Hey guys, Uncle WAAAGH! Here!
Couldnt upload a chapter yesterday, very sorry.
Not too much to say, but anyways, hope you enjoy!
The Necron Lord waited for the nano scarabs to finish the maintenance check. The nano scarabs checked his body inside and out, to make sure that he was operating at peak performance. A metal chirp came from inside of him, as the Nano Scarabs came out from a small opening they had opened in his Necrodermis chest. They stitched the hole closed, and they crawled up to his head, and he downloaded the information.
Status Report: Loading
Necrodermis Regeneration: Peak Efficiency
Movement Systems: Peak Efficiency
Memory Storage: Permanently damaged. Repairs impossible
Combat Interface: Peak Efficiency
Nanoscarab Interface: Damaged, currently repairing
Logic Processors: Peak Efficiency
Phylactery: Peak Efficiency
Phase Shifter: Peak Efficiency
Lightning Field: Peak Efficiency
Teleporter: Peak Efficiency
Mindshackle Scarab Hive: Peak Efficiency
The Necron Lord sighed inwardly. So his memory was damaged. That made a lot of sense now that he thought about it. He sent a command to the Nano Scarabs. They unburied themselves out of his head, and retreated back into the Phylactery. He grabbed his Staff of Light and powered it up. Powerful green energy laced through his arms, activating the Staff. The gauss attachment flickered to life, powerful green lightning arced from the blades, flaring green energy.
Hey, where we going? The shard asked, as he donned on his cloak.
I must find the others from our realm. I have thought long and hard of what to do, but finally, I know what I will do. I shall help them in their quest, but after that I will hide you for all eternity, and return to slumber. He replied, adjusting the cloak to cover the spinal prongs that stuck from his back.
Don't you have to tell that Night Elf, Thelinda, that you're leaving? And besides, I don't think you can get out of here unnoticed, in daytime no less. The shard stated. The Necron Lord thought about it for a moment. He had to use a flight master, as they were called, to leave the island, and had to practically go through the entire city to reach it. He only wished he had a Nightmare Shroud, but sadly, he did not find any within the vault, and he had already sealed it. Permanently. It pained him to detonate the tomb, but it was already compromised. He would not let mortals steal his artifacts, or his long dead servants. Though the night elfs were not so keen of detonating the tomb, in fear of destroying 'sacred groves' he did so anyways. He opened the door to his room, leaving the small cottage he had used as a temporary residence.
"Wait! Lord of Metal! Where are you going?" He heard a night elf yell, and he slowly turned around, to see the muscular yet lithe form of Thelinda Mosswing running after him.
"I am leaving Thelinda. Do not follow." He growled, walking away.
"But Lord of Metal! I cannot allow you to leave!" She cried out. He slowly turned around to face her, amplifying the glare in his green eyes, to the point like it was staring at a sun. She winced, trying to hide the baleful glare of The Necron Lord.
"And why is that?" He asked. She took a gulp of breath, before she replied.
"I cannot allow you to leave, without the high priestess's permission." She said, her voice still stoic, as she recovered from his glare. Admirable.
"Time is of the essence. Tell your High Priestess that I am leaving. Tell her that I go to find someone." He growled. She shook her head furiously.
"You will tell her yourself." She said, her voice calm, yet filled with authority. He grinned inwardly. Maybe some intimidation was in need. At his command, dozens of Mindshackle scarabs crawled into his open hand. He commanded them to stay still. He stuck out his hand, and she glanced at the mechanical scarabs, that let out small glows of green light from tiny spots along their mechanical bodies.
"These are Mindshackle scarabs. At my command, they will bury into your skull, and infiltrate your brain. I will either subtly suggest to your mind that you go to Tyrande, and do my bidding, or I shall force you to do my bidding. You will become no more than a puppet, and I will become the one pulling your strings. Then, when you have fulfilled your use and purpose, I will make you kill yourself. You can avoid this fate, If you do what I tell you, NOW." He growled threateningly. She nodded fearfully, as the scarabs made metal chirps, scuttling around in his hand.
"Good. Now, you will go to Tyrande Whisperwind, and tell her that I am leaving. I will go to the flightmaster, and I will leave this isle. If she wishes to make complaints, she can talk to me, or my mindshackle scarabs." He ordered, shaking his hand slightly, the Mindshackle scarabs scuttling over each other. He sent them a command, and they retreated back into the hive. He covered himself with his cloak, wrapping it around, revealing only his face. He dimmed the lights in his eyes, until they were only two dull green orbs.
"Are we clear?" He asked, and she nodded again. He waved her away.
"Now go. I have very little time, and very little patience." He growled, and she was sent running. The Necron Lord started to walk away, heading for the town square.
/
Lofn sat on the ground, meditating. She took deep breaths, each breath of air flowing into her nostrils, and into her lungs. She could practically feel the cool air traveling through her body. She exhaled, the now warm air coming out of her nostrils. Her eyes were closed lightly, as she sat there, calming herself. It was part of a Farseers training to always remain calm, under any situation. A panicking Eldar was a dangerous Eldar, for several reasons. They could lower the mental barrier in their mind, that all eldar knew how to keep up as children, and attract she who thirsts. They could potentially set other Eldar into a panic, and worst of all, if they were Seers, they could use up their runes to too much of an extent, and threaten all around them. Said runes were slightly glowing a soft, and light shade of red. To prevent being effected from the Perils of the Warp, eldar used runes to draw on energy of the warp. However, in this strange place, the runes were not draining warp energy fast enough for her liking. She gently reached out in her mind, isolating thoughts of worry, before getting rid of them.
"Um… Lofn..." A voice said distantly. She tried to ignore it.
"Lofn!" It said again. She sighed inwardly. Couldn't they leave her alone? She tried even harder to squeeze the voice out of her head, when she realised it wasn't coming from her.
"LOFN, YOU DAMNABLE XENO! OPEN YOUR EYES, BEFORE I PRY THEM OPEN!" It screamed at her. She opened her eyes, and gasped. Klaus was levitating ten feet in the air, floating around, tendrils of gentle warp energy holding him up. His idle gasmask was staring daggers at her, as he floated in the air.
"I'm so sorry Klaus!" She cried, as she gently lowered him down to a safe height. The tendrils reeled back, and he collapsed onto the ground. He coughed, as he raised himself up slowly, slightly wobbling.
"Sorry Sorry Sorry!" She said, as she ran over to him. He put a hand up, and she nearly ran into him.
"Your apologies are not needed. Nor welcome. Nor accepted. But next time, warn me when you are doing your witchcraft. Especially when I am asleep." He growled, rubbing his shoulder. She sighed in relief. At least he was alright.
"It is time we leave." He said, as she heard a crack come from his fingers, as he pulled at them, one finger at a time. "We shall eat on the road. We have very little time to waste." He added on, as he took his combat knife and ripped it from the ground. He put the knife away, and slowly pulled Ketzer towards him. He whinnied as he came, annoyed that he could not eat more grass. He vaulted on top of Ketzer, and yet again, Lofn was reminded of his rather surprising agility. He stuck out a hand, and she took it, as she climbed on. Soon, they were on the road again.
"Why do you carry so many gems?" He asked suddenly. She turned around, seeing his hand pointing at the runes embedded in her armor, and the spirit stone at her neck.
"These are runes. They allow me to draw in warp energy, without risking myself to She Who Thirsts." She explained. Then he glanced at her Spirit Stone.
"And that?" He asked. She considered about what she was going to say.
"A family heirloom." She lied. He seemed to believe it, and looked away. She gingerly touched the spirit stone. Spirit Stones were valuable to eldar uninhabited, and extremely valuable when inhabited. It was the only way to be safe from the perverted hands of She who Thirsts. However, she wondered if Klaus already knew what these things were. The only humans who really knew what spirit stones were, are the Inquisition, and a few space marine chapters. But as he mentioned before, he had talked to a particularly heretical inquisitor. Maybe he already knew, and was merely testing her? Yet again, she cursed the damn gas mask. That was the one thing that still proved to be quite an obstacle. She had grown thick skin to his insults, thought it still hurt, though not as bad. She eagerly hoped that one day, that mask became broken, or lost, or forgotten. But yet again, that was part of him missing. But it was one part she wouldn't miss.
/
Mista Nailbrain spat out a bloody tooth, as he continued to work on his Tellyporta. He had lost at least three teef, and gained a few new scars, ever since one of the cogs in the Tellyporta snapped, he had been working for three hours now, and everything he seemed to do made it worse. He worked tirelessly, and surrounding him like an aura, were pieces of scrap metal, spit, tape, rivets, screws, and nails.
"Needs more nails…" Mista Nailbrain mumbled, taking out a few nails out from his toolbox, sticking it between his teeth, as he ripped open the Tellyporta once again, to try and find the problem. He moved aside bits and gubbins with one of his hands, gutting the mechanisms. He rewired the mechanisms with his freehand, before shoving the nails into the suspected problems. He gave it a good whack with a wrench just to be sure. He took out a welda, slipping on his goggles, and began to fuse the deep hole in the tellyporta shut. Bright red sparks shot out, as the flame melted the scrappy steel shut.
"Dis is gunna wurk. I knows it." He grinned, as he turned off the bright blue flame on the welda, stashing it away in his toolbox. He slipped off the goggles, wiping a thick crease of sweat from his forehead. He flicked a few switches. The tellyporta flickered to life, bucking wildly on the ground. He grinned, as he strapped the tellyporta back onto his scrap armor. It wasn't the flashiest thing, but yet again, he wasn't a Flashgit, or a Bad Moon snob. He selected a target close by with the Gitfinda, and he teleported. Most would be disorientated, or be throwing up, but an orks robust physiology could handle it. That, and Mista Nailbrain had used his personal tellyporta many times. He noticed that Clea was sitting on a small boulder, watching him.
"Ow long ya been dere?" He asked, as he powered down the tellyporta. She shrugged, coming down from the rock.
"How long have you been working on it?" She asked, with a small smile. Putting two and two together, Mista Nailbrain realised she had been watching him from the beginning.
"Awhoile." He said, scratching his cybork eye. She looked at the gleaming red metal eye.
"How did you get that?" She asked. He grinned savagely.
"Dis be my cybork eye. I lost me real eye a zoggin long toime ago." He grinned. She appeared shocked.
"You… You can make new eyes?" She asked, stunned. He made a so-so gesture.
"I kant make new eyes. I can make da cybork eyes, doe I wuld need a painboy wiff me." He explained. She raised an eyebrow.
"Painboy?" She asked. He slightly shivered at the mention of painboys. A natural reflex, after working with them for so long. Especially the more… crazy ones.
"Painboys be da doks of ork kultur. Deys zoggin mad doe. Any propa ork stays far away from dem, cuz most of da time dey zoggin mad. But sometoimes, I'ze gotta wurk wiff dem." Mista Nailbrain admitted. She shrugged, inside of her head, drawing similarities to some Forsaken Apothecaries she knew.
"So how do you make them?" She asked. He gave her a savage grin. So she wanted an explanation? He would give her one. But before he could do it, Bluddflagg stirred in his sleep, slowly waking up.
"Ugh… Zog...:" He grumbled, pushing himself up. He looked at the two, before looking around.
"Da zog is Spookums, and da uvva one?" He grumbled, taking off his pirate hat, rubbing his head. Mista Nailbrain shrugged his shoulders, while Clea merely took a glance around.
"I saw them going out to the stream to fill their canteens." She reported. Bluddflagg gave her a good hard look, before back at Mista Nailbrain.
"And why ya up so earlee?" He questioned. Mista Nailbrain gestured to his Tellyporta
"Da Tellyporta been actin up. I hadta fix it." He explained. Bluddflagg took out a large canteen from his belt, popping a cork. He took a good swig of it.
"Kapn, dat be Fungus Beer?" He asked. He threw the canteen to Mista Nailbrain, and he nimbly caught it, volatile juice splashing on his face. He took a wild grin as he took a good swig of it. It felt good to feel that explosive brew go down his throat, and he shivered in delightment.
"Dats da good stuff." He said, wiping his mouth. He handed the Canteen back to Bluddflagg, who put the canteen back.
"Dont got more brewa boyz doe, so dis be da last.." He grumbled in reply, stowing the canteen back into his belt. Spookums and Zentar returned through the underbrush, carrying their respective canteens.
"Lets zoggin go already. Da soona we foind da humie, da soona we get to foightin and lootin." Bluddflagg grinned, as Clea led the way.
/
Thrall sat among the war council, the respective generals sitting at their sides of the table. The war council consisted of him, Garrosh Hellscream, Varok Saurfang, and Sylvanas Windrunner. They adjusted their seats, before Thrall initiated their conversation.
"How goes the siege of Northrend?" He asked. They looked amongst each other, before Varok answered him.
"It goes well, but strange things are happening. It was expected of the undead to retaliate, and we have suffered casualties, but reports from the men have reported strange sigils on some of the living cultists." Varok said. Thrall suddenly got a bad feeling, at the mention of these sigils. Jaina had mentioned something earlier about these eight pointed stars. That strange human seemed to hate whoever bore these sigils. If Bluddflagg ever found him, then Thrall would ask him about it.
"Saurfang speaks the truth. Some of our Dark Rangers have found strange shrines, also bearing this sigil. It is something that cannot be ignored." Sylvanas added on. Thrall glanced at her. She was thinking of something.
"Shamen that look upon the mark have been driven mad. Something foul is going on in northrend, warchief." Garrosh growled. Thrall thought long and hard.
"What of the Alliance?" He asked. The generals paused. Conflicts between the Alliance and Horde consisted of small skirmishes, but it benefitted no one. A rather shaky unofficial non aggression pact was in agreement, as they both had a much bigger foe to deal with.
"They are pushing against the scourge. It is not known if they have encountered these shrines or cultists." Varok reported. Thrall nodded, focusing back on the issue of the shrines.
"If they drive our mages and shamans mad, then they cannot remain. All shrines bearing the mark, along with any living, must be burned to ashes." He growled. He got a few surprised glances from the generals. It was unlike him to be so brutal.
"Very well Warchief." Garrosh said, grinning slightly.
"How are our supplies?" Thrall asked. None answered him for a few moments.
"Not well. There have been many blizzards and storms around Northrend, pushing back or sinking our supply ships. More supplies are needed on the front if we are to hold a beachhead. Weapons are regrettably, in short supply." Sylvanas said, keeping her cold facade, as usual. It was something that he regrettably had gotten used to.
"Most of our ranged weapons are in short stock. Bows, arrows, quivers." Garrosh added on. Thrall thught long and hard about this, until he was interrupted.
"Warchief, If I may." Sylvanas said. Thrall gestured her to continue. She nodded, before glancing back at him.
"Those orks that have recently left. Their weapons could be very useful in the war effort." She suggested. He couldn't help but agree. Recently, a few of his Kor'kron guard had these weapons. Inaccurate they were, they were however, like fully automatic muskets. Many a thief had tried to steal their weapons.
"Oh yes, those strange orcs. What was their captain's name? Bluddflagg?" Varok said, scratching his chin. Thrall nodded.
"They are heading to Ratchet as of right now. To meet up with some human." Sylvanas replied to him. Garrosh seemed interested. Most likely for a duel.
"I asked them to visit Chief Engineer Gazlowe. If they can somehow mass produce these weapons, then this can certainly help the war effort." Thrall said. However, Varok shook his head.
"And what happens if they fall into the hands of the enemy? What happens if the alliance gets them?" Varok stated. They could not answer them.
"Yet again, the Mek seems to have an intellect that goes past even gnome engineers. I doubt they could reproduce these weapons." Sylvanas said. Thrall narrowed his eyes at this. How did she know? Was she spying on them?
"It's possible, but if the alliance takes too many, they could use it against us." Varok pointed out.
"Regardless, it is something we can certainly try. I shall send a messenger to Ratchet, and hopefully, we can make these weapons, or as the Mek called it… Shootas."
Review Time
Guest: Alright buddy. Whatever you say.
AlienLizard: I cant focus entirely on the orks, but if you find them to be intresting, then good for you!
Guest: Never too much heresy ;). But ill try to fix this issue.
King Rocket: I dont think so, but its a possibility.
Grey Knight Paladin: Thank you so much! Im happy that you can enjoy it.
Rc48177: Well to be honest, all crossover fanfictions are what if scenarios, so it is a weird joke, no matter how you put it.