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AS some of you may notice, this is the same story from an earlier post. I reposted it becasue i felt that the 'unnamed story' part of the title was a bit misleading. Please feel free to reply.

I know the alt. ending is a bit cheesy, but i liked that better even though the real plotted ending was orks winning. Enjoy. ^_^

All around Guzagra crude engines coughed to life. Guzagra breathed deeply and what passed for a look of pleasure passed over his face. In his one hand he held his trusty shoota, which he had kustumized himself to make it more shooty, and in his other was his prized choppa. He had wrenched it from the stiffening grip of the previous boss of the Blood Trakks klan after smiting him in a bloody, hour-long boss-fight. The weapon took the shape of a gargantuan axe with whirling chain teeth at the blade’s edge. Its huge bulk was easily lifted by Guzagra’s bulging biceps and he lazily swung it around, oblivious to the three gretchin he gutted through this act of habit, as he surveyed his boyz, like a happy child surveyed his new toy soldiers. His position on the trukk in the very center of the mass of green orks and rusting metal vehicles allowed him to see just about everything that was going on in preparation for the best day of Guzagra’s life.

“Boss, if yaz ready, we could get goin now! Da grotz is cumplainin ‘gain but da slaver’s got em handled I thinks!” Yelled Guzagra’s second-in-command nob Freger.

“A’right! Let’s get outa ‘ere! I been waitin’ so long fa dis day!”

Freger grunted his understanding and strutted away. Slowly the mobs began to move forward and the vehicles with them. Guzagra grinned as a mob of boyz was squelched under the heavy treads of a looted battle tank as it jerked out of control in a sudden spurt of speed. His glistening teeth dripped saliva in his anticipation for the coming fight. Two stolen necklaces dangled around his huge neck, one stolen from each destroyed firebase. As they picked up speed, Guzagra stood up and prepared for his favorite part of any attack.

“WAAAAAAGH!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“WAAAAAAGH!” echoed the hundreds of boyz surrounding his trukk. The battle cry increased in volume as the orks farther from the boss heard their clan mates crying out and joined in to add to the overpowering din. The cry grew so loud that it drowned out the sound of engines almost entirely and Guzagra only knew his trukk was still running because of the vibrations he felt from the rough terrain passing by.


Alex Groscov stretched and yawned. He had been patrolling the perimeter of firebase GP 109 for the past 10 hours. His yellow and green Cadian uniform was sweaty and uncomfortable after another day in the blistering sun. There was nothing around to look at but the grassy flats of Grendus Prime, that seemed to stretch out for kilometers, or the rag-tag firebase. The base spread out beneath Alex, a jumble of tents, crates, sandbags, and other random odds and ends normal for an Imperial Guard firebase. Techpriests serviced the countless Basilisk artillery in the open air beneath the setting sun. Surrounding the entire base sat a trench system with gun emplacements, bunkers, and lookout towers strewn about it like little beads upon a necklace.

Alex turned from the view port he had been looking through and began searching for his helmet. A leather string dangled from his neck with the blade-winged Imperial Eagle, carved from the skull of an unfortunate ork, threaded upon it. He found his helmet upturned in a corner where it had rolled after falling from his head. After placing it upon his head he began to descend the ladder from the tower he had been keeping watch in.

He wandered aimlessly around the trench through its many bunkers, engaging in brief conversations with the other sentries. Finally he found a place with comparatively low grass and, after checking around the area for the many dangerous species of snake that infested this part of the planet, dropped onto his back for a short break.

He turned this way, that way. He squirmed to get comfortable upon the hard, vibrating ground. Suddenly, in a moment of horror, his closed eyes snapped open. He began to breath hard as he put his ear to one of the rocks protruding from the firm ground. He heard the foreboding sound of what sounded like a stampede. This planet didn’t have any know form of heard animals, this he knew for a fact. It could mean only one thing. Alex jumped to his feat and began sprinting with all of his depleting strength toward the center of the compound.


Sergeant Draco sat at his desk in one of the few climate controlled buildings in the entire firebase. His war-hardened mind pondered the many mysteries of war as his rough hand stroked his graying stubble of a beard. So concentrated upon his thoughts was he that the sound of an intercom made him jump and fall out of his chair. He got back up and sheepishly smoothed his uniform as if he were under the watchful eye of a drill sergeant in his green-horned days.

After a deep breath he pressed the intercom button on his desk. “Yes?”

“A sentry here to see you, sir. Says he needs to speak with you in person.” Answered a security servitor”

“Does he now?” Draco said as he began pondering the reason that a lowly guardsman would need to talk to the head of a firebase.

“Shall I let him in sir?” the servitor asked after Draco’s long pause.

“Yes, let him in.” Draco answered. In the back of his mind he wondered watt he was getting himself into.


“You may enter.” The heavily augmented security servitor said. It reached over to a panel and pressed a button. One of many large metallic doors that broke off of the central room opened in a quick swoosh of air, the pneumatics moving the hulk with ease.

Slowly Alex stepped into the room and saluted to the head of the entire firebase. Alex took in the battle-hardened look of sergeant Draco. His eyes darted first to his decorated bars, indicating rank, then to his hat, tilted to the side from being hastily applied, and finally came to rest upon the inquisitorial ‘I’ pendant hanging around his leader’s neck.

“You had something to say?” Sergeant Draco asked politely, especially for the bridge in ranks.

Coming back from his observing Alex said, “Yes sir. It is that of the utmost urgency. I detected it during my sentry rounds.” Draco gave him a look of interest and Alex continued. “I heard a sound upon a rock, like that of a stampede. I believe it to be getting closer to our base.” I did not wish to cause a panic, so I brought the issue to you directly. I can only guess its some form of Ork advance. More I cannot say.”

“Hmm that is a problem.” Draco said spinning around in his chair to face the map on the far wall of his office. “I could have been an attack on a neighboring firebase.” I can’t guess which one. There are three around here. Rest assured that your information has not fallen upon deaf ears. I will keep a constant lookout for the invaders.”

“Thank you sir! I will now return to my duties.”

“Actually the change of shifts is only a few minutes away. You may go directly to the showers.” Draco said turning around to say a formal goodbye to the soldier.

“Yes sir! Thank you sir!” Alex said pulling into one last salute. Draco nodded and Alex turned to leave. He felt as if a great weight of worry had been lifted from his chest by the few, well-chosen words of his commander.

He was no more than two steps through the giant metallic door when red lights began to spin and bells began to ring. The servitor that guarded the entrance went haywire. He threw Alex his lasgun, which he had left in its care, and scrambled over to a wall where a hidden hinge opened up a great slab of the rockrete wall, revealing a plasma cannon. The servitor strapped the power source onto its back and lifted the large gun with both hands. Shortly after Draco burst from his office with a chainsword in one hand and a bolt pistol in the other. He sprinted through the lobby and out of the command bunker without a glance at Alex or the servitor that scuttled behind his leader, ready to help however possible.

Alex burst into a run and followed loyally behind Draco. As he and Draco ran through the winding paths to the trench system more and more guardsmen joined their commander to defend the base against the spotted intruders. Eventually they made it to the front lines. Behind Alex and Draco some two hundred more guardsmen followed. Draco quickly organized the guardsmen into a firing line. After the guardsmen had gotten into position, all but Alex that is, Draco walked back and forth behind them shouting moral support. Finally he walked back to Alex. Another servitor, armed with a heavy bolter, came scrambling over and opened a case. Inside of it sat a chainsword and bolt pistol, identical to Draco’s.

“Take them,” Draco said as he climbed a ladder into a lookout tower, “and join me in the defense of our base and home. Together, we shall reign victorious!”

“I am honored by your invitation, sir. Together we will draw swords.” Alex said as he reached in and removed the weapons from their residence. He then strapped his lasgun to his pack and climbed into the tower stopping on the right side of his commander. He saw massed green mobs in the distance and the black smog rising from the numerous crude vehicles. Hate swelled inside of him. The ork menace would be stopped right here, right now!


Guzagra could see his target now. The towers of firebase GP 109 loomed into sight. He patted his shoota with a meaty paw. He was so proud of the new attachment of a flamer to his shoota that he even hummed a little orky tune; obviously quiet enough so that none would hear. He wondered what they would think of their tough warboss if he was heard humming a childish tune to himself. He grinned, he would just have to lop off some heads to make up for it and he would be good.

“Make ‘em go fasta!” Guzagra howled. “I wanna lop off some more humie heads!”

“Move your arses! We’s almost dare!” the nob sitting beside Guzagra screamed to the mobs. With the nob’s words the orks picked up more speed. The rest of the base came into view just as the ground, and great amounts of orks, exploded from the impact of Imperial Earthshakers. The mobs continued on, swarming forward in hopes to be the first to fight, the first to kill!

Ahead of the swarm of green orks raced the bikers. Solid slug rounds burst out of the guns mounted on their bikes, even though they were way beyond effective range. Little dots of light appeared in all of the emplacements as the defenders opened fire with their autocannons. The imperial weapons ripped into the herd of orks, ripping down entire lines of them within seconds. This didn’t slow the orks noticeably at all. Any orks that had a second thought about the attack were overrun as the others charged forward. Then las weapons began to fire as the bikes approached the emplacement even faster. Some hit the bikers and made them wobble out of control before falling over and having another half-dozen bikers run into them before detonating. One bike continued to ride forward after the rider was killed and collided with an emplacement, cracking the rockrete and killing many inside due either to falling pieces of ceiling or shrapnel from the bike.

Guzagra raised a giant red banner into the air as a signal, one of his more clever ideas. Hundreds of rokkits flew from the advancing line of orks, destroying many of the emplacements or causing lookout towers to collapse. The mobs hooted and screamed in delight as guardsmen were seen running through the trenches with their uniforms blazing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the orks reached the trenches of the outpost.

“Stop dis thin!” Guzagra howled to the driver. “C’mon boyz, we’s gettin off here!” Guzagra lunged into the lines guardsmen and began to lop heads off. His whirring chainaxe made easy work of the guardsmen and their flack jackets. Around him nobs slaughtered humans by the dozen. Ahead of him he saw a small group of humans who, despite being surrounded, were cleaving his forces into little, bloody pieces. Even though they were doing well, their numbers were quickly dwindling. In the center of them stood a commander rallying the men and keeping their spirits up as they resisted the inexhaustible masses of orks in the Blood Trakks klan.

Guzagra cut down the last of the guardsmen in front of him and waded through the sea of boyz to the resistance, which was down to the officer and a guardsman. The officer’s cap was barely upon his head as he combated, and a necklace swung from the guardsman’s neck as he brought his chainsword down upon another orks head. They looked like decent fighters, and Guzagra couldn’t wait to fight them.


Alex swung his newly acquired chainsword with the precision training had given him. He had lost count of his tally long ago and was, even now, only living because the commander was keeping an eye on him. Twice he had been saved from a fatal blow by Draco’s sword. He gasped as the biggest ork he had ever seen approached his position.

“Commander, a nob!” he shouted over his shoulder.

Looking back over his shoulder while also slicing the neck of another foul ork he said, “that’s no nob, its probably the boss!”

In a few seconds the boss was upon them. His face was covered in red war paint and drool glistened on his teeth. He swept his giant, blood-soaked chainsword down. Alex stepped to the side and swung his chainsword at the behemoth. The sword cut a great gouge in the side of the boss, but that did not seem to have much effect. The monster slashed with his axe again and Alex beat it aside. The force from the strike knocked him back a few steps and that’s all the time it took for the boss to swing his axe a second time. ‘I die in service of the Emperor. There is no better way to die, he thought to himself. The last thing Alex ever saw was a mist of red as the axe chewed up his heart and intestines and spewed them into the air.


Alex fell, dead, beside Draco. Blood spilled out of the gash in his side as Alex lay in a heap at the ork’s feet. Enraged by the death of his chosen guardian, Draco swung his sword around him to clear away the orks and faced the boss. They both eyed each other for what seemed to be a lifetime. Draco looked angrily into the dull, wicked eyes of the leader of the enemy ork forces. He cursed inwardly at the inhuman shape of the skull, the jutting jaw, and the giant meaty claws that gripped the chainsword. With that he lunged at the abomination, screaming religious sacraments.

-2 days later-

Guzagra hummed a little tune to himself. Once again he was sitting upon his trukk with his boyz all around him. Around his neck was a new necklace, a blade-winged Imperial eagle carved out of the skull of an unfortunate ork strung upon a leather string. It was his third necklace representing his third destroyed firebase. Atop his head sat the peaked hat of an Imperial Guard commander. Ahead of him loomed a fourth Imperial firebase. He stood up and took a deep breath.

“WAAAAAAAAAGH!”


*Alternate Ending*

-2 days later-

Draco stood silent beside a hole. Below him lay a coffin with a blade-winged eagle shimmering, golden. Below sat the remains of Alex Groscov, appointed the title of sergeant after his heroic death. For the first time in years of war, Draco cried. He hated the foul xenos for robbing him of his apprentice. He threw his Hat into the hole where it landed atop the casket, the casket of his long lost son.
 

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Discussion Starter #4
yeah its the same one lol :D
 

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I loves da Orky fiction...i love'd it good!
There's a few errors in it that could be fixed with a little proofreading but that's me just being nitpicky. Other than that this old krumpin fool wants more.
 
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