Battle for Mehta – 03: The fall of the Warboss

September 16, 2014

Warboss Snaggfang Bug Bugga’s wartrukk pulled into camp with a very pissed off Warboss peering over the top of the Rhino siding.  A small hand full of Orks with blood soaked plates of metal sat in sullen silence around the Warboss, even the pollyanna Grot driver had a defeated look upon his face.  The camp knew not to raise any eyebrows, half the camp had wagered that Warboss Bug Bugga would not return and the other half were afraid of letting on that they had doubled their teef. Somebody had to tell the Warboss about Gortusk Korchucka, and nobody wanted that.

Findulfang pulled the Trukk up to Big Mek Spankruk’s shop for repairs.  The Mek was standing outside the semi-quanset hut looking structure working on the exhaust system for a new dread when he became frozen with fear, his two Ork assistants and pile of grots felt that fear and also held still.  Unlike the lucky had the camp Spankruk just lost nearly all his teef just then as well as Gortusk’s patronage.  Warboss Bug Bugga’s arrival just signaled the loss of two bets.  His eyes flipped back and forth as he looked for the Deffkoptas as his fear spiked.  Thankfully they were nowhere in sight, if they had survived they might rat Spankruk out for paying them off.  Now only Gortusk knew of their deal to get rid of Warboss Bug Bugga.  “What did ya find, boss?”  he said as he feigned hope and belief.

Two Orks lugged a crate off the trukk setting it next to the Warboss.  Bug Bugga ripped the top off the olive drab metal Imperial crate and throw it into the shop knocking over a scrap auto cannon from a workbench on to the ground nearly hitting a squighound that was chewing on a weed. The crate appeared to be full of building materials, preform wall sections, roof pieces, hardware, etc.

“Looks good boss, What is it?” Questioned the Big Mek still trying to salvage hope.

The Warboss lifted the over-sized crate up, turning it upside down and dumped the contents out in front of the Mek.  Bug Bugga through the empty crate at the side of the warturkk shattering the plasteel container.  Without looking away from the ignorant Mek he reached down and lifted a previously opened box with a picture of a happy guardsman holding a white cylinder to his face sitting with his pants around his ankles and the words “Golden Wipes” above it. “It is a shitta you git!” And he threw the box of toilet paper at Spankruk.

Big Mek Spankruk was properly embarrassed.  In an effort to divert the attention away from this emasculating scene he bubbled up with false courage. “Gortusk Korchucka took off wiff some boyz and the last of da deffkoptas.”

“WHAT??? Dat wretched Nob gunna get krumpt today!”
With that the Warboss stomped on an outhouse panel with his foot permanently marring it with his footprint. Bug Bugga grabbed one of the Mek Orderlies and was about to throw him at Spankruk when a loan deffkopta roared into the shop nearly making any kind of safe or deliberate landing before the whirlie boy jumped off the bike, tore his goggles off and nearly shouted in the warboss’ face “Gortusk got snit by da bugeye!”

Warboss Bug Bugga was conflicted with anger and elation.  He was still mad that the troublesome Nob ran off on some fool mission without his say so, mad that he lost boyz to a a battle over toilet paper, mad that he couldn’t kill Gortusk himself, but also pleased that Gortusk’s death would be dishonored by being scrapped at the hands of some dumb bugeye which was even worse than falling to pointy eared sandwich eating elves.  Yeah, this was good, he was growing quite pleased with this.

“What were ya afta?”

“We was goin’ ta get us a fing for tha stompa field. Dem bugeye was sittin’ on a vum-vum bom, but we din’a get it.”

“What stompa?” The Warboss looked back at a very nervous Mek.

“Afta da Dread I was makin you a right proppa Stompa.” The Mek lied but this pleased the Warboss. “But we need da forcefield gubbinz.”

“I fink I know where ta find dem.” The sneaky Weird boy, Zognoggin, came nearly out of the shadows to offer. This was the git that lead the clan to Mehta in search of good fighting in the first place, so Bug Bugga held ‘ol Zognoggin in high esteem, maybe the only Oddboy he held in high esteem.

“Yeah?  Where it at?” Demanded the eager Warboss.

The Weird Boy pointed his scraggled finger to the gate to the camp then left, then down, up and to the right.  “When ya grub a ‘perial shak burned an meltin’ in warp you are there. I show you.”

“Naa, ol grod, you stay here, me an da boyz do this.” The Warboss strut into the heart of camp shouting: “I needs a trukk load a tankbustas, anuva batch a grots, you vrum boyz, and a load a rokkit lads!  Lets go, now!”

Zognoggin knew this was a bad idea, the clan was flu of treachery right now with every odd boy and Nob trying to carve out a slice of the spoils, each making a mess of things.  The Weird Boy was skeptical of this plan and he wanted to see the city himself, there was something going on, he could feel it, something in the warp that could aid the Orks.  Gork or Mork’s power? Who knows, but he knew he had to see it for himself, but if there was one thing he was not going to do that was go against the Warboss’ wishes.

After an anti-climactic exit when the crew discovered that the second trukk had had the engine looted to make the dread, then putting it back in the trukk the war band was finally off in the night.  To add to the disorientation the Boyz found themselves lost, turned around and stuck a few more times but they eventually found the city Zognoggin had described, still smoking and very much melting in some un-early manner.  One building in the center of the town seemed to be melting from within it’s own matter without radiating any heat. “Thats it, boyz!  Lets get that wizza warp and get home.”

As the boys crept through the town, the grots leading the search in case of any unexploded bombs heard a noise and stopped.  The trukks followed and shut down but it was too late, what ever it was that the grots heard also heard them. Fungnurda the herder crouched low and worked his grots forward through some ruins toward the melting building.  Bug Bugga looked down to his left, trying to give a low and muffled shout to the band of bikers on the other side of the tank bustas “Go ‘round tha melty shak and get them beekee kanz. You boyz,” pointing to the Tank Bustas in their rusty white and yellow trukk, “down da street and dakka da kan good an ‘ard!” He swept around, looking over at a band of eager storm boyz. “You rokkit boyz go in dat way” pointing right “and kuva us. Findulfang looked up at his master with ever loyal hope to get stuck in with the real Orks. “Take us down tha street, I hear den squib luvin’ beekees in dere!”  The sound of wolves tipped him off, Warboss Bug Bugga fought Space Wolves before, just like fighting tyrannies but crunchier and less of them. This was going to be good!

The sound of warbikes lighting up energized the mob, Zagdakka and his bikers tore off around the building at lightening speeds with a Spacewolf dread in sight.  On the other end Wizzklampa and the storm boys flew off skirting a berm of debris as they aimed for cover behind an ancient tower.  With the speedy lads en route the two trukks tore off straight toward the marines. “Bang da beekee’s kan in, boyz!” the Warboss shouted over the side of the trukk to the Tank bustas who gladly unloaded a dozen rokkits into the front of an old dreadnought they could barely see through the dens morning fog and ruined building. Chunks of plascrete, steel and rokkit casing flew everywhere but the dread kept marching towards them.

Surprised by the sound of bolter fire Wizzklampa and the storm boys started wildly dodging mini missiles as they dropped to the ground to find cover.  Two Orks didn’t make it safely, one veered off and slammed into the side of the block tower smashing his face and rokkit parts all over the side while the other crashed into the ground exploding into a fiery wreck.  Wizzklampa himself was also wounded and terrified. “Back boyz, git back!” he shouted and the boys fled for safety.

Warboss Bug Bugga, furious at the sight of his Orks running, turned to see the approaching visage of four wolf riding marines and a hand full of foot sloggin marines along side a dreadnought illuminating the dark with his own power klaws. Bug Bugga’s confidence grew as he could already taste the beekee blood on his face. Surely the snotlings would be patching his squib fur cape with more wolf fur tonight!

Just then bolter fire erupted from the gray hunters and the Trukk ground to a halt.  The faithful grot driver sat there motionless in his seat, hands on the wheel holding back tears. His pride, his baby, his trukk was done.  But this was no time to stop the krumpin, this was time to start!  “Get ‘em lads!” the Warboss called out and the mob of Orks flew over the side of the trukk and slammed into the wolves.  The wolves were ready, crouched, anticipating and the leaped back into the Orks tearing into their flesh ignoring the heavy sheets of thick metal each one had fastened to their bodies. The Wolves were to fast for the Warboss to really land a blow, hitting boys next to him instead at times, the nob with his mighty power claw nearly severing and wolf and it’s rider into fours.

As the Warboss and his crew were putting in work the bikers screeched around the side of a war-torn wall laying heavy slugs into the back of a dreadnought as it tried to get a bead on the tank busters truck with it’s frost cannon.  The dread’s back imploded and the frost cannon drooped to the ground.  “Woohoo! Thats some grim dakka, lads! Now lets get the next kan!”

Wizzklampa grabbed a running Ork with his power klaw snapping him in half, “stop runnin’ you weedy gits!” and clamped on another boy. Immediately the three remaining storm boys wheeled around and started off toward the space marines.  Wizzklampa knew this was not looking good, there were six of them, one in mega armor leading the bunch, all of them had proven to be good shots, but that wasn’t going to stop him!

The Space Wolf rune priest, unfazed by the melee going on in front of his squad worked his way between Murderfang and the thunder wolves, he was bee-lining it for the downed drone that had crashed into a building that night.  They were almost to it and nothing was going to stop them.

The Tank Bustas were upset that Zagdakka had taken out the first dread, in a disorderly change of plans they swung their rokkit launchers to the other side of the repossessed Rhino and unleashed on the dread. One of the rounds made it into Murderfang’s leg causing the dread to fall to one knee. The lucky Ork turned to his fellow Orks for high fives but the trukk load of jealous boys ignored him and his excitement turned shallow.

A subtle noise from the side of the trukk alerted a few tank bustas, as they glanced to the left they could see a lone beekee with a squig trying to put a stikkbom in the tracks but it fell out and rolled into the melty building.

A few more rounds from the wolf guard and his gray hunters dropped Wizzklampa to the ground along with one of the other Orks. The storm boy nob just lay there watching as everything turned to slow motion, the Warboss and his ‘ard boyz fighting giant squigs, the beekees shooting up his mob, and the grots way off in the distance sneaking into ruin tugging at what looked like a short, fat icon of Mork. The icon seemed to look over at him and give Wizzklampa the middle finger and the Nobz eyes closed for good.

The grots seeing the lone beekee clanking against the trukk aimed their blastas at him and dumped off shots, all rattling about leaving the marine no more than alerted to their presence.  Reconsidering their position, Fungnurda bellowed “Get in dur shak and make tha oomie bleed!” Eager to please the grots darted through the rubble and shot again at the Space Wolf and his dog.  Fungnurda couldn’t help but notice the pulsing green rock a few feet away, this was surely the reason the building was melting but it was also speaking, not in words but in images, a large green Ork was showing him the fields of mushrooms, mold and filth that looked like home to the herder.  But as much as Fungnurda wanted to watch pictures of this Orky paradise he had krumpin to do!

The bikes kept moving in, whirled around behind the immobilized Murderfang and started letting off shots into him.  First his arm blew off, then his power supply erupted and carapace shattered all around him with the heavy weight of fire from the dakka guns.  Zagdakka was pleased!  Him and his boys had taken down another dread without the help of those sodden tank bustas!

The second dread falling to the guns of the Zogdakka infuriated the tank bustas, they had been deprived of another kill. This is what they did!  This is what they were made for, and yet the stupid bikers were taking all of their fun away!!!  Attempting to over compensate the Orks faced the Rune Priest and his men and fired into them.  One fell as the others took cover in the ruins further infuriating the Orks!

The Gretchen were having better luck, the marines ran in to take on the grots with some luck, he got a few, got a jab in the knee plate stiffening his gate and the Herder ran his staff through the squishy part of his neck.  “Back, back, back!” Ordered Fungnurda taking position around the green rock.

The hand to hand with the marines was not going so well for Warboss Bug Bugga but it was going equally bad for the wolves.  Just when it looked like the ‘ard boy nob was about to fall the last storm boy flew in and took a swing to the head.  Distracted by the newcomer The last thunder wolf was snapped into chunks by the power klaw.  Now standing together surrounded by fallen Orks and Space Wolves the Warboss and Nob looked at each other.  They had seen a lot of fighting together, and though wounded, they always, ALWAYS came out of it together!

As quickly as the calm of battle came upon them it disappeared as the Runepriest raised his arms and shouting something about “blah blah blah,” the morning dew swirled and cleared right above the melty building thing.  Down came a bolt of lightening into the building frying grots, their insides bloating up and exploding like popcorn. Terrified Fungnurda Grabbed up some Grots and high tailed it with the remaining few behind him.  The Rune Priest ran through the building there were in into the street to chase the Herder.

Awe struck by the thunder the Warboss and Nob were jumped by a squad of Gray Hunters and the Wolf Guard form behind.  The Wolf Guard singled the Warboss out, Bug Bugga readied his large tyrannid scything talon to gore the Terminator but the marine’s armor was too strong.  The Wolf Guard swung his power maul around in a large sweeping fashion and smashed into the Warboss’ head tearing it from his body and sending the battered cranium flying in a separate direction than his Tyranid Warrior helmet. The Nob readied himself to crush the terminator but instead received a backhand popping his armor off and crushing the already wounded Nob in the chest.  The Wolf Guard turned up the electricity enough to cook the insides of the Ork and ease the retrieval of the maul.  He held the maul upside down in front of his face, “may the world speak of the might of Fenris’ fist as all Xenos quake in the presence of your blow. Our saga continues this night with the blood of these beasts!”

Grot blastas tore into the Rune Priest and his three remaining marines as they pursued the gretchen.  The marines’ chainswords ripped into one grot in an upward swing also clipping another’s head sending tiny body parts flying.  Two grots grabbed on to another as Fungnurda jammed his staff into the marine’s ear.  Happy with himself Fungnurda came to just as the large frost axe dropped on to his own head cleaving his body almost in two.  A grot ran and the other was ripped to pieces.  The Wolves were victorious and determined to get that rock!

Dakka guns exploded in fire across the ruins home to the downed drone.  The Wolf Guard and his Gray Hunters took cover in the building, rattling shots back, it didn’t take much and one of Zagdakka’s bikers fell.  Furious to his record of flawless missions the Nob yelled “Ready your choppas boyz, lets krump some oomies!!!” Zagdakka let off the clutch and raced forward with his boys in to the cover of the footprint of the structure.  In two quick motions the Nob went from sitting to launching himself off of his bike at the Wolf Guard with his power klaw aimed at the Terminator but the marine was too quick and whacked the Ork with his power maul changing his trajectory into a crumbling pillar, he raised his maul again and brought it down onto another Ork.  The green skins were terrified at all this and started shoving each other closer to the fight.  In the fray one of the bikers fell over and impaled himself on a holstered spear another biker had on the back of his bike.  This was not looking good.

One well timed krak grenade followed by an explosion and the Tank Bustas trukk stopped.  The boys piled out shooting up the marine who lobbed the lucky shot.  The Rune Priest and the last Gray Hunter were cowering behind the wall outside of the melty shak.  It wasn’t the glory they were after but this was their only chance at redemption.  The mob ran around the corner of the stinking building and launched a wad of discordant rokkit shots into the two marines.  One was hit and exploded into shards.  Another rokkit rammed the Priest into the stomach nocking him backward onto his face.  Feeling his ancestor’s stories of valor and conquest the lone Rune Priest lifted himself off of the ground and charged the Orks.  “By Fenris you shall…” The oath was stopped by the weight of Ork stikkboms being used as clubs pelting the marine, battering his bloody body in excessive force.

“Secure the Drone!” Yelled the Wolf Guard.  He might survive this, but he might not, either way he had fought Orks before and he knew that there is no point in killing them one by one as they will come back no matter what.  His job was to get that intel back to the ship, only then would the Imperium know how to cleans this planet.  But he also was not about to die at the hands of a simple Ork biker.  Axes and knives slid off of his ancient armor, he brought another crushing blow down on an Ork beating his body into the gas tank.  The Final biker, determined, was about to leap when one of the Gray Hunters yelled “The computer is secured, brother.”

The Terminator messaged “Bring us home.” and the three marines shimmered and vanished before the biker could land a blow.  The Ork just stood there, looking out over the block at all of the bodies and destruction.  His hearing came back slowly to the faded sobbing of the Warboss’ Grot driver cradling the Warboss’ severed head and the sound of the Tank bustas trying to fix the track on their trukk.  As the biker walked over to help the boys load the green rock up he couldn’t help but wonder “who will lead us now?”

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