Da Knows B'fer

Da WAAAGH! Catcha

Lightning crackled throughout the bulkheads and tunnels of the space hulk.  The place was too quiet, even the thumps and grinds that normally echoed through the empty areas of the hulk falling silent.  Orks lay dead everywhere.  Ultramarines that boarded Krorak deffmaka's ship, Da WAAAGH! Catcha, crunched underfoot.

The fresh coppery stench of blood exhilarated Gramooch and led the small group of Orks with him into a frenzy of hooting, hollering, and salivating.  They had been running for several minutes to get to the battle, having been working in a newly found engine section to boost the speed of the hulk.  Not a single friend or foe had been found with any fighting ability left in them.

Yaddat's Burna boys were having fun as always, pushing their white hot welding tips into the exposed bodies of Ultramarines before turning on the jets.  This slowed the group down but provided some entertainment, keeping the Orks with Gramooch from turning on each other in their frenzied states.  Gramooch was smart enough to understand this need, and so left them their sport instead of pushing them harder towards one of the dozen bridges.

Gramooch was smart, smarter than most Orks onboard Da WAAAGH! Catcha.  Deep in the bowels of the ship Gramooch ran a small band of Meks, Burnas and Lootas searching for salvageable components to rebuild Krorak's war engine.  Gramooch found scraps to hand over to Krorak, but in the darkest places, he began to build war engines of his own.

Timing had not been on their side, the Ultramarines catching up with Krorak and apparently slaughtering everybody before the warp enveloped them.  As they approached the main bridge, the scene before them hung almost too gruesome even by Ork standards.  Daemonic corpses mingled with the Orks and super humans, having dove into the fray as Da WAAAGH! Catcha slipped into the immaterial realm.

Teleporter ozone still permeated the air, telling Gramooch that the Ultramarines tucked tail moments before the warp took the ship.  The jump must have been terribly short though.  The view before them was not of the warp, but of a planet orbiting a yellow star.  Several warships bore down on them.  Gramooch grabbed the yeller but got no response from anywhere on the ship.  He tossed the yeller to Yaddat Adawerk, but the mek only shrugged.  The communication device was operating perfectly.

Gramooch grunted orders and the boys around him rushed to their stations.  Super Shootas all over the ship began to open up on the incoming traffic, massive cannons barked their anger at the vessels, and weird weapons of alien origins did whatever it was they were supposed to do.  Regrak Umiebutcha, Gramooch's painboss,  took the wheel and turned the Da WAAAGH! Catcha towards the planet.  Gramooch even smiled as fire bathed the ship.  The view ahead lost to heat glare as they entered the atmosphere, nobody knew what area of this new world they were about to call home.

A New Home to WAAAAGH!

Heat waves distorted the view before Gramooch as he led his band of around sixty survivors deeper into the desert.  An odd mix of Orks trudged along with him in the sweltering heat, the crash site three days walk in the other direction.  Regrak had patched up anybody he could find until his stimm gun spat air.  The convoy moved slowly, so many wounded among the survivors.  A small team of Kommandos trailed behind, covering their tracks and watching to see if any of the imperial forces from orbit had landed.

A new hierarchy had established itself over the past week, bigger brutes coming to the fore to lead the weaker.  None questioned Gramooch as the new Warboss, Krorak's head bouncing on his hip as a reminder to that.  He stood several inches above the others and new rippled muscle bulked him out further.  That was they way of the Orks, the biggest and toughest ruled while everybody else fought for their space.

Ahead could be seen a looming lonely red mountain.  Their shaman, Shakez Isfist, screamed praise toward it as he darted around asking questions to the sky.  Just coming into view through the heat haze, he had seen Gork and Mork's promised gift.  And now Gramooch saw it too.

Gramooch Bellowed and the lone buggy revved its engine, spitting dust into the Orks around him as he obeyed the order without question.  Exhaust smoke marked its trail as the buggy slipped over a dune.  It returned several minutes later, reporting the village abandoned, and of Ork design.  Voices rose in great screams of triumph as they began to race towards the empty Ork settlement.  Joyous violence erupted in the streets for the first time in years.

Many of the buildings had crumbled, but the structures of their new home were not the immediate concern.  There were barely more than enough guns for everybody to carry one.  There was only a single working buggy and a couple of bikes to run patrols.  There was no food and very little ammunition.  New equipment needed to be built.

Every Ork carried scraps from the wreck, and these scraps needed to be stockpiled.  Yaddat Adawerk set to the task of seeing what they had, getting his Burnas and Lootas into the action.  A working pump here and a bit of pipe there and they could build a small oil rig.  Somebody had lugged a working engine behind them the entire way, and three tires later a trukk would be shaping up.

One of the Kommandos located a shop with plenty of tools and enough parts to get another buggy going.  A slugga boy had climbed into an oxidized deff dread and was attempted to get the engine running.  Nearby Orks began roaring and grunting as a fight broke out over a rusty big shoota.  Blood sprayed everywhere as a pair of Orks cut at each other until one lost a hand.  The winner took his new gun while the loser sulked over his lost shooting hand.

A grot retrieved the appendage, tearing the flesh into bits and tossing pieces into holes being dug by another, while a third followed behind and filled them back in as more urinated on the fresh mounds.  Within minutes mushrooms popped through the mounds, starting new life in this Orkoid garden.  Life began to blossom once more on these dusty streets.

Gramooch took stock.  Five Lootas remained, their weapons already tore down and being repaired before they took to manning the towers.  Impressively seven Burnas were spared, working with Yaddat to get pipes and plates welded together into a new trukk.  Eleven Nobz shouted and pointed, pushing the thirty one remaining boys where they felt they were needed.  This left a single Runtherder and his flock of 10 grots planting new Ork flesh and hunting for food sources.  Shakez and Regrak finished out the town, aside from the buggy and two bikes already patrolling.  It wasn't much but it would have to do.

No comments:

Post a Comment