Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
Ghaskghull pounded through (literally) another tree that had been unfortunate enough to end up in his way. His own weight, plus that of his mega-armour, not to mention a claw almost as big as he was, made pounding through the forest easier than it ordinarily would be. Not that the trees were particularly dense, but dense enough to require a severe trimming whenever it took the Ork's fancy. There were four of them, all in mega-armour and armed with a variety of vicious ranged and close-combat weaponry, making tasks such as trimming limbs off trees and enemies a breeze. Sadly, over the past few days they had been exercised much. Instead it was the Orks themselves who'd been exercising, as they ran from angry Imperial forces bent on, quite simply, killing them all. At least, that was the view from most of the Orks, sadly incapable of comprehending the
planning, tactics and cunning that went with any genocide.
Ghaskghull was another Ork, making another run for his life. He and his three friends had it easier than some of their comrades, who were bereft of such exotic weaponry and armour. It wasn't for show, at least, not now: it was being put to good use.
The Orks grunted, as was per usual. Grunts of tiredness, irritability, and typical communication. Most of all, though, at this very moment, they were grunting because they were fed up. How much more of this did they have to do? When would they get
to hit some 'umie skull? They didn't ask these questions out loud because they already had, and answers were simply not freely available. Running was not honourable for anyone, least of all an Ork. Oh, those Death Skull boys did it. Tactics they called it. Ghaskghull called them much more unsavoury things. Him and his mates were Goffs!, not bleedin' Death Skulls. 'and ter 'and was what they were best at. Ghaskghull often forget to fire 'da belta', as he'd dubbed the guns that was effectively his left hand, he was much more concerned with cleaving heads with his claw. Which, it appeared, he would be just about to do...
Ghaskghull stopped suddenly. Being in front of the others, they also stopped more or less level with him. In case they planned to speak, Ghaskghull raised his right hand, and thus the meaty claw. His friends got the message straight off, which was a surprise. He peered into the clearing that he had almost stumbled into without realising...
From where he was, behind the last of the trees, he could see a mound. A fairly big mound, it must have been about as big as he was. A suspiciously flat top though. But it couldn't have been the top of it, because there were shapes looming out of it. ‘umie shaped shapes. Trying unsuccessfully to hide inside the mound.
Ghaskghull clicked. They were no ordinary 'umies, they were...what did the Death Skulls call them? Terminators. Nice word. Ghaskghull knew because they were just about as big and meaty as he was, and had the weapons to show. How many were there?
Ghaskghull was not in a mood to count, but reasoned that there were probably more 'Terminators' than there were of his lot, plus a few more smaller 'umies milling around by them. Good, a fair fight.
Suddenly Ghaskghull had another thought. If he could see them, couldn't they see him? Why hadn't they tried to attack him yet? Must be scared, he reasoned: 'umies were always scared of Orks. Well, most of the time. Besides, there were trees in the
way. Ghaskghull's mate's were getting restless, so he bellowed: "Charge ladz!"
They burst from the trees as subtly as a juggernaut from behind a hedge. Azhag fired off a frag grenade from his nifty little 'rokkit lorncha': technologically impressive though it was, Azhag never had enough ammo for it and rarely fired it at anybody. On times like these, it was to scare opponents with it's 'bang'. And as Ghaskghull ran up to the ramp that came out of the side of the mound, he say that these 'umies were not to be intimidated by them. The shrapnel that rained from the sky barely scratched their armour.
Two Terminators jumped off the ramp and fired. But not at Ghaskghull. Grunts of frustration, anger and pain (in quick succession) came from Azhag. The Terminators had guns which, while not looking much, seemed to be firing at the rate of an
'eavy shoota. Could Azhag survive two of those? Course he could, 'e woz Azhag!
The sound of gunfire had filled Ghaskghull's ears almost as soon as he'd came out of the trees, and he could work out that it wasn't coming from his mates. As he ran up the short ramp, two Terminator's came out to the top of it. Ghaskghull could reach them in two seconds, but that other gun one of them was holding looked like it could make a meal of him in that time. His buddie looked suitably fearsome. Like the others, but with a nice flag and a sword that, while poncy in it's elegance, still impressed Ghaskghull. His thoughts had been very heat of the moment, so he wasn't dead yet. His mind raced: he would run up the ramp in two seconds, grab that big gun with his claw and break it, then fight the 'umie with the sword without being hassled. The others could cope with the rest.
Ghaskghull ran up the ramp, taking gunfire in the short time it took him to get up. He'd only just reached the first 'umie, but could feel no armour around his stomach, and what was left felt like it could be blown away in the wind. Barring that which was keeping his gun and claw to him. That was good. Better not break his gun - it may come in handy. Ghaskghull lunged at grabbed the autocannon with his claw, and tensed it.
The Terminator's mate, who was, in reality, the squad's sergeant, immediately thrust his sword into Ghaskghull's side. He screamed like only an Ork can. By Gork and Mork, that hurt! To Gorkamorka with this 'umie, I've got to get this 'un what thinks 'e's tuff! Ghaskghull let go of the autocannon, and swiped his claw at the sergeant's helmet, knocking him off balance. The other Terminator thrust his power fist at Ghaskghull, who was in turn knocked off balance and given a nasty electric shock. Delirious, he fell off the ramp. The next thing he knew was that he was very hot, and burning....
As Ghaskghull had ran up the ramp, Azhag had been targeted by two Terminators armed with storm bolters and chainfists. Unused for a short while and still in good condition, the bolters had poured out an impressive rate of fire on their target. By the
time Azhag had got to the first man, he was in bad condition, and was cut down by the chainfist of his opponent. Disembowelled, he fell dead. There was, however, still Morglum behind him, who had not been hit by anything other than stray bolter shells.
Not enough. He took on the first Terminator man on man. The other Terminator, though, knew better than to sit by and watch...
The other Ork was called Urgug, and had attempted to run up the slope towards the fifth Terminator who wouldn't stop shooting at him. He got halfway up before stumbling. He felt like his skull had been split in half, which was actually what had happened. Luckily for him, the Terminator's storm bolter jammed. Unluckily for him, by the time he had got to the top of the slope the bolter had un-jammed, and shot him again. Luckily again, it ran out of ammo almost instantly. Urgug rolled down to the bottom of the slope, enraged but essentially crippled. He got up, roared, and noticed a few more 'umies had turned up. They were normal, pathetic, scrawny humans that had been doing the good job of killing Urgug's friends over the past few days. Enraged, he ignored the reloading Terminator and roared at the newcomers. The nearest one promptly shot him in the mouth. In pain in shock, Urgug keeled forward. The humies opened fire, all managing to hit his head and blow his brains out............
This was a squad of Imperial Guardsmen, one of whom, armed with a flamer, had ran up to Ghaskghull as he fell, and set fire to him when he hit the ground. Ghaskghull was angry, but as he stood up to clobber the impertinent 'umie, he felt himself burn from inside. His stomach had been exposed and shot by the Terminators, and was now on fire. Ghaskghull roared on last time, then keeled over, burning from inside and out.
The exchange had lasted about ten seconds from when the Orks had burst from the trees, and now the only one left was Morglum, who, by the time his comrades had all been killed, had shot his opponent in the stomach with his plasma gun, and hit him in the face with his power fist. The Terminator's armour buckled and he reeled around, dazed with pain. Morglum avoided the spinning chainfist, and hit the Terminator with the fist again, flooring him. It was but a short triumph, for the other four Terminator’s
were now done killing their Orks, and were free to concentrate on whichever Orks were left. The only Ork left was Morglum. Plus, the Guardsmen had arrived to do likewise.
Morglum fell from the force of autocannon, bolters and lasfire which rained onto him. His armour buckled and split, his tough Orky flesh fired with pain. He fired off a plasma shot at random, and the worst of the firing stopped. Maddened, he roared and charged forwards. Into a ball of flame. The flamer-armed Guardsman used up all his gas on burning the charging Ork, and though he singed himself with he heat, he succeeded in making the Ork collapse against the limp form of the Terminator he had just floored. As quickly as a crippled Terminator could, he rolled himself away, yet still feeling the incredible heat. His friend who had shot Azhag with him by his side, however, did not care for any heat, and was himself enraged. He ran at the burning Ork, the one only just set fire to, and plunged his chainfist into his chest. Feeling the flames and the heat, he quickly retreated. But it was enough. Two limp and burning Ork bodies lay on the ground, just below the Terminator sergeant, who regarded them with only contempt.
planning, tactics and cunning that went with any genocide.
Ghaskghull was another Ork, making another run for his life. He and his three friends had it easier than some of their comrades, who were bereft of such exotic weaponry and armour. It wasn't for show, at least, not now: it was being put to good use.
The Orks grunted, as was per usual. Grunts of tiredness, irritability, and typical communication. Most of all, though, at this very moment, they were grunting because they were fed up. How much more of this did they have to do? When would they get
to hit some 'umie skull? They didn't ask these questions out loud because they already had, and answers were simply not freely available. Running was not honourable for anyone, least of all an Ork. Oh, those Death Skull boys did it. Tactics they called it. Ghaskghull called them much more unsavoury things. Him and his mates were Goffs!, not bleedin' Death Skulls. 'and ter 'and was what they were best at. Ghaskghull often forget to fire 'da belta', as he'd dubbed the guns that was effectively his left hand, he was much more concerned with cleaving heads with his claw. Which, it appeared, he would be just about to do...
Ghaskghull stopped suddenly. Being in front of the others, they also stopped more or less level with him. In case they planned to speak, Ghaskghull raised his right hand, and thus the meaty claw. His friends got the message straight off, which was a surprise. He peered into the clearing that he had almost stumbled into without realising...
From where he was, behind the last of the trees, he could see a mound. A fairly big mound, it must have been about as big as he was. A suspiciously flat top though. But it couldn't have been the top of it, because there were shapes looming out of it. ‘umie shaped shapes. Trying unsuccessfully to hide inside the mound.
Ghaskghull clicked. They were no ordinary 'umies, they were...what did the Death Skulls call them? Terminators. Nice word. Ghaskghull knew because they were just about as big and meaty as he was, and had the weapons to show. How many were there?
Ghaskghull was not in a mood to count, but reasoned that there were probably more 'Terminators' than there were of his lot, plus a few more smaller 'umies milling around by them. Good, a fair fight.
Suddenly Ghaskghull had another thought. If he could see them, couldn't they see him? Why hadn't they tried to attack him yet? Must be scared, he reasoned: 'umies were always scared of Orks. Well, most of the time. Besides, there were trees in the
way. Ghaskghull's mate's were getting restless, so he bellowed: "Charge ladz!"
They burst from the trees as subtly as a juggernaut from behind a hedge. Azhag fired off a frag grenade from his nifty little 'rokkit lorncha': technologically impressive though it was, Azhag never had enough ammo for it and rarely fired it at anybody. On times like these, it was to scare opponents with it's 'bang'. And as Ghaskghull ran up to the ramp that came out of the side of the mound, he say that these 'umies were not to be intimidated by them. The shrapnel that rained from the sky barely scratched their armour.
Two Terminators jumped off the ramp and fired. But not at Ghaskghull. Grunts of frustration, anger and pain (in quick succession) came from Azhag. The Terminators had guns which, while not looking much, seemed to be firing at the rate of an
'eavy shoota. Could Azhag survive two of those? Course he could, 'e woz Azhag!
The sound of gunfire had filled Ghaskghull's ears almost as soon as he'd came out of the trees, and he could work out that it wasn't coming from his mates. As he ran up the short ramp, two Terminator's came out to the top of it. Ghaskghull could reach them in two seconds, but that other gun one of them was holding looked like it could make a meal of him in that time. His buddie looked suitably fearsome. Like the others, but with a nice flag and a sword that, while poncy in it's elegance, still impressed Ghaskghull. His thoughts had been very heat of the moment, so he wasn't dead yet. His mind raced: he would run up the ramp in two seconds, grab that big gun with his claw and break it, then fight the 'umie with the sword without being hassled. The others could cope with the rest.
Ghaskghull ran up the ramp, taking gunfire in the short time it took him to get up. He'd only just reached the first 'umie, but could feel no armour around his stomach, and what was left felt like it could be blown away in the wind. Barring that which was keeping his gun and claw to him. That was good. Better not break his gun - it may come in handy. Ghaskghull lunged at grabbed the autocannon with his claw, and tensed it.
The Terminator's mate, who was, in reality, the squad's sergeant, immediately thrust his sword into Ghaskghull's side. He screamed like only an Ork can. By Gork and Mork, that hurt! To Gorkamorka with this 'umie, I've got to get this 'un what thinks 'e's tuff! Ghaskghull let go of the autocannon, and swiped his claw at the sergeant's helmet, knocking him off balance. The other Terminator thrust his power fist at Ghaskghull, who was in turn knocked off balance and given a nasty electric shock. Delirious, he fell off the ramp. The next thing he knew was that he was very hot, and burning....
As Ghaskghull had ran up the ramp, Azhag had been targeted by two Terminators armed with storm bolters and chainfists. Unused for a short while and still in good condition, the bolters had poured out an impressive rate of fire on their target. By the
time Azhag had got to the first man, he was in bad condition, and was cut down by the chainfist of his opponent. Disembowelled, he fell dead. There was, however, still Morglum behind him, who had not been hit by anything other than stray bolter shells.
Not enough. He took on the first Terminator man on man. The other Terminator, though, knew better than to sit by and watch...
The other Ork was called Urgug, and had attempted to run up the slope towards the fifth Terminator who wouldn't stop shooting at him. He got halfway up before stumbling. He felt like his skull had been split in half, which was actually what had happened. Luckily for him, the Terminator's storm bolter jammed. Unluckily for him, by the time he had got to the top of the slope the bolter had un-jammed, and shot him again. Luckily again, it ran out of ammo almost instantly. Urgug rolled down to the bottom of the slope, enraged but essentially crippled. He got up, roared, and noticed a few more 'umies had turned up. They were normal, pathetic, scrawny humans that had been doing the good job of killing Urgug's friends over the past few days. Enraged, he ignored the reloading Terminator and roared at the newcomers. The nearest one promptly shot him in the mouth. In pain in shock, Urgug keeled forward. The humies opened fire, all managing to hit his head and blow his brains out............
This was a squad of Imperial Guardsmen, one of whom, armed with a flamer, had ran up to Ghaskghull as he fell, and set fire to him when he hit the ground. Ghaskghull was angry, but as he stood up to clobber the impertinent 'umie, he felt himself burn from inside. His stomach had been exposed and shot by the Terminators, and was now on fire. Ghaskghull roared on last time, then keeled over, burning from inside and out.
The exchange had lasted about ten seconds from when the Orks had burst from the trees, and now the only one left was Morglum, who, by the time his comrades had all been killed, had shot his opponent in the stomach with his plasma gun, and hit him in the face with his power fist. The Terminator's armour buckled and he reeled around, dazed with pain. Morglum avoided the spinning chainfist, and hit the Terminator with the fist again, flooring him. It was but a short triumph, for the other four Terminator’s
were now done killing their Orks, and were free to concentrate on whichever Orks were left. The only Ork left was Morglum. Plus, the Guardsmen had arrived to do likewise.
Morglum fell from the force of autocannon, bolters and lasfire which rained onto him. His armour buckled and split, his tough Orky flesh fired with pain. He fired off a plasma shot at random, and the worst of the firing stopped. Maddened, he roared and charged forwards. Into a ball of flame. The flamer-armed Guardsman used up all his gas on burning the charging Ork, and though he singed himself with he heat, he succeeded in making the Ork collapse against the limp form of the Terminator he had just floored. As quickly as a crippled Terminator could, he rolled himself away, yet still feeling the incredible heat. His friend who had shot Azhag with him by his side, however, did not care for any heat, and was himself enraged. He ran at the burning Ork, the one only just set fire to, and plunged his chainfist into his chest. Feeling the flames and the heat, he quickly retreated. But it was enough. Two limp and burning Ork bodies lay on the ground, just below the Terminator sergeant, who regarded them with only contempt.
