C. Goto - Dawn of War

“We’ze not gonna stay an’ fight?” asked one of them, scowling.

Berzek smashed the rotten little creature across its face with the mechanical claw that was bolted onto his forearm. The gretchin stumbled backwards and smacked into a wall, before it slumped to the ground whimpering.

“Ize da biggest ork ’ere, which meanz I’ze da leada an’ you’z a lousy bunch a gitz. We been waitin’ an waitin’ ta fight deze marine-boyz, an’ we’ze gonna stomp dem but good. To do dat, we need da strength of all da boyz, not a small weak mob ov runtz like you’z boyz.” As he splattered his words, Berzek reached out and gripped his power claw over the face of the fallen gretchin, lifting it up by its head and shaking it around for the others to see.

“We’ze orks! An’ we’ze made for fightin’. Fightin’ and winnin! So uze you’z skulls fa sumtin.” With that, Berzek clenched his fist and crushed the gretchin’s head into a dripping, bloody pulp.

“Weze gonna go get Big Boss Orkamungus. He got sumtin’ special planned for deze humies,” explained Berzek with a cackle of phlegm building up in his throat. He spat it into the street, where it splattered over the dusty, red helmet of a fallen Marine.

The great vaulted space in the cathedral was strung with ropes, from which swung artificial floors. The cathedral was one of the only large structures left undamaged by the bombardment, and it had been rapidly transformed into a medicae-station for the Imperial Guard and civilians of Magna Bonum. Each of the four temporary floors was already strewn with injured bodies, and servitors rushed between the makeshift beds administering pain-killers. There was little else they could do for the wounded until fresh supplies arrived.

“The remaining greenskins seem to be fleeing the city, captain,” said Colonel Brom. “I sent out two squads and neither of them has reported any serious resistance. Sergeant Ckrius has indicated that a number of ork groups actually refused to engage with his troops. They fled when he approached. I assume that they have had enough of fighting for today.”

“You should never assume anything about the orks, colonel,” countered Gabriel, looking up from a large map that was spread over the altar of the cathedral. “And you should certainly not think that they will ever have had enough of fighting. They live to fight, colonel. If they are fleeing, you may rest assured that it is not because your squad of Guardsmen scared them away. It is more likely because they have more important battles to fight later.”

“Colonel,” interjected Isador from the side of the altar, looking from Gabriel to Brom as though trying to build a bridge. “Perhaps you can help us with this map? Orbital imaging from the Litany of Fury suggests that there is an even larger ork force massing in this area here,” said the Librarian pointing to a spot about fifty kilometres away from Magna Bonum. “Can you tell us anything about that site, colonel?”

Colonel Brom hesitated for a moment, waiting for Gabriel to look up from the map again, but the captain didn’t move. So Brom approached the altar with a nod to Isador, and inspected the map.

“That is the river basin that feeds the reservoirs for the city of Lloovre Marr,” said Brom, tracing his gloved finger along the valley floor towards the capital city. “If they cut off the water, the city will not be able to stand against them for long. Our problem, however, is that the valley is the easiest approach to the city.” Brom traced his finger back across the site of the ork encampment towards Magna Bonum. “And it is the only route along which we can transport heavy weaponry. The valley walls are sheer, and the plains on either side are thickly forested. We will not be able to reinforce the regiment in Lloovre Marr without passing the ork forces in the valley.”

“If you are right, colonel, then this is an unusually well planned assault by the greenskins. Their attack on Magna Bonum served merely to pull our forces into this city, while their real target was the capital. And they have cut us off from that quite effectively,” said Gabriel, looking up at last.

“It would confirm reports that the main warboss was not actually part of the assault on Magna Bonum,” offered Corallis. “The boss would stay with the bulk of his force, would he not?”

“You’re right, sergeant. Dispatch a scout squad up into the forest on the rim of the valley, and let’s see what these orks are planning. In the meantime, the Blood Ravens will move out in force and try to catch the ork army before it reaches the city. Colonel Brom, we may yet have need for your Tartarans.”

“Everytin’ iz ready, boss!” spurted Berzek as he threw himself facedown into the swampy ground with his arms spread out wide in supplication.

“Dem humies is in fa a good stompin’!” replied Orkamungus, chuckling with colic. “Dis is gonna be da best fight o’ dere miserable lives!” The warboss stepped forward and trod affectionately on the back on Berzek’s head, squashing his face further into the sodden ground until he started to thrash with suffocation. But a slippery voice oozed into Orkamungus’ ear and disturbed his show of appreciation.

“Just make sure that it is the last fight of their lives,” hissed Sindri, as he walked out from the shadows of the forest.

Orkamungus turned in surprise, and pulled himself up to his full height when he saw Sindri and Bale standing before him. The Chaos Marines were imposing figures, resplendent in their shimmering power armour, but they were dwarfed by the immense physical presence of the ork warboss, who towered over them.

“I don’t takes ordaz from you, humie,” bellowed Orkamungus, showering the Chaos sorcerer with globules of spittle and slimy ichor.

“We’ve kept our side of the bargain, ork,” said Bale, stepping forward past his sorcerer and spitting the words back at the huge creature. Bale was not about to be cowed by this brainless beast. “You wanted a new planet on which to wage war, and we have given it to you.”

Sindri eased back into the conversation. “You wanted to face the Imperium’s finest warriors, remember? You wanted to face the Space Marines, Orkamungus. And they are here. We have given you the Blood Ravens.”

“We have even provided you with weapons to use against them,” rumbled Bale, bluntly insinuating that the ork force would have crumbled without the aid of the Alpha Legion.

Orkamungus howled at the slight and raised his immense hand, ready to level a blow against the Chaos Lord. “We’ze don’t need yor fancy weaponz!” As he did so, a clatter from the shadows of the trees revealed a squad of Alpha Legionaries with their boltguns trained on the huge warboss. Bale himself had moved faster than everyone, having already stepped inside the range of the ork’s strike with his manreaper scythe poised.

“All we ask in return,” said Sindri, filling the awkward moment with velvety tones, “is that you keep your end of the bargain. We simply want you to keep the Imperials distracted from our operations here. I’m sure that you’ll enjoy that.”

“You’ze kept your word, humie. Dat’s da truth. But dat don’t mean you’ze can orda da orks around,” said Orkamungus, eying Bale warily whilst talking to Sindri.

“My apologies. We’ve delivered the last of the weaponry,” continued Sindri, indicating the pile of crates on the edge of the tree-line. A group of orks were already prising open the containers and prodding about at the devices inside. “I’m sure that you’ll make sure they find their way into capable hands.” As he spoke, one of the orks yelped in pain as a plume of flame jetted out of one of the weapons it was holding, bathing his own head in fire.