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Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






I figured since Zog was double fisting the Ol’ Scrumpy that the mug in his right hand served as his drink for round 3 and the one in his left that he guzzled alight with weirdboy waaaghfire would be his drink for round 4.

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 de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






I'll take a Bullgrox Bitter. Might get around to write something up on monday. My goal is to get around to one of each drink before Toothgrappler passes out ;-)

~6550 build and painted
819 build and painted
830 
   
Made in us
Dakka Veteran





This is awesome!

All the Thunder Tumblers ordered Fungus Brew but continued to be served Bloodweiser this round. (They didn't seem to notice the difference or care)

"Iz got a plan. We line up. Yell Waaagh, den krump them in the face. Den when we're done, we might yell Waagh one more time." Warboss Gutstompa 
   
Made in us
Dakka Veteran





Busta dragged the unconscious body of Waatrik and slid him into a chair with a shrug. "Eh gud show Waatrik. That's a gud yoof now. Hur Hur."

He then had an inkling to check outside the bar to see if Fungis' new Shock Jump Dragsta was still parked outside...and maybe take it for a joy ride if possible. When he checked outside, he noticed it was missing though as it had been "borrowed" by Finga the grot earlier.

So Busta scratched his head and walked back to the bar. When he saw Fungis, he walked over to him.

"Eh Fungis, didn't you drive ere in one of dem Fancy Shock Jump Dragstas? Cuz I went outside an didn't see it. Where it went to eh?"

Meanwhile, Awe-Sum was feeling ready for a scrap of his own. He bellowed in anger after watching the much larger Tiny punch Waatrik off the stage.

"Eh, wot you think your doin ther! Dat Yoof was one of my boyz! The only ork that gits to krump him is me, Orky-Awesum! You got it?"

"Iz got a plan. We line up. Yell Waaagh, den krump them in the face. Den when we're done, we might yell Waagh one more time." Warboss Gutstompa 
   
Made in gb
Liberated Grot Land Raida






Northern Ireland

End of Round 4 Random Draw.
Bonus drinks this round have (disappointingly) been
Rokkit Fuel
And Moonshiner (sorry, no winners there)

But the big bad booze curse has struck on and it’s the BullGrox Bitter!

Bad luck to Toofgrappler and bad luck to Grunt Fume! Let’s see how that goes.

Sorry it’s a long one this time folks.

*********

SkagNet was rubbing his hands together and grinning.

The night was actually going to plan after all. The booze was flowing, the band were a hit. Everybody was enjoying a good time and a good scrap if they felt like it.

Even that odd-boy in the shiny hat seemed to be getting into the spirit of things. He arrived back at the bar and removed a loose tooth from his own gob. Presenting it with a gappy grin he ordered a BullGrox bitter.

“Dat woz some fireworkz you did just den.” Commented SkagNet as he pulled the wierdboy his pint. “Real flashy, wif da fire an’ dat.”

Toofgrappler seemed a little out of sorts after his bout with Waatrik. SkagNet plonked the pint down in front of him but, pulling a small wooden barrel over a little closer SkagNet followed it up with a chaser of Fungis’ special brew. Toofgrappler looked like he could use a little pick-me-up and maybe if he was up to it there might be more fireworks. After-all, who didn’t love fireworks, right?

There was a screech of protesting rubber tyres out the back and the metallic clang of twisting metal.
“Dat must be Finga back wif da WaaaghSteiner.” thought SkagNet aloud. “Scuse me.” He left the bar and ducked outside to the trukk yard.

The scene was one of mild chaos, the kind caused by grots without adequate ork supervision but occasionally best left to them to sort out themselves. Fungis Rotbreff’s nice new Shockjump Dragsta was partially krumped up alongside the band’s Tour Wagon, leaving a great yellow streak of paint up along one side. Finga was already engaged in something between a slagging match and a slap-fight with four of the band’s grot road crew. SkagNet wanted nothing to do with any of that. He was just here for the booze.

Three wooden kegs were still lashed to the spoiler of the dragsta though one of them had taken a hit and was dripping strong smelling brew onto the ground. Zogall’s great Smasha Squig was greedily licking it up and complained loudly as SkagNet attempted to remove the dripping barrel. It snapped at him fiercely catching his metal peg-leg in what would otherwise surely have been a crippling chomp. SkagNet wisely left the third barrel for the smasha squig and carrying the other two back down to the cellar also left Finga to tidy up his own mess.

Once the fresh kegs were tapped and ready SkagNet once again appeared behind the bar hoping to fleece that wealthy Wierdboy of another prize gnasher but Toofgrappler was gone and his drinks were emptied. SkagNet eyed the small wooden barrel that held Fingis’ special brew. It mustn’t be all that if the weirdboy had knocked one back so quick, he thought. Taking up the little cup he served himself up a reasonable measure.

“To da good times and all da Teef .” He saluted himself before tossing the shot back. The stuff kicked like a squigosaur. His head swam for a moment and he staggered reaching a hand out for a bar stool to steady himself. He missed.

Tiny hoisted his boss from the beneath the bar and propped him upright once more against the wall. SkagNet was grinning like a big dope.

“Ialwaysknowdyouwozakindaguy,Tidy.” He slurred. “Youzawright.” SkagNet hiccuped and blinked slowly casting his eye across the crowd. He hadn’t found the weirdboy under the bar at least. But wherever he was there’d be some antics afoot that’s was for sure.

"Eh, wot you think you’re doin there!”

SkagNet couldn’t see who the mouthy newcomer was. Whoever it was Tiny was dealing with him.
“Dat Yoof was one of my boyz!” The gobby git continued. “The only ork that gits to krump him is me, Orky-Awesum! You got it?"

*******

The music had stopped again. There was some confusion on the stage and the crowd were getting agitated.

“Oi! Come on!” They jeered. “Get on wif it!”

“Come on, come on!” They chanted, “come on, come on, come on!”

Rex the bass player slung his heavy instrument on his back and stepped off the stage. Grabbing up the nearest grot he could see by the throat he held the thing up to his eye-level. “Where’s me crew, grot?” He growled.

Smidge could hardly breath but he managed to point to the back door and gasped, “Out back… da Tour Wagon.”

The ork was furious, thinking his road crew were kicking back and slacking on the job. He balled his fists and beat his way out through the grumbling crowd.

“Oi! Fungis Rotbreff!” It was Busta calling from the back door. He dodged the bull-headed bassist heading out and clambered up on a table to get a better view over the crowd. “Oi! Fungis! It’s bad news I’m afraid, bout dat klap-trap you calls a dragsta!”

There was a steady flow of orks following Rex out the door to see what all the fuss was about. “Come see fer yerself.” Called Busta with a wicked glint in his eye. He laughed and followed the crowd out to the yard.

If Rex was angry before he saw the Tour Waggon he was downright livid after.

The scene that greeted him was one of absolute mayhem. Finga was standing atop the Tour Wagon armed with a keg of fungus beer goading a ravenous Smasha Squig into moving this way and that in an effort to dissuade any of Grunt Fume’s angry grot crew from getting too close. The Wagon was a mess, not to mention the now trampled dragsta still lodged up alongside it.

“Me Dragsta!” Yelled Fungis, emerging from the crowd, his head in his hands.

“Gnasher! No!” barked Zogall. “Bad Squig!”

“Waaagh!” Rex screamed throwing an apoplectic hissy fit. Raising his bass high above his head like a great battle axe he charged into the fray like a thing possessed. Rex wasn’t altogether sure what he had in mind but somebody or something was gonna get it!

This message was edited 2 times. Last update was at 2023/01/08 10:20:39


   
Made in gb
Liberated Grot Land Raida






Northern Ireland

[also since SkagNet got some new fungus beer in (some proper good stuff called WaaaghSteiner from a local craft brewery)

“Fungus Beer is back on da menu boyz!” ]

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2022/09/09 23:18:33


   
Made in us
Dakka Veteran





By now the Thunder Tumblers were so drunk that ordering another drink was off the table (also WAAATRIK is stil unconscious from his last bout)...it was decidedly krumping time.


Awe-Sum decided to cut short his conversation with Tiny when he heard the commotion outside. He started to run out there.


He grabbed Busta by the shoulder and pointed.


"Oi that's Fungis' Dragsta ain't it?" He motioned to Busta as he saw the giant Bass player about to roll in and attack Finga.


"Follow me Busta. THUNDER TUMBLERS WAAAAGH!"

Busta and Awe-sum try and crash into the raging bass player's flank in an attempt to knock him down and give him a good kicking.

"Zog da music! Keep da Beer!" Awe-Sum roars

Busta starts to laugh uncontrolably as he attacks the bass player.

"Iz got a plan. We line up. Yell Waaagh, den krump them in the face. Den when we're done, we might yell Waagh one more time." Warboss Gutstompa 
   
Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






"HNNNGGG..." Toothgrappler hissed between his teeth... that Bullgrox Bitter really had some nasty sting today. Or maybe he was beginning to loose his stomach? Had he become that old? Anyway the stuff was getting to his head and made him feel... not really dizzy, more worked up, twitchy... Feeling the desperate need to get some energy out of his system. But maybe it wasn't even the Grog but just the atmosphere around him beginning to boil up, that made his skin crawl and scalp itch.

Drifting with the flow the Weirdboy followed the others outside, where more shouting was going on and the ambience seemed positively buzzing. And there he saw Rex, just about to get it on with his battle axe, screaming "Waaagh!". That was it! That's what live is all about! Throwing away his walking cane Toothgrappler ran... OK, more like stumbled determined as fast as the bad Bullgrox let him, his head a dark green hue from the blood rushing through his veins towards the raging bass player, screaming "WAAAGH!" himself, while the flames on his still rotating top had turned blue and purple and little sparks kept buzzing and dashing all around him, zapping the audience. Completely without a concrete idea what he even wanted to do, just going with the flow, he just stumbled in front of the bassist, his arms wide open burbling "Come on ya sissy! Hit me!"

[If he does, Toothgrappler will discharge quite a bit of Waagh energy into Rex. Get creative what this does...]

~6550 build and painted
819 build and painted
830 
   
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






Dozens of orks and gretchin alike in the parking lot of Da Guzzling Grox were now engaged in a brutal melee. Rex had made his way to the battlewagon before being attacked, and was giving as good as he got, but was badly outnumbered and he knew it. More orks were piling in, crazed by the expectation of a proppa bench-clearing bar brawl.

Out of nowhere, a glowing weirdboy appeared in front of him, goading him to take a swing, leaving his assailants temporarily as confused as he was. Rex took full advantage of the distration by backing his way up the dragsta, planted one foot on the battle wagon's ladder, his other foot on Gnasha Smasha's saddle and deftly (for an ork his size) clambered up onto the deck of the battlewagon where he started wildly swinging his giant bass once more. One backswing inadvertently sent Finga flying into the crowd below.

Gnasha swung round and took notice of the shiny pendulum. The great squigosaur extended his neck and chomped down hard on a corner of the body of the bass, but it didn't yield, the black and white checkered paint merely chipped and flaked off under his teeth, revealing a most un-orky scheme of pink and purple flames beneath.

Rex yanked it free just in time to swing it at the head of Teethgrappla, the drunken warphead who had made it to the top of the ladder. The bass knocked the hat off the surprised ork, but missed doing any damage.

Teethgrappla jumped in front of Rex, the green glow now pulsing erratically, with all sorts of colors emanating from the stones set into the rings on his fingers.
The weirdboy drew back for a punch, and a maelstrom of swirling, glowing green vapors formed a fist the size of Gnasha's great armored head around his own hand.
He swung forward and the Waaagh! fist connected with the strings of the bass that Rex had pulled in front of him like a shield at the last second.

The discharge of the Waaagh! energy into the ancient and posessed Noise Marine instrument created a deafening and unholy noise, the shockwave of which knocked all of the nearby orks flat on their backs.
All the orks except Rex. He felt as though his boots were welded to the upper deck of the battlewagon, the energy flowing through the bass was also flowing through his feet, through the wagon, and into the earth.
All at once, he was at one with the instrument, at one with the amassed orks, and visions of all the battles ever fought on Armageddon played out in his mind.
Silhouetted against Armageddon's largest moon, he clutched the neck of the bass with his left hand, selecting the lowest chord he could think of, raised his right fist high, and then brought it down hard against the two strings, drubbing out a rhythmic series of controlled shockwaves, milder than the first but enough to keep any other potential aggressors at a safe distance.

By now, the entire grounds of Da Guzzling Grox was a mobscene, a green tide of amassed orks drinking, fighting, and having a glorious time.

One ork, who had been having a fantastic time earlier, was done taking in the scene from the back doorway. Even this much riotous ork energy couldn't keep him from feeling despondent about the loss of his shiny new dragsta. Fungis Rottbreff ambled back to the bar and slumped into his stool.

"I'll 'ave a Blindsnake Malt then if you please, Smidge."

Smidge, hoping he could avoid getting sucked into this latest round of orkish savagery was the only employee still dutifully manning the taps. "You sure about that gov?"

"Yeah, I'm not too keen on remembering anyfing alluvasudden" shrugged Fungis.

"'Ere you are then," Smidge said, passing the mug over, curious to see the effect of Fungis's first sip. He'd seen all sorts of things happen when orks ordered a round of this stuff.
But to his dismay, no snakes or squigs jumped out of the mug to take off Fungis's face.

Fungis was distractedly regarding a squad of Sunz burna boyz at the opposite end of the bar nearest the stage who had eagerly gathered up any of the flaming blue drinks lit by Teethgrappler's focused Waaagh! energy earlier and had made a pyramid of them four mugs square at the base. The rest of the enchanted drinks in the bar had long since either been guzzled or gone out, but the focused intensity with which these burnas were staring at their assembled monolith was keeping the Waaagh! flames alight.

Suddenly, the heat of the pyre at the base melted the top two tiers of mugs, sending a sludgy mixture of molten pot metal and flaming blue liquid down the structure, melting the rest of the mugs as it progressed.
Before this lavaflow could spill over the far end of the bar it burned a hole right through the wood and the flaming blue napalm started dripping... right onto the keg of Fungis' special brew, hastily stashed there by Tiny after seeing the effect it had on his employer.

"'Ere we go" sighed Fungis, hugging his mug to his chest as he hunkered down below his stool to take what little cover was offered by being on this side of the bar.
"Aw nuts" said Smidge, hopping over the bar and taking cover along side him.

In an instant, half the bar was gone, the squad of burnas was effectively vaporized, and a whole corner of Da Guzzlin Grox was now an open-air venue.

The rest of Grunt Fume who had been trying to figure out what to do with the throbbing pulse of bass waves rattling the joint from outside could now see their errant bassist, collectively found their muse, turned their amps up to eleven and began rocking harder than they ever had before.

It was enough to even break Fungis out of his funk and consider that surely there had to be some way to salvage this night out and possibly even profit off of tonight's misfortune.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2022/11/09 07:08:25


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
Liberated Grot Land Raida






Northern Ireland

End of Round 5 Random Draw.
Bonus drinks this round are Moonshiner (Again!)
And Blindsnake Malt.

I think Fungis Rotbreff is on the Blindsnake bus right now so maybe his luck his changing. A blindsnake-induced bout of inspiration perhaps or just a big win over the gobby Thunder Tumblers.

And sadly for any Deffskullz still on the Scrumpy it might be one pint too many as this round the scrump is cursed. Expect a krumpin’ if you’ve be a scrumpin!

*********

[Please accept my apologies for leaving everyone without a drink for quite so long . Gulgog has dutifully nudged me into action a couple of times but it took a while for the inspiration to brew into another round. Thanks for your patience and I hope there’s still some interest in picking up this brawl from where we all left off. ]


DA SHOW MUST GO ON!

SkagNet held the big bucket as Smirking pushed the worst of the rubble and detritus off the bar with a long-handled rake. He tossed the rubble, bucket-and-all out of the gaping hole in the back wall along with a loose brick and a spare arm.

“Ah… ‘s tidy ‘nuff.” he concluded. Smirking was picking the last of the crud off the rokkit fuel pump and Finga was making a tidy job of collecting the spare teef from the dead burna boyz.

SkagNet hoisted a fresh keg of WaaaghSteiner right up onto the wonky end of the remaining half of the bar and, knocking a heavy steel tap into the bottom of it declared the Guzzlin’ Grox once again ready to resume doing bizzniss.

The place had emptied a bit though, with most of his punters heading out to the yard but since a large section of the back wall had been blown out in the blast and Da Grox had become something of open-air venue, it didn’t seem to make much of a difference. Smidge was still running drinks out to the crowd through the hole in the wall and the band now up on top of their own tour wagon were really killing the encore.

Yes, SkagNet congratulated himself with a swig of Waaaghsteiner; He’d really played a blinder this time.
He swilled the stuff around and was about to swallow it down when the sight of something somewhat alarming ejected the mouthful from his toothless gob.

It was the bright yellow flack jacket that caught his eye first. The old familiar yellow with black flames of the Badmoon Clan. But this ork wasn’t boozing. His was an attitude of work, and diligent work at that. The kind of work an ork only does (in an atmosphere as outright Orky as this!) when Da Boss is watching.

“Wot in da name o’ zog?” began SkagNet, frantically casting around for a big ork. Someone huge and yellow and more than likely mechanically enhanced. “Oi Smidge, wotz goin’ on?”

“More Scrumpy!” Came the grot’s reply with an armful of empty tankards all looking to be refilled. Smirking appeared with another drum of the stuff and heaved it right up onto the ruins of the wall to allow Smidge to fill his order. SkagNet frowned. He would have to go out there and see for hizself.

The yard was bedlam. Tiny had lost any semblance of control over the “door” and was now just boozing with the rest. The whole back end of the bar was spilling out into the street where the jolly blootered revellers of the Grox mingled with the well-fed patrons of GoreBad’s Grill from across the street and a lot of dour-faced young stormboy-types who liked to hang about the big Goff-gear outlet looking dead grim an’ pretending to be real Skarboys. There were even a few curious SnakeBite merchants who had sold all their Boar-hides and were looking to spend their earnings.

SkagNet watched in growing concern as not just one but a whole team of yellow-jackets erected a great box of steel trellis above the tour van that had become the outdoor stage. Grot riggers were already swarming over it before the spannas had even secured the bolts. Most alarming of all was that many of the yellow-jacketed orks were toting the kind of gear that SkagNet hadn’t seen since his days as a Kommando. A lot of satchels and spools of primer cord. The kind of stuff you might need if you intended to blow something up.

SkagNet beat a path through the crowd heading for the main-stage.

The Thunder Tumblers had carved out a space for throwing elbows in front of the wagon and SkagNet gave their mosh-pit a wide berth as he headed for the foot of the hastily erected rigging, the side with most wires coming down it, all curiously wound into one long cord snaking off behind the wagon, no doubt to some enormous detonator. And where there was an enormous detonator, SkagNet surmised, there was sure to be… an absolutely enormous Boss.

SkagNet shambled to a halt utterly lost for words.

He had intended to storm in with a gogful of “What’s all dis den?” and “Who do ya fink you iz?!” but the words died on his craggy old lips. There in the shadow of the tour wagon, tickling ZoggAll's colossal smasha squig’s belly with a power claw the size of a trukk was the BadMoon Boss. SkagNet recognised him as none other than the Big Mek NazzRokkit. The BigMek’s gears ground and pistons protested as the several tonnes of bright yellow Jerry-rigged mega-armour shifted to accommodate his turning to face the bartender. Gnashes Smasha who had been enjoying a nice tummy tub growled at SkagNet with an evil look.

“Dis, your Smasha Squig?” asked NazzRokkit.

“No.” SkagNet eyed the thing warily and didn’t get any closer. “It’s my bar.”

“Nice place you got ‘ere.” Said NazzRokkit. “Propa show dis… at least it will be. Me an’ me ladz iz busy see. It’s nearly ready.” He indicated the coil of primer cord looping into a big plunger just off to one side.

SkagNet followed NazzRokkit’s glance up into the rigging. High overhead a dozen or more packets and devices were all strapped and ready, all rigged to explode.

SkagNet was almost afraid to ask. “Nearly ready… fer wot?”

“For da big finale of course!” He grinned and tickled the big Smasha Squig’s tummy again excitedly, “Izn’t dat right boy?” The monstrous beast lolloped around its leg flailing happily as if scratching its self. “Yeah! Dat’s right,” laughed NazzRokkit, “Dis show’s gonna go off wif a BANG!”

   
Made in us
Dakka Veteran





Huzzah Da Krow haz returned! BTW I feel like we need at least one reference to the Goff Rocker at this point since that is a thing now.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2023/03/29 10:37:40


"Iz got a plan. We line up. Yell Waaagh, den krump them in the face. Den when we're done, we might yell Waagh one more time." Warboss Gutstompa 
   
Made in gb
Liberated Grot Land Raida






Northern Ireland


Goff Rockers have always been a thing, but by all means go ahead and write it up. We need a new act for the main stage anyway.

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2023/03/29 12:35:36


   
Made in us
Dakka Veteran





Nice!

Actually, wanted to ask. Anyone from this thread up for a Wrath and Glory game over these forums? Wrath and Glory has rules for ork characters so it'd be a bit like this narrative fiction but with some rolling. (Which I could do as story teller if you aren't familiar with the system).

I was thinking of starting a short one where its just an orky race...with a few surprises.

"Iz got a plan. We line up. Yell Waaagh, den krump them in the face. Den when we're done, we might yell Waagh one more time." Warboss Gutstompa 
   
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






Sorry, after giving you a hard time about the delay, now I’m the one slacking. I’ll write up another bit here whenever I get some time at the real keyboard (I can’t stand writing anything longer than a quick text from my phone).

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
Liberated Grot Land Raida






Northern Ireland

No joke, I write everything on my phone. All of it, for years, in note pad on my iPhone.

I rush. Just take it easy and enjoy it.

   
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






Fungis ambled out the now open corner of da Grox, swilling his Blindsnake Malt. Five beers in and he was getting a pretty decent buzz. Grunt Fume had since joined their bassist at the top of their tour wagon and were playing the heaviest tune Fungis had ever heard. He wandered over to the merch tent and bought a copy of their latest for the player in his dragsta before remembering that the dragsta was zogged proppa. He tucked the datastick into his shirt pocket and pushed his way towards the stage but stopped a row short of the mosh pit.

The swirling melee of orks in front of him was mostly obscured by the cloud of dust kicked up by the stomping of so many boots. Every now and then, he could make out a face or a fist, or an elbow, but in aggregate it was just a storm of squighide leather, green skin and brown dust. He looked down at his own boots, now decades old and remembered how much fun it was to mix it up in something like this when he was a yoof. The glint of something shiny under his left boot caught his eye. He reached down and picked it up; it was a toof, not particularly large, but clad in gold.

"Musta come outta da gob uv some BadMoon" mused Fungis.

There was another one right next to it, although this was just a plain old ork toof. He picked this one up too and pocketed them both. Glancing around, he realized that there were more teef every couple of feet. The brawl in the pit in front of him was literally generating currency! He scouted around the perimeter of the pit, collecting them and putting them into a sack on his belt. This was the easiest money he'd ever made!

Suddenly, a plan formulated in his mind. He knew that Thunder Tumbler git must be in the thick of it somewhere and remembered crowd surfing once or twice as a yoof. Clambering up the shoulders of a couple of smaller orks on the side of the pit, he pushed off the helmeted head of one and dove across the top of the crowd. It was slightly easier to make heads or tails of the scene from on top of it. Sure enough, he caught sight of Busta, arms and fists flailing, stomping and fighting to the music. It was difficult to stay afloat, much less choose a direction, but after a minute or two, fortune brought Fungis face to face with his soon to be rival.

"Oi! Busta! You still wanna race? Meet me at da end of da strip whenever you's ready. Winna takes all!"

Fungis planted his boot squarely on the back of a particularly surly looking nob and pushed off towards the edge of the pit.

Once free and clear, he headed with single focus to WarpRokka's mek shop at the far end of the one road leading through town.

"Fungis," exclaimed a surprised Rokka, "Didn't expect to see you back 'ere fer a while. There ain't much I can do to upgrade dat dragsta I sold ya, it's pretty flash as is."

Trust a weirdboy to be so absorbed by his gubbins that he was missing the show of a lifetime right outside his door thought Fungis. "Da dragsta's zogged. I need a new one- tonight."

"Tonight? I ain't got anuvver dragsta, but feel free ta look around, plenty of uvver fast fings in 'ere, take your pick!"

Fungis was exasperated, he had to win. "What's da fastest fing you got den, eh?"

"Oh um... probably dis one 'ere," said Rokka, pointing to a shiny red and orange coupe with six exhausts to a side, it's nose pointing out an open rollup door.

"What's dat den?"

"It's a uh, dey call it a uh...a Boomdakka Snazzwagon, yeah dat's it! Got it from a Sunz lad wot couldn't pay up." Fungis noticed a bullet hole in the metal plate windshield that went all the way through the driver's headrest. Rokka continued, "Speakin' a which, you got da teef fer somefin' like this?"

Fungis dumped the pile of teef he had collected onto the nearest level surface and uttered, "I'll take it!", but suddenly it didn't seem like enough. "Tell ya wot, you can 'ave deez, and I'll frow in four kegs a Scrump ta boot, deliver 'em first fing tomorra."

"I don't need any Scrump, I still got a keg from yer final payment on da dragsta."

Fungis was starting to panic, he had to show those other orks who was da best at racin' and there was no way he could win in his delivery truck, even with his special fuel additive. Then he remembered he had something that would give any Mekboy a competetive edge. "'Ow about deez teef 'ere, and I'll give ya two kegs of my own special brew. You've seen what it can do."

Rokka capitulated. "All right, she's yours," he agreed, pushing the teef into a pan, "two full kegs of da good stuff, not dem little half-kegs you carry around, first fing tomorrow, or I send da collection team."

"Fanks Rokka, I owes ya one!"

"Two!" corrected Rokka, but Fungis had already jumped into the cockpit of his new ride and fired it up. Flames shot out the exhausts. Whether or not it was fast, it was definitely loud.

Fungis rolled out onto the main drag and trolled his way past the buildings, the noise of the engine clearing a path through the crowd in front of him. He parked his new ride at the end of the strip and sat on the hood, finishing his beer, taking in the scene, and waiting for word of the race to spread. He caught Smidge's attention who had just delivered a round to a group of Bad Moonz who appeared to be taking a break from a hard day's work. Fungis couldn't imagine why anyone would be working on a day like today and ordered up a Rokkit Fuel to get in da mood for some high speed action.


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
Dakka Veteran





Busta was never one to back down from a challenge, especially one involving speed.

"Alright wot you got anyway? I'll be driving da old style Wartrakk. Got sum special Nitro Squigs ready ta give me da boost I needs ta win." Not ta mention, it can get out right quick if it goes into a sand dune. Dem Meks don't make em like they used too. Dats for sure.


"Iz got a plan. We line up. Yell Waaagh, den krump them in the face. Den when we're done, we might yell Waagh one more time." Warboss Gutstompa 
   
Made in gb
Liberated Grot Land Raida






Northern Ireland

End of Round 6 Random Draw.
Bonus drinks this round are Fungus Beer (the new kegs of Waaasteiner are going down a treat, SkagNet among the lucky orks catching a break) and Rokkit Fuel. (Looks like Fungis Rotbreff has picked a winner this time too.)

And The poison chalice this time has been the Bullgrox. (Don’t recall anyone on the Bullgrox last round, maybe just the Band.

*********
AT THIS POINT I WANT TO UNEQUIVOCALLY STATE THAT I DO NOT CONDONE DRINK-DRIVING UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. DRIVING UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF THE WAAAAAGH OR ANY OTHER MIND-ALTERING SUBSTANCE IS ALWAYS REPREHENSIBLY IRRESPONSIBLE AND DANGEROUS. THE EVENTS AND CHARACTERS DESCRIBED IN THIS STORY ARE INCREDIBLY STUPID AND SHOULD NOT BE CONSIDERED IN ANY WAY EXAMPLES OF CORRECT OR LAUDABLE BEHAVIOUR.

*********

The second racer to arrive was accompanied by a cacophonous fanfare of popping pipes. But it wasn’t Busta.

“Wot in da name Gork?” Fungis was almost stupified at the sight of the Badmoon Weirdboy Toothgrappler rolling up alongside in what might only be described as a three wheeled exhaust manifold. He sat low in the saddle, arms hanging from long gooseneck handlebars, enthroned among a riotous pipe-work that might have rivalled an imperial cathedral organ, and certainly made more noise.

“I heard dere woz a race on.” Toothgrappler grinned broadly beneath the rim of his tall top hat, like as if he knew the race was already in the bag.

Fungis tried not to show any concern. “Bah, dat fing ain’t no racer.” He scoffed, “dis here iz a Boomdakka Snazzwagon! It’s built fer speeeeed.”

If Toothgrappler was listening he made absolutely no response. The wierdboy delicately picked a snot from his right nostril with a dapper claw and flicked it at a passing hover fly. The snot burst into blue flame and both fell to the ground in a trail of white smoke.

Fungis eyed the rear armour of his speeda warily.

Down toward the bar the crowd was spilling out onto the street. One great hairy head raised above the mass turned onto the main drag and the crowd broke to reveal…

“GnashaSmasha?” It looked like Zogall’s mighty smasha Squig had been kitted out with some snazzy gear. Snakebite Snazzy, all plumes and leather trappings, the great beast had been harnessed to a sleek and spiky looking chariot. Zoggall rode behind standing tall and statuesque in a great maned Squigskull headdress, stating quite emphatically the full glory and pride of his ancient clan. The challenge was clear. It was a flesh over steel.

As the squigosaur plodded heavily toward them Fungis couldn’t help but notice the immense bulk of rippling muscle ready to leap into action, the teeth as long and numerous as a whole squad of choppas ready to chomp. The old chariot too was much bigger and more substantial than it had appeared at a distance. Up close the iron-studded and carven wood seemed almost alive with spiralling snakes and snarling boars. It boasted battle scars that might have told the tale of a century of hard-won victories.

Zoggal looked down upon the newfangled Snazzwagon with a sneer that said, Da old ways is da best.

“Ere we go! Ere we go! Ere we go!“ A familiar chant was rippling out from the crowd now accompanied by a throaty roaring engine and the clanking of tracks. The Thunder Tumblers had gathered the enthusiastic support of their fellow revellers, who fresh from the mosh pit were in good spirits and ready to sing Busta to glory.

The old wartrakk was a rugged and dependable looking machine, well armoured and with a hefty looking pair of linked shootas up top. Busta for all his bluster and mouthing looked like the bizzness in his driving goggles and a shiny red helmet. Everyone knows a red racing hat makes a driver think faster.

Busta gunned the engine to an aggressive growl and put on a little too much pace for the starting grid, squeezing his wartrakk in between Fungis and Zogal with an impressive bit of skill that even made the squigosaur sidestep and snort. Busta snorted right back. He was in no mood to take that kind of gak off of anyone.

Fungis was back in the driving seat now. Letting the engine idle and warm up.
“Dere’s still a chance to pull out, ya know.” He called over to Busta, “You could avoid the humiliation.” But Busta was all focus, single-minded determination. To race and win.

Fungis decided to let his machine do the talking. Pressing his boot down on the accelerator the Boomdakka Snazzwagon went from a purring kitty-Squig to a screaming banshee in the blink of an eye.

“Holy Mork Almighty!” Whooped Fungis, his blood singing in concert with the howling, fine-tuned racer at his fingertips. “Dis is gonna be a real proppa race dis is!”

   
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






As the engine settled back into idle, Fungis felt the whole frame shift first left, then right. Peering through the mesh behind him he was confronted with the dulled-finish bull-shaped belt buckle of what must be a sizeable Goff.
What da... he stuck his head out the window and looked back as best he could. Sure enough, some grox-headed ork had clambered aboard his rig. "Who da zog're you?!?" he demanded.
The goff grabbed the roll cage and leaned over so that the iron of his metal lower jaw was practically touching Fungis's nose. "GrimGob Gorgutz," he replied matter-of-factly.
"Well, geroff!" shouted the enraged Fungis, "you're just gonna slow us down!"
"You got a turret up 'ere, ain't ya?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Well, you ain't got no gunna, 'as ya?"
Fungis merely stared stupidly. The blind rage mixed with the fog of the half dozen or so ales he had guzzled was preventing a coherent retort from forming, but if he had managed to verbalize the string of expletives running through his head at present it would be enough to make a freebooter kaptin tip his tricorn in admiration.
"Well, now you 'as one."
"BAH!" he shouted, resigned to his fate. He pulled his head back in the cockpit only to find that some other idiot had Orks-of-Hazarded his way into the passenger seat. A sunz lad, and a burna boy to boot. Things had gone from bad to terrible. This cretin had a leather flyboy's cap and goggles pulled down over his eyes, and reeked of alcohol and promethium. Worse still, he had managed to stash a crate full of bottles between his feet while Fungis was arguing with the git on the boot.
"Get out, get out! and take yer booze wiv ya!" he shouted.
But it was too late. Skagnet had climbed up on the top of a nearby truck and had a slugga in the air ready to fire the shot that would start the mayhem. The chant of 'Ere we go, Ere we go! from outside was reaching a fevered pitch so Fungis slammed the new Grunt Fume datastick in the soundblasta and cranked it to eleven. His knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel and shifter and he hunkered down over the dash to get into tha racing spirit. It was time to show these gitz who was boss.

This message was edited 2 times. Last update was at 2023/11/15 05:25:35


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
Dakka Veteran





[LOL, when we wrap this up I would totally run a wrath and glory ork game on these forums for you guys]

Busta doesn't wait for the opening shot, he immediately hits the thrustas on his Wartrakk and peels out loudly, gunning down the street as fast as he can.

"Last one to da end is a rotten squig!"

"Iz got a plan. We line up. Yell Waaagh, den krump them in the face. Den when we're done, we might yell Waagh one more time." Warboss Gutstompa 
   
Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






Toothgrappler inhaled loudly through nose and gritted teeth, savouring the beautiful odor of WHAAAG like a human somelier would relish the fine aromas of a good wine. "Ah... That's da good stuff! Don't ya think, Balthasar?" His posh little Grot, that had introduced the weirdboy at the Guzzlin' Grox rolled his eyes "Just my words boss, just my words. Beg ya pardon boss, but looks like da race already started. Mind if we join in?" "Splendid, old chap, lets do it!" replied Toothgrappler in good humor and floored the gas, raising a cloud of glowing green fume from his wild assortment of exhaust, as the engine roared like a dying squiggosaurus and catapulted the trike forwards in a series of of little jumps, accompanied by fizzling WHAAAG energies.

~6550 build and painted
819 build and painted
830 
   
Made in gb
Liberated Grot Land Raida






Northern Ireland

Yeay, the whole gang’s here. Nice to be back at the Guzzling Grox.

Not sure how much sense it would make to keep doing the “round of drinks” thing. (Not sure how much sense it ever made…

Unless. What if I roll on some sort of random race events table each round!? That could be fun?

   
Made in us
Dakka Veteran





I say go for it. Like you said, da orkz iz done drinkin, Now it's time to start drivin.

"Iz got a plan. We line up. Yell Waaagh, den krump them in the face. Den when we're done, we might yell Waagh one more time." Warboss Gutstompa 
   
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






Agreed. Thanks for jumping back into the driver’s seat!

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
Liberated Grot Land Raida






Northern Ireland

RACE EVENTS TABLE (subject to approval)

1 Dust storm - a horrible dust storm blows in- visibility is almost zero

2 This way is a dead end!- The racers bunch up and manoeuvre uncomfortably close to get back on track.

3 Pedestrian precinct- stupid orks and grots are littering up the racetrack with their markets and their general pedestrian obstructions. Don't they know there's a race on?

4 Roadside explosion- something goes boom and the leader is taken down a peg as they shake the shrapnel out of their hair-Squig.

5 Snipers on the roof- a couple of bored flash gits are taking pot-shots at the racers.

6 Sacred grox - a massive ancient Bull-Grox bedecked in sacred painted glyphs and holy gubbinz is sitting slap bang in the middle of the road.

7 Mind that Squig! - Whatever you write for this round it must include a significant even involving a wayward Squig.

8 Ammo jam- no shooting this round until the guns get unjammed

9 Minefield- what idiot led us down this way? Everyone knows this is an old minefield.

10 New crewmember- boot someone out, grab an unsuspecting bystander from the crowd, call in your best buddy to man the tail gun. Let's mix it up.

11 All change - this is your chance to get a new ride if you want one. Crash the trash and snatch something flash! Anything goes, just get behind the wheel and keep racing.

12 Heist getaway- some dirty theiving freebooter is making off with a huge bag of teef and they think the lead racer is their getaway car.

13 Rugged hellscape-this section of the roadway was burried long ago in a long forgotten war and is now a narrow and treacherous network of tunnels and twisted passage ways- can the racers navigate this gauntlet of deadly hazards?

14 Pit stop- the mek boys in these parts will compete to flag down racers and kit them out with an item of their flashiest gear to show off their skills- your racers get fixed up for the next leg of the race with a little something extra to boot.

15 Drag race- we're out on the strip now, just long straight road as far as the eye can see. Throttle up, pedals down, burn rubber and let the engines roar. it's time for flat out speed.

16 Dirty tactics- if you ain't cheatin' you ain't tryin'

17 The lead racer has caught fire! Put it out, use the smoke or share the love by slamming your flaming chariot into the nearest rival racer that looks like he could use a light.

18 WaaaghStorm-The crowd are fired up and the air is positively tingling with orkish energy. You can feel the power of the waaagh coursing through your blood, through your engines, through your mind. You begin to feel like almost anything could happen.

19 Deploy a secret weapon- we've all got secrets and every now and then it comes the time to let the cat out of the bag.

20 Insane stunt bonus- not content to just drive fast or even to drive with expert skill and dexterity, it is the pride of any self-respecting ork driver to really go for it and pull off something downright spectacular when the opportunity arrises.


The idea would be that each round I’ll roll a D20 and write up the round intro accordingly. If I roll one we’ve already had I’ll roll it again. Or if if there’s a consensus that one or other of the options would be appropriate or timely I’ll just go with that one. Any fun ideas or suggestions for amendments to the list before I roll the first leg of the race?

This message was edited 2 times. Last update was at 2023/11/23 10:28:49


   
Made in us
Dakka Veteran







WAAAGH SPEED FREAKS!

Might be worth changing the thread title at this point to see if any new racers want to join

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2023/11/23 02:57:04


"Iz got a plan. We line up. Yell Waaagh, den krump them in the face. Den when we're done, we might yell Waagh one more time." Warboss Gutstompa 
   
Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






The table sounds fun, I'm all for it

~6550 build and painted
819 build and painted
830 
   
Made in us
Stabbin' Skarboy






So good, this is gonna be fun! How many rounds of racin’ should we do/are you willing to support?

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2023/11/23 13:39:23


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
Liberated Grot Land Raida






Northern Ireland

How many rounds might depend on how well it’s going or how much sense it’s making. We’ll play it by ear for a few and see what we think.

One thing I can’t quite figure out is how we would declare a winner. It’s an undefined course with no clear end and No clear rules around how we might fairly decide a winner.

It doesn’t just go to the first player to write, “Then all the other cars exploded and Orky McOrkface crossed the finish line first.” Not that any of us would want to be that guy but it’s a conundrum how to write so it’s still fun for the other players when the story is essentially ‘Whack the other guys and take the lead.’

But I have confidence in each of us that if we all keep doing what we’ve been doing it’ll work out well in the end.


   
Made in de
Boom! Leman Russ Commander






I'm sure it will. Also I think the Orky way is "the winner is the guy having the most fun and the treasure are the friends we made along the way"

~6550 build and painted
819 build and painted
830 
   
 
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