Post by zookie on Jan 30, 2014 18:11:37 GMT
As the airlock opened I stepped on to the landing and struggled to take a breath of the oppressively hot and humid air. Looking around I admired the tropical forests that surrounded the landing pad. At the bottom of the landing ramp to my shuttle stood a pack of humongous Ork nobs. “What are you waiting around for? Are you coming or what?” Shouted the largest of the nobs. Or that is what he intended to say. It sounded a bit more like “Wat u’ wait’en fo’ are u’ com’n r’ wat! An Orkish accent takes some getting use to but his Imperial Gothic was as passable as any Orks’. Orkish manners often leave much to be desired, though I did appreciate what must have been in their minds an honor guard greeting. I strolled down the landing ramp in no particular hurry. Orks do not respond well to insolence but it gets you farther with them then by being overly accommodating. The gravity was a little greater on this world than I was accustomed to and the heat and the humidity sapped my stamina as I joined the Ork mob at the bottom of the ramp.
My discomfort clearly was entertaining to the nobs who had come to greet me. They made little attempt to hide their snickering. Before I could respond the largest of the nobs snapped his great fingers. Which sounded more like a handclap than a finger snap. In a moment four Gretchin appeared out of nowhere. In a flash they had flanked me, with a pair on either side. On each side one clamored onto the shoulders of the other, so that the head of Gretchin on top of reached my own height. The Gretchin on my right held a small tattered sun umbrella over my head and the one on my left thrust a large cup filled with a light purple liquid into my hand. At that the large nob shouted “Lets get going, human” and we started to walk from the landing pad to a small dirt road that led into the jungle. As I walked the Gretchin stayed at my sides, still stacked on each other shoulders like a pair of carnival performers. The Orks and the Gretchin spoke not a word as we walk down the road, and for all the spectacle going on around me all I could do is wonder where the Gretchin acquired a sun unmbrella.
As we walked I wondered why the Ork’s were being so quiet. Past experience told me that Orks tend to be quite boisterous in groups. I suspect that they were all expressly forbidden from letting me come to harm (or harming me) and this undoubtly upset them. Eventually, curiosity and the heat got the better of me and I took a sip of the beverage that had been offered me. It was remarkable good and had a light refreshing taste to it. It was clearly some kind of fruit juice. This must have been for my benefit, as I very much doubt this was an Orkish beverage. I turned my Gretchin minder holding the umbrella over my head and asked, “What kind of juice is this?” The Gretchin’s eyes narrowed and in their typical raspy voice the Gretchin hissed, “Juicesss.” I am not sure if he did not understand the question or if he simply did not see the need to explain anything to me. But every time my cup would empty his claws would snatch it from me and refill it from a wineskin he was carrying. I reminded myself to thank the Warboss for his hospitably when I saw him.
In a little less than half an hour we approached the Ork settlement. What strange creatures Orks are... I have never really been able to reconcile the indolence and industry of their culture. Their settlement was a labyrinth of dirt paths and roads flanked with ramshackle buildings made of sheet metal and planks of wood perched in the most precarious fashion. Clearly it took the Orks no more than a day or two to build the whole city, if city is the right word. I saw Orks engaging in all manner of “Orky” behavior. A pair of Orks were brawling right next to an Ork that was asleep, or passed out might be a better description, on a pallet. Across the way another Ork was sitting on a crate tinkering with his shoota, and all around large mobs were drinking fungal beer, laughing, swapping stories with the odd fight breaking out here and there. All the while Gretchin scurry every which way fetching things for their masters.
Not ten steps in to the city the large nob who had led the mob that had accompanied me to the settlement said “The warboss is at the center of town, you can’t miss him.” And with that he and his mob walk off into the chaos of the Orkish streets, though my Gretcin minders stayed at my side. I knew Orkish culture well enough to know this was a test. The nob wanted to see if I was “green” enough to walk though an Orkish city on my own or if I would look to him for protection (thus making him seem more powerful in front of his subordinates). Of course I was in no really danger. The Warboss would have made it very clear that any Ork that harmed me, or allowed me to be harm would have to answer to him. The Ork judicial system is just as brutal as anything in the Imperium and much faster.
I meandered through the streets and drew closer to the center of the town. Unlike human cities the Orks make no attempt to impress with their structures. I have seen an Ork spend all of five minutes to construct his “home” only to plop himself down under some rickety lean-to and sharpen his choppa collection for over an hour. You would think that the Orks of the settlement would stare at an alien in their mists or at least acknowledge me. But in the twenty minutes it took me to walk to the town center I do not think that a single Ork did more than scarily notice me. A subtle way of them letting me know that they deem me weak and below there concern.
It was with some relief that I walking to the town square. Though I was sure of my safety, ones inner instincts are hard to ignore when surrounded by hundreds of hulking Orks, not to mention the stray shoota rounds that occasionally whizzed this way or that. The town square was little more than a cleared area surrounded with ring of broken weapons, vehicles and armor of other races piled about three meters high with an occasional break in the ring to allow foot traffic in and out. Holding the pile of war trophies in place at either end of the break in the mound were two burned out and gutted Leman Russ tanks. I could see on each of them the huge gashes in their armor that were undoubted the cause of their demise. As shuddered at the thought of the fate of the tank crew I relized my Gretchin minders had slipped away without a word.
Stepping into the ring I saw the War Boss lounging on a throne made from the access doors of a Land Raider surrounded by a ring of Orks who were eating and drinking (but it appeared that more drinking than eating was going on). He was eating some sort of meat directly off a huge bone and due to his great focus on the task at hand, I saw him long before he saw me. But before I could say a word he jumped from his throne and loudly greeted me. “Well if it isn’t my favorite “rouge” Rouge Trader,” at that comment he roared into laughter and the surrounding Orks followed suit. Though I sincerely doubt that any of them understood their War Boss’s joke. As far as Orks come he is quite clever.
“It is good to see you War Boss Grax, you honor me with your hospitality” I said.
“Shut your yap” The War Boss bellowed, though I could tell he was pleased. “You sound like a sniveling Eldar”.
“My apologize” I retorted.
For a moment the War Boss tensed with anger. Orks do not take well to pleasantries. But almost immediately he relaxed and laughed.
“Trying to get under old Grax’s skin are you?” He chucked.
“Am I succeeding?” I said.
“No” he replied with a brief but forceful exhale from his nostrils. “You humans may like to waste the day way talking and mucking about. But we Orks got a schedule to keep”
I laugh because I though he was joking but I could see by his expression that he was not, and my heart went cold. I cannot imagine a situation were an Ork decides to plan anything ahead of time that does not result in massive bloodshed.
“Of course, my good War Boss, I trust you will been pleased with the cargo being unloaded from my ship?”
“Well...” said the War Boss, “I would like it if you could bring us some proper Ork weapons. You humans have never had the knack for making a decent gun. But all the same, I am sure that my boys will find a use for those bolters.”
“I trust the previous shipments have worked out?”
“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, after the Mek boys finished up with the last crates you brought we had ourselves some fun. But the boys and I are not happy that this is your last shipment. I don’t see why we have to end our deal.”
I cleared my throat. I had to be very carful as I proceeded. The only reason I was standing there was that Grax had a use for me. If that ended it is unlikely I would leave this court yard let alone this planet alive.
“You are absolutely right War Boss, I still have plenty of guns and ammunition, not to mention a few more favors I could use from you and your boys.”
Grax walked right up to me and leaned his massive head level with mine and in a softer but in many ways much more frightening tone said with a grin, “I’m all ears”
Having the great War Boss so close unsettled me but I was able to get my words out.
“Your boy’s ability to take carry of those Eldar pirates has been good for my business, very good in fact. So good that I can afforded to pay you triple what I paid last time and to top it off I have three tons of Imperial salvage scrap I would like to throw in.
Grax smiled at that. I could see in his eyes that wheels were already turning in his mind with what he could do with a payment of that size.
“But you are not going to just give it to us, right? What do we got to do for you?”
I cleared my throat. “Well this is a big payment you see, and a big payment requires a big job...”
Grax looked annoyed. It was clear that he wanted me to get to the point.
“Um, well, you see I may not always see eye to eye with the Imperium, but this sector is my home and I have done business here for decades and...”
The War Bosses faced soured further. I was angering him and that was not safe.
“Tyranids. Tyranids have entered the far eastern edge of the sector”
Grax’s eyes widened and an odd expression appeared on his face. Not fear, but perhaps unease. It caused me to pause and I just stood there for a moment.
“And what do you want me to do about it?” Grax finally asked.
It took me a moment to collect my thoughts. Grax’s response to the word “Tyranids” had thrown me and I had to get back on track.
“A hive fleet has consumed two worlds in this sector. It will soon be striking the world of Epata. I doubt that the Imperial forces on that world can stop them.”
“I do not think that the Imperial gits will appreciate my help” Interrupted Grax.
“No... No, I would say not. I would not expect you to work with them either. But if you waited unit the Imperial forces were over run and then landed on the planet. The Tyranids should be weakened enough at that you could destroy them.”
My words hung in the air fore a few moments and then Grax spoke slowly “I have fought the bugs before. It took a whole lot of boys to bring them down, and they gave me this and this...” Grax pointed to two hideous scars across his shoulder and neck. “You are going to have to pay me a whole lot more to take on the bugs.”
I swallowed and took a deep breath. There is a maxim among traders that says, “Never try to sell what you do not have.” But I suppose that traitors make such deals regularly, and that word fits me better than the first at the moment.
“I can pay you something else as well.” I said. Grax’s head perked up and he listened intently.
“The Imperial Battle Fleet in this sector has lost three engagements with the hive fleet, since it arrived. Additionally the Eldar pirates have inflicted substantial loss on the fleet in the past year. Currently every available Imperial Guard unit in the sector is heading to Epata to stop the Tyranids. Once the Imperial Guard are overrun, if you can take Epata back from the Tyranids. There is no one in the sector who could take it from you.
Grax’s smiled at that remark. I had more or less offered to give him an Imperial world, albeit a very damaged one by the time he got his hands on it. But a world is a world, and a habitable one at that. A huge prize by any standard.
“You got yourself a deal, human” Grax said. Rearing up he shouted, “All right boys! Listen up! I want every Nob in the town worth his teeth to be here in an hour. We got planning to do!” With that said dozens of gretchin runners darted out of hiding into the settlement to relay the message.
This would be as good a time for me to make my exit as any. Ork strategy sessions at the command level inevitable result in someone dying. I did not want to be there when the first disagreement was settled with gunfire.
“Then I will take my leave, Warboss Grax. The supplies we agreed upon will be delivered the day after tomorrow.”
And with that remark I turned and left. As I worked my way through the Ork city I saw dozens of nobs rushing to Grax’s war council. With in the hour I was back on my ship and preparing to disembark. I felt a sense of relief that I had accomplished what I had come to do, and that I would be leaving the planet alive. I had saved the sector for the price of a single world, but a nagging feeling told me, I had possibly included my soul as part of the deal as well.
My discomfort clearly was entertaining to the nobs who had come to greet me. They made little attempt to hide their snickering. Before I could respond the largest of the nobs snapped his great fingers. Which sounded more like a handclap than a finger snap. In a moment four Gretchin appeared out of nowhere. In a flash they had flanked me, with a pair on either side. On each side one clamored onto the shoulders of the other, so that the head of Gretchin on top of reached my own height. The Gretchin on my right held a small tattered sun umbrella over my head and the one on my left thrust a large cup filled with a light purple liquid into my hand. At that the large nob shouted “Lets get going, human” and we started to walk from the landing pad to a small dirt road that led into the jungle. As I walked the Gretchin stayed at my sides, still stacked on each other shoulders like a pair of carnival performers. The Orks and the Gretchin spoke not a word as we walk down the road, and for all the spectacle going on around me all I could do is wonder where the Gretchin acquired a sun unmbrella.
As we walked I wondered why the Ork’s were being so quiet. Past experience told me that Orks tend to be quite boisterous in groups. I suspect that they were all expressly forbidden from letting me come to harm (or harming me) and this undoubtly upset them. Eventually, curiosity and the heat got the better of me and I took a sip of the beverage that had been offered me. It was remarkable good and had a light refreshing taste to it. It was clearly some kind of fruit juice. This must have been for my benefit, as I very much doubt this was an Orkish beverage. I turned my Gretchin minder holding the umbrella over my head and asked, “What kind of juice is this?” The Gretchin’s eyes narrowed and in their typical raspy voice the Gretchin hissed, “Juicesss.” I am not sure if he did not understand the question or if he simply did not see the need to explain anything to me. But every time my cup would empty his claws would snatch it from me and refill it from a wineskin he was carrying. I reminded myself to thank the Warboss for his hospitably when I saw him.
In a little less than half an hour we approached the Ork settlement. What strange creatures Orks are... I have never really been able to reconcile the indolence and industry of their culture. Their settlement was a labyrinth of dirt paths and roads flanked with ramshackle buildings made of sheet metal and planks of wood perched in the most precarious fashion. Clearly it took the Orks no more than a day or two to build the whole city, if city is the right word. I saw Orks engaging in all manner of “Orky” behavior. A pair of Orks were brawling right next to an Ork that was asleep, or passed out might be a better description, on a pallet. Across the way another Ork was sitting on a crate tinkering with his shoota, and all around large mobs were drinking fungal beer, laughing, swapping stories with the odd fight breaking out here and there. All the while Gretchin scurry every which way fetching things for their masters.
Not ten steps in to the city the large nob who had led the mob that had accompanied me to the settlement said “The warboss is at the center of town, you can’t miss him.” And with that he and his mob walk off into the chaos of the Orkish streets, though my Gretcin minders stayed at my side. I knew Orkish culture well enough to know this was a test. The nob wanted to see if I was “green” enough to walk though an Orkish city on my own or if I would look to him for protection (thus making him seem more powerful in front of his subordinates). Of course I was in no really danger. The Warboss would have made it very clear that any Ork that harmed me, or allowed me to be harm would have to answer to him. The Ork judicial system is just as brutal as anything in the Imperium and much faster.
I meandered through the streets and drew closer to the center of the town. Unlike human cities the Orks make no attempt to impress with their structures. I have seen an Ork spend all of five minutes to construct his “home” only to plop himself down under some rickety lean-to and sharpen his choppa collection for over an hour. You would think that the Orks of the settlement would stare at an alien in their mists or at least acknowledge me. But in the twenty minutes it took me to walk to the town center I do not think that a single Ork did more than scarily notice me. A subtle way of them letting me know that they deem me weak and below there concern.
It was with some relief that I walking to the town square. Though I was sure of my safety, ones inner instincts are hard to ignore when surrounded by hundreds of hulking Orks, not to mention the stray shoota rounds that occasionally whizzed this way or that. The town square was little more than a cleared area surrounded with ring of broken weapons, vehicles and armor of other races piled about three meters high with an occasional break in the ring to allow foot traffic in and out. Holding the pile of war trophies in place at either end of the break in the mound were two burned out and gutted Leman Russ tanks. I could see on each of them the huge gashes in their armor that were undoubted the cause of their demise. As shuddered at the thought of the fate of the tank crew I relized my Gretchin minders had slipped away without a word.
Stepping into the ring I saw the War Boss lounging on a throne made from the access doors of a Land Raider surrounded by a ring of Orks who were eating and drinking (but it appeared that more drinking than eating was going on). He was eating some sort of meat directly off a huge bone and due to his great focus on the task at hand, I saw him long before he saw me. But before I could say a word he jumped from his throne and loudly greeted me. “Well if it isn’t my favorite “rouge” Rouge Trader,” at that comment he roared into laughter and the surrounding Orks followed suit. Though I sincerely doubt that any of them understood their War Boss’s joke. As far as Orks come he is quite clever.
“It is good to see you War Boss Grax, you honor me with your hospitality” I said.
“Shut your yap” The War Boss bellowed, though I could tell he was pleased. “You sound like a sniveling Eldar”.
“My apologize” I retorted.
For a moment the War Boss tensed with anger. Orks do not take well to pleasantries. But almost immediately he relaxed and laughed.
“Trying to get under old Grax’s skin are you?” He chucked.
“Am I succeeding?” I said.
“No” he replied with a brief but forceful exhale from his nostrils. “You humans may like to waste the day way talking and mucking about. But we Orks got a schedule to keep”
I laugh because I though he was joking but I could see by his expression that he was not, and my heart went cold. I cannot imagine a situation were an Ork decides to plan anything ahead of time that does not result in massive bloodshed.
“Of course, my good War Boss, I trust you will been pleased with the cargo being unloaded from my ship?”
“Well...” said the War Boss, “I would like it if you could bring us some proper Ork weapons. You humans have never had the knack for making a decent gun. But all the same, I am sure that my boys will find a use for those bolters.”
“I trust the previous shipments have worked out?”
“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, after the Mek boys finished up with the last crates you brought we had ourselves some fun. But the boys and I are not happy that this is your last shipment. I don’t see why we have to end our deal.”
I cleared my throat. I had to be very carful as I proceeded. The only reason I was standing there was that Grax had a use for me. If that ended it is unlikely I would leave this court yard let alone this planet alive.
“You are absolutely right War Boss, I still have plenty of guns and ammunition, not to mention a few more favors I could use from you and your boys.”
Grax walked right up to me and leaned his massive head level with mine and in a softer but in many ways much more frightening tone said with a grin, “I’m all ears”
Having the great War Boss so close unsettled me but I was able to get my words out.
“Your boy’s ability to take carry of those Eldar pirates has been good for my business, very good in fact. So good that I can afforded to pay you triple what I paid last time and to top it off I have three tons of Imperial salvage scrap I would like to throw in.
Grax smiled at that. I could see in his eyes that wheels were already turning in his mind with what he could do with a payment of that size.
“But you are not going to just give it to us, right? What do we got to do for you?”
I cleared my throat. “Well this is a big payment you see, and a big payment requires a big job...”
Grax looked annoyed. It was clear that he wanted me to get to the point.
“Um, well, you see I may not always see eye to eye with the Imperium, but this sector is my home and I have done business here for decades and...”
The War Bosses faced soured further. I was angering him and that was not safe.
“Tyranids. Tyranids have entered the far eastern edge of the sector”
Grax’s eyes widened and an odd expression appeared on his face. Not fear, but perhaps unease. It caused me to pause and I just stood there for a moment.
“And what do you want me to do about it?” Grax finally asked.
It took me a moment to collect my thoughts. Grax’s response to the word “Tyranids” had thrown me and I had to get back on track.
“A hive fleet has consumed two worlds in this sector. It will soon be striking the world of Epata. I doubt that the Imperial forces on that world can stop them.”
“I do not think that the Imperial gits will appreciate my help” Interrupted Grax.
“No... No, I would say not. I would not expect you to work with them either. But if you waited unit the Imperial forces were over run and then landed on the planet. The Tyranids should be weakened enough at that you could destroy them.”
My words hung in the air fore a few moments and then Grax spoke slowly “I have fought the bugs before. It took a whole lot of boys to bring them down, and they gave me this and this...” Grax pointed to two hideous scars across his shoulder and neck. “You are going to have to pay me a whole lot more to take on the bugs.”
I swallowed and took a deep breath. There is a maxim among traders that says, “Never try to sell what you do not have.” But I suppose that traitors make such deals regularly, and that word fits me better than the first at the moment.
“I can pay you something else as well.” I said. Grax’s head perked up and he listened intently.
“The Imperial Battle Fleet in this sector has lost three engagements with the hive fleet, since it arrived. Additionally the Eldar pirates have inflicted substantial loss on the fleet in the past year. Currently every available Imperial Guard unit in the sector is heading to Epata to stop the Tyranids. Once the Imperial Guard are overrun, if you can take Epata back from the Tyranids. There is no one in the sector who could take it from you.
Grax’s smiled at that remark. I had more or less offered to give him an Imperial world, albeit a very damaged one by the time he got his hands on it. But a world is a world, and a habitable one at that. A huge prize by any standard.
“You got yourself a deal, human” Grax said. Rearing up he shouted, “All right boys! Listen up! I want every Nob in the town worth his teeth to be here in an hour. We got planning to do!” With that said dozens of gretchin runners darted out of hiding into the settlement to relay the message.
This would be as good a time for me to make my exit as any. Ork strategy sessions at the command level inevitable result in someone dying. I did not want to be there when the first disagreement was settled with gunfire.
“Then I will take my leave, Warboss Grax. The supplies we agreed upon will be delivered the day after tomorrow.”
And with that remark I turned and left. As I worked my way through the Ork city I saw dozens of nobs rushing to Grax’s war council. With in the hour I was back on my ship and preparing to disembark. I felt a sense of relief that I had accomplished what I had come to do, and that I would be leaving the planet alive. I had saved the sector for the price of a single world, but a nagging feeling told me, I had possibly included my soul as part of the deal as well.
