Disclaimer: I do not own Gameswork shop and therefore only take credit merely for this fic.
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IS IT WORHT IT?
The fire of marine bolters could be heard over the ruins. The boys knew what to do gripping their brute cleavers with great insatiable excitement. They waited behind the columns and walls for them to get within arms reach. They thought them to be simple, to be mindless brutes. They would show them. And yet still the biggest of them stared out in bewilderment thinking thoughts dangerous for an ork. The same words flickering through his head. Woz it really worth fighting all the time?
Gormaw was perhaps one of the oldest of his people. The barbaric and savage race that held war as their greatest delight. The feel of an axe in ones hand, the emotion of blasting ones opponent to the dust was motivating. And yet he could remember a time when things were very different, a time when they knew not of war, not of strife but of pain and weakness at the hands of the humies.
I remember…
iz was dere wen da humies killed me brothers
i woz dere wen da humies enslaved uz
i woz dere wen we fighted back slaughtering all in are path
red blood flowed and da boyz grew big and strong
but den we couldnt stop killing, dere woz never enough killing
sumfing dat woz so wrong became so rite and dat became are greatest delight
and now we fight to be da biggest most horney race dere is
and yet i wonder...is it really worth it?
He thought back to the first days. A time when they were simple beings living in caves hunting the wild fungus beasts that roamed the world. It was a sad existence yet they knew no better. Until they came. The humies came killing all those who wouldn't fight, they were cowards. A small grin came to his face they didn't even know what the word meant back then. They enslaved the strongest, forcing them to work building the strange weapons and machines they used until one day when they fought back.
It was incomprehensible at the time. They never had fought before but almost as instinctively they picked up weapons and killed all those who had made them suffer. They managed to drive them from their homes, then their world and in the end they won. They left many things in their departure. Vessels, weapon schematics and technologies. Without thought many began to learn of the power of technology making us a race a true race. And yet we couldn't help but feel frustrated, confused almost as if we were missing something. Within a short while we turned on each other killing are own kind, slaughtering are own brethren…and yet we didn't care. we…. enjoyed it!
And so this is where we are now. We left are world to kill and pillage all within are path because we want to…we need to. An unmistakable hunger eats at us. We crave for war as an addiction. And yet we love it.
They made us suffer true and they deserve to die but I can't help but think could things have been different, could we have been friends and gone without war.
He tilted his head slightly finally seeing the marine boys coming closer. He licked his lips eager for the first kill.
And yet he couldn't shake of the thought.
Is it worth it?
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Well what do you think? Another one of my strange ork fics that question what they think about their existence and ways.
Please review