# Orks Vs Necrons (WIP)



## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Hi everyone.

This is only my second attempt at writing 40k Fiction, so im still ironing out all the kinks in my style 

I got inspritation for this while i was reading a thread about the lack of Necron Fiction out there. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing that i wanted to get down before i forgot it. In other words, dont be too harsh please! 

This is just the Opening - a few paragraphs about the event leading up to the main plot.

Hope you enjoy!

The flight crew of the Emperor Class Battleship, _Divine Right _watched as another salvo from its Dorsal and Prow Weapons Batteries slammed into the Ork Space Hulk, designated Alpha432 by the ships navigational computers, but known as Mean Green by the men. This huge space-faring rock, bristling with stolen and modified weapons, and teeming with uncountable Orks had already destroyed the two Imperial Gothic Class Cruisers, _Dauntless_ and _Incendia Imperatoris_, and the multiple Frigates and Destroyers that had been assigned to the _Divine Right_. But now it was crippled. Its defeat was inevitable, and the crew of the Battleship knew it. But there was little cheer from the men; there had been too many deaths that day. Even as the final blow struck, completely removing the massive engines, the tall figure in the centre of the main viewing deck allowed himself only a brief, grim smile. Finally the leviathan was being dragged down by the gravity of the planet they had been fighting above. Within minutes, it was nothing but a colossal ball of burning debris.

Captain Jacob S'Edris (Thanks Commissar Ploss) turned, and sighed. The Ork scum around these systems were growing restless. At the moment it was just single Hulks, formed in order to gather followers from neighbouring planets. But this latest victory has proven that they were getting bolder, building bigger and more powerful ships. This had all the signs of an impending WAAAGH, but he had no idea where from. All the other planets in this system had shown no signs of life. With no other leads to follow, the _Divine Right _began the long slow march back to Hydraphur, and safer skies.




I just need three things from you guys!:

1) What do you think, obviously.

2) What it the second name of Captain Jacom of the _Divine Right_???!

3) Im in desperate need of a title. 

Whoever comes up with the best title will gain my undying thanks...and maybe some rep on the side 

The basic plot goes like this:

- Space Hulk crashes on dead planet.
- Spores are released from all the dead Orks.
- Decades later, tribes have sprung up all over the planet.
- One Warboss (or Big Mek) gains supremecey(sp).
- They unite some of the tribes, and go to salvage the Hulk.
- But the crash has penetrated the heart of an undiscovered Necron Tomb
- .......Ill let you know :wink:

Thanks for any and all help guys!

Jakkie


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

*@1:* hey, this sounds like an awesome idea! What you've got so far sounds really interesting.

*@2:* Sedris or S'Edris, just off the top of my head. lol first one pronounced : "Said-ris" and the second one pronounced "Say-dris" or "See-dris" just something that popped into my head that sounded cool. 

*@3:* The more you write, the title will work itself out. something maybe pertaining to the absoluteness of both powers, the saying, "an unstoppable force meets an immovable object" comes to mind when i think of Orks and Necrons. so maybe something like that will come up later. if you do think of a title, at any time, just let me know and i'll change it to whatever you like. 

Keep up the smashing good work! 

write on,

Commissar Ploss


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## Zodd (Jul 27, 2009)

Looking forward to read more.

@3: Betwin a Rok and a hard planet.


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Haha, i like that Zodd

@Commissar Ploss. Thanks for the comments! . Atm, im writing two alternate openings for the orks... I may need you guys to decide which one is used , because i love em both ^_^ haha


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Ok heres the Openings for the Orks. Sorry for the delay - were coming up to out mock GCSEs. so iv been revising hard...:secret:

But here they are at last!

Number 1
25 Years Later

Badgun roared with laughter as his opponent screamed defiance at him from beneath his iron-spiked fist. Grinning evilly, he clamped his left hand around the smaller Ork’s neck, pinning him to the ground. As he pulled his fist back for the killing blow he glanced up at the edge of the arena. The row of scarred, green heads cheered him up no end. He wondered who would be next. But first, there was work to be done. He looked back down at the squirming mass under his muscular arm. Badgun could have squeezed the life out of him in seconds. But this way was so much more...satisfying! With the full force of his considerable bulk behind his fist, he drove the spikes on his knuckles directly into his opponent’s forehead. The boiling blood and brain matter that splattered his face spurred him on. He pounded the dead Ork until it was little more than a green and red stain in the dust. Finally he stood and screamed. Both a roar of victory and a challenge to anyone who thought they could beat him. 

Number 2

Badgun’s choppa came down again, nearly cleaving an Ork head in two. He tugged it out of the fallen Boy and spun to face another Ork jumping to the attack. In an un-orklike display of both grace and marksmanship, Badgun whipped out his Slugga and emptied the shell into the greenskin’s face, splattering bone and grey brain matter everywhere. He roared with bloodlust, and a red haze began to fill his vision. These were the moments that every Ork lived for. The confusion and clamour of a battlefield and the taste of your enemies blood in your mouth. He began to lay about him with a fevered frenzy, dealing deathblows on either side. If they were inflicted on the enemy, so much the better... Limbs were flying around him, the roar of the other fighters filled his ears, and hot red blood covered his face and soaked the crude leather jerkin that passed for armour.

I quite like the second one, as it seems better to start with the orks in the middle of a battle. Also, it shows you Badgun's un-orky prowess with weapons, which will, i hope, become more of a key point with him 

But id love to know what you think!

Thanks, 
Jakkie


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## Zodd (Jul 27, 2009)

urk..it have to be number 2. Very orky and raising the question; why are they fighting ?
And a gunslinger ork .
Are we dealing with Wyatt EOrk ?
Keep it coming:good:


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Ok, heres the next bit! (Finally - iv got my exams coming up so im finding less free time to write this...)

This is following on from the SECOND Ork opening:

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Boss Skitgob was fighting four Orks at once, burying the spiked head of his huge axe in the chest of one even as he watched. Badgun growled thoughtfully. He’d had his eye on Skitgob’s position for a while now; maybe it was time he...stepped down. Quick and vicious as a snake, he slipped under the guard of his latest opponent and slit his throat with the razor-sharp edge of his hunting knife. Then, quickly killing any Boy stupid enough to get in his way, he crept over to where the battle was being fought. Skitgob had killed another Ork, Badgun could see part of his head lying a few feet away, but had also sustained quite a few scratches himself. Including, Badgun could see, a rather nasty wound on the inside of his left knee. Perfect. 

“Hey Boss, need a hand?” Badgun snickered to himself as Skitgob brought his huge arm down on a backhand blow from one of the Boyz.
“Shut ya face, ya lil’ runt!” He roared. “I’ll take care of these gitz. You jus’ worry ‘bout yourself after this is dun.” 
This unconcealed threat did little to put Badgun off. He chuckled to himself again, and this time there was an edge to it that even Skitgob couldn’t miss.
“Wat da you fink yur doin’?” he growled menacingly, at the same time disarming one of his opponents and sinking his axe blade deep into the unfortunate greenskin’s skull. He spun round to bring his whole weight against the final Ork, who barely managed to raise his choppa before both it and his head were sent flying into the surrounding mêlée. Skitgob roared with triumph, his massive teeth shown in impressive prominence. But Badgun wasn’t put off.
“Nice one, Boss. Looks like ya missed one tho! Hur hur.” Skitgob winced slightly as he shifted his weight to his left leg. “Yur gettin’ slower Boss.” Badgun wasn’t grinning now. His expression was icy, and there was a diamond glint in his blood red eye. For the first time since he cut the head off the last Boss of the Snakebite Clan, Skitgob was nervous. And somewhere inside his fungal brain this transformed itself into anger. The rest of the fight became part of the background as he faced the smaller Ork. His eyes narrowed, and he felt the blood-haze come down over his vision. Without warning, he charged. 

It took just a second for the massive Ork Boss to cover the distance between them. In that time he had raised his axe above his head, and was already swinging it down into the smaller Ork’s head. Or rather, where his head had been just moments before. As the huge weapon sunk into the ground, Skitgob spun round. Badgun was standing calmly behind him. He was smiling. 
“It’s like I sed Boss.” He shook his head. “Ya gettin’ slower!” Then, with a display of grace and dexterity normally shown only by the feared Eldar Harlequins, he took two steps, leapt a full ten feet into the air, and landed on Skitgob’s back.
“Ya not fit ta lead deez Boyz no more...Boss.” he growled softly into one ear as Skitgob reached behind him. But Badgun was no longer there. He stood before the massive Ork, only just reaching past his shoulders, even though Skitgob was on his hands and knees. 
“Wat da Zog ar ya?” Skitgob tried to get to his feet, but something in the smaller Ork’s eyes held him still. “Yur no greenskin! Dis is some kinda weird stuff from dem Chaos Boyz aint it!”
Badgun laughed softly again. But this time there was nothing Ork-like about it... It was as old as the Universe, as cold as depths of space. And cruel beyond imagining. Badgun’s eyes were no longer red, but the darkest black, with barely a flicker of green. And when he spoke again, the voice was as icily cultured as his laugh, with nothing remaining of the old Orkish grunt.

“You know nothing about me, or the rest of my kind. I am older than the Dead Idol the humans worship so devotedly, I existed before the first of the Eldar ancient and all-powerful as they seem to be. Yes, I roamed the dark span of the Universe when the pitiful Chaos ‘Gods’, as they are known, were even a void behind the prayers of existence. You know nothing of the history of this Galaxy. Of how we fought the Old Ones in a war that ripped apart the very fabric of reality. And of how we were forced into stasis through lack of life to feed on. My brothers still sleep, and there they shall remain hidden for many thousands of years to come. But I decided not to sleep. I have travelled this galaxy for so many years, feeding off the pain and misery of countless races. But never have I encountered a people as bloodthirsty and battle-ready as you. Not since the Krork of old... I have great plans for you, you Orks.” Badgun smiled again. “A pity you will not be around to see them unfold.”

The Ork’s eyes flooded with red, and he grinned with anticipation. No memory remained of the last few minutes, and he was surprised to find Skitgob looking at him with such pure terror in his eyes. 
“Huh, yur as soft as a Humie aint ya?” Badgun shook his head again. “I’m doing ya a favur.” 
Then, finally, he drew his slugga and pointed it between his eyes. 
“Don't worry,” Badgun chuckled “da Boyz is in gud handz!” With a deafening series of cracks, he emptied the rest of the clip into the Ork Boss’ thick skull, finally splitting it and embedding shards of bone and lumps of lead into Skitgob’s brain. 


Soo, what do you think?

As always, C&C very much appreciated!
Jakkie


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## Zodd (Jul 27, 2009)

Uhh..this is getting interesting. I have always hoped someone would write something from the orks point of view. And spiced with a spirit of the very old ones. I hope you will make room for descriptions of ork-society, when not in battle. Like the drawings Poul Bonner ( if i remember right ) made years ago, with the orks in ordinary daily ( for orks ) situations. Buying guns at market, building Stompas etc. Good luck with the exams.:wink:


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Haha, thanks Zodd

And yeah, i was goign to do a bit of Social-Orks in the next extract. Trying not to give too much away, but itll basically be Badguns rise to the head of the Clan, and what happens once theyv taken over the new Ork village (which was why they were fighting).

Hopefully, i'll be inspired to write a decent account of the build up to the WAAAGH as well, with the various ork weapons and vehicles...


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Zodd said:


> I hope you will make room for descriptions of ork-society, when not in battle. Like the drawings Poul Bonner ( if i remember right ) made years ago, with the orks in ordinary daily ( for orks ) situations. Buying guns at market, building Stompas etc.


Hey Zodd, can you remember where you saw these pictures? Theyd help a lot - im tryin to imagine an Ork camp.

Thanks


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## Zodd (Jul 27, 2009)

Ouch..well ..yes..an old WD " dives into library"..here it is, WD 123. But there should be more, so i will try to look further. D..., why are no.124 not besides 123 ? well, this originates from "Waaaagh! The orks are coming!" prewiev,1990. But i will see what i can find.


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Hey, thanks a lot!

I may know someone who has those issues... Ill have to give hima ring at some point...


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## Commissar Ploss (Feb 29, 2008)

Hey Jakkie! good stuff here so far. I'm glad you found the name ideas useful. 

CP


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

looking good mate, i like the idea that a C'tan (im guessing) has taken over an ork and used him to his advantage.


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Ok, just a quick apology - im a bit tied up in RL at the moment, so im going to have to put this little story on the back burner.

Im still writing it, but not as much, and there wont be any updates for a while.

Jakkie


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## Iron Angel (Aug 2, 2009)

Looks like you've got some good progress so far- Keep it up!


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Ok, despite what i said last time, i managed to get a few spare hours today :

Looking up, Badgun was surprised and a little disappointed to see that the fight was over. The few Orks that remained of the opposing clan were sitting on the floor, holding their heads while the rest of his Boyz, armed with chains and the occasional grot-prod, rounded them up into a line. Then, with many a blow to the head and jeering insult, they began to herd the survivors back to Badgun’s camp. 

It took a good few hours before they saw the wood and leather huts, and caught the welcoming smell of the cess-pits. The leading Orks yelled for the Runtherds to grab their Snotling charges, and get ready for the traditional post-victory feast. There were still several hours till sundown, but it would take time for the Snotlings to round up enough Squiggly Beasts to satisfy their Ork masters. Badgun looked around at the other Orks, squabbling over the loot, kicking the odd Gretchin, and flinging insults at the captives; if they were lucky. He grinned to himself. After tonight, all being well, every greenskin in this camp would answer to him. With another furtive glance around him, Badgun loped off to the South-East corner of the camp. There, amongst the weapon dumps and squig-pens, was what he was looking for. 
Following the sound of metal on metal, and the dull red glow of an active furnace, Badgun ducked under a low door in the side of one of the foundries. There, standing over a slab of iron, and holding a huge hammer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other was a large, muscle-bound Ork Mek. His name was Grubbaz, and he was the closest thing in an Ork community Badgun had to a friend. That is, he trusted Grubbaz not to kill him. At least, not for a lot of teeth. Or a decent bit of weaponry. 
Grubbaz was the Clans resident Big Mek, and inventor. He had never aspired to lead the Clan himself, and instead was content to reside in his workshop, building whatever mad contraptions came to mind. Badgun liked him because he could make almost anything you wanted, provided you had the means to pay him. One reason Skitgob had ordered the attack on the other Ork village, aside from the fact that he was bored, was to pay off some debts to Grubbaz. Which was also why Badgun was here now.

“OI!” Badgun struggled to make himself heard above the din of the workshop. “Stop dat hammrin’ an’ get over here!”
Grubbaz doused the lump of metal he’d been beating, a new axe for one of the Boyz, and turned round with a grin. “Badgun, ya old git! Howz ya been?” he growled.
“Neva betta.” He replied with a smirk. “Ya heard da news yet?”
“Yeh, dat stupid Grot in Foundry 3 fell inta da mixa. None of dem shellz is gunna explode now. I'm jus’ sorry I didn’ see it for myself, hur hur.”
“Not dat news, ya stupid Zog!” Badgun leaned forward conspiratorially. “Da Boss is ded!”
“No!” Grubbaz looked up at Badgun in surprise. “Not ol’ Skitgob. None of dem gits cud get him down! Not even if dey wuz all at it togetha.”
“Hah, an wen did I say it was one of dem idiots, eh?” Badgun leaned back and winked at the huge Mek standing in front of him.
“Wat, you sayin’ it was one of our Boyz?” Grubbaz shook his head in disbelief, until he caught the expression on Badgun’s face. “Yur saying it was you! You killed da Boss?”
“Well, I don’t like ta boast...” Badgun threw his head back and roared with laughter. Grubbaz’s face slowly broke into a grin, then he started laughing too. Badgun as Boss of the Clan could mean great things for him. Mountains of scrap metal, armies of Grot workers, huge piles of teeth...
“Wich reminds me, mate.” Badgun had calmed down now, although there was still a cheerful smirk on his face. “Youz owe me for dat last piece.” 
Badgun’s smile became more pronounced. “Aaah, yuv dun it then?”
Grubbaz leaned behind a pile of sluggas, and pulled out what looked like a pair of silver gloves.
“Purfect.” Badgun grinned again. “So how much do I owe ya then?”
“Three-hundred for dese little fingz.”
“Three-hundred!” Badgun grinned. It was a lot, no doubt about it, but nothing compared to what these devices would bring. “Will dis do?”
Badgun unhooked a small squig-skin bag from his belt, and dropped it into the Mek’s hand.
Grubbaz opened the bag, and picked out a single tooth. “Hmmm, dese are gud.” He glanced up at Badgun. “Very gud...were did you get dese?”
“Lets jus’ say, ol’ Skitgob wont have much use for em now, eh?” He replied with a smirk. He grabbed the devices from Grubbaz’s hand, and turned to leave.
“It dunt take much to work out wat yur gunna do with dem.” Grubbaz called as he reached the door. “But I dunno how much dere gunna help.”
Badgun turned, and gave a grin that sent shivers down the Mek’s spine. Was it just the poor light, or did his eyes seem darker?
“You worry bout yur hammerz. Ill worry bout tonight. Or not!” And with that parting remark, he was out the door. 


As always, C&C very welcome!

Jakkie


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## Zodd (Jul 27, 2009)

if this is slow burning.. i don't dare see full burning ..enjoying every momentk:


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Haha, thanks Zodd

damn, im going to be away from a computer over christmas!!:cray: Ill have do use Pen and Paper!!!!!

EDIT: Oh, and i drew a few sketch-maps the otehr dy, Im just getting a make to draw them up (he's an impressive artist), and ill post some pics of his work.


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## Blackheart_101 (Dec 14, 2009)

OMG !!! This the best text about Orks I've read in a long time. Awsome work jakkie, keep it up. Oh, and about the title, maybe something like, if the tomb is underground, "The Terror from below", or "Greenskins", being that this is a story from the ork's pint of view. I dunno, just a silly thought ... 
Congrats again on the text, very intrigued by Badgun.+rep


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Thanks for the support Blackheart! :biggrin:

I hope to be doing quite a bit of work on it over the next few weeks off school, so ill try and have a nice chunk by the end of the holidays. A little late christmas present to you all :wink:


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## unxpekted22 (Apr 7, 2009)

I am worried that eventually, when you get to the necrons rising, that you might find writing for them quite difficult.

i think the reason there isn't much home made fiction material involving the necrons is because they dont talk really, and without speech it is hard to develop a character in a fictional work (not that it hasnt been done).

I am sure this won't be a problem if you are planning on keeping the story through only the orks' point of view. Is that what you had in mind?


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Iv written about the rising of a tomb world before, from the IG point of view. It wasnt difficult as such, because theres a lot of sources to draw from concerning the Imperium.

Orks are going to be a bit harder, as they have less noticable sociabilty. But if i keep the story through Badgun's eyes I hope ill do ok 

I got around the Character problem for the Necrons last time by just focusing on the C'tan. Using them as the main characters, and keeping the rest of the necrons as 'background noise' as it were...

But im hoing to find a way of portraying more of the necrons as individuals. In the Codex, it says that 'some of the most powerful Necrons retained a degree of their former self' (or something like that), so ill try and draw something from that...

Thanks for drawing my attention to that !


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Hey there Heresy , i hope you all had a good christmas!

As promised, heres the next installment of the story. Its only a short one, because i want to finish the next bit before i post it up. (and yes, that is a long bit...)

Here we go:

_For a thousand millennia, the Necron Armies have lain dormant. Guarding their Star-God masters while they lie in stasis, awaiting a time when life in the Galaxy has once more reached a point where it can sustain their terrible hunger.
On countless worlds across the skies they sleep still, while the few surviving races battle the merciless Gods of Chaos. For many of them, their time of awakening is not yet at hand, and will not come about for hundreds of years. But the close proximity of so many Orks, and the force with which the Space Hulk struck the surface of the planet activated the ancient defence mechanisms of the hidden Necron Tombs.
Now, as the first waves of warriors wake from their eon of sleep, they prepare once more to fight. To defend their C’tan masters to the death…and beyond._


As the pale yellow sun slowly fell below the Western Mountains, a deep red glow illuminated the side of the, currently vacated, Ork Fort at the centre of the camp. Huge trees growing on the edge of a forest beyond the eastern wall had been felled and dragged to a vast patch of patch of earth, scarred black by the countless Victory-Fires, lit after every successful battle. But this night was very special. Not only was the enormous inferno celebrating the biggest victory yet for the Clan but, tonight, it would help determine the next Boss of the Boyz. It had been almost five years since Gitgob had been decapitated by the Boss of the Blak Lake tribe. Skitgob had subsequently removed both his arms before blowing his brains out with his slugga. He had been the biggest and the strongest Ork of the Clan, so there was little doubt that he would take over Gitgob’s position as the Boss. But there were always a few Boyz who fancied their chances. So the Arena was set up, and the fires lit. Now, it would happen again…

For hours the Gretchin slaves of the tribe had toiled away, hacking branches off trees and manoeuvring the massive trunks into position. First, the biggest are dragged into a ring roughly 150ft by 100ft. Once they are in place, the grots set about building up the walls with smaller branches and twigs. Countless greenskins swarm over the enormous construct and, in just a few hours, the Arena was complete; a towering, impenetrable mass of wood, twenty feet high, and almost six feet thick. There are four gaps in the wall, one at each point of the compass. And no other way out. 
Grubbaz, as the biggest Ork there, roared towards the northern cluster of huts, summoning those Boyz who would begin the ceremony. His call was answered by over fifty huge gouts of flame. The Clan’s resident Burna Boyz rushed to their positions around the perimeter of the Arena. With a deafening shout, and the occasional pyromanical cackle, they lit the ends of their burnas, and doused the wooden wall with gallons of flaming petroleum. Within seconds the entire Arena perimeter was up in flames, and the rest of the Boyz began to dance madly around it. The noise was immense; the crackle of the flames and the numerous battle-cries of the Boyz created a charged atmosphere that boiled the blood of any Ork who heard it. Soon, the centre of the Clan’s camp was a writhing mass of green, broken only by the occasional burst of fire from a Burna Boy who hadn’t run out of fuel yet.

Badgun watched all this from his place by one of the entrances to the Arena. There were six contestants tonight, including him, and he knew each of them by reputation.
Standing next to him at the North Gate was Gobtoof, and Ork so loud he could be heard even above the din of the entire Clan, numbering into the thousands. While not very bright, Badgun had seen him send an entire mob of Boyz from one of the many surrounding tribes running for cover just by shouting at them.
Over by the East Gate was Craknut. He was the closest thing the Clan had to a Weirdboy. Although he hadn’t yet used his powers in battle, the pure energy of the WAAAGH coursed across his skin, driving him almost insane. Badgun glanced at the gibbering Ork with something approaching apprehension. With the Clan in its current state, Craknut was acting as a living conduit for the raw power of the Orks. Who knew what was going to happen.
By the South Gate, directly opposite Badgun, was Fangtoof and, next to him, Grotgun. Fangtoof had a truly impressive mouthful of teeth, more than any other Ork in the clan. Since teeth are the main currency in Ork Kulture, Fangtoof constantly had to fight off enterprising Boyz after a share of the wealth. As a result of this, he had quickly become a formidable opponent. Although hew was not particularly strong, he was a quick and dirty fighter and knew more underhand tricks than Badgun, which was saying something.
Grotgun was somewhat looked down on by a lot of the Clan, due to his ability to hit a target almost six times out of ten with his trusty slugga. This marksmanship, while not quite up to Badgun’s standard, was uncanny in a greenskin and many of the older Skarboyz held the view that it was dangerously un-Orklike.
Finally Badgun looked to his right at the West Gate, where his true opponent stood. Gorbad was a truly colossal Ork, second only in size to the massive Grubbaz. He stood around ten feet tall at the shoulders, which were easily six feet wide. Gorbad was the leader of Da Nob Skwad. Technically, they were the Boss’s bodyguard but, as no self-respecting Ork Boss would admit to needing protection, they fulfilled the role of Lieutenants and Law-Enforcers. It was their job to break up fights, usually by holding up those responsible and bashing them over the head until they calmed down, and to round up the Boyz in times of war. Gorbad chose only the strongest and meanest Boyz for his Nob Skwad, and he was the strongest and meanest of the lot. He looked over to the North Gate, and caught Badgun glaring at him. Slowly, he let his mouth relax into an evil grin, and winked. Badgun growled automatically; in Ork Kulture, a wink signified that you were the one they would try to kill the hardest. It was a challenge that could not be refused, and Badgun felt the fury rise up in him. How could Gorbad possibly think he could best him? He had killed Skitgob, the best fighter in the Clan, in moments, and he would do the same to Gorbad. Badgun threw back his head and let out a roar that cut through the clamour of the crowd and carried all the way to where Grubbaz was standing, at the edge of the Ork Fort overlooking the Arena. The roar was a signal that the prospective Bosses were ready to fight. Grubbaz unhooked a megaphone from his belt and lifted it to his mouth.

“RIGHT!” he yelled into the crowd, he voice amplified a hundredfold by the device. “SHUT THE ZOG UP NOW, YA GITZ!”
The Boyz slowly stopped shouting, and turned to the Big Mek. Their faces showed the eagerness that was clear among them.
“Now, ya all kno why wer’ here. Its time ta find out who da new Boss iz gunna be, right?” he gestured towards the Arena, and to the six contestants at the Gates. “Wev’ got six Boyz who fink dat dayv got wot it takes ta be da next Boss of da Clan!”
He pointed one gnarled finger at the West Gate 

“Gorbad Ironfist!” roared the Captain of Da Nob Skwad. Grubbaz moved his finger anti-clockwise around the circle, pointing at each Ork in turn.
“Fangtoof Toofsmasha!”
“Grotgun Ironhamma!”
“Craknut!!”
“Gobtoof Loudshouta!” Several nearby Ork clutched at their ears. 
“Badgun Klawsmasha”

“Right, yuv herd ‘em all now. Let’s see dem fight!!” Grubbaz flicked the setting on the megaphone to high. “WE. ARE. DA CLAN! WAAAAAAAGH!!!”
“WAAAAAAGH!” came the answering roar from the countless Boyz surrounding the Arena, and the six chosen Orks thundered through the flaming gates, and into the space beyond.


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## Zodd (Jul 27, 2009)

Hi, jakkie. Thanks, the same to you. The fungus-beer and squig-snack are ready for the Mixed Ork Fight Night. Have you gained access to the old WD from '89-'90 , regarding drawings ?


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Fraid not, but iv been drawing some sketch maps (cant remember if iv mentioned this) which are really helping with the layout of the story 

Im basically drawing on stuff from various myths and stories, both 40k and non-warhammer, to write the Arena scene (which im close to completeing btw :grin: ). Gladiatorial Battles, Sword Combat (i watched Pirates of the Caribbean recently 0: )) etc.

I hope you like it haha ^_^


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Ahhhh, sorry about the wait guys - theres beena lot going on here.

Iv only got the first half of this section, ut have decied to post it because a) the whole things a bit long, and b) I was bored... 

Anyway, I hope you like it!



The rules for the Arena are quite simple, it being an Ork tradition. Anyone who fancies their chances at Boss can join, although the battles are extremely brutal, and the majority of Orks will prefer to leave the leadership to someone else so they can concentrate on enjoying whatever scraps come their way. Each Ork is allowed only the bare essentials for war; simple leather armour and an ordinary choppa. However, sneaking in extra weapons and armour plating has long been considered acceptable practice; the reasoning being that an Ork Boss must be Kunning enough to know when not to fight fairly. In addition to this, it is not unusual for simple pieces of equipment (shootas, helmets, extra choppas etc) to be thrown in by anyone who wants to make the fight more ‘interesting’. Obviously this equipment is strongly contested by the participants, and special bets can be made regarding who gets what equipment, and how long they can hold onto it. Finally, the winner is quite simply the last Ork left standing. Whether his opponents are unconscious or, more likely, dead they are no longer in the running while their feet are off the ground.

All this was running through Badgun’s head as he sprinted out into the Arena. Over to his right, towards the West Gate, he spotted an old Shoota. To his left was a piece of Plate Armour, thrown in by a watching Ork Boy. Both would be useful, but Gobtoof was already stampeding towards the Armour, and was a good few yards ahead of him. It would be much easier to grab the fallen Shoota and tackle his opponents from a longer range. He headed right, leaping the last five feet, and landed in a crouch over the weapon. Picking it up, he quickly sighted down the barrel and fired a shot off at Gorbad, who was running towards the centre of the Arena. The shot was hopelessly off target, but it drew Badgun’s attention to what Gorbad had spotted. There, at the very centre of the Arena on a large rock, was a huge weapon. Despite the distance, Badgun recognised it at once as an extremely powerful Big Shoota. Growling softly at Gorbad, he began to make his way towards the centre of the ring, more cautiously now. Glancing to his left, he saw that Gobtoof had pulled on the armour, and was making his way towards the East Gate, to where Craknut was wandering vaguely towards the centre of the Arena. 
Badgun stopped momentarily to watch Gobtoof’s attack. At first, Craknut didn’t seem aware of his approach. Until, that is, Gobtoof let out one of his loudest roars. The primal scream shot straight through Badgun’s brain, igniting instincts that had lain so close to waking all night. The bloodlust coursed through his veins, as it did to every other Ork in the Arena. They all knew with a certainty that this would be a fight to the death. Craknut heard it too, and turned to face his attacker. Gobtoof had leapt high, almost seven feet into the air, with both hands on his choppa, raised above his head. But Craknut shouted back and, while not as loud as Gobtoof’s roar, his had the power of the WAAAGH behind it. His body went ridged and he dropped his choppa. Making no move to defend himself, Craknut stood there as Gobtoof’s choppa came whistling down towards his head. But it never connected. With the thick metal blade just inches from his head, Craknut’s skin blazed with energy. Focusing itself behind the Weirdboy’s eyes, the power of the WAAAGH that had been building up within him was suddenly released. In a burst of blinding green, Gobtoof was thrown twenty feet backwards, landing in a smoking heap near the edge of the Arena. His choppa and extra armour were little more than a few small puddles of metal, glinting in the light of the fire.
Badgun stared at Craknut, surprised. It shouldn’t have some as a shock really. It was only ever a matter of time before his Weirdboy powers manifested themselves in a more aggressive form. But few Orks had seen such a display of power from a single Psykik; definitely one to look out for. Badgun spared another glance at the hulking figure of Gorbad. He had reached the Big Shoota, and was bracing himself against the rock while he fired at Fangtoof and Grotgun, both of whom were engaged in a brutal combat. 
Fangtoof had managed to get his hands on some extra armour as well, a pair of bracers, while Grotgun had picked up a second choppa. For an Ork like Badgun, or even Gorbad, the extra choppa would have ensured a victory within moments. But Grotgun had never mastered the Ork skill of close-quarters combat, preferring to pepper his opponents with shots until their armour failed them and they fell. However, unfortunately for him, there were no shootas or sluggas left near him, so he had to make do with a second choppa. But Fangtoof was clearly pushing the smaller Ork back with a mixture of lighting reflexes, dirty tricks, and better armour. As Badgun watched, Fangtoof blocked a low swing from Grotgun with his wrist, and flicked his other hand up to deflect a second sweeping attack from above. The choppa embedded itself in the ground and Fangtoof took the opportunity to drive forwards, viciously head-butting the Ork to the floor, and bringing his own axe hurtling down. Grotgun somehow managed to bring his own choppas up, trapping Fangtoof’s wrist between them. The bigger Ork howled with fury and pain as the blades cut through the bracers and into the fleshy muscle of his arm. Badgun could almost feel the battle-lust overcoming the Ork. There was no way he was going to let a little runt like this get the better of him! Snarling like a feral squig, Fangtoof batted away one of Grotgun’s choppas. He pinned the other hand beneath one arm, and struck the cowering Ork in the face with the handle of his axe. One, twice, three times he battered Grotgun’s thick forehead with the tough wood, until the Ork could barely focus on his attacker. Then, removing his other hand, he swung his axe back over his head and tightened his grip. With a roar that echoed around the Arena, he brought the bloodstained weapon down in a mighty two-handed blow, right between Grotgun’s eyes. The axe-head split his head like a lump of wood, cracking the toughened bone of his forehead, and sinking into the lumpy grey brain matter underneath. The ground around was stained black with blood, and fragments of bone stood out like islands in a sea of death.


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## toffster (Dec 13, 2009)

I've got some title ideas:

1. MORE DAKKAAA! (Don't know why but has a orky ring )
2. Humies from Da Ground (Thought it sounded interesting)
3. The Hammer and Anvil (Metaphorically speaking the orks are the hammer and the necrons the anvil, though not to sure about that one)
4. Born To WAAAAGHHHH (hehe)
5. Born To Fight

Well yeah, theres my list of useless title ideas, but perhaps it'll get you on the track


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## Zodd (Jul 27, 2009)

Yes, i do like it. There is nothing like a little friendly argument :grin:


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## jakkie (Dec 21, 2007)

Haha, thanks a lot for those toffster . Iv actually been thinking about what someone mentioned earlier - "Between a Rok and a Hard Place", and quite like the sound of it 

Thanks once again for the support everyone, ill try to work on the next part as much as i can over the next week or so.


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## Blackheart_101 (Dec 14, 2009)

Please try Jakkie, this is great. Anxious to hear the rest. Keep it up.:biggrin:


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