Chapter 1: That not many orks felt
Brazz had everything. He was a warboss of his own klan that was known as the Dappers or Da Brazz klan. Known for their dress code based hierarchy system, with boyz wearing shirts and flat caps. Nobz wore a waist coats and bowler hats, and Brazz himself wore the entire suit, complete with Top hat and cravat. He was surrounded by his own. Kin that would follow him into the thickest of battle. He was on a chair decorated with grizzly trophies of former foes. He had a pint of fungus ale and a freshly baked squig pie and fungus chips on a ceramic plate. He was on his own flagship 'Da Triumpf' his power klaw lay on the table along with his top hat. But not even his status symbols could get his mind off the feeling, a feeling that not many orks felt.
"Is it that time sir?" An ork nob sitting next to him asked, as he dabbed his lips with a napkin. The nob had a Chelsea grin scar, further exaggerated with war paint, earning the name Grinz.
"What is the greatest thing you have lost, old chap?" The two greenskins spoke proper low gothic without any speech impediment, with Brazz being the one to teach it to Grinz. The two orks spoke with a high class accent.
"That would have to be a slugga sir. Flew out of my hand during a long battle. I spent hours digging through corpses trying to find it. But never could." Brazz chuckled, it was typical for orks to prefer objects over friends. Due to the life of an ork is short and brutal. He made that mistake. He then heard growling and looked down to see Rufus, his attack squig begging for food. He patted the red mouth on legs then placed his plate of food on the ground before standing.
"Are we going back sir?" Grinz asked as the warboss picked up his pint, he then patted Rufus again as the face eater gobbled the rest of the pie. Brazz then turned to Grinz.
"Yes, my good man…yes we are." He then downed the rest of his ale and pounded it on the table, then donning his top hat and picking up his power klaw. He then made his way through the pub of his rowdy lower kin, they drunk, ate and brawled, but Brazz just looked at the ground in silence. Most days he would be shouting and shoving, even throwing the occasional punch, but today he just couldn't be bothered.
He walked past corridor upon corridor of his klansmen, some even said hello to him and tipped their hats to him. He could hear the fighting on the outer parts of the hull as daemons tried to enter the ship. He would usually recognise them but today, he did not. He could not take his mind of them, despite the fact it had been so long ago. He still remembered the date, and their names.
After a bumpy elevator ride he finally got to the bridge, he was greeted to more noise, as meks fixed the controls as fast as they broke. And the light of the warp lit the metal in a swirling purple glow. An ork wearing a naval bicorn hat stood at the wheel. He was singing a space shanty with the other green skins, and didn't see the war boss coming up behind him.
"An Oi sailed da warp for many a year not knowin' what oi wuz missin'. Then oi sets me sails afore da loot an started fightin. Oi got myself a-oh ahoy dere bozz. Wat do ya need?" The kaptin turned and saluted, Brazz gave a tip of his top hat.
"Nulzon my friend, how long until we reach Shorth?" Brazz asked, Nulzon looked around the instruments and controls, hit a few then tweaked some. Then returned to Brazz.
"Wez an hour away Bozz…why do ya come ear bozz? Wez ave enough boyz, and we already took over dis planet." Brazz stopped his walk out of the bridge and turned to face the kaptin.
"…There is some friends I need to see." Brazz tipped his hat, then walked out of the bridge and continued to take another elevator trip. However this time walked straight to his cabin, and slammed the door, startling the grot within.
"Ello dere maztar, wot do ya need?" The grot asked as he turned on the gramophone next to him, then jumped down off the dresser. A power claw was thrown his way, but his reflexes held up and he caught it, then dragged it to a desk drawer. Brazz then took off his jacket and placed it on a coat hanger with his top hat.
"I just require my armour removed Abner, I'm not going to need it today." Brazz outstretched his arms, the grot then clamped up a step ladder and got to work. Every piece of armour that fell, was relieving on Brazz's part.
"Iz it dat time you disappear for a bit den come back?" Abner had been with Brazz for several years, he had gotten to know his master well. Brazz then stretched as he felt light. The only armour remaining being either bolted into his skin, or sewn into his clothing.
"I'm afraid it is my good servant." Abner dragged the plates of armour away into a trunk, he then stood waiting for the next order.
"Here is a toof, now go clean Rufus's den." The green in Abner's face disappeared at the thought, the toof landing next to him didn't even phase him. Brazz smiled, it was always entertaining to watch the grot being chased around by a squig. He would have to miss it today.
'Da Triumpf' rumbled as it exited the warp, Brazz watched through a porthole at the planet below. He stood in a hanger bay as a drop ship was ready to take him to the surface. His jacket rolled up around his forearm, and a well made choppa at his belt.
"Sah, da ship iz ready!" A flyboy shouted from his cockpit. The dropship painted bronze, the colour of most metal armour and vehicles in the klan. Brazz slowly walked to the ship then climbed in. He then slammed the door, and sat down. A mekboy was in the cabin with him, and looked at his leader with a curios look in his red eyes. Brazz shot him a glare, startling the mekboy into pretending he was tightening a bolt. But the Mek still looked when he thought that Brazz wouldn't notice. Brazz knew that they were in the atmosphere by a certain feeling and went to open the door, looking down on the fields below. He hoped that the Flyboy could read the co-ordinates as it would be a longer walk otherwise.
"Tell the flyboy to put us down!" Before the mek could answer, Brazz threw himself out the door, he had done this jump many times before. He slid down the hill, then jerked up at the bottom straight onto his feet. He then dusted himself off and slid on his jacket, fixed his cravat and started the walk. As he started to take steps, he felt it all coming back.
A green muscular arm shot out of the ground, followed by another arm, they both then pushed down. The ground then gave away to show the green, broad muscular frame of an ork boy. He wiped off some of the excess womb fluid and started to look around. Wrecked vehicles, corpses and craters, he already knew through instinct that this was a battlefield. A choppa lay a couple of centimetres from a deceased boy, through instinct he decided to pick it up. He then felt the urge to find things like him. As he felt the WAAARGH in the distance he heard voices, time for some fun. He followed the voices until he came across a group of humans. One was wearing a suit and had a swagger stick in his hand. Behind him where four men wielding las-guns and one was holding a rifle. After no thought he decided he could take them all.
"WAAARGH!" He charged headlong at the group of humans waving his choppa in the air and shouting the ork battle cry. They raised their weapons.
"Don't harm him, I need him alive." The suited man shouted, the bodyguards lowered their weapons and readied for close combat. He brought down his choppa on the nearest human. His flak armour could not hinder the brute force of the blunt blade. The others surrounded him pointing bayonets at him, trying to keep him still. But with no regards to his own life he kept swinging his blade. Breaking weapons and maiming his foe in strong swings. He didn't feel the dart go into his back, before he started to tire.
Several months later
Francis moved throughout his room, he only needed a bit more room for his latest trophy. The tusk of a great beast mounted on a wooden back was held in his large green hands. As an ork, he loved the thrill of hunting, especially when they put up a fight. He eventually found a spot next to his favorite weapon, his large dagger. That he used to rip into the skin of his latest prey. His master had taught him in the ways of almost every weapon of a gentleman's armoury. And as his master is a planetary governor the weapon variety was large. His greenskin instincts remained to make him better in close combat. He then remembered he was supposed to go to the dining room for dinner. He crashed through the door and ran as fast as his stubby legs could carry him down the long hallways, past servants. Then through large ornate doors into a dining area, before sliding to stop himself.
"Hush honey he's here. Greetings my good man Francis, did you find room for the trophy?" His master was well dressed in a clean suit, and was already out of his hunting gear. Francis still had some pouches strewn about him, and was still dusted in sand. At least he took his blood covered shirt off.
"Yes I did masta…I'm afraid to be running out of room." The bubbly attitude of the ork amused the planetary governor. His wife looked at him with an unimpressed stare. While their daughters stood ready for the dinner.
"Now remember Francis. It is master. All my friends are coming in 2 weeks. And I want you to talk and look your best for the occasion." Francis nodded to his master as he walked down the table and sat in the extra large chair next to the governor's wife. The woman's face screwed up and looked away, and even moved her chair over a few centimetres. The servants stepped in from the side and presented the meals for the governor and his family.
"Edmund he's a savage, our friends will see him as the scourge he is." She whispered into his ear. The governor shook his head and sighed at how his wife didn't agree with him.
"He has come a long way dear. He can speak properly, he's a great hunting partner. And look he can even use the cutlery well. And they said I couldn't civilise a barbaric xenos." Edmund spoke as Francis carefully lifted the spoonful of soup to his green lips. Then tried to hold in the burning sensation.
"Father, I take it that I won't have to practice ballroom dancing with him." One of the daughters said pointing at Francis. Who was quickly, but elegantly drinking water to cool his mouth down.
"Don't be silly Doris, He's a little big for you. We'll get an instructor for the two of you." The conversation made Francis curios. He had never heard those terms before.
"Excuse me mast-er. What is a ball and ballroom dancing?" Francis asked Edmund who swallowed a piece of meat and faced his green friend.
"A ball is when people of our stature gather for eating, drinking, talking and dancing. And you my good man, will be the talk of the room." This further fed the ork's curiosity, as he was learning so many things in the one conversation.
"Edmund I don't think you should be making bets like this, what if Noelle does manage to do the same as you?" Francis continued to listen as he had heard the name before but never really got know who she was.
"The woman's a naval captain, she would have raged after a minute of trying to tech basic writing. And I have gone the extra mile, I will show them." Francis kept on trying to decipher what was being talked about. But then remembered his soup might be getting cold. He burnt his tongue again.