Hey guys ! it's my first
40k short fanfic ...by the way ..feel free to expand it in comments.. if you want
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It'z da second Waaagh! of da Armageddon. Ghazghkull ,da prophet of waaagh already krumpiin' da 'umiez at Hellsreach.Tanks burn, shootas roar, and da sky’s full of dakka..and then.. a massive rok slams into the planet... it'z a .. red an' black wun... coz' ya know... red wunz go fasta, and black is mean... After the Impact...a Goff warboss steps out clad in mega-armor... *Narrator grot Squigfodda*:steps out? Nah... da mobz of boyz pushin' da git out. I'z waz there to see da meanest an' da loudes' goff evah - warboss Skarblasta Bludchop da sekond goffest goff..after Ghazghkull He didn’t walk outta dat Rok. Nah. He got shoved out by a dozen Nobz shoutin’ ‘Hurry up, ya shiny git!’ ‘Cause Skarblasta was busy admirin’ his mega-armor in a broken mirror. Said it made ‘im look ‘divine.’ I dunno wot dat means, but it sounded loud.” Da ground was still smokin’. Da humies was still cryin’. And Skarblasta? He just stood there, power klaw sparkin’, yellin’ at da sky like it owed ‘im teef.”
‘OI! WHO’S IN CHARGE ‘ERE? I’M ‘ERE
TO MAKE
IT LOUDER!’ And dat’s when I knew. Dis wasn’t just a warboss. Dis was a prophet. A prophet of punchin’. A messiah of mayhem. Da bringer of WAAAGH! Louda.
Silence, no git made a single noise , 'koz they knew...Skarblasta makez da propa Gorky noiz only
* Touffgit Deffchopa, meganob* OI, Boss! it' haz to be a propa waaagh if we'z landed 'ere ,,,
*Skarblasta slapping Touffgit* Ya zoggin' son of a squigoth .. it'z
de biggest waaagh eva...
FO' Gork'n'Mork! WAAAAAAGH!Da boyz froze. Then they roared. Grots screamed. A Weirdboy exploded. Da Waaagh! Louda had officially begun.
A stray herd of ammo grots, led by Thunkgrot stops in front of them... Thunkgrot asks:You'z not bad moonz, aintcha? Skarblasta Bludchop (steppin’ forward, voice like a shoota jammin’): “Bad Moonz? BAD MOONZ?! Do I look like I’z wearin’ gold teef an’ fancy pants?”
He slapped a nearby grot just for emphasis. The grot exploded. Probably unrelated.
“We’z Goffs, ya tickin’ fungus! Da loudest, meanest, krumpiest bunch dis side of da Eye!”
Thunkgrot blinked. Then nodded slowly.
Thunkgrot: “Roight. Just checkin’. Bad Moonz don’t pay for ammo. Goffs just take it.”
Skarblasta (grinnin’): “Ekzactly. Now hand it over, or I’ll krump ya so hard ya’ll be speakin’ squig.”Thunkgrot whistled. Da grots dropped da crates and ran. One tripped over a squig mine. The explosion was considered a blessing.
Da boyz'n'nobz took da shootaz an' a slugga boy Dreaddgutz said: " OI ya zoggin' boss, i'z 'ave a morky thought....“Wot if… we’z ask da Prophet of Waaagh… ya know, Ghazghkull ‘imself…
fo’ a tellyporta. So we’z send da Weirdboyz straight to da humie campz… and den—BANG! Louda den eva!”
Silence. Even da squigs stopped chewin’
Skarblasta Bludchop turned slow, his mega-armor groanin’ like a Deff Dread with indigestion.
Skarblasta (grinnin’ wide): “Dreaddgutz… ya might be da dumbest git I know… but dat’s da smartest Morky thought I’ve ‘eard all week.”He slapped Dreaddgutz so hard, da boy spun in place and landed upright.
:
We’z gonna need Weirdboyz. We’z gonna need tellyportas. And we’z gonna need LOUD.”
Fo’ Gork’n’Mork… we’z makin’ history.”
Da boyz roared. Grots panicked. A Weirdboy nearby started glowin’ green and mutterin’ about “da humie dreams.”
Da mob was marchin’. Dust clouds rose behind ‘em. Shootas loaded. Weirdboyz twitchin’. Skarblasta’s banner—WAAAGH! LOUDA—flappin’ like a squig in a wind tunnel.
They was headin’ to Ghazghkull’s camp to demand a tellyporta. Or maybe borrow one. Or maybe just shout until someone gave ‘em one.
Then they saw it.
A line of humies. Dug in. Helmets low. Lasguns ready.
Squigfodda (narratin’): “A mixed mob of Kriegsmen an’ Steel Legion gitz. Grim. Silent. Smelled like burnt promethium an’ sadness.”
The Kriegsmen stood like statues, gas masks starin’ into eternity. The Steel Legionnaires had tanks. Big ones. Real shiny. One even had a banner that said “No Orks Beyond This Point.”
Skarblasta (grinnin’): “Looks like da humies wanna talk.”
Dreaddgutz (squintin’): “Boss, dey ain’t talkin’. Dey’s pointin’ guns.”
Skarblasta: “Dat’s how humies say ‘hello.’”
He stepped forward, arms wide, power klaw sparkin’.
“OI!
WE’Z JUST PASSIN’ THROUGH! UNLESS YA WANNA FIGHT—DEN
WE’Z STAYIN’!”
The Kriegsmen didn’t flinch. One of ‘em raised a flare. The Steel Legion tank turret turned with a clunk.
Thunkgrot (whisperin’): “Dis gonna be loud…”
The Orks were still stompin’ forward, banners flappin’, Weirdboyz twitchin’, and Skarblasta grinnin’ like a squig in a teef shop.
Across the blasted no-man’s-land, the mixed unit of Kriegsmen and Steel Legionnaires stood firm. Trenches dug. Sandbags stacked. Bayonets fixed.
A Steel Legion vox-operator leaned toward a tall figure in a black greatcoat, his face hidden behind a rebreather and a cap shadowing his eyes.
Steel Legionnaire (calm, clipped): “Commissar, on your mark. All barrels are ready.”
The Commissar didn’t blink. His hand hovered over the signal flare. Behind him, Leman Russ tanks rumbled, their barrels tracking the oncoming horde.
Commissar (coldly): “Let them come closer. Let them believe.”
Meanwhile, on the Ork side…
Thunkgrot (peeking over a squig crate): “Boss… dey got tanks. Big ones. Real shooty-lookin’.”
Skarblasta (snarlin’): “Good. I’z allergic to quiet.”
He raised his power klaw and bellowed:
“DIS IS WAAAGH! LOUDA! IF YER GONNA SHOOT—DO
IT LOUD!”
Dreaddgutz: Wotz next, boss?
*A giant squigoth appeared out of nowhere*
Squigfodda (narratin’): “It came outta nowhere. Like Gork ‘imself said ‘Oi, ya need a ride?’”
The squigoth snorted, then belched a cloud of spores that knocked over a Steel Legion trooper.
Skarblasta (grinnin’ wide): “Wot’s next? Dat’s next.”
The squigoth rider, a broad Snakebite yelled : Oi gitz, wotz ya doin' ere?!
Da boyz froze. Even Skarblasta blinked.
Skarblasta (grinnin’): “We’z marchin’ to Ghazghkull’s camp, ya tusked fossil! Gonna get us a tellyporta an’ send Weirdboyz straight into humie campz. Bang! Louda den eva!”
The Snakebite snorted, then spat a wad of squig juice that melted a rock.
Snakebite Rider: “Tellyportas? Weirdboyz? Sounds like Mekboy nonsense. Real Orks ride squigz, not lightning!”
Dreaddgutz (whisperin’): “Boss… I fink he’s got a Morky attitude…”
Skarblasta (crackin’ his knuckles): “Good. Means he’s ready to fight.”
Da path to Ghazghkull’s camp weren’t easy. They krumped two Bad Moon dakkawagons for “bein’ too shiny.” One of ‘em exploded in a fireball of gold-plated shootas and screaming grots.Right, so dere we was—marchin’ through da ash dunes, all proud-like, banner flappin’. Weirdboyz twitchin’, and Skarblasta shoutin’ at clouds.
Squigfodda (narratin’): Da plan was simple: get to Ghazghkull, shout real loud, get a tellyporta, explode humie campz. Easy. But den—BANG!—outta nowhere, a pair o’ Bad Moon dakkawagons rolled up, all shiny an’ smug. Gold-plated wheels. Teef-shaped exhaust pipes. One even had a grot valet. “Oi!” Skarblasta roared. “Why’z yer wagons look like a squig wedding?”
Then came da humie Chimeras—Imperial Guard armor, all proper-like. Skarblasta didn’t care. He headbutted one so hard da turret spun off. Dreaddgutz rode the wreckage like a squigboard. “We’z left a trail of smoke, teef, and very confused Bad Moonz. And den… we saw it.”
Ghazghkull’s camp. A fortress of scrap and fury. Towers made of tank hulls. Banners flappin’ with glyphs of Gork, Mork, and “Oi!”. Thousands of Orks chantin’, shootin’, and stompin’ in rhythm.
At da center, on a throne of wrecked Titans, sat Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka—da Prophet of Waaagh!—glowin’ with power, surrounded by banners, Nobs, and Weirdboyz foamin’ at da mouth.
Skarblasta stepped forward, armor dented, klaw sparkin’, voice like a thunderstorm in a squig pen.
Skarblasta (bellowin’): “OI, PROPHET! I’Z GOT A PLAN! A LOUD ONE!”
The camp fell silent. Even da squigs stopped chewin’.
Ghazghkull turned his massive head, red bionik eye whirrin’.
Ghazghkull (growlin’): “Dis better be good, ya noisy git…”
Thousands of Orks stared. Weirdboyz twitched. Squigs held their breath (or maybe just choked on fungus).
Skarblasta Bludchop, armor dented, banner flappin’, stepped into da shadow of Ghazghkull’s throne.
He raised his power klaw, sparks flyin’, voice thunderin’.
Skarblasta (roarin’): “We’z need a tellyporta. So we’z send da Weirdboyz straight to da humie campz… and den—BANG! Louda den eva!”
A ripple went through da crowd. Nobs muttered. Grots fainted. One Weirdboy exploded from excitement.
Da Prophet leaned forward, his bionik eye whirrin’, his voice like a volcano chewin’ metal.
Ghazghkull (growlin’): “You want tellyportas. You want Weirdboyz. You want LOUD.”
Good.”He stood, towering over da mob, and raised his own klaw.“Let da humies learn what LOUD really means.”
“WAAAGH!” Da camp erupted. Shootas fired into da air. Squigs stampeded. A grot accidentally declared himself Emperor and was immediately stepped on.
Da Prophet gave da nod.
Tellyportas were rigged. Weirdboyz were chained to squig batteries. Grots ran in circles, screamin’ about “da humie coordinates.” It didn’t matter. Loud was da goal.
Squigfodda (narratin’): “Da idea was realized. And da Waaagh… it went on.”
Weirdboyz vanished in green flashes, reappearin’ inside humie bunkers, mess halls, and command tents—screamin’, explodin’, and summoning squigs into soup pots.
Steel Legion vox-casters melted. Kriegsmen stared stoically as their trenches turned into Ork dance floors.
Skarblasta rode his squigoth through da chaos, power klaw raised, voice louder than artillery.
Skarblasta (roarin’): “DIS IS WAAAGH! LOUDA!
FO’ GORK’N’MORK!”
Da sky turned green. Da ground turned red. Da humies turned pale.
And da Waaagh went on.
