void shields flickering out impotently. Huge, ornate panels of armour plating peeled away as the Rokk crushed the forgecruiser, section by section, from its prow.

Enginseers looked on in horror as the aft section of the cruiser now embedded in the Ork Rokk, engines flickering, was dragged down toward the planet they had come to claim. The planet, its dusk red plains so similar to Holy Mars – was it not meant to be theirs, as by divine judgement? But as Killkroozers and other Greenskin vessels launched from the Rokk, the Mechanicus escort vessels quickly plotted escape routes. They had come to lay claim to this promised land and the highest-ranking surviving members of the priesthood swore as they fled that they would return and make good on that claim, Greenskins or none, in good time.

But the vagaries of the warp are unpredictable, and the Mechanicus fleet, scattered in its flight, took far longer than anticipated to return to Imperial space.

 

The impact of the Ork Rokk, the remains of the Mechanicus cruiser protruding from it, sent colossal seismic shocks through the planet. A great deal of the Greenskins perished in the impact, the subsequent explosions and radiation clouds, but the Greenskin is a hardy race and as the surviving Orks of Waaargh Grimsnaga set foot upon the great red plains of the world – which they named `Scab` - little did they know that its original inhabitants had been roused from their longer slumber.

Vassals of the Novokh Dynasty, the Necrons had abandoned the surface of their once fertile world for their subterranean chambers. In their absence, or perhaps caused by events that lead to their slumber, the planet had become a wasteland but was not entirely without life. Small reptilian species, too small in millennia past to have been a threat or even a concern to the Necrons, had survived and had evolved. Though the Orks of Waaargh Grimsnaga had brought many of their favoured beasts with them – mostly porcine and possessed of temperaments as ill as their owners – they whooped with joy when they encountered the massive dinosaur descendants that now roamed the planet’s plains, scrubland and rare oases. Some were hunted for sport or food, while many were captured and put to work.

Masses of Orks spread out from the Rokk in the wake of its `landing`: hordes of boyz on foot, others riding boars and bikes, and the common bands of ramshackle trucks and buggies. While the majority were of warboss Grimsnaga’s own Snakebite clan – both his own family and attendant ones – there were Orks of other clans too, in particular gaudy Bad Moons flaunting their wealth.

But Orks live for war. And as the green horde spread out, they found the planet seemingly abandoned. No one and nothing to krump. Dissatisfaction rapidly spread and tension came to a head as the Bad Moon big nob Nazgob, the chief of his clan’s Orks, confronted Grimsnaga himself atop a low mountain beside an oasis, about which the largest of the Ork shanty-towns had sprung up. Renowned for a pair of huge teeth that protruded from his lower jaw, so big that all wondered how they had not fallen out yet. Though he was not of the Snakebite clan, some of that clan’s boys had been heard making jealous comments about those tusk-like gnashers, comparing them to the fangs of a giant snake, or the tusks of a boar. And that they had not been knocked out spoke of the big nob’s prowess in combat.

The Bad Moon big nob had until that time always had to bow to the Snakebite’s orders but now planned to make use of the Waaargh’s displeasure. Though his clan-Orks were outnumbered, now was his chance.

The rust-red earth shook with the footfalls of thousands of Orks, gretchin and beasts, and the air was filled with clouds of dust, exhaust fumes and the shouts of the Greenskins as their two bosses clashed. Others, Freebooters amongst them, looked on and betted upon the outcome.

None noticed the shiver that shook the mountain.

Nazgob spent little time voicing his complaints, for Orks are strong believers in the proverb `actions speak louder than words`, and he swung his crescent-bladed big choppa at the Snakebite warboss as horns blared and drums were pounded. Sparks flew as the blade was deflected by Grimsnaga’s power claw. The swagger of the Bad Moon big nob had revealed his intent as he strode up the mountain to confront his rival, and Grimsnaga had dismounted from scrofa – his cyboar – and met the challenge.

Nazgob’s big nostrils flared and he snorted at the stink of the Snakebite Ork.

“Youze brought us to a dead-end planet. Nuffink to krump `ere!”

Grimsnaga looked down at the Bad Moon, a head shorter than him. “Only dead-end `ere is for you. Da clan knows dat da gods brought us `ere.” When Grimsnaga said da clan he was always referring to the Snakebites, regarding his own tribe as `da biggest, da best, and da `ardest`. In many ways he was a traditionalist, though not all as the number of speed freeks in his warband was evidence.

As their weapons met once more, each Ork pushed toward the other, huge green thews straining. Grimsnaga grunted and gave a toothy grin, Nazgob nearly coughing at the reek from the other’s maw.

“Da Boyz wants fightin’, and dey wants teef!”

Weapons locked together, Nazgob smashed his free hand, balled into a fist, into the other’s face. It did little damage.

As the two battled back and forth teeth were exchanged amongst the watching boyz, a couple of the more enterprising Freebooterz having expanded their pool beyond their own mob, gretchin runners sent to collect and record bets.

The orange regolith shook and shifted as the cacophony mounted.

The shaking continued and the red sands began to part as dusty metallic structures began to push their way up from beneath the ground. The first the Greenskins noticed of this was when one Rukkatrukk squigbuggy - engaged in a race at the outskirts of the gathering that had kicked off as the energy of the duel had spread – slammed into the sheer side of one of these strangely-patterned walls. The fuel tank went up and rabid squigs were catapulted in all directions.

Even as a fist fight broke out between the Freebooterz and a Bad Moon painboy who had also decided to run a book, more and more of the Greenskins turned as the angular slabs of metal rose higher and higher. Sand fell in sheets and several shadowy maws were exposed in the metal. One grot, stood too close, got kicked into the darkness.

Eventually the in fighting between the Orks began to die down, with only those closest to the bosses still enthralled in the brawl, and the sound from within those cavernous openings grew louder.

A thunderous tramping.

The sound of hundreds of feet marching in step.

Soon enough the grot who had been booted into the black came darting out again, making it a handful of steps back onto the red sand before there was an eerie green flash which reached out and struck him. Those nearby watched as the diminutive greenskin collapsed into dust and a whisp of smoke before them.

Glowing green eyes became visible in the darkness and the boyz readied their weapons.

As more energy blasts shot out from the dark portal the Greenskins did not wait to see their enemy. The march of their approaching foes was eclipsed as the nearest Orks opened fire.

More and more green blasts shot forth and eventually, even in the face of such a volume of dakka, skeletal robotic figure continued their unrelenting march, now out into the light of a world, the surface they had not trod upon for countless millennia.

The growing sounds of battle reached the, admittedly stunted, brains of the two battling leaders and each glanced toward the growing gunfights at the bottom of the mountain. Beneath their feet the sand and rock had been shook away to reveal the same strangely-patterned metal. It looked vaguely like the gubbinz a mekboy might stash into one of their confounded contraptions.

Nazgob swung at the Snakebite warboss once again. While champions of another species might have proposed a truce in order to join forces against a common foe, both Orks wished to slay the other and claim lordship over all before leading the battle.

Grimsnaga caught the haft of the crescent axe once again, this time between the claws of his bionik hand and with a hiss of hydraulics the claws closed and the axe was decapitated. His boot came up and drove the air from Nazgob’s lungs, sending him tumbling back down the side of the metal pyramid they now fought atop.

When Nazgob next raised his head, shaking stars from his vision and wiping away the thick blood that ran from a gash in his forehead, he saw alien vessels rising from the red plains to hover above it, while seemingly endless ranks of shining skeletons continued to pour from caverns. All about him Orks roared, spraying bullets wildly and swinging choppas. The air was filled with shells, grenades and WAAARGH! He began to grin, his lips receding and those two teeth he was so famous for, jutting forward.

His head shook as a fist closed around his leftmost tooth and pulled his head backwards, cranking his neck until Nazgob came face to face with the towering figure that now stood over him.

Grimsnaga.

“The boyz want teef, do dey?”

There was a tremendous crunch and a squelch as the Snakebite warboss broke his rivals neck, and tore it from his shoulders. He held it overhead and roared as his warband fought about him.

WAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGGHHHH!

 

2. Sniklug. Bad Moon Boss Mek

 

Hidden Content

Sniklug considered himself quite the visionary. It had been he who had installed the power-fields on the Rokk that had taken them through the Warp and brought them to Scab (as they had named the planet they now fought upon). It had been him who had frantically repaired those very same power-fields when the generators had failed twice while they were in the Warp. While da boyz had fought off the beasties that had appeared from thin air as the Rokk hurtled through the madness of the Warp, Sniklug had shouted himself hoarse directing the other mekboys, and had bent his favourite spanner as he had hammered the generator’s stubborn gubbinz with it. But he had succeeded in restoring the fields both times.

That was why they needed him. He’d like to have seen one of the few Snakebite so-called-mekaniaks pull off a feat of engineering like that! The stinkers were only good for making catapults and cyboars (the latter of which stank even worse than their creators). But he rarely voiced such boasts, as within Waaargh Grimsnaga the Bad Moons (of which he was a member) were far outnumbered by the Snakebites. Outnumbered, but never outgunned, he reminded himself as he looked at the shootas and sluggas held by the boyz of his clan about him. All had been made by him or were copies of his work made by his apprentices...some without his permission. He’d have to give Wazuz a clip around the ear with his spanner once he’s straightened it out. Copying git. Wazuz should have at least thrown a few teef Sniklug’s way before stealing the boss mek’s designs.

The roar of gunfire drew Sniklug from his contemplative reverie – something unique to those Orks with a degree of brains: painboyz, mekboyz and runtherdz (who vehemently denied that weirdboyz be lumped in with them), who were often referred to as `Oddboyz` by the rest of the Waaargh. All about him greenskins, of various clans, were engaged in a good old battle with what had at first appeared to be skeletons (not good thick-boned Orky skeletons but more like ooman or pansy Eldar skeletons). The undead had marched forth in pretty ranks from cavernous metallic portals that had risen from the red sands of Scab while Nazgob – boss nob of the Bad Moons – and Grimsnaga – warboss of the Snakebites and warlord of the whole Waaargh – had fought each other for leadership. Sniklug smiled as a hail of fire from a big shoota (one he’d designed with a piss-filled cooler sheathing its barrel. A stroke of genius if he did say so himself) tore into the ranks of the undead. He blew one away himself with his kustom blasta and, while the boyz about him pushed forward, pulling choppas from their belts, absently mindedly rubbing his left ear he knelt by the nearest of the fallen skellies and looked at it.

Metal.

It wasn’t bone, but some kind of metal.

He wondered for a moment if these gits were extremely thin and this was their armour – like a really weedy version of beakies and pansy Eldar with their armour all over their soft, squidgy bodies – but he couldn’t see any blood or guts inside. Only what looked like wires and...gubbinz. Gubbinz he’d never seen the likes of before. Gubbinz he wanted to play with.

They were bots? The Orks knew enough about robots. They had runtbotz and tinboyz. He stood, his finger playing with the tattered skin of his left lug once again and looked about at the carnage. These skeletons...these botz...these skelliebotz (he liked the sound of that!) had weapons that turned boyz to dust (there was a strong smell of fried mushrooms in the air), and punched big holes in the Ork buggies and wagons, but there was a growing number of mangled skelliebotz on the ground too. Bitz and gubbinz everywhere. His eyes widened. Scab was a mekboyz paradise!

Instinctively he turned away, shielding his eyes as the ground -and a mob of boyz- before him lit up with blinding green light. When he turned back the mob had disappeared and the ground was a cracked crevice of reddish glass. He looked up as a shadow passed over him and for the briefest moment the skelliebot flyer eclipsed the sun.

His eyes widened once more as he saw the crescent shape above him. In his mind’s eye it was already painted yellow and festooned with dakka.

“Gork and Mork!” he muttered breathlessly. “I gotta loot dat!”

[Thomoski]

Not sure if it was intentional, but font colour on the first one means you gotta highlight to read it

[Slave to Darkness]

Not sure if it was intentional, but font colour on the first one means you gotta highlight to read it

Sneaky and Kunnin... 

[Kierdale]

Fixed it. I hope.

[Thomoski]

First paragraph looks okay, rest are still like it. Some sort of camoflauge technology 

[Kierdale]

Third time lucky...?

It looks fine to me.