Green iz Best
I was planning on starting a story about the Wood Elves, despite my hatred of them I followed the advice of Dan Abnett in regards to Space Wolves. But then I thought "Why not do something different?" So, who better for "different" than the greenies. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to criticize and comment:
Roaring like devils they materialized from the unnatural fog that had descended over the once proud remains of Gϋtensheim, the dim light that penetrated the mist was given off by the inferno raging in the town center. The sundered corpses of the civilians lay spread across the ground, their eerie stillness disturbed by the metal-shod feet that trampled them. Hordes of green-skinned monstrosities poured from the alleyways and homes where they had taken their gruesome amusement. The Orcs rallied behind their leader, a hulking beast that towered over the surrounding warriors. Casting one baleful red eye over his assembled warhost, Graznuk ‘Eadchoppa bellowed encouragements in preparation for the fighting to come.
“Lissen up boyz” He yelled, spraying spittle from his monstrous, yellowed tusks, “Dem humiez iz comin ta scrap wif us cuz wot we did to deze humiez.” The assembled orcs began to whoop and holler. “Deyz want ta end all da fun, so wez gunna stomp em good.” The greenskins banged their weapons against their shields, creating a ragged cacophony.
The Orcs marched, if such a term could be used for so undisciplined an action, toward the southern gate; what was left anyway. An increasingly large number of them assemble behind Graznuk, adding their own sounds to the hideous procession. Small goblins wandered around the edges of the throng of bodies, not wanting to be stepped on by their much larger superiors. Eventually the gate came into sight; decayed stonework lay scattered across the cobbled streets, large panes of colored glass dotted the barren roadway where it had not broken into smaller portions. The gate itself stood ajar, the wood in the center splintered beyond repair and the metal hinges twisted and destroyed. With a triumphant howl erupting from their throats, the greenskins exited the city in search of new enemies. They needed not wait long.
In ordered ranks and files the army of Middenland stalked toward the green horde through the dense forest. Nearly one hundred pikemen flanked a contingent of the Knights of the White Wolf. Soldiers bearing long rifles came along the eastern side, a unit of greatswords staying firmly in front of them. They all, to a man, bore a loathing look on their faces. Sheer, unfettered hatred burned behind their eyes. The general rode forth, his shining armor catching what light it could. He raised his sword and the men behind him awaited his signal to begin the attack.
“Men of the Empire, these monsters have defiled our ground and murdered our charges. They have burned our settlements. They must pay for their crimes. Onward, in the name of Ulric, smite down your foes and know that your god is watching.” With a sense of finality he swept his sword in a downward motion and the human troops organized themselves to charge.
Graznuk stood with a thoughtful expression on his face, before finally shouting “Well boyz, iz aint got no flashy wurdz like dat humie, so…. WAAAAAGGGHHH!”
The ground shook with their response as they charged the still forming human lines, the ground between them closing swiftly. Nearly a thousand voices rang out together as they started to do battle against the meager soldiers. “WAAAAAAAAGGHHH!” cried the mob as they clashed with their ancient enemies (although in fairness who is not an enemy of the Orcs). Crude choppas cleaved through shields and caved in steel helmets, even as pikes impaled the greenskins upon their lengths. The sound of gunfire tore through the air as several score of rifles opened fire in concentrated volleys.
Graznuk veered toward the knights, his lust for battle overriding any thoughts of personal safety. He thundered across the earthy soil, eager to get into the fight with the utmost haste. He lifted his big choppa from the idle position he had been holding it and shifted it into a combat ready location. Bullets tore through his shoulder as he ran, causing warm, malodorous ichor to spray across his shoddy armor. He ignored the slight itch he felt from the rapidly propelled shells, all of his small mind being focused on the Knights of the White Wolf. “Dis iz gunna be fun.” With a yell he swung his weapon in a broad arc, tearing through the plate armor and severing the torso of one unfortunate knight. Graznuk relished in the blood that leaked from the body, and had to resist the urge to continue chopping the fallen soldier. He deftly parried a blow aimed at his head, catching his enemy’s sword on the hilt of his choppa before kicking the human in the groin with all of the force allowed by his inhuman strength. A distinct snap could be heard as the groaning man fell to the ground, and Graznuk swiftly beheaded his adversary. Looking around to ensure no foes were within striking distance he set about placing the severed head on one of the spikes incorporated into his armor. With another large “Waaaagh” he set about carving into the Middenlanders like an avatar of destruction. No one could touch this behemoth of war, besides those who did, but he just ignored the swords lodged in his flesh and the broken pike haft sticking through his stomach.
All of the training of the Imperials was of no avail, as the sheer ferocity and disregard for life exhibited by the greenskins began to turn the tide of battle. The riflemen had remained largely untouched by the slaughter, the orcs not bothering to head to the flanks like a sensible army, but the pikemen had suffered heavy losses and the Knights of the White Wolf were nearly destroyed. The greatswords had been reaping a hefty toll, again due to their ignorance of tactics and flanking. But it became increasingly clear that the only way that the humans could win the day was to kill their leader.
Graznuk grunted in delight as the Imperial general strode toward him, murderous intent plain upon his face. He was slightly put off by the remaining Knights who followed him. “Ey, datz not fair. Youz got a bunch of humiez. I was finkin’ dat you humiez was all about ‘honor’”.
With a disdainful look the general replied “One such as you cannot comprehend the term.”
“Yah I do, itz when youz iz stoopid and fight by youz self when you could win wif a bunch of boyz.”
The man did not even bother to reply, his only response taking the form of a lightning quick thrust at Graznuk’s throat. Graznuk stepped aside with an agility that belied his bulk. One of the three remaining Knights of the White Wolf swung low at his knees with a razor-sharp blade. With a startling display of toughness he grasped the metal in his bare hand and snapped it, not noticing the blood running freely over his appendage. He leapt at the man with a flying tackle, knocking the air from his lungs and denting his chestplate. Graznuk chopped downward at the falling knight and bisected him, sternum to pelvis. Brain matter discharged from the opened cranium and covered Graznuk. The general slashed at his shoulder, but the thin cut the attack created was no hindrance. He swung upward and caught his choppa in the chest of the second knight, trying futilely to extract the weapon. As the final White Wolf raised his blade Graznuk gave up. He swung his choppa, with the man still attached, at his assailant. Although the blow itself did not prove fatal, it made his opponent stagger. He dropped his weapon and grabbed the knight by throat. He squeezed, causing the man’s eyes to bulge and his face to turn blue. With an air of superiority Graznuk tore at his victim’s windpipe with his tusks, feeling the warm fluids run into his gullet. Flesh stuck to his lips as he continued to brutalize the now-dead man.
Graznuk looked up and saw the general lift a silver horn to his lips. “Wot iz you doin?” A clarion call rang out in the province of Middenland, a single wailing note that expressed the need for help. The sound of hooves could be heard in the distance. Graznuk abruptly stood and began to run for the Middle Mountains. As the remaining orcs drew up behind him one of them shouted “Whyz we runnin away from sum humiez?”
Graznuk replied between his ragged breaths “Wez not runnin, wez just gonna need more boyz.”
Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “The current system of servitude is barbaric and inadequate for today's generation. We appeal to the leaders of both the Imperium and the Coalition of Hateful Assholes and Organised Sin to seek to change this for the betterment of all its citizens”
Lorgar: “Guess there was one plot thread we forgot to erase ...” Mortarion nods in agreement, while Ahriman looks on suspiciously.
Aerith/Aeris Gainsborough: “We feel trapped, we feel oppressed. And we urge our governments to release us from these metal boxes-”
Lorgar: “Oh shi-”
Firraveus Carron: Leaping to his feet. “METAL BOXES?!?METAL BOXES!!!THEY RIDE IN METAL BOXES!!!”
All credit goes to Lastie on Warseer, for writing Primarchs (available in a 647 page Microsoft Word document)