Orkoid birthing sac, Tswaing, 659.M41 – One year prior to the Battle of Highpoint

The creature that would become the ork known as Choppa shifted in his birthing-sac. He was uncomfortable. Confined. It had never felt this way before. He had always felt safe and protected inside it, but now he felt cramped, constrained. The sac had shrunk, or maybe it was his body that had grown bigger. Either way, he wanted out.
His nails had not yet toughened, but still he managed to use them to score a groove on the inside. He dug his fingers into the groove and pulled it apart. After a moment’s resistance, the sac tore and split apart. Choppa felt a new sensation, that of loose earth between his fingers. It crumbled as he grasped at it; he had never felt anything crumble before. He liked it. He tried the taste of it, then felt the muscles of his face grimace and scowl. The taste he did not like and he spat it out. He was angry now. He had never experienced it before, but he recognised the sense of power he felt with it.
He grabbed the soil in front of him and started shovelling great handfuls of it. He did not know what was before him, but he knew that his future was out; there was nothing left back inside for him. He felt his fingers break out of the earth, and he reached up until there was nothing more to grasp. He pushed with his other hand, shuffled forwards and straightened his spine to shove his head through as well.
He felt a chill on his hand, outside the soil. Something moved past it; something light, just brushing over his skin. He felt his mouth and throat reverberate into a growl. He tried to speak but more soil fell into his mouth. He spat again, as hard as he could this time, and pushed himself up with all his might. The top of his head broke out. He felt the air sweep over his hairless scalp and around his pointed ears. He pushed again and he felt his face scrape free. He opened his red eyes and saw for the first time.
There was a figure there. He was facing in Choppa’s direction, but he didn’t see him. Choppa saw that the figure was in light while he was in darkness. Choppa looked up and saw the twisted gills of a blackened toadstool casting shade where he emerged. The figure looked his way and Choppa held still. He knew it was bad to be seen. The figure pulled something from the ground, turned and walked off. When he was out of sight Choppa moved again. He pulled himself entirely free, pushing the canopy of the toadstool out of his way and stretching out to his full height. The figure was larger than him, he could tell. That meant he was small. That meant he didn’t have power. He was not safe. He must find more strength to protect himself. He looked in the direction the figure had gone and then in the direction he had come from. It was a simple choice. He took his first step after the figure.

His steps were halting at first as he swayed and staggered, grabbing at the fungus growths around him to keep him steady. His balance came to him quickly, however, and then he could walk with more confidence. He could see the figure ahead of him now. He saw him bend down and pull something from the ground. He straightened up, looked closely at what he held in his hand, then pulled a small object from around his neck and blew into it. Choppa heard the noise. The figure was calling others to him. Perhaps he had seen Choppa, perhaps he had let him follow after him so as to bring him to these others. Others would be coming here and Choppa knew that would be bad. He knew he was weak. If he faced others then he would have to be strong.
He took a step back and lowered himself behind a thorny stalk. He put his weight on it as he crouched and felt it bend a fraction at the base. Its roots were loose in the soil. It was weak as well. He went on again, interested, then pulled, and it came free in his hands. Choppa gripped it tightly. This was strong. He was strong now and so had nothing to fear. He rose and left his hiding place behind. The figure blew on his object again and stood there waiting. Choppa walked up behind him and, as the figure turned, swung his weapon hard down on his head.
His enemy’s head jerked away at the blow. The enemy whirled around and snarled and Choppa struck him again. The enemy stumbled this time and Choppa went after him to strike him once more. This time, however, he raised his arm and so Choppa’s blow struck that and not the head. The enemy’s other hand curled into a ball and struck Choppa in his body. Choppa felt pain for the first time. It made him even more angry, and from that anger he felt even more power flow.

Choppa took a step back; the enemy did as well. Choppa noticed that where he had struck the enemy’s head a liquid had spread from the wound. He felt his own midriff where he had felt the pain. There was no liquid there. That meant he was winning. He saw the enemy reach down to his leg. He had a weapon as well. Choppa swung again, but this time not for the head; rather, he struck at the enemy’s knee. The enemy howled and fell over. Choppa stood over the fallen enemy for a moment. Did that mean that he had won, he asked himself? His anger had the answer and he struck the enemy once more, twice more, a dozen times more until his face was covered by the liquid. Now Choppa knew he had won.
His enemy no longer moved and Choppa took his time studying the body. Then he looked at his own. It was only then that he realised that he and his enemy looked the same. Choppa found it curious, but it did not concern him greatly. The shape of things did not matter to him nearly as much as what was strong and what was weak. And he had proved himself the stronger here. The enemy’s weapon intrigued him, though. He pulled it from its strap upon the body. It resembled the stalk he himself carried, but it was bigger, its surface was harder, it did not bend no matter how hard Choppa twisted it. It was stronger.

He tossed the stalk away and took the enemy’s weapon as his own. It was then that he realised he was being watched. Another creature, this one like his enemy but far smaller, was looking at him. Was this one of the others that his enemy had called? Without hesitation, Choppa turned in the small one’s direction.
The small one darted away from him into the shadows beneath the tall fungus canopy and Choppa chased after him. The creature scampered through knots and tendrils attempting to escape, but Choppa merely knocked them aside and his longer strides quickly brought him close. Then the small one ran out from the cover and into a clearing. There were more creatures here. These did not resemble anything that Choppa had seen before. Their bodies were bulbous and they had no arms, merely large mouths that they were using to chomp up the shoots and knobs of fungus at their feet. The small one scurried through their midst, leaping nimbly away when their mouths snapped at him.

Choppa followed, but as he approached they all turned on him. He used his weapon and struck the first of them in between its eyes. It keeled over and the rest of its kind flew into a panic and jumped away in every direction. Choppa thought of continuing after the small one, but now the animal carcass at his feet caught his interest. He was feeling weak again, but this time the weakness was not in his arms but in his centre. He felt hollow, drained.

Instinctively, he put his hand upon the carcass’s flank and tore a wodge of meat from it. The meat and his hand were covered in the liquid, but this time it did not feel like victory. Instead, he had another impulse. He shoved the meat into his mouth and tried to chew and swallow at the same time. He choked and coughed and nearly spat it out, but this taste he liked. He chewed for a while first this time and only then tried to swallow. Each piece sliding down his gullet filled his centre with its warmth. This was good.
While he was eating he saw that the small one had returned and was watching him again from a greater distance. Choppa thought of chasing him, but he was enjoying the meat too much to bother. The small one was gone by the time he’d finished. His head felt heavy now and so he returned to the blackened toadstool from whence he had emerged and dug himself back into his hole to sleep.
Choppa slept and rested, and then dug himself up once more. It did not take long before he saw the small one again. He chased after him and again he led him to where the meat-beasts were. For the first few days, the two of them followed the same pattern and the small one left him while he ate, but on the fourth day he stayed. That day, once Choppa had eaten his fill, the small one approached and took a bite of the remains. Once he had swallowed it, he stood before Choppa, pressed his tiny hand to his pigeon chest and said something:
‘Knobkerrie,’ he said.
Choppa looked at him blankly. He repeated himself, but Choppa did not know what he meant. He walked away as though disappointed, but then he looked back and beckoned for Choppa to come with him. Choppa was no longer hungry, but he did not tire as he had before after eating, and so he followed.
Knobkerrie led him a distance, further from his hole than he had ever been. He finally brought him to the edge of another clearing. In this clearing there were mounds. Not fungus mounds, but shapes made of the earth. Choppa saw gaps in them and realised that they were hollow inside. Creatures that looked like his enemy, that looked like him, were sitting around and walking amongst them. Knobkerrie pointed at them.
‘Boyz,’ he said. Then he pointed at Choppa.
‘Boyz,’ he repeated, gesturing emphatically. Choppa did not respond. Knobkerrie set out towards the village and wanted Choppa to come as well, but he refused. He could see that there were many of them, and only one of him. These boyz together were strong, far stronger than he, and so he would not face them. Instead he disappeared back into the lands he knew.
Over the days that followed, however, he returned to the village many times to watch these boyz. He told himself at first he did so in order to determine how to beat them, but as he watched them more and more he realised that there was another yearning he felt inside of him besides anger, hunger and fatigue. He wanted to be amongst them and yet he denied himself the company he desired.
That changed the day that Knobkerrie appeared before him, telling him to follow. This time Knobkerrie took him neither to the meat-beasts, which Choppa could now find himself, nor to the village, but to somewhere, something, else.
Choppa and Knobkerrie watched the new-spawned ork struggle along the ground. Its knee was turned inwards at an unhealthy angle and so it could not find its footing. It was weak. Choppa would need no weapons for this. He advanced towards it, preparing for the kill. The new-spawn pushed itself up from the ground as it saw Choppa approach and then scrambled backwards in fear. Choppa caught it with ease and tossed it onto its back. It flailed with its hands to keep its attacker at bay, but Choppa knocked them aside and took a grip around its neck, readying to rip its throat out. Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement in front of him and he felt tiny scratches on his face. Knobkerrie was attacking him. Choppa grunted in indignation and swatted the gretchin away with his free hand. Knobkerrie dodged away and started to screech.
‘No kill! No kill! No kill!’
Choppa turned back to the new-spawn in his grasp who was trying unsuccessfully to pull Choppa’s fingers away. Choppa readied to make the kill when Knobkerrie flew at him again.
‘No kill da boyz! Boss no kill da boyz!’
Choppa paused, comprehension beginning to seep into his well-insulated brain. Knobkerrie now turned his attention to the new-spawn, scratching its face.
‘Da boss! Da boss!’ Knobkerrie shouted at the new-spawn and pointed a tiny green finger at Choppa. The new-spawn mewled in pain at the treatment, but eventually Knobkerrie began to get through to it.
‘Da boss… Da boss…’ the new-spawn began to say along.
‘Da boyz,’ Knobkerrie said, pointing at the new-spawn, then pointed at Choppa. ‘Da boss!’
‘Da boss,’ the new-spawn agreed, and Knobkerrie batted at Choppa to have him stand up off the new recruit. Choppa did so and, as he did, Knobkerrie’s demeanour shifted abruptly. The frantic peace-maker switched in a flash to the cautious horse-trader. Knobkerrie walked around the prone greenskin, checking everything about it. He peered in its ears, pinched at its skin, prodded at its paltry belly. He rolled back its upper lip to check its teeth and the new-spawn snapped at him only to receive an irate scolding from the gretchin before he returned to his inspection. Knobkerrie finally focused on the new-spawn’s knee as his particular concern. He probed it thoughtfully and then brought Choppa over.
‘Dok it,’ he said.
Choppa did not understand.
‘Dok it! Dok it!’ Knobkerrie began to rant, and he mimed what he meant. Choppa followed what he thought the gretchin was demonstrating, took a hold on the knee and the calf, and then wrenched and twisted as hard as he could. The new-spawn howled this time, but Knobkerrie was ready. He grabbed a certain piece of fungus from his belt and jammed it into the new-spawn’s mouth. It bit down and swallowed, and then it stopped shouting. The look on its face showed it was still in pain, but it could no longer make a noise. Knobkerrie returned to Choppa and seemed pleased with what the ork had done. Choppa dropped the leg and the new-spawn rolled onto its side.

Choppa understood what Knobkerrie had done, but he did not yet understand why the gretchin had bothered. The new-spawn was weak. The weak got killed. If one happened upon someone stronger than you, you found something that made you stronger still and then you killed them. He wandered off to find another meat-beast and then return to watch the village.
Knobkerrie found him a few days later and took him back to the new-spawn. It was walking properly now and it was stronger. Knobkerrie had obviously been showing it where the meat-beasts were, for it had killed one of them and was beginning to eat. Choppa emerged, ready to fight for it, but as soon as the new-spawn saw him he ducked his head subserviently and moved aside, allowing Choppa to eat first. Choppa did so, eyeing the new-spawn suspiciously and left nothing for him.

When he had finished, Knobkerrie had them both follow him and took them to a new place where Choppa saw the largest meat-beast he had ever seen. As they approached, this one did not flee, but rather pawed the ground with its three-toed foot and lowered its head to charge. Choppa and the new-spawn threw themselves to either side out of the way of its attack. The meat-beast turned to chase after Choppa, but then found the new-spawn clinging onto its back. It spun around to try to shake the new-spawn off and Choppa launched himself at it. The two of them together brought it to the ground and got the kill. Once again the new-spawn let Choppa eat first, but this time Choppa only ate a fraction and then allowed the new-spawn to eat the rest.
Once more a new concept was diffusing into Choppa’s mind. He had thought that a weapon could only be something inanimate, a rock or a club, something he could hold. But a weapon could be another creature as well. Having others made him stronger, but only if they were under his control.
Off to one side, Knobkerrie grinned in satisfaction as he saw Choppa motion for the new-spawn to follow him, then he knuckled over to the carcass and started to chew fast before the other scavengers arrived.

With Knobkerrie’s help, Choppa added a dozen more new-spawns to his burgeoning warband. Many of them, he found, emerged close to where he had done and then later, nearabouts to where he had killed his first enemy. The same process worked on each. He would prove his strength to them by besting them in combat. Then, as soon as he had his hand around their throats, he would demand they recognise him as boss. Hunting together, they could take any meat-beast they wished, but Choppa knew a far greater challenge awaited them. He returned to the village often to count the number of warriors they had, and each time he did so he realised that, even with his warband, together they were still weak.
The time came when one of the new-spawns came running up to Choppa. There were so many new-spawns now that Choppa had found himself having to create names to tell them apart. The first new-spawn he called Badrukken after his knee, then there was Noshgobber after his appetite and increasing girth, Gruffdreggen after his destructive tendencies and so forth. He needed no name to refer to himself, of course, and to the rest he was always simply Da boss.
This one he’d called Krumpkopperd for the great smack to the head Choppa had had to use to subdue him when they first fought. Krumpkopperd had news. He’d seen more boyz, the boyz from the village. A whole bunch of them were coming out together.

Choppa’s first thought was that they knew about him. They knew he was growing stronger and so had set out to finish him off before he could threaten them. Well, he would not wait to be attacked. He would find them first. Krumpkopperd had seen them heading towards one of the meat-beast clearings and so Choppa gathered the new-spawns together and went after them.
They tracked them down not far from the clearing. They were moving quietly and carefully, but they were on Choppa’s home turf and his new-spawns merged amongst the shadows cast by the toadstool canopies. It was not all the village boyz, only about the same number as Choppa had new-spawns. It was good enough, though, and Choppa was about to give the signal to attack when he noticed that Knobkerrie was amongst their gretchin slaves. As though he could sense his gaze, Knobkerrie stared straight at where Choppa was concealed and shook his head, making a motion for patience.

Choppa was ready for battle, but still he paused. Knobkerrie was amongst them, and that meant he was an enemy, and yet Knobkerrie was still helping him. So perhaps one could pretend to be an enemy and yet still be a friend. Choppa found this thought too confusing. Instead he and his new-spawns followed the village boyz to the clearing and watched them catch the meat-beasts. They used spears and nets, but Choppa saw they were still not as good as he and his new-spawns were at catching the meat-beasts. He took pleasure in that.
The village boyz ran after the meat-beasts for some time before they had finally caught all they wished. Some they had killed, others they had tethered and were dragging away. The gretchin scampered behind the tethered meat-beasts, trying to prod them forwards and avoid their sharp tails. The village boyz and their trophies gathered themselves together and then started back. They were going slower, Choppa realised, they were laden down and tired now. One or two of them were even sporting injuries incurred from the meat-beasts. They were weaker than they had been before. Now was the time to strike.

As the party approached the path where Choppa was waiting, Knobkerrie suddenly jumped onto the largest meat-beast’s back and bit it hard between its eyes. The meat-beast went mad, bucking and tearing at its leash. The other gretchin swarmed over it, while Knobkerrie slipped down and bit through the meat-beast’s leash. Its bucking turned into full-fledged spasms as it found itself free and it spun to try to knock the gretchin away. The village boyz turned to see the commotion and that was the moment that Choppa bellowed the charge.
The fight was over quickly. The village boyz were distracted, several had waded amongst the meat-beasts to try to restore order and found themselves set upon as the attack drove the meat-beasts to even greater frenzy. Choppa caught one off-guard and brained it. The rest of his new-spawns launched themselves at the defenders, two on each one, fending away the village boyz’ blows and taking their legs out from under them. Once they were on the ground they quickly fell victim to the new-spawns’ kicks.

Choppa knocked the last one down himself as it threw off the wounded meat-beast that had made a bloody ruin of its chest. Once the ork was on the ground, Choppa grabbed it round the throat and started once more demanding recognition as boss. This one, however, kept on fighting and would not relent, scrabbling for Choppa’s face, looking for purchase. Shocked at this, Choppa automatically dug in his nails, pulled and ripped the village boy’s throat clean out. These boyz would not acknowledge him; they would not make him stronger.
He took his club and smashed in the brains of fully half their number before the remainder hastened to make signs of subservience. Choppa was unconvinced, now deeply suspicious of these orks. They each bore a mark, a blue circle, around their chin. It made them different from his new-spawns, separate from them. They would never be his weapon and that made them his enemy. He raised his club and slew the rest as they squirmed on the ground, held down by the new-spawns.

Choppa slew them all bar the last, who Knobkerrie made to protect as he had done when they had first encountered Badrukken. This last one was the smallest, but it did not wear the same mark as the rest. Perhaps, Choppa reasoned, it could be his weapon after all. Solemnly, he slapped the last one’s head up, gripped its throat and said the incantation. The last one, wide-eyed, agreed quickly, but Choppa held it firm until its babbling stopped and it started repeating the word as slowly and deliberately as he did. He told the new-spawns to equip themselves with the clubs, nets and sharpened poles that the village boyz had dropped and, as he did so, he gave his latest recruit a name: Mugkileen.
Choppa wasted no time. When he had killed his first enemy, no one had come looking for it, but these enemies were taking food. The other village boyz would be expecting them to return and would come looking for them soon. With these warriors dead, their numbers were fewer, they were weak, and they would not yet expect his attack.

He led his small warband with its latest recruit straight to the spot from where he watched the village. Choppa was right; a few of the village boyz were outside of their mounds, but they were lying idle, leaving their weapons scattered around. Choppa did not announce their attack, but rather ran straight in without speaking. The bizarre spectacle caught the village boyz off-guard and they leaned up and stared at the sight rather than instantly reaching for their weapons. Choppa managed to knock one of them aside before they saw the rest of his new-spawns charging silently after him and realised they were under attack. Badrukken had chosen himself a spear and ran one of the village boyz through while it struggled to its feet. Badrukken held it in place while Noshgobber caved its head in with a rock. Gruffdreggen threw a net over a fumbling village boy just as the hunters had thrown them over the meat-beasts. With his enemy entangled, he gave it a crack on the knee to knock it to the ground and then set about hammering it with his club.
Those village boyz outside were nearly overwhelmed, but a couple of them were faster and managed to lay a hand on their weapons before they were assailed. The noise of the combat attracted more of the village boyz from inside the mounds and Choppa quickly ordered his new-spawns to the entrances so as to block others emerging from behind. A scream of agony to one side told him that they had not all been successful.

Choppa looked up from the village boy he was bludgeoning to see Krumpkopperd fall away, his shoulder sliced from the rest of his torso. The severed limb, still holding its spear, lay on the ground as the new-spawn looked down at the gaping hole in his body and then slowly collapsed.
Behind him stood the largest ork that Choppa had ever seen. It stood more upright, nearly a half a metre taller than Choppa. It had not only a blue circle on its chin, but also a far larger one emblazoned across its chest and its belly. It wore necklaces and bracelets made of greenskin teeth. It was the boss of the village boyz and it held in its hands a weapon that Choppa had coveted from the moment he had first laid eyes upon it. It was over a metre long, its shaft was not made from some tough fungus crop but from stout wood, and it had a blade of metal. The only weapon of such kind to exist in all of Choppa’s world. Choppa had seen him many times as he watched the village, each time anticipating the time when it would come to fight him.
The village boss hefted his weapon and caught Choppa’s eye. Choppa returned the challenge and turned to face him. The other combats around them fizzled out and fell quiet as all of the orks focused on the fight between the two champions. Choppa raised his club and, for the first time, hollered a battle-cry as he flung it straight at the boss. Surprised, the boss swung his weapon and batted the missile to the side with a hefty, satisfied swipe. His opponent’s desperate strike had failed and he had disarmed himself in the process. The fight, he believed, was practically over, but Choppa had not finished.

Even as the club was leaving his hand, Choppa was leaning forwards. As the boss shifted his focus to the club, Choppa started to run. He sprang and barrelled into the boss as he circled the weapon back and smashed them both to the ground. Choppa scrabbled at the boss’s face as he tried to defend himself and hang onto the weapon caught between them. He tried to lever it free, but Choppa held his weight down upon it. The boss howled in agony as Choppa plunged his jagged fingernails in and released his grip to press his hands into his face. Choppa jumped to his feet, gathering the blade and then buried it in the boss’s chest and cut off his screams. Then the screams began again as the victorious new-spawns set about their opponents and the massacre began.
Choppa’s warband killed those who were marked, sparing those few who were not on condition of their fealty to their new boss. The new-spawns ransacked the mounds for items, taking more weapons, food, necklaces of teeth, and anything else that caught their eye. The village and the fungus fields around it were the entire world to Choppa and now he had proved that he was the strongest of them all.
Once they had finished with their looting, Choppa gathered them up and led them back to where they had come from. Knobkerrie appeared before him again, incensed with anger. He tried to drag Choppa back to the village, but Choppa was not interested in returning. He had defeated the enemies who were there and brought back more warriors for his warband. There was nothing in the village for him; he had taken all he desired: the metal weapon that was now his. Knobkerrie threw up his hands and left him. He gathered together the gretchin who had been left masterless and, with them, he himself occupied the mounds.

Despite his earlier inclination, Choppa found himself returning to the village often. He felt a sense of ownership there, it was a prize for which he had fought and won. Those of his warriors who had come from the village, Mugkileen and the few others, had also returned to the village and had begun to order the gretchin about, much to Knobkerrie’s annoyance. Watching Mugkileen, Choppa began to understand the purpose of the mounds. They were warmer at night and when the weather turned cold, and when it rained they were better cover than a mushroom cap. The carcasses of the meat-beasts his warband killed could be better protected there against the predations of the carnivore squigs than out in the open or buried in the ground, too. He also discovered more new-spawns emerging, many of them appearing first around the fringes of the village.
Bit by bit, Choppa and his warband centred their world around the mounds, wordlessly reasserting his authority over Mugkileen and ensuring that all the new-spawns swore fealty to him. Choppa did not forget how Badrukken and many of his first new-spawns had appeared where he had killed his first enemy and so led regular hunting patrols searching not only for meat-beasts but also for more new-spawns to bring back.

Even with the names, Choppa found himself beginning to get confused between those new-spawns who had sworn themselves to him. He recalled the blue mark used by the old boss and decided he could do something similar. He discovered within one of the mounds a squig creature which excreted the blue colouring, but he did not wish to use the same mark, the mark of a loser. Instead, Knobkerrie showed him one that excreted red. Choppa used that to devise his own symbol, a single straight line, a ‘blood stripe’ as it came to be called, down his warriors’ foreheads and one of their cheeks. The only orks that did not wear it after a few days were those few new-spawns who Choppa had yet to get round to making declare him boss, and Choppa himself. He needed no mark to tell him who he was.