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Pacing to and fro on the bridge of his kill krooza Dakkatoof, Warlord Bragutz da Shooty pondered his next move. He had taken the head of the daemon prince Hezzal Roarink, he had shot the acclaimed dark elder Archon Yuril Risshalh to bits, he had even personally squeezed the life out of the former Warboss Snidrad to earn this position. The old boss’s blood was still wet at Bragutz’s feet when he heard a yell. By the time he spun around to see who dared speak without his explicit permission, the damage had already been done. A great shudder rocked the Dakkatoof, sending Bragutz’s surrounding boyz spinning to the ground. But Bragutz himself stood firm, eyes blazing with fury at whoever had dared open fire on his beloved krooza. A glimpse of a blue vessel crossed his squinting vision, and the weedy gretchin shout of “Its da Ultramarines!” was enough to convince him of who, why and most importantly where he could find this new foe. As images of carnage and vengeance swam in his skull, the Warboss Bragutz da Shooty vowed to see Dernius Glavier of the Ultramarines 3rd company beaten, bloody and begging for mercy...

Death is beautiful thing. Its meaning can be interpreted in a hundred thousand different ways. It can be delivered in twice as many. Quantity, quality and observational ability are all a few of the many factors contributing to one’s demise. High Archon Velvius Shrite was musing again, seated upon his throne of dark obsidian, forged from the by-product of the rejuvenation process harnessed by the Heamonculi, crystallised with ten thousand souls of those tortured and tormented at his feet. As he searched his infinitely complex mind for new material, his words were so delicately carved onto the flesh of a captured ork, its bellows wild but not overruling the harsh yet precise tone of the Archon of the Splintered Souls. Then, like a sudden craving, a thought like no other struck him like a solid blow. The dark figure next to him shivered in anticipation as it read the emotions of its master. Slowly, a twisted smile etched itself onto his fractured visage, a warning of the foredooming pain and pleasure. The grimacing overlord rose from his perch, striding gracefully towards the screaming greenskin.
“Your suffering is at an end, ork.” milked the tall alien. “If, that is, you can tell me, the name of your last master.”
“Wot, boss Snidrad? E’ was dead last I ‘eard of im. Wots it to you?” stammered the terrified orkoid.
“He has something that I would treasure greatly. A device, pioneered by the Tau, thet is now kept in the recesses of his ship. Am I correct?”.
“Yeah, he did. A ‘uge gun, from a whole Tau krooza. We was fightin’ dat Farsight, da Tau boss der. Da boss said it was really important, somink about blowing up da spiky boyz planet in da Warp. It was ‘uge, big as a wagon. If ‘e used it on a planet, dat fing would come down fasta dan a Snakebite on a deffcopta.”
“So, it was a weapon then. And how, may I enquire, did Snidrad intend to fire this weapon?”
“Actually, dats were I come in. I was his ‘ead Mekboy. I was in charge of fixin’ it up to shoot, before your boyz brung me ‘ere. It was complicated, so I told da Grots to remember some of it. If I got a hold of it, and da Grots, I could probably get it workin’. Wadda ya say?”
“I say that we should get to know one another over a meal. What is a delicacy among your kind?”
“Well, I’m no chef, but da best I’ve ever had was some sissy legs in Squig grease.”
“Very well. Slave, fetch our guest what he requested, and have it prepared in the dinging hall.” As the ork was untied, the slave approached the Archon.
“Sir, where will we find this meal for him?” .
“Serve up my third Dracon, Fivili. He wasn’t much good elsewhere anyway..."

Ah, a Dark Eldar, and an Ork teaming up? I like it.

Nice mini-story, good prose! Join my choose ur own story under other dakka>chain fiction