The ramshackle hulk plunged into the atmosphere. Its hull screamed, and the air around it burned and smoked. The rickety craft shook violently as its welded and bonded plates strained against the pressure. But still it dived.
On board, Skyboss Grimjaw gave orders to initiate the reverse thrusters and angle the trajectory gubbinz.
The metal behemoth carved an arc through the air as it curved upwards; greatly testing the ship's riveting. Its piers and decks shook more violently and the metal burned and screeched.
Grimjaw felt the change of gravity shift from the front of the ship to its belly. He felt the sensation exhilarating. The Skyripper gained level with the gravity, and chugged away through the clouds towards the distant storm of war. Grimjaw left the bridge and down the wide hallway. It opened up to a platform overlooking the main holding bay, were his horde of warriors waited impatiently for battle.
"Listen up, ladz!" the Skyboss commanded, "We 'ave made planetfall!"
A great cheer erupted from the chamber. "Da war is not far. Soon the Waaagh will commence and we will be blazin' the gunz!" Bellows of savage excitement echoed throughout the ship. The hundreds of orks worked themselves up in anticipation, shouting, clanging, punching and shooting the air.
They had waited for months for the cold void to slink away to reveal a planet ripe for violence. Grimjaw knew well that his boyz were excited, and he would reward them for their patience. The warlord looked forward the most to the rush of armoured trucks and the screaming of rockets.
Amidst all this, some commotion started up from the bridge. An ork Nob came running from the command room.
"Boss, boss!" he shouted, "Boss, there's somethin' important!"
Grimjaw, annoyed at the interruption, turned to the veteran.
"What is it, Bludboot?"
"We've detected a squadron of boogies flyin' this way, about ten of 'em, an' they're flyin' fast!"
The Nob couldnt see the smile behind his boss's giant metal jaw, but he saw it in his eyes.
"Well. Well, well," he pondered. He stomped up to the balcony overlooking the bay. "Hey boyz! Looks like we be getting' to the thumpin' earlier than excpected!" The orks released their pent up excitement for battle in one long, approving cry. "They are flyin' this way quick fast, so get to it! Man the turrets, stock the cannons and grab yer choppas, cuz the Waaagh is here!"
A hundred iron boots stamped on the deck as orks swarmed to the action. Some went to fire cannons, others to rev up the trucks and bikes, but most wanted to be in the thick of combat, and wanted to know were the intruders were to attack. On queue, a loud thud shuddered from the ship's upper deck.
"They're on the roof!" some shouted.
Grimjaw hesitated. He had fought battles in countless hundreds of skies, and never had anything dared to attempt a boarding action against the Skyripper.
"Not on my ship," he rumbled.
Grimjaw gathered his personal Nob guard for briefing and gave them a smack round the ears (for added discipline). Small grot slaves hauled in their master's gear form the armouries. Soon Grimjaw was thundering up the stairs with giant iron boots and smashing others out of his way with his mighty axe.
On the upper deck, hundreds of hatches opened to vomit out the green savages. The orks rejoiced with loud voices, for battle was here! They blasted their guns and swung their axes. Some actually looked to see who they were fighting.
A squad of navy blue Space Marines had landed on the metal deck. They wore bulky jump packs that allowed them to fly through the air. They weilded powerful weapons that punched through armour and fired explosive bullets. This was more than the orks could have hoped for. The Space Marine's thick armour and shooty guns would make them quite a foe to fight.
Hundreds of burly alien savages surged to meet the Space Marines head on. Many orks were cut down in the first few seconds, most slayed by their opponent's leader. This Space Marine wielded a glowing sword of power, and displayed the insignia of a winged star on his shoulder. He led his men with sharp effectivness and military prowess, yet within him he harboured a great arrogance. Having thought himself an ultimate master of war, he had sanctioned his personal guard to meet the orks head on, little knowing or caring of the consequences. His noble Space Marines, grim faced under their snarling helmets, met the onslaught with pride and honour. The orks, to their credit, were having a ball.
With a noise like thunder, Skyboss Grimjaw trampled down the door into the fray, starved of bloodshed and incredibly hungry. He sighted the trespassers, and instantly recognised them as Space Marines, protectors of mankind. Grimjaw drew in a long, deep breath, and tore through the din of axes and guns with a single passionate bellow, "WAAAGH!"
His orks hollered the same in response, rejoicing, and with greater strength and invigorated spirits they fought harder.
Grimjaw, with his revenue of Nobs, thundered towards the Space Marines. The Skyboss's massive frame pushed away smaller orks with ease. He swung his axe, blasted his immense shoota and roared a challenge to the captain, "Get off my ship, Space Marine!"
The captain with the winged star stood strong and absolute before the charging monster. At the last second he moved his body from the arc of the swinging axe, the Skyboss stumbling at his miss, as the captain bought his sword round on the ork's horned helmet. Grimjaw, dazed, wildly swung round his weapon, connecting with a strike that would have obliterated the body of a mortal man. The Space Marine, being more than just a man, was merely knocked off his feet. The ork bent down, picked up the Space Marine and threw him across the deck. The Skyboss charged at the prone figure, axe raised, to perform a killing blow. The once still captain growled as he stabbed his sword upwards into the giant brute's chest. It looked down at the sword that pierced his flesh, and gave the captain a horrible look. The Space Marine knew that behind the metal jaw-mask there was a wide grin. Grimjaw tugged the weapon from his chest and snapped it at the hilt, it's energies flickering and dying. He grabbed the captain with his massive iron claws, crushing and fracturing his cement-hard armour.
All around the two enemies, the battle raged on like a storm. Bodies fell, bullets flew, and blood spilled on the iron deck.
Grimjaw moved his face close to his enemy's. "Now I can finish you off an' show you the reason I am Skyboss of a thousand worlds.'
"Foul xenos filth," splutted the crippled warrior, "Your…your kind are a stain on the stars…you dare oppose mankind…you have no honour."
"Orks are da best!" taunted the warlord.
"You…are nothing."
Grimjaw fumed at this insult, squeezing the captain harder. "Who says?"
The Space marine bought up his gun to the Ork's face.
"This says."
To Skyboss Grimjaw, everything else seemed to happen at once.
The Space Marine shot him in the face.
He felt his world explode with pain and fire and red.
He lost his temper.
He threw the Space marine on the ground in surprise and anger.
His large metal jaw, severed from its strap, fell to the ground.
In shock, the Skyboss stumbled back. His eyes were filled with bright lights. He fell to the ground, groping for something to hit the Space Marine with. His grasping fingers caught hold on a jagged piece of metal. He bought it up to his eyes, and realised it was his jaw plate. He stayed still for a moment. Dread crept slowly from the depths of his mind amongst the adrenaline and shock. Slow, horrible, ponderous dread. He had the feeling it was so ponderous and slow because the dread was so immense…
Blinking in the light, Grimjaw looked up to meet the gaze of hundreds of ragged faces.
Grimjaw was good at keeping secrets. He kept that fact close to him…
Hundreds of orks blinked in bewilderment.
…but he kept his secrets closer.
Decades ago, before he was strong and powerful, when he was a newly-born ork living on a forgotten planet, he was cursed with a freak accident. He was left with a horrible deformity.
Some of the brighter and braver orks new this wasn't right. They felt as if they had to say something.
Among the things that make an ork influential and strong, besides strength, leadership and greenness, is the status of his jaw. The smallest of grot-slaves have puny, gnarly overbites. The greatest warbosses have large, craggy jaws that grow tusks like daggers. The symbol of the tusked underbite is one of the strongest icons of Orkdom. The jaw is power. The jaw is influence. The jaw is ork.
One of the braver Nobs slowly walked up to Grimjaw, a disgusted scowl on his face. He pointed to the Skyboss and said one word. One word that bought his master's world crashing down.
"Grot jaw."
The Skyboss instantly knew he was done for. All had been revealed. He would be labelled as a liar. No one would ever respect him again. No one would ever follow him again. Worst of all, everyone would know he wasn't a proper ork.
The accusing Nob was trembling with anger. He turned to the watching faces. "He is no Skyboss!" he accused, "E' is no great fighter!" he paused for effect, "E' is no ork! I'll tell you what he is! E' is a sneaky git. A sneaky git that LIED to us! Just 'ave a look at that jaw!" He spat on the fallen warlord. "This git is nothing! He lied and sneaked around and plotted, and fooled us all! But he is the fool!"
Grimjaw's mind started to cloud. His world was inside out. He had fallen fast and hard. He was at the bottom, broken and in pain. All because of one thing. All because…
His mind flashed one last playing card. Memories of swinging blades and smashing bodies. Memories of an adversary. The Space Marine. The Winged Star…
…all because of that.
.All because of that Space Marine.
He had bought him low. It had been so unfair, so unimaginably cruel of him to do such a thing. He must have had such malice. He must have gloated. He must have laughed…
IT WAS THAT SPACE MARINE.
And…yes…he had escaped. Flown away. Like a coward. Like a sneaky git. He is the sneaky git. Him. He did it. That Winged Star had done THIS.
Grimjaw was trembling. His blood raced. His heart hammered. His breath heaved.
One thing was certain. One thing.
He must pay.
Grimjaw picked himself up from his forlorn position. The Nob started at the sudden movement. And he saw his eyes. They had depth. Depth from hell.
"I am an ork" he rumbled, "I am Skyboss, and you will obey me. I am master of the Skyripper and this Waaagh. You will obey. Turn this ship around and head full speed after that Winged Star."
The Nob was bewildered for a moment, then he rallied. "No! You lied to us! You are no ork! You are not in charge anymore! You are nothin' now!"
'Do as I say," threatened Grimjaw, "Or I will bite off your arms."
The Nob was unmoved. "Don't make me laugh! You won't be biting anybody's arms off wi' that tiny, puny, pi'iful excuse for a jaw!"
The immense ork was silent. Then with one fluid movement he lifted the nob off the ground and ripped his arms from their sockets.
With his teeth.
The Nob, screaming in agony, dropped to the ground. The entire horde of orks was shocked and terrified. Grimjaw had murder in his eyes. Not the excitement for fight, or the fury of violence, but pure burning hate. Hate for anything that dare defy him again. Hate for the Winged Star.
"LISTEN UP YOU FILTHY GITS!" he bellowed, "I AM SKYBOSS GRIMJAW! YOU ARE NOTHING! YOU WILL OBEY ME! NOW, WE ARE GOING AFTER THAT SPACE MARINE, AND I AM GOING TO MURDER HIM! TURN THIS SHIP AROUND! DO AS I SAY OR I WILL SHOOT OUT YER EYES AN' FEED YER GIZZARDS TO THE SQUIGS! GO!"
The orks' second long hesitation was enough to send him off the edge. One look from his wild eye sent them scrambling away in pure terror.
The thrusters fired up. Grimjaw's mind was clouded with black smoke, and only burning hate was visible. Red, burning hate for the Winged Star. The first and only thing he had truly hated in his entire life.
As the ship slowly turned its massive hull and flew through the clouds, Skyboss Grimjaw was deranged with hate, single-mindness and deadly ambition. Nothing else mattered. Not the ladz, not the Waaagh, not even his jaw. Just ambition. That ambition was to murder the Space Marine, even though death was far too good for it.
The hunt for the Winged Star had begun.