Srunak did not sit idle as the Ork ship was besieged by the strange red horrors from the chaotic realm outside. Everywhere around the ship, more of these fell beasts seemingly willed themselves into the ship, much to the delight of the Orks and much to his chagrin. They had no flesh to offer as reward for killing them, and as such he avoided them whenever possible while searching for the diminishing number of Orks on the ship, for they were becoming harder to find as the beasts slowly but surely whittled down their numbers. If he saw one of the beasts attacking an Ork, he would enter the fray to prevent the beast from ripping the greenskin apart before he had the chance to do so himself and savor the experience. Strangely, the beasts also seemed to avoid Srunak, as if he lacked something they wanted.
Besides the danger of the creatures, the ship was showing itself to be hazardous. Rooms that were in formerly well-kept condition (by Ork standards) caved in on themselves for no reason while engines and other machinery constantly sputtered and fizzled, slowly growing softer and softer before shutting off entirely. Wherever the ship was heading, Srunak also saw through the occasional window it was slowing down, for the shapes and monstrous beings outside in that hellscape were passing by at a slower rate, their faces and appendages reaching out and clawing at the ship, hoping to take its occupants.
Now he was in another pipe. Crawling through it, he neared the ship's bridge which sounded like it had the remaining Orks. The pipe ended and had a deep gash in its wall, wide enough for him to crawl out and back in if needed, and he saw a large room with about twenty Orks in it, all jittery and frenzied from constant battle. The beasts were emerging from ethereal flames once every so often, and the Orks fought viciously, but after each encounter another Ork lay dead. Occasionally he attempted to snatch an Ork or one of their diminutive goblin-like servants from his perch and enjoy it for himself, but the opportunity never manifested. The biggest Ork stood at the front of the bridge, and behind him was a glowing red monitor showing a crude map and some rough lines drawn through it, which was assumedly the direction the Orks were taking, or at least the direction they thought they were taking. Beyond it was a dirty rectangular window that showed the outside horrors fly past as the ship continued through the voluminous pandemonium. The big Ork wore a black tricorne with three gold metals on its left side, and he wielded a massive gun resembling a Space Marine's bolter to boot. When he was not killing the beasts he was barking orders to the other Orks, and they obeyed his commands to the best of their abilities, whilst the ones who did not were treated the same way as the beasts were. Srunak could not stop watching the Ork; the amount of skin and flesh on him was tantalizing. Soon, he would take it, soon he would be ready to strike.
There were flashes of light around the room, and tongues of fire rose up, and out of those flames more of the fell beasts emerged, baying for slaughter. The Orks shouted and laughed, and they fired their guns and swung with their axes. Even if a beast got the better of an Ork, it refused to go down without taking the beast with it, ensuring an encounter it would never forget. Despite their bravery, the Orks were fighting a losing battle. Another Ork died every minute the battle lasted, while for every beast killed, two more seemed to take its place.
Srunak saw another three Orks taken down by the beasts flooding the room, leaving ten left; now was the time. He leapt down from the pipe and onto another Ork, tearing it to shreds before it had a chance to react, and immediately slashing another beast that came for him whose original target was the now-dead Ork. Sprinting to the center of the room, he engaged two more Orks amidst a brawl with three beasts that attacked with their hideously deformed claws and fangs. These Orks saw him coming and swung at him with their axes between blows with the beasts. Some of the swings he parried, but one knocked him down, denting his left shoulder plate in the process, while another hit his chest, further damaging the already broken Ankh. He swept his right arm across the floor, cutting of one of the Ork's feet. Getting back up he swung again with his left arm, and it slashed the stomach of the second Ork, causing him to double over howling in pain. The third was too busy fighting off the beasts to notice his comrades' predicament, and Srunak impaled it through the chest. One of the beasts it had been fighting turned away to find another Ork, but the second attacked Srunak, knocking him to the floor with the Ork's corpse on top of him. His right arm was still in the Ork's chest cavity, but his left was free, and he cut off the beast's forearm as it brought it down on his head. He slashed again, and with the time he bought himself freed his right arm and mutilated the beast's other arm, and a slashing with both of his claws obliterated its head. Its corpse sizzled and boiled with pink flames and steam dancing about.
Ignoring the disintegrating body, he made his way to the front of the bridge where the biggest Ork was. He stood alongside two smaller Orks, and they were the last ones; all the other Orks lay dead, their mangled bodies strewn across the floor. The trio was surrounded by more beasts converging on them, all baying for their blood. The Orks, unintimidated, shouted in unison as they fired the last rounds in their guns and swung with their axes, trying to kill just one more beast before their inevitable deaths. Srunak jumped in with the demons, slashing this way and that, screeching metallically. There was a flurry of skin, color, blood, and blades, and he unexpectedly flew out of the frenzy, and bones, blood, and sinew flew past and landed on him and around him. He stood up without delay in case an enemy had survived and was coming for him, but there was none. The beasts and the Orks were dead. The great Ork and his smaller brethren laid at the foot of the monitor, their bodies an unrecognizable mess, while the beasts' bodies burned away in the seconds that followed.
The ship began to rattle and shake. The hellscape that lay beyond the window warped and faded, and the void of space was visible again. The lights dimmed, and the remaining generators quietly shut off. With no propulsion, the ship slowed to a crawl and began to drift as silence descended on the bridge. Srunak looked at the monitor in front of him, its red light rapidly fading. Out of the crude text he saw something that said, "DA GOOL STARZ" before its light gave way to blackness. He did not know what that meant, and now he was on a dead ship that was drifting aimlessly. He looked through the window into the void. A myriad of stars was scattered across, millions of light-years away, all potential hosts of more life and more flesh, and in the center there loomed a planet with a dim star vaguely visible behind it. It was dark-gray and cast an unrelenting, all-consuming shadow across the space. There were no lights to be seen emanating from it, no signs of greenery or life that resided on it, only an expanse of darkness that seemed to corrupt its very soil. Given the proximity, it might in time pull the ship in.
He had no more time to contemplate this, for he again felt the burning hunger within, and the Orks' bodies were all over the ship. With those thoughts back in his mind, he turned to the dead Ork at his feet and dug in. The skin was peeled from head to toe, and he crammed the Ork's flesh into his mouth, but it still refused to open. He kept shoving more in. He found he could not stop, and he rolled around in the flesh and blood and wrapped the skin around his body with the others, desperate to satisfy his senses, and that satisfaction was neared, but never fulfilled. Despite this he could not stop, he peeled more skin from the corpses around the room, covering his whole body with skin.
No matter the flesh's inability to satisfy, he continued to embrace it. He still wanted to serve his dynasty by destroying what was left of these wretched aliens. Wait, what was his dynasty? What was it called? Who was his lord? He racked his brain, searching for the name, but it was hidden. He did not know what to make of it at first, he did not want to lose his knowledge of the just cause he served and risk losing his identity. What made him forget, did he not have enough flesh? Perhaps if he played in the Orks' flesh some more he would remember. There was a dynasty he served, that was certain. It was a dynasty he must continue to serve, that he was clearly doing by destroying these greenskins and strange beasts. His oddities though, they stood no chance of being tolerated. So even through all he had endured, he was still doomed to be an outcast. He would continue to serve from the shadows, perhaps then, when he finally died, his overlords would forgive him.
He went back to bathing in the flesh.