Chapter 2
Even the Ork's laughter was sinister. The guttural barking sound was known as laughter only by the look of sadistic anticipation upon the monster's face. As Nula sat above the creature, she trembled with anger at the sight. After so long, the months of terror, the blackened nights as she sat in her father's house shivering and longing for the warmth a fire would bring, and the bitter tears shed over the encroaching Crawl, She would have expected to be left speechless in terror this close to her fear. Instead all she felt was pure rage.
To top it all off, there wasn't even some sort of ignoble purpose to it all. Instead she watched this hated creature laugh at her misfortunes, the very ones that his kind had caused. He was laughing because he had discovered her home. The place where she grew up, where her father had grown up, Where her mother had died, and she had first fallen in love. He was watching that place and he was laughing as he planned to destroy it. Her home would soon burn like the neighboring villages. The monsters would slaughter them all for sport, and they too would be nothing more than another story to haunt the people down the river. She wondered who, if anyone would find their village.
She shifted her weight uncomfortably as a branch pressed into the soft area under her ribs. As she shifted her knife swung down ever so slightly, just enough for her to feel its presence. The mixture of rage and a blade reached into her subconscious and gave birth to an idea.
Her village was not yet doomed. Nula understood the basic principle of the Vox, and how it allowed for long distance communication. At no time had she seen this creature use whatever crude amalgamation they parodied as a Vox communication. She was not even sure that they had that ability, as far as she could tell the blade and armor were the only ways in which technology expressed itself for the greenskins. But if that were the case, how had he acquired the body of a tank to wear? Was an Ork so strong that he could swing iron through whatever metal clothed the guard's mechanized beasts? If so, what hope would she have engaging such a monster?
But she had to try. What hope would her people have if the monster brought more with it? The idea of her home brought asunder was too much for her to endure, and she placed her hand upon her dagger. A flicker of doubt (or was it reason) tried to stay her hand. What am I doing? The thought slipped out of her mind as a blade from its sheath. Her ultimate weapon came from inside, and as she ran her finger over the blade to test its edge, the oddest of thoughts replaced her doubt. Memories of a stone mason's work song bubbled to the surface, carried through her mind by her father's commanding voice.
"Hewn in will/ noble in thought/ Cut the earth/ What God's have wrought/ Son stand up strong/ against your foe/ Face the stone/ and bring it Low."
Her father's voice lept to mind with another simple command: "You are only as good as your tool Nula. Your knife is nothing compared to your mind." For quite some time she had been confused, though not ungrateful at her father's allowance of her daily hours spent reading. Many a family in the village found little use for the flights of fancy found in the dust covered library. She oft found her only companion the cave swallows who roosted above the historical sections. This of course surprised her, as the view alone was worth the trip.
"Sun's wrath" she cursed again. The wandering of her mind had the potential to prove fatal, and as if guided by the emperors own hand, Nula had sliced her finger in her careless mental wandering. The pain was reminder of her task at hand, and she dared to believe in some providential message.
However the blood offered a new challenge. It was no ordinary blade which she held in her hand, It had been handed down throughout her family since the first off-worlder settled generations before. A relic of technological wonder, wiring and circuitry splayed out around the hilt. A quick press of the activation rune would engulf the blade in a paper thin field of energy, capable of severing nearly any naturally occurring material. The knife itself was of a simple design, but had the elegant touches of master craftsmanship. The grip was woven from a red leather into interlocking diamond shapes, which ended in smooth pummel. Etched into the rounded end was some foreign glyph surrounded by two serpents. Adjacent to the pummel was the slightest hint of a hand guard, forged into the shape of a braided rope. Aesthetics aside, the true value of the blade was in its relic status. It was impossible for Nula, or anyone in her family to appreciate the compact nature of the machinery. Where in modern blades of this design the complicated mechanism took up valuable space along the base of the blade, and risked exposure to damage, the master crafted blade held in the hands of such a "nobody" had none of these flaws, and came from an era long lost to time. The mechanisms existed within the hilt, greatly saving space. It was a grand sense of cosmic irony that such a tool was now in the hands of a being many would still consider a child.
Irony aside, and completely lost on the girl, the field upon her blade had the distinct problem of vaporizing liquid upon activation. She often used that feature to impress her friends, or as a simple curiosity when she was bored, as upon activation, any liquid would cause a sharp pop and crackled of blue sparks. This was even effected by the appearance of condensation. She could not be sure the blade was dry in the darkness, and the last thing she needed was the activation drawing attention. This left only one option as far as she could reason, shed had to activate the blade the instant before striking if she had any hope of being silent. This was a simple, yet deeply unwelcome complication. Nula was by no means an expert in the art of fighting, and she had never used the blade for anything other than as a tool.
"Your knife is nothing compared to your mind". It was quite the compliment to Nula, and given the true value of what she held in her hand, it was one that she did not yet fully appreciate.
