Rise O' Da Sneaky Ones

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Rise O' Da Sneaky Ones

Post by Nukenson on Tue Apr 05, 2016 1:35 pm

The ship was ugly, and Free Boota Kaptin Greenklaw had seen his fair share of ugly ships in his time. The Ork adjusted his position in his massive scrap throne aboard the command deck of his own ship as he stared at the twisted metal outside the viewport. From what he could tell it was a wounded human ship, but there were strange black metal attachments dotting the hull and the engines glowed a dull purple instead of the standard bright blue. They’d picked up the ship’s distress signal a few weeks back and had a grand time shooting its would-be rescuers to bits and scavenging those ships, so the Kaptin hoped that whatever the humans had planned to save was also good loot. “What’re we lookin’ at lads? Big empty humie loot box or somet’in’ wit’ a potential for a fight?” The Kaptin asked in somewhat annoyance at the visually disappointing salvage.

One of the Mek boys turned around from the glowing screens of the ship’s skanas. “Looks like a humie ship but I ain’t findin’ no humies! Just a buncha weird powa sparks in the back.”

One of the other Meks at the opposite end of the bridge turned his seat around to face the Kaptin. “’Ey! I was just about to say dere was weird powa sparks on our ship!” The greenskin turned back to his own glowing consol. “A bunch in da loot bay, one near da engines… oh! And one over dere!” He shouted as he turned to point behind the Kaptin.

A faint rush of air and a sudden burst of pink light accompanied by the sound of arcing electricity sprung up from where the ork pointed for a second but was gone before anyone on the bridge had a chance to get a decent look at the source. The Kaptin turned in his throne towards the noise but saw only empty space. He gave a momentary confused grunt before turning back to his krew. “Get the Lootas and Meks ready, an’ let’s strip dis humie ship quick. I got a weird feelin’ about dis one.”


Gitshoota kicked in the door to the Loota’s chamber mostly because he just liked entering rooms by kicking the door in and stormed through the opening with a grin on his face. “Alright ladz! Git ya kits and git ready for skrappin’!” He turned to the nearest bunk, where his krew’s Mek Boy was still fast asleep hugging his trusty wrench, and gave the bunk a swift kick. “Dat means you, Skrapbrain. We got a humie ship wit’ weirdness to loot!”

Skrapbrain flailed a bit at the kick before tumbling out of the bunk. He looked up at Gitshoota as he rose and started dusting himself off. “We fightin’ or skrappin’ boss?”

The Nob’s red eyes rolled a bit in their sockets. “Sounds like no.” Gitshoota replied sadly. “Boss says the Meks ain’t found no livin’ fings, but dere’s weird powa sparks scarin’ him into wantin’ the ship skrapped quick.”

Skrapbrain laughed in response. “Powa sparks? ‘Ow does a Ork afraid of tech even end up Kaptin anyway?”

“’Cause ‘es dense.” Gitshoota responed. “When I run dis Krew, we’ll finally ‘ave someone wit’ brains runnin’ you lot.”

One of the other Lootas walked up with his shoota harness already on. The large multi-barreled machinegun sat on the hulking greenskin’s shoulder, supported by metal bands that crossed the ork’s torso to keep the recoil controllable. The Loota tilted his head and smirks. “What? You gonna be boss next, Gitshoota?”

Gitshoota gave a toothy grin. “Yeah. When I git a kit I like that can take ‘im. Might even be ready after dis scrap. So keep ya gob shut ‘till I fight ‘im, ya got it? None of you like that git anyway, right?” He barked. The other Lootas had assembled around the first three now with their various cutting tools and shootas. They all gave a series of nods. Gitshoota trusted them. He wasn’t sure just how long he’d been the Nob of this Loota group, because orks didn’t record time often and all the other races had stupid measurement systems, but it was a long time. He knew these boys were all more loyal to him than the Kaptin.

A weird whistling noise from the floor above drew everyone’s attention. Skrapbrain was the first to voice the question they all had. “What’s dat noise?” A few seconds later the thunder of ork shootas responded to the first noise. “I know dat one!”

Gitshoota pulled his own pistol from its holster. “Dere’s a fight an’ were missin’ it! Let’s go.”


The Kaptin roared as he braught his powa klaw, which was little more than a mass of metal with blades for fingers, down towards his opponent’s head. The lithe figure was shorter and much slimmer than the massive ork. It wore carpace like plates of black and purple with a blue metal trim and an obnoxious helmet that elongated into a point at the top that reminded the Kaptin of a really pointy egg. “Shoulda known when fings got weird dat you Eldar gits was involved. You boyz is sneaky, but ya done messed up now! No gits git da drop on Kaptin Greenkla-“ His boasting was interrupted as a blade of that same faintly blue tinted dark metal erupted from his chest.

A deceivingly musical voice that seemed to bear its own echo whispered from behind the Kaptin. “Oh, my apologies captain. I seem to have… cut you off.” With a twist of his wrist, the Dark Eldar Archon tore the blade upwards, severing the ork’s arm that held his shoota.

Kaptin Greenklaw turned to face the Archon, disgusted for a moment by the frail armored creature opposing him. “Ya fink ya funny, git? I can just get dat arm replaced. I got good Meks.” He opened and closed the powa klaw replacing his remaining hand a few times infront of his face to emphasize his point. The Kaptin took a quick step forward and attempted to backhand the Eldar with his klaw.

The Archon leaned out of the klaw’s arc and quickly drew his pistol. The weapon emitted a loud whistling sound and several flashes of purple light, then a series of clean slashes tore across the Kaptin’s legs, bringing the massive ork down to his knees against his will. Before the ork could recover he made a short dash forward and dug the tip of his blade under the Kaptin’s chin, making the ork’s oversized tricorne hat bounce off his skull as the sword tip erupted from his bald head. The Archon leaned forward, his toothy grin almost matching the paleness of his skin. “Would you care to make a final boast before your end, beast?” The ork managed a surprisingly aggressive gurgle in response before the Archon twisted his blade and cleanly severed the front of the ork’s skull from the rest of its bone structure. He flicked his blade once to fling the annoyingly thick blood from his sword before sheathing it. The Archon watched as the rest of his elite soldiers killed or secured the other orks on the bridge. He turned to the nearest of the captives and aimed his pistol at the ork’s eyes. “You. I wish to speak to the ship. Which console?”

The ork pointed to quite possibly the crudest microphone the Archon had ever seen jutting out of the late captain’s throne and quickly shouted. “Kaptin’s talky box. Use da button on da arm to turn it on.
The Archon flashed another toothy grin at the ork before sitting in the captain’s throne. Despite it being the most uncomfortable chair he had ever graced with his presence and the mere fact it was clearly meant for a much larger occupant, the Archon attempted to look as regal as possible as he reclined and casually pressed the indicated button. “Attention crew of Captain Greenclaw. This is Archon Vladimus Krul. Your leader is dead. Your options are thus: You may fight and loose, or submit to my forces and live. If you dislike these options, you are free to die painfully at the hands of my warriors.”


Needless to say, Gitshoota was rather upset with the broadcast. His Lootas had barely made it back out into the hallway when they found their first batch of Dark Eldar. The lithe units had been haunched low and quietly moving down what passed for orkish dormitories, killing or binding the others in their sleep. Gitshoota and his Lootas had dispatched that first group with a sudden dakka burst, but the noise had drawn friends. Now the Lootas were trapped behind Eldar gunfire and the overturned furniture they had improvised as cover. Gitshoota looked over to Skrapbrain, who seemed to have become suddenly more occupied with one of the Dark Eldar’s triangular metal projectiles embedded in the wall next to him than the actual fight. “Oi! Skrapbrain. You got a stik bomb?”

The other ork jumped a bit as he heard his name. “Oh, right! Ya boss. Why?”

Gitshoota looked over his cover at the advancing line of Dark Eldar, then turned his gaze towards one of the ship’s exposed fuel lines in the wall just ahead of them. He looked back to Skrapbrain. Toss it at da git on da right when I shoot. Got it?” Skrapbrain nodded in reply and Gitshoota rose from cover. He fired a single round at the fuel pipe, which began spewing black oil at the line of Dark Eldar. Skrapbrain threw his grenade then, and the resulting explosion sent the target Eldar’s body flying in several separate directions, while also igniting the fuel coating the other four warrior. The Lootas laughed at the chaose for a second before something suddenly silenced two of the laughs. Gitshoota turned around to find more Eldar already digging blades into his boyz. The Eldar’s squad leader swung a whip around Skrapbrain’s neck and a simple flick of her wrist sent the Mek flying headfirst against the wall. Gitshoota saw movement at the corner of his eye and turned, digging his choppa into the gut of an Eldar who thought to get the drop on him. Another Eldar quickly darted in and sliced Gitshoota’s left hand off. A third darted from the other side and struck his head with the back of their rifle. More blows followed as the floor seemed to race up to meet Gitshoota, then the world went dark.


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Re: Rise O' Da Sneaky Ones

Post by Nukenson on Sat Apr 09, 2016 1:08 am

Vladimus Krul really did hate this chair, but seeing as it was the only seat of power available to him he resolved to remain in it until his warriors were done with the Ork ship. And besides, he thought, the human slave laboring over a canvas before him was certain to be crafting an excellent picture of him in this pose. His thoughts were stirred by one of his approaching Dracon. The woman gave a curt bow followed swiftly by her report. “Archon, the ship is secure. We’ve claimed roughly fifty new slaves and suffered only minimal casualties. A quick search of the Ork’s cargo bay confirmed that they already destroyed and pillaged the Imperial Guard ships we were hoping to lure out here.”

The Archon nodded. “Nice of them to do our work for us. Let’s hope their taste in loot is better than their taste in architecture. Have our shuttles dispatched. Take the slaves and everything not bolted down in the cargo hold, then scuttle this disgusting scrapheap. We’ll sort through our take aboard the Violet Talon.” He glanced downward for a moment to the corpse of the Ork Captain. “Oh, and have this waste of biological material thrown in the beast pens. I want to watch the hounds tear him apart so that the effort it took to kill him can bear at least some entertainment value.”

The Dracon nodded. “Yes, Archon.” She performed a quick turn on her heel and began relaying his orders into her helmet before the door had even fully closed behind her.

Vladimus Krul resumed his reclined position in the throne once more and looked down at the slave he was generating an increasing liking towards. “Have you finished your work yet?” The slave nodded wordlessly and held out the canvas to his master. The Archon took the painting gently and surveyed it for several moments as a toothy grin spread across his face. “Ah, marvelous. You seem to be getting better, and I appreciate the detail you put into my triumphant grin. Keep this up and your daily meal might just be served hot.”


Gitshoota woke in a cage, and like most Orks, Gitshoota hated cages. His first instinct was to race across the space and kick the door. When the door didn’t burst open, he decided to take a moment and actually figure out a real plan. Skrapbrain was in the cage with him, as well as a few other boyz he didn’t recognize. There were other cages in the large metal room they seemed to be inhabiting, which held yet more boyz and a few of the smaller grotz even. From what Gitshoota could tell, they were on the ship that they’d planned to loot, and it definitely didn’t look as humie on the inside as it did outside. The cages they were in, for example, seemed to be made up of rows of purple material, supplemented by that blue tinted metal that formed the cage’s crossbars. The floor was a smooth black material, while the walls and ceiling were also metal. A sudden thought occurred to the Loota and he brought his left hand up to his face. The hand was, however, still chopped off. His natural Orky regeneration had formed a stump where the hand had previously been. Gitshoota had a brief moment of panic at the realization that he couldn’t hold a shoota properly in his current state before remembering there were much bigger problems before him.

Gitshoota shuffled across the cage to where Skrapbrain was crouched and nudged his shoulder. The Mek jumped and turned to face Gitshoota. “Oh, ‘ey boss! Ya awake!”

Gitshoota waved his hand in a downward motion as he looked around for their captors. “Pipe down ya git. Yeah, I’m fine. Whats been goin’ on since I went out?”

“I dunno, boss.” Skrapbrain replied. “I woke up on da way ‘ere. It looked like dis is dat ship we saw, ‘cept it’s all Eldary inside. And dey took all our loot from da humies wit ‘em when dey took us. I fink dey blew up our krooza.”

Gitshoota took a moment to think over the information. “All our loot, ‘eh?” The Mek gave a few quick nods. “Good. Den all we gotta do is get outa dis kage an’ we kan stomp ‘em.”

Skrapbrain tilted his head in confusion. “’Ow we gonna do dat boss? We ain’t got da boyz or da shootas to take on da ‘ole panzy krew.”

Gitshoota gave the Mek a toothy grin. “Da same way dey took our ship. All sneaky like.” He glanced around a few times to check for guards. “Now I knowz you took dat Eldar stabby bullet you waz eyin’. Ya still got it?”

The Mek took the metal shard from one of his many pockets and held it up carefully. “Yeah, boss. I fink it was poisoned t’ough. I stuck one of da Grots wit’ it to make sure and he keeled ova screamin’ and barfin’. Pretty sure it’s klean afta dat t’ough.”

“Good.” Gitshoota replied. “I saw one go right t’rough a ‘ard boyz armor, so I’m finkin’ youz might be able to saw at dese barz wit’ it. Just make sure none o’ dem Eldar’s watchin’ when ya do.”

The Mek nodded a few times as he looked between the shard and the bars. “Right boss. But it’s gonna be real zoggin’ slow.

Gitshoota laughed a bit. “Wot? You got somefin’ betta to do? Way I seez it, we got plenty a time, long as wez careful.”


Vladimus was far more comfortable on the bridge of his own ship. Unlike the late Captain’s chair, the Archon’s command throne was carefully sculpted to match his form, and lined with leather tanned from three separate rivals who had tried to tell him he’d never be successful in forming his own Kabal. It was in this chair he sat now, taking up a reclined pose he felt projected the greatest levels of power and intimidation towards the emissary now approaching him. “Welcome aboard. I do apologies for the lack of majesty in the ship’s exterior, it will look far better once we’ve exhausted the gullibility of this region’s humans and shed our little disguise.”

Whatever reaction the Emissary had was hidden behind the bone white mask they wore, but their bow was sufficiently respectful. “Luckily I was not sent to debate architecture, Krul.”

The Archon was admittedly slightly annoyed at not being referred to as an Archon. “Of course, what news from Commorragh?”

The Emissary rose from their bow slowly. “The others are amused by the success of your Kabal’s first excursion into realspace, and pleased by the thoughtfulness of your gifts. One of your fellow Archons, my master, wished to send you a token of their appreciation in return.” The Emissary stepped to the side to reveal a moderate sized box behind them. They carefully opened the lid and withdrew a gauntlet easily twice the size of a normal Eldar’s hand with fingers that extended outwards in to long razor sharp talons. The Emissary adopted a partial kneel as they held the gauntlet out to Vladiums with both hands.

The Archon smiled as he took the gauntlet and immediately put it on, flexing the talons a few times. “Quite the generous offering. To whom, may I ask, do I owe my gratitude?”

The Emissary stood once more. “I will pass along your gratitude, but they do not wish their identity revealed at this time. Instead, they wish to meet with you upon your return to Commorragh, and ask just when exactly that will be.”

The Archon flashed a grin despite his internal annoyance. The talons were clearly a bribe, and this meeting was either a thinly veiled assassination attempt or a request for disposable warriors to do his mysterious benefactor’s dirty work. Never the less, there was potential for both societal and physical gain if he played the part well. “Soon I believe. I wouldn’t wish to keep your master waiting too long…” The Archon paused momentarily to gesture to the various paintings on the wall of his victories. “…And I am ever so eager to see how magnificent these works I’ve collected look in my halls.”

The Emissary gave a short chuckle that sounded far more obligatory than genuine. “Excellent. Then I shall take my leave and relay our conversation to my master. Enjoy the remainder of your hunt, Archon.”


Skrapbrain excitedly shuffled over to where Gitshoota sat and poked him several times. “Boss, I gots it. All da bars is chopped enuff dat a good ol’ Gitshoota kick should pop em right outa place.”

Gitshoota smirked and stood up. “Good. W’ich ones did ya cut?”

The Mek paused for a moment and began poking his fingers together contemplatively. “Well boss, about dat, I kinda kept fergettin’ where I started so I just chopped at all da bars.”

Gitshoota knocked Skrapbrain over the head once with his severed arm. “Ya git! You wasted alotta time dat way!” He waved off Skrapbrain’s attempt at a response and started walking towards the nearest segment of wall. Sure enough, all the bars had cuts in them a little over halfway through the metal. Gitshoota smiled to himself as he raised his foot and kicked at the bars. Two things happened when his boot met the metal of the cage; a hole opened a little larger than his foot, and a lot of noise was made. Neither of which were an exit.

The guard at the end of the room woke rather suddenly from his slumber and stood, approaching Gitshoota with rifle in hand. “And what exactly was the reason for that excess of noise, slave?”

“I wanted a betta look at ya ugly mug! Skrapbrain sayz ya look like da Kaptin’s old squig. I don’t believe ‘im.” Gitshoota retorted to the approaching Eldar.

The Guard scoffed and leaned forward towards the cage. “I’m sorry to say beast, but I doub’t you’ll ever find an Eldar ‘mug’ more hideous than your own.” He began to smirk but quickly shifted to annoyance as he noticed one of the cuts in the metal. “And what is thi-?”

Gitshoota punched a new hole through the metal level with the Eldar’s face, which he grabbed and began repeatedly pulling into the bars, widening the whole he’d made and reducing the guard’s face to a pale paste with equal efficiency. “Well ya lack o’ plan worked afta all Skrapbrain.” Gitshoota commented as he dropped the corpse on the other side of his new exit. “Wez got us a new door. Grab dat git’s keyz and free da oda boyz!”


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