Interlude - Skagzy One
Interlude - Skagzy One
Skagzy'd never admit it to no one, but he was a lil' nervous.
This kamp was all sortsa wrong-like. Rules were normal, sure, but here? The orks here were big, tough fellows, so he kept his head low, but he wasn't so sure he liked all the rules they had in place.
Keep low. Don't make noise. No shooting. No fighting.
But the orks here followed them, even if it was against their better nature. Downright humie of them. Skagzy didn't like that much, but if the new warboss was really as good as they all said, then maybe it wasn't so bad.
Big if.
Skagzy was the leader of a crew of mekboys out of a forest to the north. They made their meks outta all sorts of scrap. Old human stuff, some orky things left over by some ancestors. Weaker clans that had died out already.
He and his boys had been getting strong, and were ready for a proper scrap. Something big. This was it. A siege of the human cities. A few million orks, all charging in, meks and bikes and riders and all. A proper Waaaagh!
But the biggest boss of them all wasn't keen on that. Nah, he built camps, and had rules.
Skagzy followed along, because his boys weren't the biggest, but they were bright and cunning enough not to get into trouble, to wait it out and see.
Today they were finally gonna meet this famous boss-man.
He was waiting in a tent made up with a long table. There were other ork bosses here. Commandos, squighog riders, artillery, and a bunch of others. They were always close to a scrap, but there was plenty of food, and a few gretchen going at each other with stabbers in a corner kept them entertained.
The locals were weird folk. They talked strange. Proper soap-fisty-cated. Wore weird hats with bits on the front they called tricorns.
Skagzy was just thinking that maybe he ought to get into a scrap himself when the mood changed.
The front of the tent opened, and the biggest ork he'd ever seen stomped his way in. Big fella, in a long coat with ruffles and the like.
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Then he stepped aside and the next ork in was the new biggest ork Skagzy had ever seen.
He moved aside too.
"Listen up, gitz," one of the big guys said. "Introducing his eminence, the lord of this waaagh and tactical genius, Napoleork Bone-Apart."
An ork stepped into the room.
He was a lil' short, wearing a long blue coat and a flat-fronted bicorn sorta hat. One arm was folded up into his coat, and he wore a long choppa on one hip. "Good evening, gentleorks," he said before sneering.
"You're it?" one of the others, Orako of the Flat Plain Murderers asked. "I thought you'd be more impressive?"
Napoleork chuckled. "What I lack in size, I make up for in cunning," he said. "What do you think matters most to a waagh, Orako?"
"What? What kind of question is that? What matters most is being proper brutal!"
"Hmm, no," Napoleork said. He ripped his hand out of his jacket, revealing a small stubba. There was a bang, and Orako's body crashed to the floor. "Being brutal is fine. But a waaagh marches on its stomach. Gretchin, cut the fool up for rations."
The small ork walked across the room to the big table at the back and ripped a leg of squid off.
"We have been waiting. Logistics is what will win us this world. A world that other, less cunning orks have been figthing over for a thousand years. We'll be different. More brutal, more cunning. And we're going to be more brutal and cunning because we're more cunning, and more brutal. We're thinking this through, you see? What's the thing that stopped us before?"
There were a few answers, but none were too loud, or certain, at least until someone at the back, Awadakka of the Not Very Nice Moons mumbled. "The humies stopped us, I suppose."
He gestured at Awadakka with his squig leg. "You're right! The humies, and their knight-meks, artillery, and big mobs of soldiers. Sometimes their space marines come out to play too. Proper tough fellows, those. But remember this, all of you. To a cannon, all humies are equal. So we're bringing a whole lotta cannons."
***