Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

Birth

Author's notes: This story will be attempting to use proper english to represent Ork speech. Ork speech is of course something like "eva'taste" which means, "have a taste." Attempting to write all the dialogue in Ork would be impossible and erroneous. Therefore, it is my recommendation that you as the reader use your imagination of what the Ork talk would be. Have no fear, Ork words will make it in the dialogue to insure that these are orks are talking, and provide a sense of suspension of disbelief; the dialogue will most likely be a hybrid of good english and Ork. The story will follow one special Ork named George, who will at one point learn perfect gothic to speak with the imperium.

The sun gleamed on the woods. Thick rough bark protruded from the tall towering ever green forest. Large leaf bushes and tall grass filled the floor. Colorful mushrooms speckled the tree's roots with fabulous colors like orange and blue. The beam of light from the sun's ray pierced through the thick canopy into a narrow small beam. The light traveled up jagged black ingenuous rock that shined in the light. Further the light went deeper into the jungle where quickly it came upon a resting growth on a trunk. This growth was a deep green and had planted roots all around it.

Days went by and the growth breathed in and out. Rains came and went, thunderstorms struck and attacked the woods. Still the growth breathed even steamed in the cool rain. Its roots jiggled as if happy to get the water. As mud washed from the trunks and leaves were swept away in the run off it was clear that their were many other growths. All varying shades of green, all breathing and steaming in the woods.

Years passed, and the jungle flourished. Insects, and animals ate the growths. The growths occasionally ate what tried to eat them. This evolutionary combat went back and forth with the jungle for a year. Then, the first howl was heard. It was soft, child like. A wild boar grunted and gouged at the growth. The growth now complete with limbs, hands, feet, legs, arms, shoulders, neck, jaw, head, and lastly its eyes. The eyes ripped open peeling the layer of flesh that had grown their to protect their development.

The many shades of green skin flecked away as the bore pushed over the growth. It gouged and bit at the growth. The now fresh growth bled red blood from the wounds. It doubled over on to its belly and took to feet running. The boar chased it angrily. Squeals from the bore came as the Ork ran. He breathed deep breaths that filled his chest. His muscles flexed and became as hard as a rock. The boar nipped at his heels with it's brow fur rubbing against the Ork's skin.

The Ork wanted that furry skin, it felt soft. He also didn't want to die. He grabbed a branch and swung up in one fell swoop. The bore now under him, covered in blood, his blood, looked up at him, yearning for the kill in its eyes. He didn't know what to do, He looked into the boar's fearless gaze. The black emptiness of the boar's eyes at first presented a hole in the Ork's being. He felt in himself a sense of understanding; He was incomplete washed over him. He touched his wounds, blood was a new experience to him. He rubbed the fluid between his thick fingers. The sensation was pleasing to him.

The blood thickened to the rub and became dry. He held the trunk of the tree as the bore circled. It scratched at the bark and snorted. He put his hand to his face to wipe the sweat off. He just realized he covered his face in his own fluid. No.. fluid.. that wasn't quite right. "Blood! Blood!" it came to him the word was blood. What did it mean? He then saw the bores tusks. They were large, and fairly white and covered in his blood. That bore was worth something, no the boar's tusks were. The meaning was still lost on him.

Then the howl was cried. The first howl, first speech, He has ever made. It came out rough and pubescent like. It scratched and seethed at first, but instincts kicked in. His gut grew into the sound. Deeper the voice sounded, soon it roared. He liked it, he loved the sound he made. He screamed it again "Waagghhhh," but that wasn't enough "Wwwwwaaaaggghhhhhh" he cried. The hair of the bore raised, and took a step back bracing for what was clear to come. He knew and the bore knew what was to come.

"Wwwaaaggghhhh" He lept from the tree. The leaves and wind blew past his painted face. His lips ripped and tore from the breadth of his mouth all the way. Blood rushed over him, washed him, he was being cleaned into his path. He landed with a thud, his green skin now settling on a dark hue to match the leafs. His muscles bulged and pumped, veins popped to life and became hard to touch. His blood was pumping, his wounds shut, but still fresh. The bore charged him, equal to half his size. Brown fur waved and swung in the wind. He grabbed the bores tusks. Then the two beasts went into a sort of tug-a-war match. Pushing and roaring.

Once more he roared in defiance. The bore roared back and pushed on to it's hind quarters. He helped the bore up. No thoughts were possible; every movement, every twitch, step, foot placement it was all instinct. A great pull came from his shoulders. He lifted the bore off the ground by its tusks. He then lifted the bore above him. The bore now realized it was no longer on the ground kicked its legs to get back down. He would have none of that. He then stepped back a small step, and smashed the bore into the ground. Ribs protruded from the creature as they punctured out of its skin. He grabbed the tusk. He ripped a tusk from the beast. Blood and something dangly came with it. He lifted the tusk and sunk it into the bore's eye socket. The bore became silent. The world became silent. Nothing, but the softest breeze of a butterflies' wings pushing on a large leaf stirred. He breathed, he panted, his body was numb, his skin was shiny from some new fluid.

Later he came down from his physical high. Never once letting go of the tusk or looking away from the creature. He wasn't sure if He should be proud or sad. He felt both. The kill was great. It made his heart beat hard. The loss of something to fight emptied him. He longed for another beast to show. Something more for him to fight. The yearn to fight left him in an hour. He then realized he was hungry. Without so much as a thought he grabbed some leaves and made a skirt. He then created a fire with branches and some dried roots for kindling. He took the other tusk and sharpened both on rocks. He cut himself at least a dozen times, but he healed as fast as he wounded. The wounds didn't fade off of him, but didn't hurt or bleed.

The fur, He remembered, He wanted that. Not even sure as to why, but He wanted it. As he skinned He came to the conclusion He wanted to wear it. He wore it on his head, with the head of the bore forming a sort of cap. It blocked the sun. He loved it. The soft fur on his back in a cape like fashion, still even a little damp from the creatures fluids. He put the remainder of his foe on a stick. He for what seemed to be hours turned the flesh on the stick slowly. As he watch the flames lick up at the flesh, and turn it into a good smelling, belly turning meal he realized he hasn't had a thought yet.

His mind was empty of anything for the entirety of the day, only instinctual motivation. His only thought was when he roared. He liked his roar. That roar drove him to win. He wanted to roar again. While holding the stick, looking into the flames he attempted his roar. "Wagh." It was so casually cried. He hated it, there was no passion, no fire in it, it was almost comical. The flesh looked cooked, and was hot. He ate every bite.

He was awoken by a light in the woods. His wounds had healed completely. Scared with slightly lighter green than the rest of his skin. It helped brake him up in the leaves. He knew this, but not as to why he knew this. He took to the bushes as bright light washed over them. The light shot through the holes in the leaves and washed on his face directly. He could feel its warmth. He looked onwards confused as to what was making the light. Then a horrible noise rumbled through the ground. "Tank." What was that word?! He wondered.

The tank drove by him, along with a dozen things next to it. "U'mies." What did that mean? Those frail looking pink things in green armor? It must be. It came to him, and everything that came to him was right.

"Look around, there is a camp fire here, these sets must have finally grown up." This voice had an edge to it. It cut through him. He wanted to understand it, and turned his head to a tilt in confusion. He had no idea what it had said. It must have been a challenge. That oomie must know He is here. Bushes came to life. High pitched squeals sounded some kind of charge. What is that?! He wondered greatly. He saw their figures only because of the light. They were small and frail, but green like him. Most of them naked and weaponless. "Grots..." He knew them, and He hated them.

The humans opened fire. The grots were easily annihilated. "Worthless things, they always show up. You know what we are after. The abies grandis ones." He again didn't know what the u'mie said, but it was a challenge to Him. A grand roar started to build in his chest. It rumbled in his throat loud. The rumble gained the attention of a human.

"Wwwagggghhhh!!!!!" The humans promptly turned to His direction. He jumped from the bushes weapons in hand. Others had joined him, fellow green things. Inspired by his yell. They yelled as well. The humans shot him with a thing. He looked at it, it completely stopped him. All thoughts of battle emptied from his mind. Just pure confusion at this object that stabbed him. He pulled it from him. It was round, shiny, with red fur. "Dart..."He thought as He blacked out.

Feral To Civil In One Operation

His vision was blurred at best. He was floating and moving through a tunnel. The grey walls with flashes of bright lights hanging from the ceiling as He traveled. "What shall we name this one Razga?" said a voice The step of boots thudding on a hard floor brought pleasure to Him.

"I am feeling like... George. Yes George shall be his name." George actually liked this name.
"Grrr...Grrr....rrrooo....ggggeee" he sleepily grunted.
"Woah, he is waking up, this isn't good."
"Yeah, we need to double time it to the infirmary. Come on boys double time it." George felt large hands grip him tighter. They felt comparable to his hands. Thick with skin, heavy and daft with muscle. He couldn't pull his head up to see who was carrying him, but he felt like their skin was his skin. A huge metal door with rivets opened. George was placed on some kind of operating table.

George lost conscience as they laid him down. The Ork body guards stood to a corner as a red robed man entered the room. The man walked gracefully and without a sound in his step, just a small hum. The hum sounded like humming bird wings. Then another large group of white robed people walked in. All with various data sheets on clip boards. The red robe flipped a switch. The room went from a evening dim to a full on florescent bright lab light. Every inch was lit perfectly.

"Body mass index indicates he is a born leader. Muscle density is at sixty seven percent of expected values."
"He is nothing more than twenty hours. Can't expect him to be fully grown out of his pubescent stage, but this is good, means the teaching DNA is still active, have time to amplify the intelligence."
"His brain hasn't set yet, the neural pathways are still deciding his nature. We can augment his frontal cortices, suppress the over grown medulla oblongata."
"I also suggest, given he is a leader, enhance his temporal lobe"
"Increased memory, suppressed fight or flight reflexes, enhanced decision making are all good" The red robed man spoke, " I however, have something else in mind. I wish to make this one-"
"Hiz nam is George" Spoke one of the green brutes in the corner.
"George. An exemplar fighter, his abilities will rival that of a Hive Tyrant, his strength match that of a Carnifex. He will move like a tank. He will be our savior. Earth's savior."
"Your suggesting a complete reconstruction of the brain?"
"Yes." The Red robed man walked over and grabbed a saw. "I am suggesting just that."

The operation took hours. George flickered in and out of conscience. Faces at first just primitive renderings became sharper with each time he awoke briefly. Three days must have gone by on the table. Light would faintly alter during day when he dragged himself from the blackness of his numb sleep. When he awoke from his numb black sleep at nights only the florescent light would be prominent. Such small differences he could notice. As time continued he continued to notice more, feel more, see more, his in and out blackouts became less.

George was awake more. The entire time the Ork body guards never moved, spoke when spoken too. They were well trained, in good green and white fatigues. The drab olive green pants with black shiny boots topped with a white shirt, brown leather overalls and again the drab olive green helmets. They were covered in scars, gashes across their entire form all just slightly different in color than their normal skin. The Orks looked at George with excitement and expectation that was nearly completely subtle. Only their discipline holding them at edge.

George laid awake for what must of been half a day. His hands and feet bound to the table. Still he didn't speak, nor ask for anything he just laid there. He thought of the sky outside. How he never noticed it before. It was peaceful. It was pleasant to George. He loved the way the wind would rub against the leafs of the trees and gently push on them. How the bright sun would sprinkle its light down on them, the birds of vibrant colors like orange and yellow danced in the six by twelve inch window. George wanted to lay there forever, he was at peace, he felt complete.

Then a hand touched his face. This touch, felt smooth and soft. It made him detest his thick skin, how it numbed the sensation shortly after its brisk arrival. The hand turned his head from the window over to the female owner of the hand. "George, how are we feeling?" she said with a sense of real compassion. George turned to face her, he used his jaw for what he could testing out his tongue and teeth, making sure everything worked. It felt satisfactory to speak. He looked at her, clearly feeling larger than her.
"I would...like...to...go for a... walk" The words were slow to him, but they came. He spoke them with an unheard of competency. The females jaw dropped in front of him. "Is.. something wrong?" George continued.

The female quickly smiled, and took off down a hall way. George's gaze wondered back to the window. The birds, sun, leaves, wind, trees it all pleased him. He sighed with a big breath in his chest. The guards this time walked up to him. One on each side. They snorted in a contest. This instantly struck George as a challenge and he knew it was a challenge. It just occurred to him how large these Orks were. Now with untold clarity he knew how his species worked, how size was everything, size was command, power, but they always listened to who was in charge or faced death. With no human present they had no fear of command, this challenge could be issued.

"I am not in the mood for... games? Games." George said humbly.
"Youz got it all wong. Seez iz and me lad ere Bert, weez see you. Wez know youz same size as us. Bert and I follow auntha boss call'em General Henry. Wez just mak'in it clear. Dat youz while bigga den da humie boss, aint no where as mean or krumpy. Butz Bert and I wez don thunk you gunna challenge Bert for Squadz leader. And we wanted toz make 'ure dat was da case." The Nob clearly took much effort to form his speech. He looked smart, his eyes glinted with satisfaction. George could see into the true depths and saw emptiness.
"Squad leader? Now Bert you wouldn't be threatened by big old me would you?" The Nob called Bert nearly snapped at this remark. His veins popped his eyes narrowed.

"I'z trained to nut tak shizz fromz gruntz ike uz." With that single statement George saw Bert's fist rise to strike him down. He knew if he lost, he be forever stuck at the bottom. Soon excitement bursted through him. He was more happy then when he saw the birds. His body turbo charged his blood. He could feel everything move faster, his heart thudded in his chest. His muscles tightened into hard knots. In a swooping motion he ripped his far arm's constraint free from the frame in a fluid motion struck Bert in the torso. Bert slid back three feet. George quickly undid his constraints.

"Now it is a fair fight," said George. Bert roared and the two went into a slug fest. Left hooks, upper cuts, kicks, grapples. No attack was left unused. George felt faster and faster as time went on in the fight. He felt his foe turn sluggish. Bert could take the hits, they bruised Bert's flesh, but nothing more. George swung his fists like a hammer hitting a nail. At first looking for a weak point. Tapping the nail in. Then once a spot was found, in quick rapid succession he struck two or three times hitting as hard as he could. Bert figured out his method, and left an opening for George. George fell right into it. As the blows came Bert side stepped and sent a kick straight to Georges face. The blow shook his skull. He felt blood rush down his back. Everything blacked out, only for a second. The foot flew at him again. George couldn't think he just moved. In a bob and weave he dodged the blow, struck Bert's knee heard a pop noise from it followed by a krick krack of joints breaking and going back into place.

Bert placed his leg down with a stomp. A grumble grew in his chest. George mimicked this grumble. It was the game. A roar. Physically they felt equal, but a roar would determine the winner. This suddenly felt childish to George. Feeling like a roar wouldn't settle this, he stopped the grumbling in his throat. Bert followed. Both lead up with a powerful left hook. Both collided at the same time. Both jaws were knocked out with a pop. Saliva flew from both. They locked eyes as their faces turned into clown faces. George laughed at the look on the inside for his jaw was stuck against a fist. Both spun to the ground and landed on their faces.

gonna read that tonight... you never told us you could write

 Viktor von Domm wrote:
gonna read that tonight... you never told us you could write

wutz writting?! Hhaha didn't know i should share.

Boot Camp at Camp Boot

Jingle of brass shells, shining in the golden sun light, lightly tapping the ground littering the area making an almost rain-like noise. The guns were wielded with ease. Much larger than a human rifle the M45.6 fired solid slugs that were 80 calibre in size. The recoil from the weapon would destroy a normal human's shoulder in a matter of a few shots, especially without any kind of stock to mount the weapon to the shoulder. A brilliantly dressed man in drab green walked along the line of white shirted green skins. All of whom were shooting at targets in the distance. The ocean kissed the beach, as target after target were destroyed in just one or two hits.

"You will learn to shoot fine, become the best shots your race has ever known." The man said in a proud voice. His chest was puffed up and chin raised, showing great respect. "Grogins are the most respectable race. They are fearless, they are strong, they are well trained, they are military masters," he continued as he turned to walk back down the line. "What are you?!" he shouted.

Over the roar of the muzzles came their reply, quick, short and clear "We are Grogins!" The rate of fire from the weapons didn't change. In short three round bursts each Grogin fired his weapon. Months went by, with each morning shooting a thousand rounds. George enjoyed this the most, it was the time when he could relieve his stresses, his woes of what was in the stars, what they were training for. He loved the general, Henry was a fine commander; able to rally anyone to his call with his absolute and crisp commanding voice.

After shooting came physical training. This was three hours of hand to hand combat, then a run through the training course, a 96.56 kilo-meter run where the general followed by side in a small car yelling commands. The general couldn't keep up with the Grogins, they could run at 32.4 kilo-meters per hour for an hour straight, a human simply could only get to 16.2 at best.

By the time they returned it would be evening. The sun would be setting over the ocean filled horizon. George would always turn his head to watch the sun set as they came back into camp. It washed his mind he thought, made him happy. He loved color, the red tinge, the green skin, the tan sand color was simple beautiful to him.

At night time the Grogins were given goggles that turned everything green. This always made George smile. They would start night operations to attack other camps, and other camps to attack them. All the weapons were loaded with tagging tranquilizers. Anyone shot would simply pass out, as the stuff could take out a large steed. George always wanted to ride a steed their feet fascinated him; the hard rock like and metal feet they had.

The goal was always simple, capture the other base's flag and return with it. That camp would get an extra serving of meat. George was tired of losing, they had lost 57 times in a row. He wanted to win. Henry formed up the Grogin in a square formation, one hundred strong at this one camp. Their were over ten thousand camps in this region alone. "Tonight men, I want a feast! Failure is not an option. If we don't win, we don't sleep. We will train all night until tomorrow night. If we don't win that night, we train again. Do you understand? I want my god-forsaken win, I want you to kick their little arses into the gates of oblivion and win." The crowd cheered. George shouted as loud as he could.

George grabbed his green metal armor. Helmet and chest piece, and placed them on. He stood out in the camp and shouted for followers. Several Grogin stepped up to follow him. George was respectable to follow, he was taller and much more fit then the rest. He waved to go out into the bushes. "Sir, war-paint," came quickly from one of the troopers and stopped as soon as it was said. George turned back. He looked at the squad again closely, they had black stripes across their faces and arms to break them up in the bushes.
"Render assistance brothers," George said softly. They all took turns applying black stripes to George.

"I want a damn tactical thermal read now!" Henry commanded to his tenants.
"Sir, yes sir!" Alex's voice was stern and concise. Her blonde hair waved in the holograms light as tactical information flooded in from the satellite imagery above. Alex instinctively moved the over-view to the region where Camp Henry was. There were 13 other camps in the area scattered throughout the valley and the beach. Then the camp's chances of winning were placed on each camp on the map. Henry's camp had zero wins going for almost a year now. "Camp 7 and 13 are moving towards us, but splitting forces and scattering through the thick canopy." At the command center's end all the Grogin's were red dots moving on a pale blue background with yellowish plant shapes representing the jungle.


"Good thing Grogins' run hotter than humans, otherwise they would be invisible to us with all the damn vegetation. Lets start the betting shall we? Alex I think I owe you a good bottle of whisky." Alex smiled, and looked away in embarrassment as it broke her normal stone like expression.
"Yes general, you do owe four hundred canos now." Henry chuckled.
"Well, lets do all or nothing," claimed Henry!
"Sorry, General, Henry, Sir... I don't have that much," Alex said sternly.
"I will take you on General," peeped up another voice.
"Now captain Samuel, you been holding out on me; that's a large some of currency." Everyone chuckled. "Alright, I bet, give me squad roster Alex, if you would be so kind."

Alex stood up from her desk. Her hips squeezed perfectly in her uniform, it very much complimented her figure. About 5'6, blonde hair, green eyes. It was everything Henry loved, especially the green eyes. Henry aimed his vision at the floor and stuck his hand out for the roster. It had previous bet marks on it. "Well the only squad leader I have yet to bet on is Geroge, not sure I liked this fellow, his head was always in the clouds it seems."

"He may be thinking a little too much, but he is the strongest and largest Grogin we have ever created," Samuel replied, pulling up physical charts of George. "With an average of 57% more performance than the leading Grogin in our camp. He is built to win, and his genetic strands indicate that he is 76% likely to be a Grogin leader, reason for not giving it the 100% yet is because he has been slow growing."

"Yes Sam, simply fascinating feed back, what are the odds," Henry waved his hands around and rolled his eyes as he spoke.
"We are giving him a 2 to 1 underdog." Vesilla spoke from the corner. She is a math geek, could calculate incoming trajectories from just about anything in little time flat, also quite good at odds. Henry would also be interested in her if it not for her baggy fitting clothes she always wore, and those round glasses.
"Thank you Vesilla! What would we do without you," Henry said smiling.
"Be a bunch of cave war mongers with nothing more advanced then a stick." Everyone chuckled.

"You are on general! Betting against George's squad," Samuel threw the money down on the table. The general and him locked eye contact. Henry smiled, reached into his vest pocket and threw the money down on the table.
"This is going be good," Henry grinned and shouted.

Dancing In the Bushes Naked

Foot steps through the brush quickened in pace. Light soft crunches on the brown soft dirt turn into rapid succession of clobbering stomps on the jungle greens. Iridescent flowers light the floor of the jungle. Many shades of orange, yellow, light blue mixed into the night air creating new colors on the large leafs. Purple and pink drenched bushes drank in the dark light. The jungle always grew in light, night or day, George always enjoyed that fact. The jungle during the day was no place for friends, but at night, terrible creatures stirred. This brought distress to George's mind. Still he used his goggles and moved quickly and freely with his pack. Larry always bothered George. He was a member of the camp that always beat George's camp. George's skin always tingled at the sensation of beating Larry. The jungle seemed to want to help George, the bushes and trees weaved a straight path.

The flicker of a shot briefly lit the way in front of George. His body dropped to the floor. The dart scratched his forehead as he hit the ground. Grunts and grumbles came from the bushes. George yelled a primitive roar. He let loose a volley of return fire. The ork dropped like a sack of bricks to the ground. No the bush fell to the ground. It took a second glance for George to realize the bush and Ork were one and the same. "Camo," George said. He snuffed at the cowardly idea. It was too late the bushes were upon them. One of his squad dropped to the ground with a back full of darts. The bushes moved in for the kill on his squad.

George drew his blunt stick to represent a knife. Hand to hand combat was a preferred Grogin fight. Swooshing of darts surrounded the majestic dance of green hide. The combat ended in a matter of seconds with a burst of fire here and there. It was over before George knew it. He and one other squad mate were still standing. The bushes were laying flat snoring. A spot light lit them up as an aircraft over head came swooping in. Ropes descended and sleeping Grogins were collects by the humans. Their armor was sleek, smooth rivet and bolt-less. Glistening in the spot light the black armor was completely featureless even down to the face. It was as tall as a Grogin, but much slimmer. What lurked beneath that armor George wanted to know, but he didn't have time. The aircraft gave away their position, more defence members were bound to intercept his position."Your name?" George asked briefly as he set a course and pace through the lush jungle.

"Philup" the other ork replied. George began to sweat in the humid night, his body gleamed in the colored light of the flowers. He rounded a trunk and saw the target camp. Many were on duty on the battlements, spot lights swirled back and forth. George pulled the mag from his rifle. It was empty. He reloaded. Philup did the same. George thought and thought for a weakness this fort could have. He counted at least forty or more guards, and the flag taunted him as it swung in full air in front of him no more then two hundred yards.

The silence of the command room burst into action with Alex "Henry, George has made it to camp 832, but they have left a robust defence team."
"On display please, Alex" The grid map zoomed to the location of George. The night was young and already half of the Grogins were taken out. Henry couldn't get the idea of their battle efficiency out of his head. The fearless and honorable, even if stupid are scary to watch fight.

George grew frustrated. Anger was boiling in the back of his head. There was no way to get that flag and back out with it. Still an idea washed over him, glazing his anger. He grinned. Turning to Philup, George looked at him and nodded. He returned the nod. George started to aim from the bushes leaning back on a flat black rock protruding from a tree behind him. He breathed out, and fired. A guard Gorgin dropped to the ground. Alarms sounded. Search lights went to the bush George fired through. Shot after shot flew out. About a third of the guards fell. George ran out of shots. He discarded the weapon. The leafs ripped and tore as darts flew seeking him. Many of the defenders came surging out of the camp and into the tree line. The first one to run through the bushes was struck square between the eyes by George's stick. Philup was shot, and out on the ground. George was being surrounded as he flew into a frenzied melee with the defenders.

A blizzard of swirling strikes knocked, kicked, smacked, and punched the defenders. Five, six, seven they fell to the ground covered in lumps. George moved like a blur in and out of the bushes. A dart nailed George in the shoulder. His vision blurred, but he was engulfed in his frenzy. He assaulted the squad leader. They flew into a brawl. Left and rights blows, teeth and blood all danced in the air. A second defender sailed over George. George grappled him by the wrists, and spun using the defender as a weapon, smacking the leader and then threw the make-shift weapon into a tree. George again let out a primitive roar. He was yelling in enjoyment, not to cause fear. Soon their was no one left to fight him. He grabbed the nearest body similar to his size, and some ammo.

Out from the bushes came George. Guards on the battlements unloaded into him. The meat shield work perfectly absorbing all the hits. He made it to the gate, dropped the body and fired several rounds off the hip. One, luckily nailed the guard. George jumped over the stone barrier and rolled up to the next fortification. He pulled a flash bang from his vest and primed it. George waited for the foot steps to draw near. He tossed the grenade over the barrier. A flash of light and screams played like a choir. George stood up and turned around to face them. He fired and fired 'til the clip ran dry. All the guards slowly, somberly fell to the ground. The square rock and metal complex's alarms still squealed in defiance.

Henry leaned forward, "Alex put the compound cameras on screen, I want to see George, he is about to make me money!" The screen flickered and the camera moved to focus on George. He was sweaty, muscles bulging on every inch of his body. He was discolored and beaten, his face swollen.
"Holy Icara! That fether can take a beating," said Vesilla. "Structurally speaking, there literately isn't a sector of his body that is free of damage to it. He has 27 broken bones, several torn ligaments and other extensive tissue damage."
"A well oiled machine he is! You may just win my money Henry," pouted Samuel.
"We have another subject on radar moving fast to George's location. Most likely mounted in a vehicle," Alex piped up. All attention drew to the dot traveling on the screen. Henry grinned. He put his hands back on the railings. His heart racing as if he was actually there. The wall busted in front of George as he ripped the flag from the pole. A drab olive green armored personal carrier came smashing through the walls. Its spot light centered on George. George yelled in defiance as the tank raced at him.

"OOOOOOOooooooooooooooo" came from the command room. Everyone looked away from the screen and cringed.

George felt nothing but movement as he smacked into the front of the tank. Still holding the flag he clung to it with all of his might. The tank stopped and he flew into the dirt skidding along the hard floor. He came to a stop face up. A crew hatch opened, and in a dazed state, a Gorgin with binoculars peeked out and took a look around. Soon the reflective lenses centered on George. The Grogin pointed.
"Wez eva got em! Flag ours!" Hydraulics whined as a metal hatch from the rear descended down and pressed into the floor. George fought with all his might, but could only must minor movement. His body wasn't listening. He saw them surround him. They all aimed their barrels at him and grinned. The darts puffed out. And darkness grabbed him.

"Now that is cheating!" Groaned Henry.
"Hhaha! Payup general, " Sam grinned.
"Simply incredible..." said Vesilla.

Vacation for War
George laid on the bed where it all began. He recalled the very windows he looked through for a second time. The birds and jungle still swung and flew with the gentle breeze, the greens contrasting the yellow suns and blue sky. It relaxed George he wanted to let out a large sigh, but his body could only muster a shallow breath.

Soft patter of shoes echoed from behind George. He ignored the steps and tried to stay in a peaceful state of mind. A white robed women came around the side to him. She looked into his eyes, George maintained focus on the window still he saw her gaze into his.
"George you fought amazingly, and are healing quickly." George felt a sense of pride boast in his chest. His relaxation drowned a bit, and a frenzy grew along with arrogance. He thought of smashing those Grogin that ran him over. Beating them till they couldn't even squabble. It made George feel happy. He turned his face to the doctor.
"Thank you. . ." He got through his lips smoothly and quietly. She looked puzzled and started running a tests on her flat screen machine. It blooped and beeped as she pushed buttons.
"George, do you remember me from camp?" George looked again at her intently. He recognized, but her name escaped him only briefly then like the flash of a grenade it all came back to him.
"Vesilla," He murmured, those round glasses and black hair are striking unforgettable features. She grinned.

"Good, you are the finest Grogin we have ever had, lets go for a walk." She undid all of George's restraints, the metal gears whizzed as they released their hold. The chair squeaked as George stood up. He towered a full two or three heads above Vessila. He must have grown again. Vesilla grabbed his first two fingers for it was all she could hold. Her gentle touch could barely register in his mind. Grogin guards stepped out of the way as she waved a small shiny piece of paper in front of them.

They exited through the front. Many humans at the desk looked puzzled to the nature of what George was doing. He looked at them with equal confusion, but still he followed Vessila. A small truck was waiting out front for them. Vesilla and George hopped in the back of the truck. Two back packs in drab green cloth sat in the back with them. One was human sized and the other was Grogin sized, if not slightly big for a Grogin.

The truck drove for most of the day as the sun passed overhead and towards the ocean covering the horizon. Up and up it climbed a mountain. The largest mountain on this peninsula. The truck came to a stop at the top, just after passing a security gate. When no one else but George and Vesilla could see. Vesilla launched herself onto George and hugged him. She could barely get her arms around him, George didn't know what to do he was taken by surprise. Just as he thought of putting his hand on her she retracted to the other side of the truck. Her eyes slightly red with tears.

By the time they got to the front door, where the truck stopped she had straightened out and looked as if nothing had happened. George was nevertheless confused at what happened, something pulling in his chest, sinking his stomach. He wanted to understand what was going on. Thoughts of her poisoning him washed over him. The back tiny hatch dropped open and George hopped out. He turned around and helped Vesilla out. Went back in and got the back packs. He then followed her into the base.

Henry was standing holding on the railing like he always does. George immediately saluted. Henry waved him down.

"Now George welcome to central command. We have a mission for you. We have discovered extremely old ruins not far from here in the valley. That valley. . . " He turned off of the railing and walked around a brilliant bright sphere with orange and blue dots over its green shape of light. It was a map of this world George put together. Henry finished rounding the display "This valley is full of dangers from Orks."

"What is an Ork?" Gorge asked, confused. His brain screamed that he, at one point knew the answer.
"The enemy, and that is all that matters" replied Henry. George took confidence in his Superior as he continued "We have assembled the best Grogin team we could, and you're going to lead them to the site, along with several other scientists and one Grogin scientist." George lifted his chest and stood as straight as he could gaining another six or seven centimetres.

"Sir!" Squabbled George as Henry and turned around and waved for him to get a move on down the hall. George took it as a matter of pride to move as quickly and execute everything as quickly as he could.

Round One Fight!!!!

The dense leafs made it hard for George to move. Still he traveled through the brush similar to a bull in contrast to the slender shadows that chased him. The green leafs would glint with light, become perforated shortly after as George crossed them. He leaped from rock to rock swinging around tree trunks and branches. The ground was too slow, but the hybrid acrobatic movement could keep the shadows from getting him. He needed to get back to camp, but not drag the enemy with him. His sweat soaked into his shirt, muscles taught and feeling free he grabbed a large branch.

In a perfect arch he swung up to where he was in a hand stand on the branch. His armor protruded with tiny spikes. His pursuer was almost caught off guard by this trick. On the ground the tall slender creature in a grey and orange gown turned and fired at George. Too late as George was already mid-flight to land on him. The branch was torn to pieces. Bark and wood exploded in every direction. George landed on the creature face first with his arms wrapped around it. It struggled. George risked freeing a hand, and disarmed the creature throwing the light composite weapon to the distance in the bushes.

A high pitched yell came from the thing, not as a call for help, but as an attack. George was struck on the head. The creature escaped from George's clutches and landed assuming a fighting stance. George brought up his guard.
"Vile Ork! you dare touch the Eldar!" It cried, to many things George didn't understand; was their an Ork behind him, he thought. A foot came flying towards George's face. He took the blow, but it felt soft and almost girlish to him. George grabbed the foot and lifted the Eldar upside down.

"Why are you trying to kill me?" George demanded. The Eldar's expression softened, and became confused, but still clearly angry.
"You're an Ork, all you do is kill." George was flustered.
"You insult me vile twig! I should snap you, but that isn't honorable. I am Grogin! You're an Eldar?" Almost amused the Eldar relaxed his facial expression and raised his eye brows.
"You're a Grogin? I have never heard of this species before. Yes," a deep breath released from the Eldar " I am an Eldar, and since you have bested me in combat, I don't suppose we can work something out?"
"We can be friends, I suppose, if you answer me a couple questions" replied George. The Eldar raised his hands up above his shoulders towards the ground and gave an uncaring shrug.
"What do I have to lose?"
"You mistook me for an Ork, you tried to kill me. What is an Ork?" long faced George asked. The Eldar smacked his hand into his face, all the while upside down, but as he took his hand from his face his look became sincere.
"You truely are not an Ork? Then your kind looks nigh different than an Ork. Their are Orks all over. An Ork is a savage, brutal and satire creature with no regard to any civil practice living to only kill." George didn't understand how to render the answer. It struck some fear into his heart, but he figured he could fight better and took none of it to his heart or mind.
"Are you friendly to humans?"questioned George again.
"You work with humans?!" replied the shocked Eldar.
"Humans, created me." came flatly back.
"The stupid rats are useful at times, and in this case, I could stand to work with them if it saved my life." back lashed the Eldar.
"What is your name?" continued George ignoring the tone.
The Eldar exclaimed with pride, "Lifarithura" George's ears nearly broke at the complexity. It required much too thick of an accent for George to pronounce and compensated the only way he knew how,
"Your name is Tim now. You are my prisoner."

George pulled a set of hand cuffs from his back pack, and retrieved Tim's weapon. He placed the hand cuffs on Tim's wrists and tightened them so they clamped on his flesh.
"These are really uncomfortable, is this needed?" George ignored him. He was surprised they were only twenty meters from camp, and no one knew he was in danger or heard the shots.
"You are superbly sneaky Tim, and at the moment, untrusted." Tim simply rolled his eyes. All the scientists were gathered around the camp, and when seeing the hooded Eldar began to freak, but George shortly behind Tim settled their anxiety.
"George, who is this?" Vesilla asked. George turned his large shoulders and towering figure to bear over Tim and looked at Vesilla.
"This is Tim, he is my new friend" The other Grogins hopped up, and moved from the bushes to inspect the new prisoner.
"Pleasure rodents, and vegetables." Said Tim, near smiling George thought. His grey uniform with glowing orange stripes was interesting as it was so defiantly different from the fauna now, had, in the woods been was nigh invisible.
"Friend, George? He looks ready to kill us all." Vesilla took a closer look at Tim furrowing her brow into a puzzled look. She pulled three different blades from Tim and several oval orbs. She then reached for a gem handing around Tim's neck.
"Don't touch, "Tim said coldly and angrily, "your feeble mind couldn't comprehend it even if you had it for a life time. Besides," in an almost happy tone, " I would have to kill you." Vesilla retracted her hands, and left it on Tim for the time being. The other Grogins sized up the enemy. Tim raised his voice to Vesilla's back "So, rat, what have you done to these Orks?"

Vesilla turned smiling after placing the exotic weapons on a mat for the other scientists to inspect. "As an Eldar, you are ten or more times older then me, hence the rat jokes, short life span. Also as an Eldar you enjoy the benefits of a superior mind, something to that none of us here could hope to be as bright as you, but you have a fatal flaw of obsession." Tim didn't look the least bit interested, but George was lapping the information up.Vesilla continued "To top it off, you were bested by one of our Grogin guards. Most likely you were here to hunt us, as feral Orks are no problem for your race, they think simple. We, however, regulate the Orks with the mighty Grogin keeping the Orks at a very small expendable numbers game and only growing when we want them to. "

"You're avoiding the question" Tim yelled.
"You're lying to George. He doesn't take kindly to lies" flashed back Vesilla.
"He is simple minded. . . " George picked Tim up in one hand and hung him on a tree branch. Such that he was helpless and upside down. George then hunched over so his face locked with Tim's.
"Your pale skin is different, and your silver eyes are pretty, but please answer the questions. I dislike having to hurt things."
"If she answers mine" replied Tim casually. Vesilla relaxed her shoulders and put her face towards the dirt.
"They are Grogin, a derivative species of Orks." George felt a sting in his chest as the word "Ork" came from her lips.

Tim examined George closely and began "Must be third or fourth generational gap by now. Judging by the improved intellect." Vesilla said nothing. She merely looked down at her self. Everyone in the camp was interested in the weapons too much to pay attention to what was going on with Tim. The sun began to set.

"What is your kind doing here again? I thought we had a treaty a hundred and fifty years ago " asked Vesilla.
"We are back for what we forgot we left." Tim said lack luster.
"The energy signature..."
"Oh, so you're advanced enough now to detect it" Tim sounding happy.
"Your dumb enough to leave behind most of a craft world!"

A high pitched yell sounded from the jungle. "WAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" The Earth trembled and quaked as a horde foot steps moved to their position.
"George!!!!!" yelled Vesilla.

Round Two, Stampede?

Dozens of orks came pouring from the tree line. They wielded blunt and sharp rocks tied to sticks. They looked thin and frail, without thickness to their limbs. The Grogin instantly formed a drab green wall of flesh between the humans and the Orks. George without thinking covered Vesilla completely. Muzzle flashes and chitter tatter of rounds ripped through the green flesh left and right. Mists and tunnels of red gore danced about the field. George only had his pistol the deafening 80 calibre rounds passed through his attackers knocking them on their backs. His wrists hurt with every squeeze of the trigger, he was inaccurate, but over time corrected from blowing arms off to hitting the chest. George knew it was the close proximity that was helping him.

He thumbed the release and the empty magazine hit the deck like a sack of bricks. It steamed in the jungle, and glowed red from the large bullets explosive launches. An Ork swung for George's head with a blunt axe. George ducked the blow with his massive body. The Orks were for once a comparable size to a Grogin. Sparring with human trainers was too difficult because of the size issues. Returning from the dogged blow he jabbed the hot barrel of his pistol into the Ork's mouth breaking several teeth as George did so. Flesh sizzled and turned black.The Ork screamed in agony and lurched backwards. George lifted his foot deftly into a solid contact with the Ork's leg. A snap, crackle, and pop resounded and the Ork fell onto it's back. George rammed a fresh clip into his pistol, primed, and fired in smooth speedy motions of a well oiled machine.

The other Grogin were preforming similar melee and shooting motions.

"Fix bayonets!" George yelled. Whenever they could snatch from brief moments of reprieve the Grogin pulled 30 centimetre long knives. They stabbed and hacked, their weapons ran dry minutes ago. The fixed the razer-edged weapon to their rifles. Rifles blocked the largest of hammer blows, and carapace armor stopped the minor blows. Grogin were the best shock troops. Still the Orks dragged two Grogin to the ground. The Orks wailed on fallen Grogin endlessly, their armor preserving them.

The humans cried out in fear, firing tiny pistols that would feel like needles to the Orks. Trained shots, however, pierced the head and stopped the Ork in his tracks. The Orks were starting to drown another Grogin guard in the dirt, the other two fought on, in a wrestling-knife combat with several other Orks. Biting, kicking, yelling. "Rickey! Burn this filth now!" yelled George. A Grogin protecting the humans took some steps forward and primed his flamer. George felt a primitive emotion stir in him. An Ork swung his blunt axe and ripped off a shoulder pad. George's eyes went wide with craze. He thirsted to kill. He grabbed the axe by the shaft, ripped it from the Orks hands leaving the Ork dumb founded. George in the space of a heart-beat smashed the axe in between the Ork's eyes. Another Ork flying through the air, hammer raised and poised to strike George was flying too slow. George ran his blade to the hilt up the Ork's crotch and flew the Ork over his shoulder.

Smoke filled the air as Orks were burnt left and right. The pack began to withdraw. George wailed on the Ork bleeding from the crotch with an endless anger, he flattened the upper half of the Ork. Covered in blood and with a narrow look he eyed the field for survivors. One Grogin was beaten to death. Drowned in bodies till they piled on top of him, he died minutes after being dug out. Others were badly beaten and bleeding.

"George-that was scary." George dropped the axe and relaxed.
"Was it Rickey?" Rickey walked up smoking a cigar, flamer still primed just in case.
"Not them. You." George always wondered why Grogin spoke such short things, but they did.
"Me?"
"Yep." And Rickey turned to tend to the humans. The humans shook with fear and trembled. Only one of them was hit and beaten badly, he will recover. Georges armor was dented, and spiked from the blades of Tim's weapons. It looked awful, paint removed down to the shiny base.

Tim still hanging from the tree laughed. He giggled and sang in his native tongue. Vesilla collapsed by the tree panting. Brass casings littered by her feat. The bushes moved in the distance. George then looked at Tim who was shaking his head. The bushes settled and Tim began to sing a beautiful song. George came and sat in front of him.

"What do you want vegi?" he paused his song after what must of been the chorus.
"You sing beautifully. . " murmured George. The song continued.


"What is a craft world?" George asked Vesilla panting next to the singing elf tree.

Which Mountian?

The sun began to rest on the mountains above the group. The Grogin set about burying their dead, burning the Orks removing every last spore, even using a grenade on the ash pile for good measure. It took hours, and the stench was horrible. It was a benefit, however, most creatures native to the planet have a fear of the burnt Ork smell. The scientists set up camp. The Grogin scientist started running blood samples on Tim to determine his age. Tim yelled like a baby when the Grogin brought the needle to bare, and perhaps putting a small act of "its time for an experiment" on it was for show to make the humans laugh. Vesilla bought in to the act and relaxed, even laughed. George watched over everyone, he took it as his personal goal to see every one was safe and comfortable.

As the stars began to emerge themselves into the night sky in a tapestry of colors. Purple clouds of a galaxy, yellow golden streaks across. Flickering lights, some fast some slow. It was a peaceful and humbling night for George. The question returned to his mind, it ate at him. Just what was that hug? That hug grinned everything he held of value. He valued martial skill, military prowess, but a hug...what did it mean? That question ate and nibbled at his mind. Then the whispers came. First they were just a breeze that would sing like a bird. Later came a word. "Love" Then entire sentences, throughout the night they played a game on Georges ears. The language was alien to him, its speech unrecognizable to anything he has ever heard, but he knew the answers. He knew the meaning. It ate him.

George put all the scientists to bed in their tents, and Vesilla. He tried to ignore most of her, he looked away, kept the talking brief. The Grogin pulled out blankets and readied to sleep on the ground. "Knifes primed" George said as he walked by. They put their knifes under their pillows and blankets. He walked the perimeter watching the bushes. The flowers started to glow in the many colors of red and blue, yellow and orange, green and purple. This world was a dazzling display of color and carnage. Tim at this point was sleeping upside down. George walked up to him.

Tim awoke instantly and looked into Georges eyes. "Can I be right side up? My brain doesn't need all this blood."
"If you help me understand"
"Understand what? What a craftworld is?"
"No, the voices" Tim's eyes narrowed into a glare. Like some burning hate into his eyes that George touched an ancient foe.
"Sure." George grabbed Tim and set him on his feet. Tim sat down against the tree and threw the hand cuffs to the side. George looked confused as to how he undid them upside down, but shrugged it off.

"So, buddy... what is going on?" George paced back and forth in front of Tim. He didn't want to talk, but he wanted answers.
"Do you hear the voices?" Tim simply shook his head. "Iza Hargevious Dai Rounaet. Que Cue Cological Dod." George murmured the words under his breath. Tim instantly relaxed. "What? Why were you so tense"
"I thought you had been touched by an old enemy of the Eldar, turns out you're just crazy." Tim laughed and looked delighted by this information. George however, just had another question he wanted answered. This list grew. "Do you know what it means?" George continued pacing and nodded. He knew well what it meant, for no reason other then he could. "What does it mean vegi?"
"You are in love. Love is impossible" George grew infuriated. He walked up to the tree, and punched into it. His fist sunk a good 15 centimeters into its thick trunk. The clap resounded through the camp. Tim simply laughed.
"That is the oldest Ork tongue i have ever head in my long life."

"Why do i know Ork? Its because i come from Orks?" Tim nodded.
"You can put a couple things together. The rats made you, and made you why, i don't know, but to domesticate an Ork is dangerous." George turned to Tim now very interested and sat down.
"Why?" George locked gaze with Tim.
"Orks are many, rats are many, but Orks are more. There everywhere, every world, every sector of this blasted galaxy. In numbers so large their is no word to represent them." Georges eyes went wide with for the first time in his life, a true fear. The realization of an enemy so large and powerful that they owned the galaxy. All the stars. "All the worse, they hunger for war and blood." George looked down at the dirt knowing he too has felt this.

"The Orks, however, long ago, perhaps before even the time of the Eldar, we don't know, were a species of intellect and a hive like structure. The grunts, guards and generals were all bred to be the best they were with limited intellect, so they could execute their orders perfectly, and the loss of life meant nothing. There were leaders called Brain boys. This was the intelligence of the Ork race, they knew all, and they knew much. For a long time the Orks ruled the stars with their Brains, annihilating races that didn't like their rule. Then, the Orks started to fracture. Brain against Brain in a cataclysmic war across the Galaxy. What was once a race that had nice and smooth technology that would challenge, if not pass all the current tech in the universe, except for the Eldar's of course. That race turned into mindless, leaderless, plague. The bottom workers so good at what they did, they were without number, but without leader they were nothing more than primitive green apes. At the peak of the wars when Ork strength was weak, an uprising across the stars sprouted and took route, destroying the Brains that lead the Orks. Before the leaders were completely annihilated they implanted their intelligence, the intelligence of the entire Ork race, into your blood. Ork blood. This race of old Orks I like to call Brainies, spoke the same language you just spoke." Georges jaw dropped. He barely could grasp the words.

"Then, I am, a lesser?" The words stung George's tongue as they left his mouth. Tim nodded arrogantly.
"Of course your the lesser, do you see yourself leading an unyielding army? Creating technology beyond the rats?" George looked down at the ground. He took pride in his old heritage.
"Why are they talking to me?"
"That is for you to figure out. In my people it is not uncommon for the spirits of the old to walk with the living. I still talk with my dead mother, she is to say the least, more crazy in death than life." Tim laughed, but the joked was lost to George. He had no parents.


"However, only the spirits of old can talk to you if they have something to hold on too. Their is something here, besides my home world that lingers in these hills waiting for you to find it." Tim's eyes once again became narrow and glared into George.

Second Step

George awoke from his slumber on the tree. He felt solid on the inside again. The voices had left his ears. Tim was stretching in front of George practicing some wobbly wobble moves that seemed useless in combat. Light scattered across the tops of the trees piercing the gaps between leaf and trunk. Fifty Orks died. Their weapons used to count them. Was likely more, many didn't have weapons. This clan was abnormally large, command would have had its numbers trimmed. Still George pressed on leading the snake like train of Grogin, humans and Eldar. Tim happily joked with whoever was near him. Clearly out of better things to do over actual fascination. Vesilla stopped trying to hand cuff him as he undid the third set.

They traveled for hours at a steady pace that was dreadfully slow for George. The Grogin could go much faster alone. Up and up through the hot jungle they went. Flowers, snakes and creatures tired to eat and sting them all alike, but George's skin was to thick, or a preemptive round or two from the gun stopped any troubles. Birds flew above in circles and droves. The wind pushed on them gently licking on George's sweat.

As the sun was setting they made it to the top of the mountain. It could over look the entire valley they crawled up. The leaves danced and jingled. George continued to the highest point. He reached the top of the peak where he could see over any other mountain ranges. He could see for miles of endless jungle, birds and calls of animals. It was a live and well, with life. His foot stepped on something hard and smooth. It was not jagged like the black igneous rock most of this land was covered in. He looked down on it hunched over. It was metallic, and cold, but felt fuzzy in his thick hand. He lifted it up to examine it.

"It is a piece of my home." George looked over to see Tim standing behind him. The metal grew in his hand at a slow rate when he held it. Tim's eyes were wide at which the rate of the material was growing. "You must have a large psychic presence." George was simply confused and place the piece in his back pack. There in the distance held jagged rock formations that rivaled the size of the vary mountain everyone was on.

"It looks to be a two days Journey, Tim. You can start talking any time you want." Vesilla was behind them both sweaty, but still looked neat and ready. Tim walked up next to George the sun now barely grasping over the Horizon. They were high enough up to see the curve of the planet. The rough formations of the region.
"It has been thirteen millenium, Before the time of the fall, when we knew, the end..." Vesilla took to anger and ran up to Tim and faced him.
"To what! 13,000 years is not possible."
"Shut up rodent vermin. I was merely a new born when our world suffered irreparable damage. This world caught us in its gravity field. Most fled, ships scattered into the stars. The world was being pulled in. Our home, for an instant of ten years, was being pulled into its doom. The two crashed into a mighty torrent of fire, and molten rock. The Avatar himself of our world drove the ship with his anger. In his last moments he saved thousands. He saved this world, but he was gone forever."


Vesilla's jaw simply crushed up in anger. She didn't understand. Those answers none them were simple.
"Your world ended?" George said compassionately. Tim nodded.
"You hold a piece of it." Tim said empty.

It took a long time for George to find what to say, and when he did he couldn't find anything. Then, they were surrounded. Rifles resounded primed, and grey and orange warriors descended upon them. George wrapped an arm around Vesilla arm and drew his rifle. He aimed it at the first warrior and closest, the barrel blotting out the entire face of the enemy.

"You surrender, or your lives are forfeit." George's machine gun spoke. George amused for a minute his machine gun actually asked him to give up, but he knew it was the warrior behind the weapons barrel. Their armor was thick, rounded, muscular shaped and looked like it would well protect them from most attacks. George took a glance around and started to growl in his chest. Their was at least seven for just him. Tim stepped back behind their ranks and vanished. George looked at the ledge drop behind where he saw the other Grogin and scientists were surrounded.

"It is a tight situation don't you think Mr. Pointy hat." George said, "You stand to lose a good number if we don't put down our weapons." The warrior place a hand on the barrel of the weapon and pushed it to the side of his face slowly, and peacefully.
"You wouldn't dare risk so many lives." George grinned widely gritting his teeth. His thick and large teeth that he spent so long to turn into a human like smile. George's eyes narrowed, and pushed his brow together into a tight complexion.
"I would. Put your weapons down." The faceless helmet simply looked back.
"Oh. Well... Since you asked..."
"I told you he was different, like an Ork he rather die than lose, but he is also human." Tim spoke as he walked to the front of George. "Now big guy, just relax, no one is going to die just yet. Just don't get her killed, she has information we need." George looked down at Vesilla. He pulled his arm tight to his chest, making sure he wouldn't crush her, but just enough to comfort. A hug.

George released her, and grabbed for his communication device. Vesilla walked over to Tim as he signaled for her. George smiled wide.
"Whats going through the big guys mind?"
"Operation Broken Wings" He said into the black box. The Eldar laughed.
"He must think he has some kind of plan, come on big guy put the weapon down." George dropped the weapon. He walked down to the other Grogin and people. He signaled for them to throw their weapons. They all did.

It was night now, the sun gone. And then the screech of jet engines sounded. The Eldar turned to look at George. George smiled at them. Three dozen air craft moved and ventured in a dancing array of a circle on the Eldar.
"Oh gak!" Came from the commanding Warrior. Tim laughed.
"We just got out smarted by an Ork!" yelled one of the warriors.
"Grogin!" resounded all the Grogin including George.
Comm chatter came bursting into George's microphone. He walked up to the commanding Eldar and put his hand on the guys shoulder.
"Mission Complete, enemy captured." The Eldar pulled off his helmet. Brilliant blonde hair waved in the engines wake. She turned to face George her green eyes glared. The eyes washed over with anger, but a smirk was still on her face.
"What do you plan on doing?" she asked casually.
"I don't know, but we are going to keep it peaceful." George mustered, as he was in shock it was a female.
"I thought you were with scientists." She said as her warriors were being arrested with special magnetic clamps. George simply shrugged, he didn't know any better after all.

"George your operation is not to explore the valley. Your real operation is to bring me the commander of the ghost warriors, no shots fired on her. Their has been an Eldar Ranger spotted in the area, the ghost warriors are never far off from him. Capture the ranger, and travel as long as it takes for them to attack you. Then when you are about to be captured speak into this Comm relay device and say 'Operation Broken Wings'" George grabbed the device from Henry and nodded. The dark boxed room with nothing more than steel table in it gave an ominous presence to General Henry. "We will have thirty six air ships on stand by with three hundred troops loaded. This needs to be a no casualty and wound operation, we are going to send Vesilla with you to appear as a research party, and some other scientists. Keep them alive." George nodded and left out the door.

A black steel air craft came flying in parallel to the cliff edge. Its bay door opened and General Henry stood their smoking a cigar and holding a fine bottle of whiskey. "Hello madam! Long time no see, whats it been thirty years now?" The female leader simply smiled.
"General Henry, nice to see you're still alive, you have aged quite a bit." She started walking to the air craft.
"Really wish you would return my phone calls, but I do enjoy a good entrance." Henry said smiling widely and truly.
"You know poor signal out in these regions with this area." She replied sarcastically.
"Excuses for standing up an old man like me. We need to talk, so climb aboard." Tim at this point was escorted to an air craft with all the warriors. Once inside everyone sat down and a crazy haired man watched with anticipation. Once the warriors sat down arms behind their back, in unison, they all threw the cuffs off to the ground.

The crazy haired man walked up to collect them, expecting this result. "Simply incredible, you defeated a electromagnetic seal, and double lock binding key grips. How do you guys do this." The helmeted warriors simply shrugged. Tim giggled as he arrested the door gunner to the craft, who was stuck and cursing the entire ride home. George and his Grogin paid no mind to the antics, but looked each other in the eyes. Blood was lost on this mission, important blood that ate into Georges mind. It clearly ate into the mind of his squad.

Lo Panda. I sent you an email with my suggestions in. Not read the latest part yet, so that's not included. Hope it helps.

 Dr H wrote:
Lo Panda. I sent you an email with my suggestions in. Not read the latest part yet, so that's not included. Hope it helps.

anxiously waiting now. Thank you. Correction. Reading.

First Date

Cirgar smoke burned from two mouths in the dim lit room. Henry leaned back in his overly comfy chair. The Eldar leader had since removed her combat armor and laid in tight gripping fatigues that fit similar to a latex uni-body piece than actual fabric. Still the Eldar was full of features that Henry with all his might was trying to no indulge a look. He felt his mind race trying to get a single glimpse, but still it had been decades, it can't seem weak.

"Henry you can drop the act."
"Ciera..." Henry was lost for words, he simply laughed. Ciera smiled.
"I remember those nights on the battle field. Years ago, like it was yesterday." Ciera said in a hush tone and sincerely. He smiled and placed his Cirgar on the lip of an ash try and poured a cup of whiskey for her. He picked up the glass, placed two crystal clear orb ice cubes in it then handed it to her. She sipped the concoction slowly.
"What I would of given to be able to stay with you for a simple mortal life time." Henry finally churned out in a depressed and empty tone. "Still, good days, making love and war." He returned to his happy go lucky smile. Ciera simply smiled in a knowing way.

"I see your Ork domestication program is working" Ciera came monotoned. Henry almost as if left down regrouped.
"Yes, it has come a long quickly in these 28 years. The Grogin are exemplar fighting machines. Lifting more than us, doing more than us. The only short end of the stick is their anger and intelligence. Their mental results are completely scatter brains some so brilliant they could build a titan alone if they had the time and material, others so out witted loading a gun grinds their gears to much." Henry sighed.
"What your doing is dangerous, and it was only a joke... i can't believe you would actually go through with it" Ciera came scornfully.

A long minute went by. Henry pulled a rose from his desk, and sniffed it. He pulled a bolt pistol from his desk, it covered in gold and detail. He then further pulled a map not of the planet, but of space. He then pulled out some nice smelling candles and promptly lit them.
"What do you not keep in that desk?!" Ciera exclaimed in a joking loud tone.
"Nothing a man of my tastes wouldn't need" Henry smiled back politely. He placed the map on the desk between the two candles, with a rose on it. "I hope you don't mind I continue to with some tradition." Henry ventured.

Ciera picked up the rose smiling. She sniffed it, and broke the stem in half, placing the flowered end sticking out from her hair behind her ear. She smiled, her guard finally dropped. "Old habbits die hard..." Ciera replied, but continued with in a more exaggerated tone "This is a map of where we are in the northern Eastern Fringe. What is the big deal" Henry sipped his drink and pointed to a slightly discolored pigment was next to a bright star and a barren world. The Eldar thought her eyes lied to her, thought that couldn't be. Henry then placed the same image with a huge zoom applied to it. Tryanids littered the area like a bee swarm all heading the barren world.
"They are refueling. It is a splinter fleet." Ciera's jaw had been open long. She squirmed in her suit. Fear ripped up at her. No she would have no fear. Her training came in, but more so the soft spot in hear chest for Henry soothed her. Dying with ones of family was always comforting, better her husband than none at all. After coming back to her brief moment of panic.
"I thought we beat them years ago" She said calmly. Henry placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We did, its taken them thirty years to get up to even that size. They have been hiding, burrowed. We have even had Grogin dig up old big ones from the first war. They were slain, and good training for the Grogin. Our scanning of the surface found no more signatures, and most of the life here has adapted to the Tryanids, becoming more hostile."
"You think we can really kill them all this time don't you?" She smiled. Henry nodded and pulled his left hand forward. The Eldar ring, and bracelet were still being worn with oblivious tan lines. The psychic tattoo ink still danced around his hand in a elegant smooth pattern.
"Our minds have always been linked my love. You knew my thoughts before I could speak them" Ciera smiled and took his hand. They kissed.
"This was the better choice, my family would never except you." her voice came softly from the back of Henry's mind.
" Maybe they will get the chance. . . Your father still a Farseer?"

Oooo, heretic liaisons...
It's reading well. Good job.

 Dr H wrote:
Oooo, heretic liaisons...
It's reading well. Good job.

thank you. Heresy?! they train Orks and you are worried about Heresy! Ahahaha....
Your comments were very helpful, and super amazing job, i couldn't ask for more from you.

Wailing is an American term - means continuous pounding

Ha ha, well I suppose it's better than training Eldar and marrying Orks...

Glad they helped. As I said, I got a bit carried away, Once I'd done one section, I thought I may as well complete the set. I can see a few of the changes above with a quick scan. Hopefully my dyslexia didn't cause any problems, I had to correct some of my corrections before I sent them to you... lol.

Yeah, makes more sense than the alternate definition of "wailing" (to utter a prolonged, inarticulate, mournful cry, usually high-pitched or clear-sounding, as in grief or suffering) lol.

 Dr H wrote:
Ha ha, well I suppose it's better than training Eldar and marrying Orks...

Glad they helped. As I said, I got a bit carried away, Once I'd done one section, I thought I may as well complete the set. I can see a few of the changes above with a quick scan. Hopefully my dyslexia didn't cause any problems, I had to correct some of my corrections before I sent them to you... lol.

Yeah, makes more sense than the alternate definition of "wailing" (to utter a prolonged, inarticulate, mournful cry, usually high-pitched or clear-sounding, as in grief or suffering) lol.

It is very likely i have the wrong word there, but... who knows. Yeah i noticed some wrong its and that is ok, i am also dyslexic.

I believe it is the right word, I think I've heard it used before for pounding, I'm just not familiar with that use.

Henry awoke on a bed. He knew she was gone. She couldn't and wouldn't risk being sighted in such a manor. Still he wore a smile on his face. It had been years. He started his day at the rise of the sun. He decided he would work out it had been a long time. The sound of lead weights clanged the floor and huffing and puffing occurred. Grogin leaders were working, benching, squatting and just about anything physical. They moved hundreds of kilo-grams with ease. If they were only smarter they could rule it all Henry thought.

After a work out and in a sweating pant he showered and dressed for the day. He drank whiskey before he left his room. Walking down the corridor of the concrete building he stepped inside. Neon lights illuminated a map of the planet and crew was busy at work. Night shift swapping with day shift rambled about the scene. In a weary and tired pace Henry found his command chair and crashed into it.

Suddenly alarms sounded in the room, and red lights flashed. The map view in the center of the room went into space. First one dot appeared then hundreds, and then thousands. Thousands and thousands of ships poured into view. "Holy gak!" yelled Alex.

"Get in field view from the local navy." Henry calmly said. Today just wasn't his day he was feeling it. The two green dots moved to intercept. The planets current space defense was mostly ground based. Which has its advantages and disadvantages. He thought the pros and cons. Alex flipped some switches and brought up the space view.

"General Henry, this is naval commander Kra of Smash Bones, how can i be of assistance?"
"Kra, nice to see you awake and well today" Henry smiled and sincerely meant it, "please if you will allow me to see port side view from your ship, I want to see the fleet." The camera flickered across the cosmos. First there was nothing, but blackness, soon as the dots on the map were practically on top of the imperial defense it became clear it was more Eldar. The elegant and speedy fighters circled and wrapped around the two juggernaut class vessels.

Ciera walked into the room in full armor. The grey and orange striking against the room itself in its vibrancy.
" Looks like dad is here to say hi." Henry thought to Ciera.
"Be polite and introduce yourself." Ciera wobbled in the back of Henry's mind.
"Alex, open communications, I wish to save our piss ant fleet from certain annihilation..." Henry said mockingly. Alex shaking with fear, flipped the switches. Henry laughed on the inside. This is nothing compared to what awaits us he thought.

A orange face helmet with blue eyes ate up the entire screen. Its anger clearly seen in the expressionless face.
"General Henry! You give me back my daughter right now." The voice yelled in rage. The eyes even changed a color slightly.
"Lose the mask you old hag, you have already clearly demonstrated your power." The Farseer took off his helmet revealing a contrived expression.
"You dare talk down to me?" The voice became softer and smoother.
"I dare not, good sir, i just don't take kindly to a fleet large enough to annihilate my world several times over." The two looked into each others eyes looking vision. The room then went live with lightning. It struck from place to place, and a bright white light lit open into the room. From the brilliant perfect white blinding light stepped out a grey leg with orange stripes. The Farseer entered the room from nothing. "You must teach me that trick some day" Henry joked as he stood up and shook the Eldar's hand.

"Even the mouse can learn a trick or two," the Farseer laughed. He looked over at Ciera. The rest of the staff had their jaw dropped as papers of tactical reads flew around in a flurry of confusion. Vesilla stood up with a tablet at hand.
"That teleportation was at 13 million meters from the surface, who helped you?" Vesilla smiled as she poked at the Farseer's grand entrance.
"How did you know I had help?" The Farseer questioned with amusement over hostility.
"Just an educated guess... I have no idea how much mental energy it takes to transfer per meter, but previous data indicates a single mind can only go a few hundred meters, and that is taxing." Vesilla buried her face into the tablet as she ran figures.

The Farseer no longer amused turned his attention back to Henry. "I came for my daughter and her followers, however, I saw this worlds end. My home world only needs another short year to be finished growing and it once again can lift into the stars, to hide, and fight." The Farseer took a walk around Henry. He felt something, but he couldn't place. But he knew his daughter and him were connected some how. "Thus I have come to your aid, with every single warrior we have to our worlds name."

Henry simply smiled, he laughed, he chuckled. "You would save us from doom? Here, I thought I would die in a mouth full of teeth, I may yet get to see a coffin after all." The Farseer at first was angry, but then he too smiled. "Zek, it has been a great many years since we have fought together. I miss the days of hiding in a trench with you guys." They all laughed. The staff still was completely in shock. The few who weren't were old enough to know what Henry was talking about.

"Henry, you may call me Zek just this once, again, this last time we fight together " Zek said confidently, shaking Henry's hand holding him by the fore arm, "But you stay away from my daughter." He glared into Henry's eyes who simply smiled back.

"I wouldn't call this the last time we fight. . . " Henry said peacefully.
" After all Ciera, I have the largest battle for you" Henry thoughts traveled in Ciera's mind who nodded approvingly from behind her father.

So much heresy! But damned fine reading none the less. Well done and label me a fan

 Trondheim wrote:
So much heresy! But damned fine reading none the less. Well done and label me a fan

hersey is best made with a side of Ork.

i am glad you enjoyed it.

Dance Of Death


Foot steps echoed in the long underground hallway. General Henry rounded the corner completely in uniform including a camo jacket. His military pressed white shirt and green pants. "Hey you!" Henry yelled, "Your the intern right? Fresh stuff?" she looks around confused.
"Me?" she whispered.
"Yes you!" he approached her. He then pivoted on his feet to be walking beside her, boots clacking. "Look I need your help, just answer a simple question." Nervous tremors shook through her body.
"ooh--OK..." she managed to pass through her lips.
"Have you found the lord Emperor's love, our saviour?" Henry smiled.
"WHAT?!" She yelped

Henry laughed, "I am kidding, we killed all those fanatics long ago. Now, I need to ask you a much more complicated question..." The intern was too startled to really think straight by such a crazy joke. It is so unlike the General to act this way, must be all the Eldar running around. "What would you do if you loved someone, and the other person was preventing you from seeing them?" Henry said smiling.

She stopped walking and though putting her pen to the lips. This must be another one of his crazy tests. Oh I may finally get a promotion and he could know me on a first name basis like the lovely Alex, or Sam maybe even Vesilla, the legendary command team! I must answer this question. She turned to face the General "I would simply remove or ignore the person stopping me." Henry nodded with approval. Then he took off running down the hallway.

"Thank you nameless employee who I usually see every Tuesday" The General laughed manically.

The sun washed over the entire complex. Grogin, Eldar and Humans ran training scenarios bringing their forces into a combination of destructive efficiency. Henry came running up the steps were Zek stood watching over everyone. His eyes glowed with energies. "Our mixed race will bring the best elements we all have into combat. The Grogin tough, strong; The Eldar agile, quick; The humans good in numbers, with true grit. Henry, we can easily win this War." Henry just finished the steps.

"Which war are we talking about again?" Henry panted but recomposed himself getting his breathing under control and headed for the scotch. Without looking Zek spoke, "I will also take a cup, thank you for offering." Henry poured Zek's would-be drink first and handed it to Zek.
"Are we going to have one of those arguments?" Henry smiled.

"Your argument was just and superbly powerful with much passion," Zek smiled as he took a sip from the drink. The energies dimmed from his eyes.
"I would imagine your counter argument was passive and controlled as always," Henry joked.
"Yes, a good hour goes back and forth between us. It was an intense and heated discussion, to which my daughter ended for both of us."
Henry turned surprised, "She did, did she?" Zek spun the cup and shook the globe shaped ice in it. It rattled the glass easing him.
"She pulled an old law on me. The 'Cu-dala Neatialie,' the right to love through battle." Zek said peacefully.
"Their is one thing I have always admired about you, your arguments are over before they began," Henry laughed.

Zek finished his drink and placed the glass on the table. He smiled knowing and even nodded, "It keeps us peaceful" he said smoothly, "Still as per the law, we must fight in tradition to the death!" Zek came glaring into Henry's eyes piercing any emotional defense he had. Henry gasped in reaction and then immediately downed his drink. "Of course that was the old law, after our race fell it was just a fight, or a war, or something like that. It is now extremely open ended on how the law is settled."

Henry regained his composure. "What are you suggesting?" Came Henry softly. Zek walked around the table in the high raised platform made of wood over watching the entire training camp. Dozen of Eldar craft zipped quietly by while noisy human metal jet craft followed. Zek pulled a chair and sat down. Smiling with a second drink that he pulled from the wall that was pre-filled, with extra ice and he sipped. "You win this war, with me, and we all live you can join us on our homeworld's second voyage across the cosmos."

He walked over to the table and sat down. "How long have you known this discussion was going to take place?" Henry more interested in this result than any. He thought for sure the tip of the blade would eat into his flesh. Zek leaned back his blond hair waved in the wind. His white skin still un crisped and tanned by the sun.
"For at least three hundred years now, shortly after my daughter was born," Zek replied casually, "I have spent years looking at alternatives, killing you, banishing you, banishing her and so on; the happiest result is with us on our homeworld."

Henry smiled and nodded. He didn't know what to say. He was flabbergasted.

For months they trained. Mixing units and comrade ship. Grogin, Eldar and Human in mixed teams doing joint strikes. Sharing and mixing technology. Weapons new and old created and fixed.

George travelled with the Eldar team he liked, the Ghost warriors. They traveled by foot where they captured each other in full squads, and still they pressed on. The Eldar could go for as long as Grogins could and George appreciated it. The human element of their team was mounted in an aircraft. Once they made it passed the mountain peek they descended into the lush valley of the rainbow colored vegetation. Orks fought them as they moved, buy the Orks were just practice and stood no chance with their primitive gear.

They came to a cave that was dark and look like a bottomless pit on the inside. Jagged black shiny rock surrounded the entrance, but once inside it was smooth and a pale colored walls. They held smooth curves and slowly deeper inside turned white. Eventually, the entire walkway became lit after kilo-meters of hiking into the cave. They must have gone a few hundred kilo-meters when they finally hit a giant chamber. Intricate walkways and arches intersected eachother in the smooth rounded shapes of the Eldar structures. An elevated platform circular in shape with rounded ramps up surrounding it was lifted fifty meters above them.

George followed the Eldar in their grey and orange armor. Up and up the steps they went. At the top their stood a rock formation that appeared anthropomorphised. The rock formation's face was yelling, pulling on some rounded Eldar sticks on what George guessed to be command interface. The Eldar
warriors walked up to the statue. "The avatar, gave his spirit to the craft world," came from one of the faceless warriors. The warriors bowed. Than the leader walked up to the interface at the head of the command chamber. He keyed a couple pretty stones of various colours. "Grogin, please bow and show respect, " George nodded and they kneeled. "The dead shall walk the face again, hello mother, hello father, hello brother, hello sister I have missed you. Welcome back." Thousands and thousands of rounded objects lit into the distance, they filled the dimly lit room. The entire chamber shook with the energy.

A primal yell was heard throughout the complex, it sounded like pure rage and much more fearsome than any Grogin roar. It scared George. A metal stomp resounded behind George and his squad. "You dare tread in here Orks, you shall die." George stood up and turned around to face a 15 meter tall sleek construct of solid grey metal from what George could gather.
"I am Grogin, not an Ork" Yelled George. The construct withheld its blow with the giant blade it wielded. The Eldar warriors came to George's and the Grogin's aid.

"Old one, what he speaks is the truth, they are here to help us fight the Tryanids they come now as we speak."
Com chatter began to resound through Georges communication device with yelling voices in awe of giant constructs walking and jumping from the mountains. Some sixty meters tall, others even taller and larger. All walked and began to move. The construct placed its sword into the ground next to the Grogin. It moved closer with no face kneeling and inspecting the creature. It nodded.

"The dead walk again, it is always a time for war. Allies are rare and few these days, let us hope that these new species, Grogin, are worth the story that will be woven into the hearts of the craft world" The now transcended female voice spoke clearly. The construct rose to a proper standing of 15 meters again and walked out the tall archway behind her. Hundreds of other constructs littered the area information. Dozens of 15 meters giants followed the now female construct out the door.

George and the Eldar left hopping in the aircraft with the humans still having their jaws dropped. Thousands of orange and grey objects moved about in not just one place like this, but all over. Hundred of thousands of dead wondered the lands.

The place now empty the statue risked movement. Its pinky finger fell, and molten rock poured out onto the floor. A second, softer and smaller primal roar was uttered. His first was much more fierce.

They Come

Henry walked into the command center yet again. This time he was wide awake, and his gut was gnawing at him. He knew today would be a bad day. Alex was at the long distance array when the alarms sounded.

"Tryanid movement in the east sector! Heading this way at an alarming rate" Alex cried out. Henry smirked.
"Anything other than stop is an alarming rate. Sound alarms, prepare defenses" Henry yelled.

Alarms and notifications came through the complex. Zek emerged from no where and was there to command his forces. His council also arrived from no where All with powerful glowing spears and swords at hand. Thier orange and blue faces ate into the room like rage. The map zoomed to the planet, and the entire tendril wasn't wasting time. It moved to encircle the world and devour it.

"Get me Rak on the line! I want him and every ship he has firing!" Henry yelled again smashing his fist.
"Henry, our fleet will also engage, but most of our ships were transport ships for civilians, not many can fight" Zek calmly said. Henry nodded.
"Hold your fleet back, ours is going to nuke most of their fleet right now, if Rak would get on the damn line!" Henry grew infuriated.
"Sir! communications are disrupted, to much Tryanid interference. Tryanid fighters moving to engage our two ships. They are out numbered four hundred to one" Alex continued to run analysis on the field "Massive thermal and radiation spike in high orbit. Its the damn nukes!"

"Vesilla I want damage reports now, what can we expect?!" Vesilla ran to her desk and extrapolated. The energy from the nukes would blind them, only momentarily. She extrapolated the density of the fleet and the radius of the nukes. Her machine whined, and fans spun faster as it pushed the numbers, heat grew from its exhaust.
"I am getting a 97% damage prediction. First wave will have been completely destroyed. Likely a few hundred spores were released before destruction" Vesilla didn't like the results either.

"My people's craft are climbing into orbit now, they will hunt the spores" Zek spoke softly. The energy dissipated and it was a clear win. Much of the first half of the fleet was annihilated completely. Their numbers worthless, but Henry knew they didn't need those numbers, the few hundred spores were all it would take for this entire world to run into problems. Both defense ships are crashing into the planets surface on map.

"Get me in touch with Rak right now!" Henry yelled at the top of his lungs in pure rage. The screen flickered and Rak was standing, blood and screams of death were all over his ship.
"Henry, nice to see you again " Rak coughed up, he was bleeding from the head, and was reloading his las pistol. Henry leaned back into his chair. He slumped, he knew what was to come. Rak knew too.
"Any last requests?" Henry said softly, sadly. Rak turned and fired his pistol into a bladed creature that was determined to slice him. It's skull melted and went limp.
"You know the promise we made Henry, 30 years ago - " The communication feed was cut short. The ship warped on the screen from falling into the planet back into the center of the second half of the Tyranid fleet. An orange orb grew where the ship was as it flickered off screne.

"Core reactor meltdown of the last defense ship! Several on board nukes went with it" Alex screamed out. Henry slammed his fist down and pulled a letter from his coat.
"Sam, see that this is gets to the following address now " Henry handed it off to Sam. Sam saluted and ran off with the letter. Two Grogin guards followed him out along with an Eldar ranger.

Zek looked at Henry knowing the lost of friends, and family was difficult. He placed a hand on Henry's shoulder.

"This battle is only starting my friend, hold fast " Zek spoke smoothly. Henry rallied and regained his composure.
"Thirty years makes a man soft. Thank you Zek. Alex how much of the tendril is left? I intend to rip the queens heart out with my bear hands" Henry yelled angrily. Alex rose under the pressure handling it perfectly.
"Vesilla calculates just under twenty percent have lived the atomic strife," Alex said proudly. Henry knew that was to much, more of the fleet needed to die if they were to have a chance.

"Prepare the rapid response teams! I want all craft in the air. I want every damn thing we have moving and shooting now!" Henry yelled again. Henry opened a crate next to his chair, and it was full of old combat armor. He placed the thick metal carapace on one limb at a time as the battle waged on in screens. The armor was dusty, black and old, but still had pale decorative symbols that were Eldar. Zek smiled when he saw Henry place the center piece on.

"The wraith bone has grown. You truly are acceptable" Zek happily said. Henry placed the metal helmet on as the bright blue soul stones glowed from shoulder to shoulder and the center chest. Henry's face was completely visible. The armor made him look like a tank, but the elegant smooth and straight symbols of the Eldar complemented the armor and brought it from its mundane origins to magnificent. Henry shook Zeks hand once as he finished dressing.

"Combat gear now!" Henry barked the order. He smiled to Zek's face. It brings many memories wearing this gear. Henry double checked that the short sword was still at his waist and pulled the blade making sure it was still fresh and sharp. It rang with satisfaction. "Zek I have a promise to keep..."

Zek nodded knowing what Henry was going to ask of him. Souls began to fade into the warp. The battle was on, and Zek could literally feel it.

Tyranids & Wraith bone, can it get better?

 Trondheim wrote:
Tyranids & Wraith bone, can it get better?

Add some orks and some guard and you get the blender of a life time!

I feel like I should be paying to read this... With some grammar fixes (IKR) I would probably buy this.. Your great at giving a detailed description of the environment and capturing smarter and not-so-smarter Grogin personalities very well.
Keep it up

CloudRider wrote:
I feel like I should be paying to read this... With some grammar fixes (IKR) I would probably buy this.. Your great at giving a detailed description of the environment and capturing smarter and not-so-smarter Grogin personalities very well.
Keep it up

Oh wow, thank you. I will definitely add some more pieces this weekend. Yeah grammar and me never mixed well. Typically when I add a new piece I give everything an once over.

Very different take on an Ork story, I have suspicions as to where things started and where they are headed

Fighting Time

George sat in the metal aircraft along with ten other Grogin, ten Eldar and ten of the local Guard. The Eldar space fleet did what they could to prevent spores landing, but it was inevitable. Many spores crashed peppering the continent with their tant and hunger. The lush jungle shook with agony as the plane flew over the tree tops. The Bugs are fast hunters, consuming local wild life. The planet wouldn't lay down and take it however, large birds and predators match the Tryanids in combat. A fight for top species was happening, and George knew the answer that tinkered in his mind...that the Bugs would win over time. Like Orks, George thought, they grow steadily in numbers. The plane lifted its nose to the gorgeous sky.

The blues and yellows enveloped George's vision, and he smiled. Peace filled him. Then the alarm sounded, doors on the sides and rear of the craft slid open. "Go go go!" was yelled by a nameless gunner. George lead his team by stepping up first, promptly, he leapt from the craft the four meters to the ground into the bright sunlight. The light engulfed his skin, and reflected off his drab green metal armor where the paint was chipped.

More thuds sounded it was the Grogin. Lighter thuds resounded about, it was the humans George knew this. Than barely audible was the Eldar landings it bothered George they were so quite. The craft opened fire into the tree line in front of them. Missiles streaked out screaming into the leafs. Explosions ripped to life from behind the leafs, and the jungle caught fire. Steady and medium rate of fire from an Auto-Cannon thundered into the trees as well. A huge serpent erupted from the trees bleeding and burning.

Time slowed as the trees were snapped into brittle shards, the mouth of the creature as large as an Ork, thick pale carapace surrounded its extremities. Yellow eyes glared into George and George locked vision with it. He watched as its eyes focused on him despite travelling right beside him. Spikes protruded from almost every section of the creature but the head. George was in mid pull of the priming leaver when the creature rotated onto its back and sprung up into the air craft.

The long smooth underside of the tail provided more than enough support for the creature to reach up and latch onto the air craft. Huge spiked arms popped into existence from the sides of the creature. The two meter long claws ate into the hull of the metal craft, and the creature fell back to the ground. George just finished priming his rifle when the craft hit the ground, crushing the creature under neath it. The creature rolled out from under the craft and tore the left wing off chucking it into the distance.

Cargo bay was exposed the two gunners inside opened fire, but the shells merely bounced off the thick plate of the creature. Spikes fired from its chest into the bay were horrible screams sounded. The pilots flipped open the canopy and were unbuckling as the creature slipped over and bit one in half. Legs dangled helplessly from the side of the craft.

George ran up the side of the craft firing his rifle. The shells dented and bent bone of the creatures chest, but were harmless. The Eldar chimed in firing into the back its carapace slowly being warn down. The creature turned to acknowledge George's existence slithered to face his path directly. Spikes returned to the forefront of its chest. George knew it to be the ranged weapons of the creature. George ran up the wing of the craft, to the top of the frame. He leapt to the side as the harpoons ripped from the creatures chest. In mid-flight sideways George fired his rifle into the creatures head. The bullets pounded the skull and one hit home in the eye. It ran through and through. The creature fell to the ground writhing and yelling. Soon it went limp.

George landed on his side. He got up from the event and started walking back to his squad.

"I am going to call it a Serpent, " George said casually. The other Grogin smiled. Some with cigars lit in their mouth. Then the guard and Ghost warriors came running across to the Grogin. Now passing the Grogin George turned to look. A cloud of mouths on the ground was moving towards them. Tiny and fast small creatures ran about. Covered in armor, but tiny. Eldar and Guard shot at the pool of hunger, but to little effect.

"We need a flamer now!" Yelled Ciera of the ghost warrior unit. George nodded. The group climbed up the craft as they were surrounded by the pool of limbs and teeth. Hopelessly all three squads fired into the swarm keeping it at bay.
"RICKY!" George pointed. The Grogin's eyes went wide with a sudden realisation he should be using his flamer. He pulled the weapon from his back and primed it. The craft began to sink, no not sink, be eaten!

Screeching metal and torn cables along with incessant chomping played like a deathly choir. Drums of gun fire added tempo to the situation. Shells trickling down the frame of the craft and into the flesh of the tiny serpents. Then flames of glory licked the enemy as Ricky burned the pool back. The other guardsmen used grenades and their flamer. The Ghost warriors with held their fire. Slowly the Grogin made a formation separating the pool of hunger and the food. The pool retreated into the bushes. Hundreds of crispy and burning critters sat around.

A Grogin picked one up. "Hmmm.... " he looked at it, broke a limb off and tasted its blood, "Not bad!" he ate the creature. Eyes and all. George wanted to laugh, but couldn't. The guardsmen laughed heartily with their brush of death.

"Goerge, radios are down, and those little ones even ate most of this large one." George walked around the craft to Ciera where the half eaten serpent laid. Its insides spilled out. One of the critters came gnawing out of the skull. It chewed and turned to see George and Ciera. It instantly leapt at George. Ciera caught it and with her thumb snapped it's neck. "George, something is still near enough to give these insects commands, we must find it."

George dumbfounded turned and nodded. Everyone came into formation. The Guardsmen pulled a map of the area out. George turned to them and had the Grogin fall in on them. The huge green brutes in white shirts and olive green pants formed a ring around the scrawny pale flesh with the same olive green outfits.

"Unit, designation?" A Grogin asked quickly.
"Easy Company of echo legion " the commander responded. George walked up them and shook the mans hand.
"Pleasure to have you stuck with us. Alpha Grogin company and Eldar Ghost warriors" The commanders face shimmered with a hint of resentment that only George knew he saw. The Eldar stood guard on the perimeter. The jungle taunted them with its hunger for death. The war didn't destroy this jungle it brought it back to life.

"Command had us come out here to hunt something Henry called a King ass-hat, pretty sure he meant Hive Tyrant. It gives commands to the little guys." The commander continued. He pointed at the map where a red circle was. It wasn't far from here. George and everyone wrapped up what they were doing. George sighed, and placed a hand on Ciera's armor. She turned to see his face. He pointed in the direction of the mission.

The Grogin took the front of the hike, the guardsmen took the middle and the Eldar took to the rear. After an hour of hiking they came to a peak. The jungle still grew over the entire land the Tryanids have yet to ruin the fauna. As the sun set into the distance, and the colors took to the air. The oranges and yellows George enjoyed so greatly, more than the blues George thought as they heard the roar.

A celestial primal roar that echoed through the valley.