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Made in us
Master Shaper




Gargant Hunting

Wow, so many lives extinguished in a second. I'm going to miss those characters, but I also can't wait for the next bir, and see where Smirking goes from there.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2015/06/13 01:19:48


Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim. 
   
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






Loving this, can't wait to read the rest!
I'm just curious, did you pitch this to GW or the Black Library before posting it publicly? This is the best ork fan fiction I've read.

All Orks, All Da Zoggin' TIme. 'Cause Da Rest of You Gitz is Just Muckin' About, Waitin' ta Get Krumped.
My Painting Blog: https://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/689629.page  
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

Thanks, its really very kind of you to say that.

No i've never pitched Smirking to the BL. I have no illusions about my writing i'm just a spare time dabbler, no real training or anything, I've been writing this story on and off since 2009.
yes really!
I try to read a lot of fantasy fiction and enjoy writing things that make me smile but I don't think the BL would be interested in Smirking. There's no epic drama and world changing consequence, no great heroes or twisted evil bad guys. i don't think it'd fall into any of their larger publishing plans. Even an anthology of Ork fiction (that'd be the single greatest GW publication since 2nd Ed. Codex Orks) would hardly have room for a novela length gretchin biography. And there's no way they'd publish a run of printed books this size. It might go online but... you know, here it is already. I don't know really. I just wanted people to read it, mostly as an incentive to get me to finish proofing the thing after some 6 years of tweaking.

I've been looking at the test briefs for BL submissions on the 250 word rejection heartbreak thread and considering writing my own but when i write i just can't take the epic combat scene seriously. I might write a comedy one just for kicks...

anywho... two more chapters of Smirking still to come! Stay tuned for The Darkest Hour and The Grand Finale!

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2015/06/13 23:01:31


   
Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut





Nottinghamshire

 theCrowe wrote:
I've been looking at the test briefs for BL submissions on the 250 word rejection heartbreak thread and considering writing my own but i just can't take the epic combat scene seriously. I might write a comedy one just for kicks...

Do it!


[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
 
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

DON'T TEMPT ME FRODO!

   
Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut





Nottinghamshire

Aw.

Spoiler:



...I will if you will?

(I haven't read the briefs, so I have no idea what I'm getting into if you accept that)



Back on topic, wow, 2009? What was the first part of the story you imagined?

I feel like BL might not be the place for SMirking, but back when White Dwarf and the other magasines still had a sense of humour, you'd have fit right in there.


[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
 
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

Visions of Mrs Doyle in a commissar's hat with a buttered scone, exhorting the good lads to feats of heroic glory with a gentle yet compelling "ah go on."

   
Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut





Nottinghamshire

 theCrowe wrote:
Visions of Mrs Doyle in a commissar's hat with a buttered scone, exhorting the good lads to feats of heroic glory with a gentle yet compelling "ah go on."

Pfff. I think that may just end up as my signature.

I'm not sure what the correct amount of time to dedicate to this idea was (answer: none), but I did a very bad thing.
Spoiler:


Now there's something that will never ever be explainable to anyone.




[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
 
   
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






 Buttery Commissar wrote:
Aw.

I feel like BL might not be the place for SMirking, but back when White Dwarf and the other magasines still had a sense of humour, you'd have fit right in there.


This is more along the lines of what I was thinking, a running feature in White Dwarf or something.

All Orks, All Da Zoggin' TIme. 'Cause Da Rest of You Gitz is Just Muckin' About, Waitin' ta Get Krumped.
My Painting Blog: https://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/689629.page  
   
Made in us
Master Shaper




Gargant Hunting

In the grim darkness of the future, there is one Gretchin that somehow manages to not end up as fodder or ammunition for a shokk attack gun. Once again, I'd like to add that you're doing a great job, and I'll be sad to see this end. I hope you plan on making other storis or find another one you've written that you want to polish up. It is a shame the current companies would be unlikely to take this in, as it doesn't fit with what they're currently doing.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2015/06/16 06:22:16


Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim. 
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

First off, Commissar Doyle is hilarious. If you ever get round to posting some of your Imperial guard fiction I'd love a mention of a Commissar Doyle, maybe as one of Cat's tutors back when he trained for the commissariat. Only we would know the truth.

anyway,White Dwarf was a great publication back in the day, Smirking would've fit right in. But lamentations for the GW of 1998 aside lets get back on topic, and there's no better way than posting another chapter. Enjoy

Chapter 12 Waaagh! WazzBad. : illustrated :
Spoiler:

Smirking watched the rest of the battle play out atop his pleasantly warm battletank. The humans were drawing farther and farther back and many of the surviving gun crews had been relocated to more forward positions as the Goffs, now under WazzBad’s irresistible influence advanced into the distance. Smirking noted that nearly all the orks he could see now wore the blue paint of the Deathskull clan and a group of them were looting the tank out from under him at an alarming rate but no-one seemed to refute his right to sit there. Eventually he yielded his seat to their tender care electing not to ride it back to GrodMek’s workshop and stepping down onto the ground where he and his fellows had fought and died he struck upon a surprising sight.

There before his eyes, beyond all hope and seeming probability was a friendly face. Snikkit was not exactly friendly so much as familiar but it was a relief to see him alive none the less. He had lost an ear to a very nasty head wound but was apparently no worse off for it. Snikkit stood atop SkagNet’s lower jaw, the dead ork’s rotten old maw gaping, prying the last remaining tooth from his old boss’ gums. Smirking thought it only right that he should join the party and began by lifting the flap of their runtherd’s forgotten pack. Snikkit sprang over in a jealous possessive flurry, waving his blade at Smirking who stepped back with an appeasing smirk, hands raised in acquiescence.

While Snikkit rummaged the bag Smirking inspected the discarded body of the old Bloodaxe. A string of carven grox tusks still hung around his neck, the same string of charms that SkagNet had looted from GogGob, and Smirking liked the look of them. He fingered the spiralled glyphs and little whittled boars with glee as he dropped the loop around his own neck and gave SkagNet a final smirk in gratitude for his parting gift. Snikkit slashed through the bottom of the empty bag and tossed it away bored and uninterested in any of the boss’s pathetic stash of belongings. Neither of the pair marked the approach of another familiar face.

“Pfff! Worra sorry sight.” GrodMek mocked. “picked clean by ‘is own grots.”

He shook his head in half mocking displeasure. No ork would gladly relinquish his last few teeth to a couple of gretchin underlings but that wasn’t to say it didn’t happen every day. Teeth were currency and no matter what size you were in green society everyone could use a few extra teeth. GrodMek grinned his usual more-teeth-than-most smile before spitting on the dead old ork as if to conclude his most thought provoking insights. He paced off to inspect the goings on along the former gun-line and as if compelled by nature or force of habit Smirking followed at his heels. Rather than be left alone without entertainment Snikkit went along too.

GrodMek tried to ignore the pair of urchins trailing behind him. He was stalking between piles of looted war-gear casting an expert eye over the goods and evidently looking for something in particular. Smirking kept a safe distance but tried to look useful. Inspecting the opposite sides of each pile but still too afraid to ask exactly what it was they were looking for. He found a long length of narrow gauge track, not unlike the tracks that GrodMek’s traktor Kannon was mounted on and offered it up to the BigMek.

“Nah!” dismissed GrodMek, “Arms…” he mused half to himself “Bigguns, like fer big klaws an’ dat sorta fing” Smirking beamed at the MekBoy’s token acceptance and set about looking for ‘arms’. Snikkit as ever was delighting in only the sharpest and deadliest looking bits of scrap.

GrodMek gave up on the pile of loot he was inspecting and seeing UzKop and his Traktor Kannon nearby indicated that the two grots should check the next pile for him as he went to talk to the hairy ork.

Smirking jumped up into the tangle of cables, scrap metal, vehicle and weapon parts. It was a pile much like the rest but this time he felt more at liberty to indulge his own curiosity without the imposing figure of GrodMek staring over his shoulder. GrodMek was a little distance away and Smirking looked over as he heard raised voices. UzKop was squirming somewhat under the less than happy interrogation of his Boss. Snikkit didn’t seem to care and Smirking thought he was probably right to mind his own business: Best not to be the one on the receiving end of GrodMek’s wrath.

Snikkit flipped over a wide sheet of thin metal and began twisting and worrying at a shorn sliver as long as his arm. The sheet had been hiding something that looked to Smirking like it might just be the thing that GrodMek was looking for. A short jointed reinforced steel crane arm which may once have been attached to a vehicle of some sort; Perhaps for the loading of heavy goods or as a means of swinging a wrecking ball. Smirking was about to begin dragging it free of the pile when the conversation over at the traktor Kannon became heated.

He peeped out over the top of the pile in time to see GrodMek deliver a sucker punch left jab to his cringing underling followed by a short sharp gunshot to the skull which concluded matters. Snikkit looked up and laughed loud enough to cause Smirking to shrink into hiding. He suddenly wanted to be as busy and as useful and as much in GrodMek’s good books as possible. Freeing the crane arm he began to drag it out for the BigMek’s inspection before he stopped and thought: what if it’s not what he’s looking for? What if it’s something stupid and wrong and…

“Oi, wot’s dat you got?” GrodMek demanded. “Bring it ‘ere den!”

Smirking’s shoulders drooped in abject resignation as he heaved the heavy metal gubbins across the ground.

“not bad… “ GrodMek mused rubbing at his hairy chin. Had he become hairier since last Smirking looked at him? The body of UzKop did appear a little balder than before; perhaps some of his hair-squigs had rejected their former host in favour of his killer. Smirking eyed up the dead Bad-Moon ork’s toothy chops and knew that GrodMek would certainly cash in on his former flunkies demise.

“not badat all…” GrodMek continued. “Ee’s pretty good at finding fings…”

GrodMek was apparently speaking to the dead ork. Smirking just waited politely.

“Per’aps ‘e can find dat Weirdboy an’ all. Couple’ov grots’ll do a better job’n you did Uzza!”

Snikkit had arrived at his side with a bundled up sheet. He threw it at GrodMek’s feet and flung open a fold to reveal a sack load of the nastiest spikiest most lethal bits of scrap and detritus that GrodMek had ever seen.

“Ha!” the BigMek balked, “Ee’s a viscous little git innee, Uzza?”

“Ere’s a gif’ from my ol’ mate UzKop” he proposed, handing them both a long and cumbersome weapon. “ee won’ be needin’ it no more.”

Smirking took the weighty stock end of UzKop’s Snazzgun in both arms while Snikkit grabbed the long slender business end and inspected it looking for anything resembling a bayonet fitting.

“Ee wozn’t much ov a shot ol’ Uzza, but wif dis fing ‘ere yer don’ need ta be. See?” he indicated a long barrel sight which Smirking peered down surprised at the level of magnification.

“It’s a long-shoota. So you won’ even ‘ave ta get close. Jus’ find ol’ WazzBad and pop.” He made a motion as if shooting the grots and Smirking flinched.

“jobsagoodun!” he added with his trademark grin. “Now ‘op it!”

GrodMek thumbed the direction over his right shoulder and Smirking didn’t wait to be told twice. Snikkit snatched a piece of scrap from the bundle as he was dragged on past and GrodMek chortled to himself as he watched them leave. Now his consideration was torn between playing with the shiny new toys left at his feet and smacking UzKop’s teeth out.


* * * * *

Snikkit led the way through the devastated landscape investigating bodies and wrecked vehicles along the way. They slept the brightest hours of the afternoon away hidden in the shelter of an upturned trukk. Its reassuring lack of wheels, engine and gearbox told them they were still inside ork controlled territory. Already today they had been more at risk from rampaging mobs of Goffs than any solid human resistance.

As evening drew near and the sky reddened the vehicle wrecks that they encountered appeared more intact and the bodies less molested. The number of teeth in dead ork mouths testified to the immediacy of the human threat. Snikkit cared not a jot, amassing quite a stash as Smirking kept watch. Smirking elected not to fire his large ungainly sniper weapon unless he was absolutely sure it was a good idea. His last attempt had resulted in no dead humans and a lot of retaliatory fire. He now mostly kept his head down and occasionally scoped the terrain for hostiles with his telescopic sight. Listening hard for any indication of a more local threat.

There had been no sign of WazzBad for hours. His trail had been easy to follow when SkagNet had led them through the hills but here there had been so much fighting so many criss-crossed vehicle tracks and so many craters left by countless shells from all directions that the task was hopeless. Maybe SkagNet, or Smudge could have made some sense of it all he thought. Dropping down into another crater Smirking dragged his long-barrelled snazzgun after him. Either way he knew SkagNet would have enjoyed this. Being back on the trail, hunting his prey in the deadly no-mans-land of Waaagh!... Smirking was brought up short. GorGoff was dead, was it Waaagh! WazzBad now? It didn’t seem like GrodMek was doing any fighting himself so it could hardly be Waaagh! GrodMek. Snikkit dived in beside him head first with a wide eyed expression of excitement on his face. Waaagh! Snikkit! Smirking joked and gave his last remaining friend a beaming smirk.

Snikkit grabbed Smirking by the string of grox-teeth charms around his neck and dragged him to his feet as a squad of humans appeared on the edge of the crater and took aim. A flurry of crackling las-fire peppered the dirt as Smirking was dragged scrambling backwards over the lip of the ditch. Snikkit took the barrel end of Smirking’s rifle in both hands and swung it in a circle over his head before letting the heavy projectile fly at the assembled enemy. Neither gretchin waited around to see the result but both bolted for the nearest cover.

Smirking felt lighter and faster without the encumbrance of the heavy rifle and he and Snikkit made it to the open side-hatch of an immobilised human tank. A las-round punched the metal beside the door as they ducked inside the relative safety of the inky blackness within. Inside the wreck Smirking skirted around an unoccupied gunners position and made for the hatch on the opposite side. He tried hard but the mechanism was locked fast, there was no exit that way. Snikkit was fleecing a body in the driving seat and he tossed over a pistol which Smirking fumbled clumsily. It slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered around his feet.

As he reached down to gather it up a grenade hit his ankle and rolled around behind his heel, quickly followed by another. One glance at Snikkit’s alarmingly wide eyes was enough to tell that his friend was not the one who had thrown them. Smirking left the pistol at his feet and leapt up for the open top hatch. He felt Snikkit brush past his dangling feet making a desperate bid to escape by their original entry point. Smirking heard lasgun shots as he squirmed through the gap which erupted behind him in a concussive blast that sent him sprawling over the edge of the vehicle’s roof and back down into the muck.

A cloud of white smoke billowed around the open hatches of the wreck and from beyond Smirking could hear the irritating sound of raised human voices. More las-fire cracked beyond the smoke before a shadow emerged; diminutive, one-eared, stooped and limping and unmistakably Snikkit. Smirking waved frantically directing his pal toward a nearby ditch, hoping they could duck down out of sight for long enough to evade their pursuers. Snikkit altered his course accordingly following his friend’s lead.

Half diving half crawling Smirking launched himself gracelessly over the bank of the ditch and once safely out of view he spun around to track his partner’s progress. Snikkit was limping and holding his side, brandishing his twisted shard of sharp steel in one tight fist. His bloody, gritted teeth painted an undimmed determination on his sadistic little face. The humans appeared all too soon, and with another crackling flurry of red lasers Snikkit was down.

Smirking froze on the spot as the men continued forward, his instinct was to run, as it had always been but his legs, his eyes, his mind would not respond. He just stared knuckles pale gripping dirt in pain, frustration, impotent rage and abject terror.

Three of the men carried the usual lasgun, and a fourth man had something else, a fatter and heavier looking thing with a metal hose attached to a tank on his back. A fifth man, warring a hat like Nurd had worn held a smaller laspistol, not unlike the one Smirking had left behind in the wrecked tank. Smirking wished he had grabbed it now, even if SkagNet would have laughed and called him a pansy. It would have been something. In his other hand the man held a thick, heavy sword with a shining silvered edge. He stalked passed Snikkit’s body without breaking his stride and directed his men to fan out.

Smirking could almost feel his sense returning as he slowly ducked down, his eye-level barely over the lip of the dirt. The human officer’s eyes snapped to his and locked in like a predator. Suddenly there was a yelp of alarm from behind the man. Snikkit was up and his bloody teeth were deep in a man’s throat. The next nearest human was the man with the strange weapon who slung it clattering around his back and grabbed Snikkit by the neck with two hands. Snikkit let go of his first victim and twisted his scrawny body like a coiled spring driving his twisted metal shard deep into the second man’s belly. Overbalanced by his back loaded weapon and the impact of Snikkit’s assault the man toppled and Snikkit raised his blade high for a killing blow; but the officer was on him now. He pistol whipped the savage little beast on the back of the skull before running him through with his sword. The blade cut like a welding torch through congealed squig fat and the resulting mess smelled much the same.

Smirking finally broke and ran. A shot scorched the dirt beside his hand as he scrambled up the farther edge of the ditch. He caught a brief glimpse of a man with his rifle shouldered on the lip of the ditch as the two others ran its circumference on both sides. Smirking cleared the lip and kept running. Shots flew wild in all directions, he felt more than one very close near miss. Before finally being tumbled over by a hot shock in the shoulder.

Smirking rolled and stopped, legs splayed out in front sitting upright but disorientated. His shoulder hurt, a lot, but his head was somehow buzzing. His vision was grown hazy with green-yellow spots and he was beginning to feel a little… silly. He wobbled to his feet and swayed like a drunk. He turned to face the men, a huge smirking grin plastered across his chops. But what he saw made his jaw drop and he gaped in something approaching awe. His brain still itched but his vision was clearing and through the fading glow behind his eyes he saw a remarkable figure. Huge and luminous, possessed of power and madness, WazzBad NazzKop was unmistakably present and Smirking felt it in every fibre of his diminutive being.



Smirking laughed and reeled uncontrollably as WazzBad unleashed his unique brand of violence on the incredulous humans. One man was dropped with a crushing blow to the skull from the Snakebite Wierdboy’s staff and another fell to his noxious projectile vomit. The Officer put up a brief resistance with his power sword but even that could not deflect a searing bolt of Waaagh! energy. The man lit up and burned with eerie green plasma flames as WazzBad capered and jived in triumph, and eventually turned to regard Smirking.

Smirking managed to still his jangling feet suddenly arrested by the hypnotic gaze of the lunatic ork but the laughter still bubbled up and escaped in bursts of unaccountable hilarity. The wierdboy snapped up a finger, fixing it with his large googly eye directly at Smirking.

Smirking stopped laughing and cringed to feel the full force of WazzBad’s attention; if his full attention it was. The wierdboy seemed to be perpetually muttering and chanting to himself, at once in both conversation and song. A voice that thrummed the beat of a greenskin heart, set the blood to racing and feet to motion. A voice at once his own yet also that of all his greenskin kin. A chorus of madness and war and powerful irresistible propulsion.

“Mork-awazza-Gorka-nazza-Gorka-Morka-razza-ooooow…” Smirking mouthed the chorus with his huge ungainly lips, the very mouthpiece, for a moment, of the Waaagh! itself. WazzBad shuffled forwad. One little beady eye danced and bounced in cadence to his ramblings but the other larger one stayed fixed on Smirking.

Smirking was suddenly aware that his Snakebite charm, the one he had taken from SkagNet, who had it in turn from GogGob, was glowing and rattling like a string of living bones. It sent creeping unease down his spine but he was unsure if the Snakebite ork would take it ill if he removed the charm. For all he knew, Smirking thought, the charm was the only reason he was still alive. WazzBad continued to point and stare and jabber but now he began to lurch forward apace.

Smirking’s mind raced. Did WazzBad know about his mission, the one GrodMek had sent him on? To find WazzBad and… Briefly he congratulated himself on his partial success but he quickly tried to block the thought from his mind. Everyone knew a Weirdboy could read minds and he didn’t want to anger the crazy ork. Was he already angry? Smirking pondered. Or had he spotted the charm and taken Smirking for a devoted follower, or better yet some kind of kindred weird-grot? SmirkBad WazzSmirk the luckiest smirkingest grot in the universe, Smirking let slip a wide self important smirk, daydreaming with infinite complacence.

WazzBad’s finger hovered ominously as he staggered forward pointing, swaying, accusing, mumbling, anointing… cursing. Finally the distance was closed and Smirking’s eyes likewise. He felt a rough greasy prod on his temple and in his mind fires blossomed into a thousand shades of shimmering green light which slowly faded to darkest oblivion.

This message was edited 3 times. Last update was at 2017/09/08 06:48:41


   
Made in us
Regular Dakkanaut





Ere we go, Ere we go, Ere we go! Love this story man, wish it had more left to go.
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

The final chapter at last!


Chapter 13 One Grot in a Million : illustrated :
Spoiler:

Somewhere nearby Smirking could hear hammering punctuating the guttural drawl of ork voices. Their familiar combination of dim wits and jackdaw enthusiasm told him which side of the battle lines he had ended up on and approximately how far away he was from any real enemy threat. The dizzying solvent smell of oxidised-copper paint over the smoke and bodily reek of the battlefield confirmed his suspicions. He knew without even opening his eyes that Deathskull blue was all around him.

His eyes, he thought, pulling them open with an effort. Suddenly afflicted by both a searing headache and a blinding blue sky he shut them hard. That was not the blue he was thinking of. He tried to twist, to roll, to shift a leg or an arm, a finger even but his head and body ached too much to endure the effort. He thought about Snikkit, bitterly recalling the brutal death of his companion. His last friend gone, no-one left to find him here, to help him up, to shield him from the burning sun. Slaka wouldn’t have minded the sun, Smirking recalled; he was an odd one. Old SkagNet’s gang was full of them. Nurd with his smarty-pants know-wots and Smudge all filthy and sneaky. Little slippery Runt, Big strong Unki and fat old Fungrot. Even cock eyed Fuggit or for that matter that bumpkin Naff could have been of some help to him out here. Smirking lay helpless, listening to the lively sounds of looting bands all around him, abandoned, left for dead, hoping for recovery or resurrection, or at the very least a thick cloud to pass overhead.

A kind of humming muttering song broke the monotony of the orks’ incessant hammering. An uncharacteristically happy ork was obviously going about his business with a deal of enthusiasm and enjoyment. Smirking thought it sounded like he broke his rhythm every now and then to inspect an item and would occasionally annunciate his tune along with his whacking when he found something worth whacking at. The bubbling throaty melody was coming closer when it stumbled and fell away.

“Ello ello ello. What ‘as we ‘ere?” The voice was coming from somewhere above Smirking’s head. A shadow blocked the light from his eyelids and he chanced a glimpse catching a toothy grin and a pair of huge red eyes magnified through a large head mounted lens apparatus.

“and Alive!” the newcomer gasped. “Veeery Int-er-est-in…”

Smirking cringed and wished he hadn’t as shots of pain lanced through his cranium. He tried to calm the raw nerves but immediately the stranger had him in a pincer grip around one leg and he was hoisted upside down to his immense discomfort.

“’ole in ‘iz ‘ead izzit?” the ork inspected the wound without sympathy clucking his tongue and sucking his teeth meaningfully.

“clean ‘ole. Nuffink ta worry ‘bout. Reckon I’ll ‘ave ‘im! Jus’ wot ol’ Grodders is lookin’ fo’!”

The blood rushing down to Smirking’s head and presumably pouring out made him dizzy. Memories of a Mekboy and a Painboy discussing grand plans and swinging Fuggit around by the ankle like a spare engine part floated into his mind. He was tossed into the back of a vehicle and soon the thrumming of the engine lulled him to a fitful sleep.

SnazzGutz tossed Smirking onto his work bench and swung a light overhead. The grot slept with a mild grin on his grossly swollen lips and SnazzGutz grinned back preparing his largest syringe with a viscous yellow serum.

“Jus’ you keep smilin’” he chuckled as he inserted the needle directly into Smirking’s brain through the convenient hole WazzBad had made in his skull. Smirking’s eyes shot open as his mind was violently propelled back to the waking world. Everything was suddenly very lucid, the glow of the light, the toothy grin on the Painboy, the rusty dripping needle in his hand and the pain. Smirking tried to squirm away but he could not. His legs and arms were not responding. His eyes twitched frantically around the room searching for an exit as if his paralysed body would move of its own accord should he catch sight of one. He couldn’t even scream.

“Scared are ya?” asked SnazzGutz rhetorically. “Yeah. Dey all are…” He resumed humming as he gathered his tools and prepped his workshop for surgery.

“Orderlyyy!” he suddenly chimed. “I needs me wiring rig!”

A clang somewhere outside of Smirking’s limited field of vision told him they were not alone.

“Not dat one, de ova one”

An oddly mechanised scurrying approached Smirking’s bench, the orderly was in a hurry. Smirking was growing used to the light now and the odd sensations of heightened awareness, the immaculate detail in the most mundane objects, the tangy scent of burning hot metal in the air, when a green small hand appeared holding a hot iron for SnazzGutz. The orderly’s hand, a grot’s hand, receded away with the sound of pneumatic valves releasing air but soon reappeared holding a coil of wire followed by a bucket of electrical components. All the while pistons popped and air whooshed from unseen valves.

“Dis’ll only take a minit.” SnazzGutz mused over a mouthful of loose cable ends “I reckon dis little geezas gonna be a natural.” The Painboy tested the heat of the iron on the back of his hand and winced pleasurably. He shot the orderly a sharp look.

“Go tell ol’ Grodders I’ve got ‘is urty gubbins ‘ere an I’ll be dere sharpish!” Pistons pumped as the grot orderly departed without a word.

Smirking watched a trickle of smoke rise and curl in delicate concentric spirals as SnazzGutz set about soldering and wiring components together. The Painboy chatted convivially like one used to one-sided conversations discussing Smirking’s personal opinions on how the Waaagh! was going and agreeing wholeheartedly. The swirling smoke pooled and coalesced in the lampshade, lent a luminous halo by the glowing bulb it filled Smirking’s consciousness. Like the smoke of the Waagh! that rises and blots out the sun, creating a perpetual night for the Waagh! to flourish. Nurd had turned to smoke hadn’t he? Perhaps it was Nurd who hovered about in the halo above him. Smirking stared into the smoke as SnazzGutz worked until eventually the ork downed tools and held up the completed article. He showed it to Smirking. It resembled something broken

“Know wot dis is?” he turned it around “’course you don’t. But I do, an’ trus’ me, I fink yer gonna love it!” He grinned maniacally.



“Bu-ut” he hesitated cringing with every tooth in his face “yer not gonna love dis!” he shoved a fistful of ragged loose wire ends into the hole in Smirking’s head and screwed them in hard. The pain was unbelievably keen. Somewhere inside Smirking’s mind he screamed and yelped and struggled as the jagged metal stabbed and cut and shocked.

“Tol’ ya.” commented SnazzGutz “didn’ I tell ya? Didn’t like dat didya? Hmmpf,” He chuckled remorselessly at his patient’s paralysed smirk “Yer still smilin’ though.. Can’t ‘elp it can ya? You’re jus’ de ‘appiest little git I ever seen.”

The pain began slowly to recede until Smirking felt he could open his eyes, but when he saw the lethal medical implements in the Painboy’s hands he wished he hadn’t. “Just gorra make a few more ‘oles.” he explained. Somewhere behind Smirking’s watery eyes he screamed again.


* * * * *


GrodMek finished welding the heavy crane arm into place high on the side of a reinforced oil drum like a hunch-backed shoulder and arm, and arranged the pneumatic tubing over the top to the rear of his machine. He swung the assembly over his head and inspected the business end of the arm. Testing the bearings on a lethal jagged spinning blade he winced with mock sympathy for the humans the weapon would surely dismember.

A knock on the workshop door caught him admiring his handiwork and an oddly noisy creature entered. Its telescopic hydraulic legs puffed and wheezed and made it wobble and jerk as it walked. The Painboy’s grot orderly was a strange and unusual creation. He had obviously been the subject of innumerable ‘eksperiments’, some of which had made him more useful as an orderly; his elongating legs could help him reach high storage areas for tools and parts and would also raise him to the level of the Painboy’s workbench. However a number of surgeries had not been quite so practical or indeed successful. One empty eye socket exuded a tangle of frayed wires which connected to an angle-poise lamp bolted on to the top of his head which blinked on and off when his remaining eye blinked or closed.

“Hooow!” GrodMek peered over the top of his welding mask at the unfortunate grot. “SnazzGutz really did a number on you eh? Dat’ll teach yer ta sneak inta my shop yer little thievin’ git.”

Fuggit stopped and blinked stupidly. The lamp bobbing on top of his head blinked on, off, on in sympathetic unison.

“Oi, gerr-out ovit!” SnazzGutz, arms full and preoccupied stumbled into the back of his hapless orderly and he nearly dropped his cargo, a limp ,skinny, green bundle of flesh and mechanics all wrapped in a tangled lump. He complained as he shoved his lobotomised underling out of the doorway with his boot.

“Yer nearly made me drop dis.” He brandished Smirking’s broken body like a prize.

“Dis ‘ere iz delicate ‘quipment.” He enunciated to his stricken charge who cowered for fear of further reprisal. If Smirking was the prize then Fuggit felt every inch the wooden spoon.

GrodMek still stared over the rim of his welding mask at the unfolding drama. He discarded the welding lamp noisily to announce his observation of his visitors’ antics.

“Nah not really, iz it?” SnazzGutz hastily concluded and tossed the limp bundle on top of a nearby workbench. He threw open his arms and smiled toothfuly in the most infuriatingly ingratiating manner he could muster.

“Groderz me ol’ pal… well lets ‘av a butchers at da merchundize.”

Smirking enjoyed a rest on the bench not concerned in the least about being so casually tossed aside. Indeed that was perhaps the most normal thing that had happened to him all day. Somewhere behind him the orks’ continued argumentative drawl was punctuated by the loud clanging of heavy metal implements. Smirking, still immobilised watched as Fuggit rounded ponderously into his field of vision, flinching and gibbering in time with the orks’ commotion. His remaining eye glanced almost guiltily, in Smirking’s direction at first. Then with a determined flick of his lamp he turned his head-light on his former comrade and stared at him determinedly, unflinching.

Smirking and Fuggit: both had seen much in their short harrowing lives. Steep learning curves, hard lessons and brutal life experience had taught both gretchin that there was little opportunity beyond what they could take for themselves. Little hope beyond what their own little hands could strangle out of this miserable existence. The element in Fuggit’s lamp glowed and buzzed louder and brighter as he stared, his beady red eye looming resolute behind the flare, refusing to shut it off, refusing to blink.

A heavy boot caught the underside of his robotic pants and launched the orderly into motion.

“Gerrramoovon you!” the painboy groaned, “I needs me tools, me urty fings, me bag-o-bitz. . .”

Fuggit scarpered and Smirking was grabbed and hefted under the ork’s dirty oxter. An unpleasant scraping of metal on metal accompanied Fuggit’s return as the heavy tin tool-box was dragged over the threshold.

“Givus dat,” The Painboy snatched something from his orderly.

In the blinking shadows cast by Fuggit’s light on the wall behind, Smirking tried to make out what it was. Something long and pointed. Containing a vial of fluid, red and viscous. The thing bled, raised high and dripping in the painboy’s hand. He brought it down slowly and in a flash of white pain Smirking’s world went black.

Smirking awoke to the sound of hammering again, at first he thought he was back on the battlefield still leaning against the wrecked warbike; that the Mekboy and the Painboy were just a horrible nightmare. He found to his terror that he was very wrong. Whilst rendered unconscious he had been strapped into a metal frame wires and tubes and cables covered his arms and legs and his head felt like it had just had six nails hammered into it. SnazzGutz moved into his field of vision with a hammer in hand and a nail still dangling in his teeth, confirming that this was in fact exactly the case.

“Dat’s it Grodders!” he called over his shoulder as the nail dangled and dropped unheeded.

He stared at Smirking obviously pleased with his handiwork, his breathing dropped to a rapt intensity and he almost whispered to Smirking, as if in private confidence.

‘Ee’s ready fer. . . insuhrsh’n!”

Suspended in a cage of steel and wiring Smirking was swung about until, rotating into his field of vision, there came a spectacle of deadly power and orkish ingenuity. There beside the machine was Grodmek, tools in hand, feeling every inch the BigMek he aspired to be. His creation was one in the mode of Orkish stompiness. A crude, mechanised walking gun platform crafted in what could be both mockery and celebration of the orks’ own form: Feet to charge, weapons for arms, a body of steel with no discernable head. A thing of deadly design, a metal monster, GrodMek’s Killa-Kan.

A large oil barrel had been commandeered and reinforced as the main body frame onto which were mounted crude but functional legs and equally crude and lethally functional weapons for arms. The whole contraption was powered by an engine in the rear attached a huge pair of exhausts mounted up high. They stood out on top giving the machine the impression of a set of infernal horns. Greasy smoke wreathed the scene in dire gloom as the machine belched fumes and noise.

On one side of the Killa-Kan a massive big-shoota complete with a bucket of slugs comprised the left arm and on the other, a long hinged boom carried a jagged motor-driven rotary blade. Smirking pondered the blade imagining all of Snikkit’s spiky stickas welded together into one psychotic spinning star.

The whole assembly was mounted on thick piston driven legs, with heavy, broad four toed feet not unlike the ones that had squashed Smudge. The front face of the machine was missing it’s main frontal armour panel revealing an empty void within. It looked to Smirking like something was missing, some vital part that would lie at the heart of the machine.

Even as they pressed his cage inside then began connecting his wires Smirking struggled to surmount his utter astonishment that he might be that part. He stared forward from the bowels of the machine a riot of contradictions bewildering his diminutive faculties. The front armour panel stood propped against the opposite wall. Fuggit was busily applying paint, some glyph or branding or such device as would proclaim GrodMek’s greatness or simply cover a nasty looking dent, Smirking couldn’t tell. It wasn’t until SnazzGutz finished his tests and GrodMek completed his tinkering that they called for the Grot to quit his task and relinquish the panel.

Fuggit stepped aside with all the mustered grace of an artist rightly proud of his masterpiece. And there upon the armoured face of the beast he had described a large red grinning maw.
“Smirking” he explained before ducking a wrench.

The panel was at last secured as the final thundering rivet was hammered home. Before the echoing within the machine had time to subside the engine once again roared to life sending a shuddering vibration through Smirking’s remaining teeth. He quivered inside the machine still unable to move a muscle when a sudden searing flash of electricity shot through the wiring into his head and coursed down through his lank green body filling his belly with fire and, incredibly, his limbs with power. Smirking could move.

He flexed his arms and bounced on his newly fortified legs. The machine in GrodMek’s workshop leaped to life. Its jagged blade whirred and flailed, its gun mount swivelled and pivoted like the shrugging of a shoulder. It took a few tentative steps before stomping for sheer brute physicality. Smirking was in control. A wave of power, intoxicating and at once thrilling washed clean his filthy inhibitions. A chorus of greenskin pride and malevolence returned unbidden to his flapping purple lips. Smirking was big! Smirking was stompy! Smirking was smirking.

“Da Killa Kan!” GrodMek intoned in a strange mix of pride and reverence. Although it was but a thing of his own creation he regarded it still as something beyond the realm of natural Orkdom; an effort toward orkish perfection, something approaching Gork and Mork themselves. GrodMek, the humble prophet of such mechanised glory.

“Its just a prototype.” SnazzGutz complained “Now dat I’ve p’fekted da ‘urty bitz we can make ‘em even bigga!” he enthused, “Put proppa Boyz in ‘em! We’ll leave da grotz ta da Deffskull spannaboyz. I’m torkin’ DeffDreads!”

“DeffDread? Bah!” GrodMek would not be outdone. “I’m finkin’ bigga! Stompas!”

“Gargants!” SnazzGutz parried.

Smirking caught sight of a flash of gold in his view port; one of SnazzGutz teeth glinting in the light of Fuggit’s dim headlamp. The sight of his broad sadistic smile made Smirking’s fists ball and at once his weapons responded. A fistful of slugs barked from the mouth of his kannon and buried themselves in the teeth of the grinning ork Painboy. GrodMek, stood agape, blinked stupidly then threw up his hands in delight. His creation was already performing beyond his wildest fantasies. He stood over SnazzGutz, gloating and counting the Painboy’s remaining teeth.

GrodMek died happy as the spinning blade severed his head from his shoulders in one brutal blow, scattering tools and body parts around the floor of the workshop. Smirking sang and danced and destroyed in the fire and smoke and dust. And he laughed.

A blinking lamp in the corner caught Smirking’s attention. Fuggit was watching the scene and cowering at a distance. Smirking turned his Kan, himself, toward the miserable grot and lowered his arms. Fuggit came forward and stepping clumsily around the body of his former employer, relieved SnazzGutz of his diagnostic tools which he slung in a bag along with GrodMek’s adjustable spanner. By now the fumes from Smirking’s engine were filling the room with a miasma of oily smoke and he turned about, looking for the dock exit. Fuggit, tool belt and bag in hand clambered aboard and pointed the way as best he could with his own head lamp, and held on.

Smirking smashed out of the dingy workshop into the clear light of a full moon, huge and deadly and hell bent on revenge. Revenge for his misery, for his brutal life, for his friends all dead. Revenge against everyone who ever pushed him around or shot at him or tried to stomp on him. Now Smirking would do the pushing, the shooting and the stomping. On Humans on Orks on any fool who might stand in his way. And Inside that Killa-Kan he’s still smirking, he’s always smirking.


THE END

This message was edited 3 times. Last update was at 2018/05/20 19:58:48


   
Made in us
Master Shaper




Gargant Hunting

Wow, what an ending. It's sad to see what happened to Fuggit, but it was expected under the circumstances, and every character deserves a bit of pity, I daresay. I'm sad to see this go, but you've done a fantastic job with this story, and somehow made a happy ending in a weird way. I hope to see more writings from you, someday. This was an absolute pleasure to read, and I'm sure I'm not the only one to say they will be missing Smirking in the future.

Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim. 
   
Made in us
Regular Dakkanaut





Really awesome. You really made something special, and I agree in the hope that you will continue writing. I would love to see you take on other (hopefully Orky) stories. Thank you, whole heartedly, for the story and the journey.
   
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






Brilliant! Thanks again for the great read!

All Orks, All Da Zoggin' TIme. 'Cause Da Rest of You Gitz is Just Muckin' About, Waitin' ta Get Krumped.
My Painting Blog: https://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/689629.page  
   
Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut





Nottinghamshire

Absolutely fantastic, I'm sad to see such a fine thing is over, but love the ending you chose. I too hope you carry on!

Had you decided that it would always come out this way?

(glad you liked the doodle btw, sometimes the weirdness just needs exorcising... As for Commissar Doyle, I'm sure I can find a use..)


[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
 
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

Thanks to everyone who's viewed, read and commented on Smirking keeping me going all the way to the big stompy conclusion.

I like that Smirking stomps off into the sunset looking for a fight, with Fuggit on board no less. I like to think they had many exciting adventures together in Waaagh! WazzBad.

anyway, the story's over but the discussion can continue if you like. I'm happy to talk shop if anyone wants to know about my (long slow and arduous) writing process. Or just to answer questions if there are any.

a couple of answers to questions posted already....
What was the first part of the story you imagined?

I recall a bit of Fantasy Orcs and Goblins fluff where an orc warboss/Nightgoblin bigboss asks a snivelling underling messenger "are you smirking?" the messenger replies something like "No, I'm Snarkling, I think SMirking is behind the tent." or something to that effect. Anyway, the idea of a Goblin (or in my case a Gretchin) called Smirking just got me thinking.

Had you decided that it would always come out this way?


Yes I had. Way back in 2009 I listed all the things a group of Gretchin might be called upon to do and then ordered them in some kind of descending numerical order and attempted to plot a story arc for Smirking that would encompass all those roles. His mob would die off one by one until eventually he would be found alone on the battlefield and wired for a Killa-Kan; that particular role being the last and most singular of Gretchin jobs on my list. I could post a full WIP draught of my plot outline from back in 2009 if anyone would like to see it. It's surprising to see how much has changed in the writing of the full story.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2015/06/29 23:06:40


   
Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut





Nottinghamshire

Crikey, 2009? I hadn't realised quite how long you'd been thinking on this one. It shows, you built a great world around these guys. I hope you return to it some day.

I'm curious about the plot outline. Did you write it end to end, or did you have set sequences imagined and fill in around them?
I'm not a writer (I prefer the term "speculative bullshitter" in my case), so I don't know how these things work!

I may have to ask you for grot-naming help some time. I have a little camp of the buggers, and only two have names.


[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
 
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

Here's my plot outline from way back then. It's crazy how much has changed and how much has survived countless edits and rewrites more or less word for word. I havn't gone through this and tidied it up or edited anything out so apologies for anything obviously not intended for public viewing... maybe I should give it a closer read...

Anyway, for anyone at all interested in my process on Smirking here it is in all it's messy beginnings.


Smirking A Grot's WIP

Spoiler:



Plan:
Chapter 1 : grot springs from spawning ground, catches bugs, sits on log. Caught by Runt hurd.

Introductions: Runthurd Old Skagnet- once a bloodaxe Kommando but got too old for that stuff, lost an eye, a leg, a few fingers, most of one ear, many impressive wounds and a good few sizable worts. Fell into bad company (Goff Company) after his ladz got in a bad fight. The Goffs didn’t like his sneaky Blood Axe ways and thought he’d be best at training cowardly grotz to be sneakier.

Snikkit; low down dirty little scumbag. Stabbed skagnet and smirking smirked.
Fungrot – fat hungry fungus obsessed
Smudge- loves to hide and ware cammo paint/mud very sneaky and a bit unhinged.
Nurd- quite smart for a grot. Comes up with fiendish plans
ulk – big for a grot.
Snot, wort, skab, runt, naff.

Learns to communicate after a fashion
Whipped into shape.
Onward to “society”

Chapter 2 ork Kultur
Orks about.
Orks and grotz
Squigs,
fungus cultivation,
size matters
Jobs for grotz all menial stuff while orks make war
Difference between grotz and gretchin grotz are useless, gretchin have gunz

Chapter 3 heist
Grodmek owes me a favour
Grotz have to do 2 things, sneak and shoot. So ur gonna learn to sneak by stealing some guns from grodmek. Then we can learn to shoot.
5 go in, skab, smudge(leads the sneak), smirking, fuggit, snikkit
Around the workshop, shokk attack gun and cages of snotlings apparently cultivating fungus in a patch in the corner of one of the larger cages.
Kustom kombi weapons vehicle parts and massive crate full of hand shootas in various states of disrepair. Beside a big locked box labbled Dakka.
Make sound
Grodmek searching red light green eye, greenlight red eye.
Grab gunz in 2 sacks, drop some, spotted Chased, shot by weapon he’s welding while loaded. skab frazzled.
Smirking and fuggit go one way and distract grodmek while smudge and snikkit get away with the gunz.
Smirking hides in half built killa kan. Grodmek catches fuggit, thinks he’s spying for another mekboy, and painboy arrives. They discuss incomplete machine and fuggit is given to painboy for “eksperiments”
grodmek eyes up his creation as smirking quivers inside and slips out a hatch in the back and slips out of the workshop safe at last.
Nurd is fixing guns sorting into worky and bitz,
smudge is taking shooting lessons and is enjoying shooting mushrooms out of fungrot’s patch.
Ulk stomps over and takes his shoota cause he’s big and cause he can.
Nurd gives him a “better” one which promptly misfires and blows up in his hands. They all laugh and scarper.

Orks get agitated, warboss appears, calls a Waaaaaa!


Chapter 4 goin’ to da wAAAAAAAA
Bundled into a truck- squashed and jostled
Grot riggers
Other road users, evil sunz bikers and assorted speed freaks
The camp in the desert, burning vehicles and noisey mobs of frustrated orks.
Making bets on the survivors who are tip toing their way through the field trying to get back to the camp.
Big goff nob shoots a survivor and wins his bet.
Grodmek produces a small cart and empties a sack of snotlings into it.
Shooting at defkoptas that leave them behind.
Minefield ahead.
Skagnet looks at the grotz and says; “boyz, I fink I ‘av a plan”

Chapter 5 minesweepers
40 + grotz herded into a less than narrow bunch and pressed on into the mine field at gun point by lots of very angry and agitated orks.
Almost instantaneously theres an explosion and the grots panic and start running everywhere.
More mines get hit and more explosions all around smirking.
Smirking sweats and treds softly, tippy toes with his big flapping feet.
Trying to stay behind a large group of confused looking grotz going the riht direction.
Hears a click underfoot and soils his drawers.
It’s a dud, but just then Ulk comes pounding by with that unhinged look of terror in his eyes and blows up right next to smirking.
Smirking hurled clear but lands alone, isolated surrounded by mines and finds his feet just in time to see a huge mob of trucks driving toward him at ever increasing velocity. Evidently a path had been cleared and the WAAAAAAAAAAAAA was back on the road.

He cowers and ducks under a huge truck sticks his head up, dodges a bike, and another, gets bumped out of the way by a big dozer bladed battle wagon, dazed and confused sitting and pondering,
not smirking.
and thought…
he had survived the minefield and now he was gonna be run over.
Skagnet leans out of a passing truck and grabs him with his grabba stick. Bundled in beside his mates, most of them anyway.

Chapter 6 Da wAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Oomies, lotz of em.
Skagnet reports for orders.

Introduction Da Warboss. RazNaz NarGrim – he’s a bad moon boss with a very long snaz gun and a very loud smoking chain axe. And a retinue of Massive ‘evey armoured boys.

Their job, sneakey out in front of the main body of orks, take that shack/hut/building stay there, and don’t let the Oomies shoot the boys from there. and Don’t get shot.

They take a few steps out of cover and all’s quiet.
A few steps more, still no sign of this Waaaaa, is it all just a pile of grox dung?
Nearly there now and still nothing.
Smirking sent to the back door. Just as he reaches for the handle…
KABLAMMO ordnance fire rocks the ground, the building crumbles into rubble and he’s left holding the door handle and using the remains of the door as a makeshift shield.
Skagnet grabs him from his hiding place and throws him into line along the ruined wall facing the enemy advance. His buddies are already firing with negligible success at the first wave of the Oomie advance and he joins in.
Total elation and more than a smirk at his first kill, it was his bullet, wasn’t it. Had to be, course is was, his kill, his first dead Oomie.
Orks join battle and the Grotz more or less sit it out taking pot shots from afar. OBJECTIVE HELD, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

CHAPTER 7 one of those jobs

Full of courage and a misguided sense of invincibility the grots are eager to get their new orders. But skagnet doesn’t like the look on RazNaz’s face. “It’s one of those jobs isn’t it?”

Enemy walkers will shoot the burna trucks before they have a chance to burn out da cowardly Oomies from der hidey holes so the grots ‘ave ta keep em busy while, just long enough to let the ladz roll in for the real fightin’
Skagnet hates these jobs. But that’s what grots are good for, fodder. He’ll get some new ones later, if he gets outta this alive.

The grots set out. Unlike yesterday They havn’t been told what their orders are. Skagnet just says follow me and has a grim look on his face. Gimmer than usual anyway.

They see the walkers coming from a long way away and they take to the rocks, skirting along the side of the road keeping hidden and being what the other orks would call downright sneakey.

Nurd comes across a trip wire attatched to a frag grenade. And Skagnet explains that the grenade explodes when the wire pulls the pin out. He snips the wire and retrieves the grenade which he puts in his bag.


The walkers stride by, towering above the puney grots and they open fire from the rocks. Skagnet pulls the pin and lobs the grenade.

One turns and opens up with a multi-laser smashing rocks to bits and causing the grots to scream and cower and scatter. Those that run are quickly cut down or dragged back by skagnet.

When he looks out he sees two other walkers already some way off, they’ve gotten through and are strafing the konvoy with auto-cannons and causing mayhem.

The old runthurd explains the plan, wait til he gets bored and walks off then we sneaks up behind and cuts his pipes and da fing falls over and den we stomps on da Oomie inside.

The waiting was the easy bit, none of the Grots were eager for any more of this Waaaaa business but all too soon they were out of cover and sneaking up behind.

Pipes too thick, one gets a oily leak but not enough to drop the power to that leg. Jig is up, pilot starts to stomp on ‘em. Skagnet, staying under the arc of fire standing on one of the feet, wraps his whip round it’s legs and trips it. It topples and his angry grots stomp the hapless Oomie black and blue. One of the other sentinels turns and blasts ‘em and they scream and scatter.

Nurd got stomped.
Fungrot missed the whole thing as he found a mushroom patch in the rocks while skagnet was explaining the worky bitz of the frag grenade.
Snicket has found a guard issue knife, smudge is covered in oil, smirking has a guard hat and skagnet has lost his whip. He’s furious.
But that’s nothing compared to the Boss, he’s gonna bust them down to crew the big gunz.


Chapter 8 the Big Gunz

They didn’t exaggerate these gunz are big. He’s been given signs for fire and reload. And JAM! And RUN!

He thought these were just for when the noise got too loud to hear orders over but soon realised that many of the other gun crews were already toally deaf. And now he knows why this job is punishment.

Skagnet looked like a prize idiot with an old pair of trousers wrapped around his head but smirking knew he was right to cover his ears. He was glad of the protection afforded by his new Oomie hat. He could protect his ears and not look like that.

Guns go off. KABOOOOOM

Distant enemy guns respond. Boom
Not much damage either side, just range finding and sounding off.

Guns fire again and again and then KABLAMMO one goes up in a cloud of debris and fire and smirking knows it’s not a good place to be right now.

He aims for the enemy big gun emplacements and fires his zzap gun , too far away to know if he’s hitting anything so he aims for something a little closer to home, that huge tank rolling this way pointing it’s gigantic battle cannon at him.

KABLAMMO another direct hit taking out skagnet and one more grot leaving a single grot manning a giant lobba that’s looking a bit worse for ware.

Smirking’s ZZap gun is sparking disconcertingly but apparently still working. He hit’s the tank but it just rocks and halts stunned for the moment by the concussion. Smirking sets another power pack and flicks the charge button… KABOOM the lobba next to him goes off with a catastrophic misfire sending shrapnel and bits of grot flying.

Smirking is dazed and can’t see anything but a bright sparking electrical frenzy glowing through the smoke. It’s his gun, it’s still chrarging and looks set to explode. He frantically slams the fire button and is shocked out of his boots as the thing discharges a massive burst of power toward the tank melting through its armour exploding it like a tinder box. His gun is fried, his hair is standing on end, his hat is spinning on the ground beside him slightly blackened and smoking. He’s not dead yet, but that tank is toast!

Chapter 9 no-grots-land

The battle was a stale mate. Both sides have retreated to their respective bunkers and trenches and a huge expanse of desolate, scorched and cratered ground lies between, littered with corpses and wrecked vehicles.

Skagnet is dead. All that remains of Smirkings squad is snickit, smudge, Fungrot and himself. And the Boss wants to see them emediately.

They’re each given a long rifle and told to Get out there and shoot some Oomies. Da ones wif da Pointy Hats.

They crawl out of the trench into the mud and desolation.
Rain has made the whole place one big mud hole and they half swim.

Smudge disappears under the mud and comes up looking like a grinning mud creature. He picks up his gun and slips off into the wastes. Skagnet would be proud.

Fungrot spots a tastey looking mushroom out in the open, he reaches for it but it’s too far out there. He can’t resist and goes for a dash, he grabs it and stuffs it in his gob, turns and burps with great satisfaction before his head explodes. Enemy snipers.

The last two keep their heads down and try to keep behind cover. They dart into the ruined shell of a tank, could it be the same one smirking had destroyed, he was sure it was, convinced himself and most importantly snikkit. It’s just a burned out wreck now.

They slip into a crater and Snikkit finds a dying Oomie and takes great pleasure in putting him out of his misery. He takes his hat and gives smirking the man’s knife. They hoke in his sachel and find some water and a field ration pack which they eat. Snikkit tastes a mouthful and gives the rest to smirking in digust. Smirking hands him the water bottle in trade and seems satisfied with his lot.
Then snikkit pulls out one last item, a grenade.

They don their helmets and poke a head above the edge of the crater. They’re close enough to see the bunker slits and a few Oomie heads peering through binoculars none with pointy hats.
They’re about to move on when, BANG, BANG BANG. A shot from their left and three maybe four answering shots from the enemies trenches. Over the deathly silence they hear smudge laughing in the distance.
Encouraged by their lone comrades Kommando bravery they press on across the battlefield hoping all eyes are looking the other way. They reach the first abandoned enemy firing point. A small wall built of sand bags with a dead gunner slumped over it and an empty ammo box at his finger tips collecting blood and rain water.

Smirking pulls a length of sack stitching out of one of the bags which opens and a few sodden lumps of sand hit the ground… he has a plan. He hides behind the sandbags and grabs the Oomies hand. He waves it toward the nearest Oomie bunker and waits for a response.

There! two Oomies have broken cover and approach in a low crouching run. Smirking scarpers back to a nearby crater where Snikkit is waiting holding the string. The Oomies arrive at the body, turning it over find him lifeless but conceeling a frag grenade and snikkit pulls the string and it pulls the pin and they spot it and run like mad. snikkit stands a fires at the fleeing humies as the grenade goes off showering them in debris and knocking them off their feet. More shots ring out from the trenches on both sides, bullets fly and smirking keps his head down as snikkit tares off into the smoke.

He’s alone, he pokes his head over the crater edge and sees a man in a pointy hat barking orders at lots of Oomies.they’re getting ready to move out
“This must be the one the boss wants me to shoot.”
He takes aim and fires.
His shot flies wide and this time he doesn’t hear any answering shots, he just has a terrible head ache.

Chapter 10 devestation

Smirking was shaken awake by an ork with an ugly blue face who was searching his body for anything of value. He had a splitting headache which wasn’t helped by the ork’s huge head torch. It’s fat groaping fingers found his Oomie knife and it weighed the blade up in his hands for a few seconds before casting it aside.
“a’ready got one” It grunted, and snuffled around him looking for anything of value and then wandered off to continue it’s search.

Smirking was not smirking. He was clutching a horrible gash that had opened in his head right above his eye and squinting at he daylight through the other eye. He staggered over to retrieve his knife and tried to yell at the stupid ork who’d taken it from him. But he didn’t have the strength. He collapsed on his back against the slanted wall of the crater and considered his situation.

Snikkit was nowhere to be seen. Last time he’s seen him he was shooting some Oomies in the back. Just like him too. He turned and looked in the direction of the Oomie sand bag emplacement and was stunned at what he saw.

Total devestation, destruction, smoke and fire and death. What used to be a Oomie bunker was now a ruined shell and was occupied by a group of these blue faced orks trading and bartering their newly acquired loot. He surveyed the battlefield and surmised that he must have missed the whole battle. A glance down across the crater floor revealed the cause. His Oomie hat still slightly charred and covered in mud had a huge hole in it. He’d obviously been shot in the head and the helmet had absorbed much of the impact though he’d still been knocked out cold and taken a very nasty head wound.

He climbed out of the crater and wandered aimlessly amid the turmoil, feeling very light headed and dizzy. All his friends were gone. Blown up, stomped on, shot to bits or just plane gone and never seen again. He was all alone, he even missed Old Skagnet. That old sneak. He collapsed against a wrecked warbike dejected and angry and very unhappy and passed out again.

He came to at the sound of hammering, a mekboy was salvaging parts from the bike and was evidently shocked to find him still alive. He started and then stared and a gleam appeared in his eye, an altogether malevolent one. Smirking struggled to get to his feet to get away from this madmek when he felt a strong hand catch him by the shoulder from behind. He was lifted up and spun round by a truly insane looking ork. A painboy!

The painboy glared at him through a huge lens, took a good hard look at his damaged head, and his eye which he now realised he couldn’t see with, and spread an evil grin.
“jus’ what we’z lookin’ for Grodmek” “yup” replied the Mekboy “Jus’ wot da docta ordad”
Smirking isn’t smirking.

Chapter 11 one grot in a million

Smirking was given a syring full of green stuff in the head which although it hurt at the time soon made him feel stronger. He was bundled onto a very odd looking war-trakk laden with salvaged scrap and worky bitz from innumerable machines and treated like no more than another broken part. This worried him.

They throw him into a dark workshop where a grot orderly( Fuggit) looks him over with something like resignation in his eyes, he seems to know something smirking doesn’t.

He’s seen a lot of bad things and has a kind of glazed expression. He’s been the subject of innumerable eksperiments, some which have made him better, his little bolted on head lamp for instance, and some that haven’t gone so wll. His far too long peg leg. the painboy enters and the orderly jumps and scurries in terror into the back room knocking over a bucket of nails with his flailing right peg-leg. He returns with a toolbox full of very urty looking items.

Smirking awoke to the sound of hammering again, at first he thought he was back on the battlefield still leaning against the wrecked warbike that the mekboy and painboy were just a horrible nightmare. but he soon found to his terror that he was very wrong. He’d been strapped into a metal frame wires and tubes and cables covered his arms and legs and his head felf like it had just had 6 nails hammered into it. The painboy moved into his field of vision with a hammer in hand and confirmed that this was in fact exactly the case. He’d replaced his eye with a special interface unit and was preparing him for “insurshun”

the mekboy produces a killa kan. it has a massive big shoota for his left arm and a huge shearing pneumatic power claw for a right arm. and has piston driven stonmpy legs to propel it around the battle field and trample its foes. It’s body is a great big armoured steel kan and it’s front panel is open and it looks to smirking like something, the main engine perhapse is missing.

They stick him in
It wurrrrs to life in a flash of searing pain and then an overwhelming sense of power and invulnerability. His brain is linked to it’s systems through his repaired head and his limbs now control those of the machine as if they were his own. and a red optical display floods his vision Telling him that all systems are Go. He’s huge and stompy and very very killy.
His two creators smile and gape with a sort of orky paternal pride at their living war machine.
He snipps the mek boy in half and pounds 6 bullets into the painboy’s head. The grot orderly scurries away in terror and he lets him go.

Smirking smashes out into the light of a new day.
Huge and deadly and hell bent on revenge against everyone who ever pushed him around or shot at him or tried to stomp on him. Now he’d do the pushing, the shooting and the stomping! On Oomies on Orks on anyone who’d get in his way. and Inside that kan he’s still Smirking, now he’s always smirking.


and Vital Statistics on the final draught. Smirking rolls in at a Novela Length 34,163 words, a significant portion of which are probably badly mangled and over labored ork-talk.

   
Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut





Nottinghamshire

Well I fair skimmed it, because I doubt you ever meant that to be read closely, and it's pretty fascinating to see what ended up being kept. I do like the use of explosion noises.

And crikey, that's a small paperback in itself! Have you thought about compiling it to a PDF so people can pop it on their e-readers? I feel like this kinda fun ought not be forgotten down here.

As an aside... May I recommend a program called Scrivener if you tae another crack at writing such awesome stuff? I was put onto it by a friend, and it's probably the best organic writing tool I've come across. It sounds a little dry, but it allows you to change the interface to support your way of thinking. I have never been excited by software, but I came close.


[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
 
   
Made in us
Yellin' Yoof on a Scooter





texas

Great story. I thoroughly enjoyed the life story of smirking and his fellow grots, even as they died one by one.
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

I've been thinking recently about writing another Smirking story. That is, another ork fiction with the same characters but since I killed 90% of them it'd have to be a totally unrelated story just using the same stock of names and types. Final fantasy style, Cid, Wedge, etc.

Considering how long it took me to put this story together I'll maybe have something for you all by 2021, hopefully sooner.
This time I'm thinking Smirking might find himself in the air force!

   
Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut





Nottinghamshire

Smirking, the Eternal Champion...

I like the idea, there needs to be more grot fiction out there.


[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
 
   
Made in us
Master Shaper




Gargant Hunting

I agree. If you want to write up more Tales of Smirking. Then please, write them, and share them here, regardless if how many decades have passed. I missed this story, and it'd be cool to see more of your work on the forum.

Irishpeacockz-Blackjack needs a pay raise for being the welcomer to the crusade
Palleus-Write a school essay about Kroot! Pride. Prejudice. And Cannibalsim. 
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

Thanks for the vote of confidence. I've been brainstorming the last few days and so far i'm unreasonably excited about all my daft ideas.
It's getting out of control and the crazy is definitely starting to spill out, and right now I have zero free time to write which is frustrating the life out of me.
anyway, if this things hits on half the plot points i'm imagining for it right now it'll be absolutely epic beyond any grot's wildest dreams. I cannot wait to get writing!

   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

Just wanted to shamelessly bump this on account of my recent bout of illustration.

I'm aiming to get at least one picture drawn for each chapter, though some of the bigger chapters, like chapter 9 might get two.
I know its not exactly the done thing round here but I've always wanted to have pictures for this story and this is the only place its ever been shown.

I'll just edit the OP with updates as I go so if you're interested just keep an eye out there. Got 4 of my 13 chapters illustrated so far so still plenty more to go yet.

   
Made in us
Calm Celestian





Atlanta

Awesome work and the illustrations are a fun addition. Thanks for manglingn 'nglish fur uz orkz.

My Sisters of Battle Thread
https://www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/783053.page
 
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

Well folks. It took a little longer than anticipated but I've finally drawn at least one (and sometimes two) pictures for each and every chapter. They are all now included in the original posts. If you read the story before I started drawing these I encourage you to check them out. Illustrating this book had really brought the characters to life for me.

Also I'm very excited to be able to tell you, if you haven't seen already, that I've started uploading my second book in the Illustrated Adventures of Smirking
Smirking Da Chosen One

It's a slightly different format this time around. Shorter chapters and many many more of them. And illustrated as often as the inspiration hits me for that sort sort of thing. Right now I have drafted over 30 chapters and have just started editing and posting them. Only four posted so far.
Its as yet unfinished in the draft but I've a fair idea where I want it to go. But the getting there has been slow and tricky so I've started posting in the hope of inspiring a little more enthusiasm to help me finish the draft. So do let me know if you're enjoying it as we go along. It really helps my brain work.
Its a very different world this time around but if you enjoyed "A Grot's Life" I really think you'll enjoy "Smirking Da Chosen One" too.

Thanks again to everyone who's commented and shared my enthusiasm for daft grot fiction.

   
Made in au
Lone Wolf Sentinel Pilot







Awesome Looking forward to it. Enjoyed Smirking, nice mix balance between their comical, almost playful nature and their violent lust for battle. Writing fits this well and the epic poem version in my opinion plays with this.

   
 
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