As If You Cared: As I said, I have no plans for them, at least not yet. But who knows what the future will bring? As for quest writing, its something I may consider as the story grows if ideas start coming slower, perhaps in Omake form or as chapters dealing with others experiencing this "little" phenomenon. Something I'll take into consideration.

Inquisitor Soren: Honestly, I hadn't thought about the Inquisition when I started this, considering the fact I was focusing on armies and the Sister's of Battle could be, in some senses, considered a Inquisition Army. But after reading your review, an idea came to me. Not spoiling anything, but I may play on it later. And the thought of little orks with a REAL gun? Someone would die horribly.

Icee: I have NO idea if dogs exist in Warhammer, at least in a manner we would recognize. I'm certain their are dog like species, but actual dogs? Dunno. And Orcs being orcs, they'd see Bandit and think "BIG SQUIQ! 3"

ZomRomCom: Exactly. As of yet, I have no plans. But that may change as the story goes on.

I appreciate all the kind reviews. I'll try to have updates every day or two, but ... no promises. I churn out what I can when I can slip away and when the ideas come.

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I've already decided the guest bedroom has become a lost cause. There is only one way that room can be cleaned now.

With fire.

Maybe I'll ask the Sisters to do it before I get rid of these little bastards.

Don't get me wrong. The Orks have a certain charm in their simple stupidity. Unlike everyone else I've talked to, they fight these neverending goddamn wars for one simple reason.

They love to fight.

No higher moral authority, no self rightousness, no underhanded tactics. Just "Look, fightin! WAAAAARGH!". Makes them easy to understand.

Unfortunatly, it also means, out of everyone here, they give me the most damn trouble, despite my status as "Warboss" to them now (Apparently, the Ork that looked half toaster was their first "boss". When I stomped him into the carpet, I became the new boss. ... That and I scare the crap out of them.). So far, I've only had to stomp about 80 of them to keep them in line when it comes to the "No killing the "umies or da pointy ears".

Unfortuantly, that doesn't fix two problems I have when it comes to these little guys.

One, they don't know how to NOT fight, so ... they end up fighting eachother. The guest room has turned into a warzone, all the clans building different forts and camps all around the room out of anything they could find, from scrap to garbage, legos to cardboard boxes. At last count, I had five of them running around in here ... but with the way they seemed to multiply and kill eachother, I could never be sure. One day I'd have eight, the next 2. Always fighting, tearing eachother apart, even their own clans when the fighting got really good.

Number two was a bit more complicated. Orks had very certain, very stupid ideas how things should be. They loved to sneak out at night and "borrow" the others vehicles and weapons, tearing them apart for scrap or "fixin um" by making them "more Orky" (Which usually involved either a ton of red paint, which I have no idea where they got from, taping guns and rockets to the sides for "more dakka" or adding random metal plates and spikes all over it). And no matter how many times I told them not to, night after night they would run off and do it. Apparently with being bloodthirsty idiots they were klepto's.

Grabbing the baseball bat I had long learned to keep next to the guest room door, I pressed my shoulder into it, feeling Shrike and Macha gripping onto my collar as I elbowed it open, peeking in .... and promptly ducking down when a tiny rocket about the size of my pinky nail corkscrewed past my head to hit the wall with a dull crump, leaving a soot stain on the wall. Cursing, I shoved it open, looking in.

The landscape had changed again since I had been in here last, one of the forts torn down and used to add onto the other four. Looks like the "Snakebites" had been wiped out again, with most of the spoils in the "Evil Sunz" camp. That was usually the case. It seems the old "boss" had been one of them and as such they had some of the best toys and troops ... if you could call any ork fighter a good soldier. Served me fine considering that Gorkip, my little "lieutenant" was the leader of that clan now and thus my "voice" in the Orks.

As was usually the case, they were all fighting, shooting at eachother, chopping at eachother with crude scrap iron blades, running around in cobbled together trucks and buggies shooting anything and everything. Cries of "WAAAAARGH!!!!" and gunfire were everywhere. You could barely hear yourself think.

So, I had to resort to my usual tactic to make myself heard.

Taking the bat, I swung it like a golf club, hard, right into the side of a passing buggy. The ork driver barely had time to scream out before he and vehicle were sent flying, right into the wall of the closest camp, in this case the Goffs.

"KNOCK IT OFF YOU IDIOTS OR NEXT TIME I'LL AIM FOR YOU!"

I never had to say who I was talking to. It had the desired effect of making them all think I was looking RIGHT at them. In moments the fighting had slowed and then stopped, the Orks milling around in confusion, looking up at me sheepishly. Swinging the baseball bat up onto my shoulder, hearing Shrike mutter a curse when I nearly hit him, I walked forwards, looking back and forth through the wreckage that had once been my spare guest room.

Furniture was chared, ripped and generally torn apart. Even the heavy bed had suffered, the mattress ripped and burned in dozens of places from tiny bullets and rockets, foam spilling out in places. The stink was, quite frankly, memorable. Apparently Orks had never heard of a bath.

"GORKIP! GET OUT HERE, NOW!"

Yelling was the only thing that really worked to get an Orks attention I had learned. After swatting another Ork near my feet for emphasis, Gorkip scrambled out, looking around nervously. "Uhhh .... yah boss?"

Crouching down, I scooped him up quickly, grabbing him and lifting him to eye level. "Gorkip .... what did I tell you?"

Gorkip flinched, Shrike chuckling in my ear at seeing the Ork cowering in fright. Even Macha seemed amused by the sight, but that was more a feeling then anything considering she just watched silently. "Dat .... we don't beat up da humies?"

"AND!?"

"And .... da pointy ears?"

Scowling, I flicked a finger right into his face, breaking his nose for the ... eight or ninth time. I had stopped keeping track. Yelping, he clamped ham sized hands over his face. "Don't play stupid with me Gorkip. I know your smarter then that."

Shrike snorted on my shoulder. "Not by much I'd wager."

Gorkip snarled at the Space Marine, but a glare from me silenced him. "Ya mean ... da dakka box?"

"No, the fluffy pink elephant. OF COURSE THE "DAKKA BOX" YOU IDIOT!? I told you no more looting!"

Oh god, I was talking like them now.

Gorkip trembled in my grip, looking over to a fort over my the closet. "It wasn't us boss, honest! It was dem Deathskull boyz! Dey waz the da ones lootin, not us! Wez listen to ya boss!"

Of course. It usually was them. Apparently, the "Deathskulls" were klepto even by Ork standards. They stole anything and everything they thought they could get away with. With a grunt, I tossed Gorkip aside, listening to him yell before he landed face first into the mattress. Of course I had aimed for it ...

Moving over, I slammed the baseball bat down beside their fort, making its walls rattle unsteadily as I looked down. There, right in the middle of the camp, was one of the guards "Leman Russ" tanks. Apparently, according to Shrike, they were the most common tank in the galaxy and for good reason. Named for one of the Primarchs, the first Space Marines, they were tough, reliable, easy to maintain, and could run off just about anything.

The orks had gone to work already painting it, bolting on new plates seemingly at random, planting ork skulls on spikes on the back. The leader of this little group, an Ork with so many robotic parts he would have made Gorgutz look normal, looked up at me. I swear, its little green face paled at the sight of me. Reach down, I snatch it up, right out of the camp, the little green vermin the orks called "gretchin" screaming and jumping out of it as it rose into the air.

Holding it in one hand, bat in the other, I brought the bat down with a crack, right on a line of their cobbled together parts, bangs as ammo and fuel went off sounding, scrap and tires flying. Glaring at the Ork, I scowled. "Next time, I introduce you to the ol "Lawgiver", you got it Tiny?"

"Oy ... OY! We gotz it boss! Won't neva happen again!"

Bullshit.

As I turned to leave, I heard chuckling from the closet, Ahriman's voice coming through it. "Having trouble with them again boy?"

Smacking the bat against the door, I held back a shiver, scowling at it. "You want to be next Smurf Boy?"

"Oh no, of course not. Merely making an observation, as always."

Scowling, I quickly left, keeping my face neutral. I didn't like to show it, but Ahriman and those .... "Chaos Marines" of his ..... they creeped me out. I didn't like to be around them. I gave them that closet, shut the door, and never looked in again. I heard ..... things at night sometimes. I didn't like to think about it.

Maybe having the Sisters always play bodyguard and nursemaid wasn't so bad.

Slamming the door shut behind me, I sighed softly, rubbing my eyes with my free hand once I put the bat back in its spot, heading towards the living room. Shrike looked at me, flexing his gauntlets. "You should let us get rid of those traitors. The Orks and the Eldar ... they are bad enough. But those ... SCUM!? It pains me to know they still breathe!"

I glanced over at Macha, but if she took any exception at the Eldar comment she made no sign, shrugging her shoulders. "As much as it pains me, the Mon-Keigh is right. It is dangerous to let them run loose."

Sighing, I shook my head. I knew they were right, in my gut. I didn't like having them here either. The orks were destructive, but they didn't know better. Besides, they were like cockroaches. I could kill every one of them and a day later more would be running around. But those "Chaos" mutts .... they had a quiet malice to them that chilled me.

Still, a small part of me told me, they may be my best chance of getting rid of ALL these idiots, sending them back where they belonged. That's what I wanted, right? My life back to normal.

So for now, I would stomach it and see what happened.

"They're not exactly running around. They're pretty much locked in their and if they come out, I doubt the Orks could keep from fighting them for long."

Shrike snorted. "Unless that bastard uses his sorcery."

Shaking my head a bit more forcefully, I felt them both grip tighter to keep from getting dislodged. "Look, don't worry, okay? I'll deal with it if I have to."

"... As you wish." Even as he said that, I knew Shrike was thinking if he could get away with taking care of them without me knowing.

Entering the living room, I saw Stubbs forming up his armies to march, most likely to take revenge on the Orks for stealing another of his tanks. When they spotted me, the army froze at parade rest, Stubbs looking up at me. Once he got over his intial fear of me, he actually looked quite regal when I had to deal with him, bearing himself up tall, always flanked by that guy in the hood (Who I learned later was a tamed "Psyker", basically a psychic), the guy in the funny hat (A commissar, who like its WWII russian counterpart wasn't very nice to be around when the fighting was going bad), and a pair of guardsmen in far shinier equipment then the others. He didn't lack courage, but I had the impression that he saw criticism at every turn.

"Don't try to stop us again Giant. This time we are going to stamp out the greenskin filth once and-"

Shaking my head, I sat the tank down infront of him. "Here it is again. Shouldn't take you long to get it back how you like. I've already dealt with the Orks. They won't do it again."

"And that's what you said last time! I will not-"

Leaning closer, I glared at the man, his guards tensing, reaching for weapons that would most likely have little effect. "General, I would think a commander would care more for the lives of his men. Hell, you might beat the Orks, but you'd lose a LOT of men. And even if you did, do you really think you could beat ME?"

Stubbs hands clenched into fists as he glared at me, shoulders trembling in anger, as if he wanted to give his men to order to fire right now. Again, he was showing that he was a bit of a hothead. I liked the soldiers, I honestly did. I had even talked with them on a few occasions about families and worlds I would never see. I had no wish to see them die, even without worrying about my house.

But I was begining to think the leaders of the Guard didn't care quite as much about their men as I did. But I had no way of knowing if Stubbs was the norm or an exception. And I really had no unbiased opinions anywhere to ask about it. The Space Marines, Sisters, or Adeptus would probably sing its praises. The Orks wouldn't know anything I was certain. And Macha .... well, despite her candure, she always had a certain .... disdain for the other races you could detect. I could ask the Tau, but I was certain I wouldn't get much more then well rehearsed propoganda with them.

Shrike, for once, seemed to want to play the diplomat, jumping down from his perch to land infront of Stubbs. "General, even with your forces, even with the support of my Chapter and the Sisters, our losses would be great in such a battle in their territory. Right now, they are fighting eachother and ignoring us. That serves our purposes far more then a hunt for glory. I know the greenskins."

His eyes turned to me, watching me through his helmet. "As long as they see our big friend here as their Warboss, as long as they fear his wrath, they will be content to fight eachother. Even if they don't kill eachother, eventually they will drain their resources and be diminished as a threat, falling back to their feral nature."

Stubbs for a moment seemed more then willing to argue, but the moment passed as he calmed, looking up at me. "The men are tense for a battle."

Smirking, I reached for the coffee table, grabbing the remote and sitting it down infront of him. "Then give them something to take their mind off it. Try 40. AMC is suppose to be showing Patton today."

Stubbs cocked an eyebrow. "Patton?"

My grin grew. "One of the greatest generals the world has ever seen. You'd like him."

Stubbs studdied me for a long moment, as if searching for some slight, but eventually turned, walking away with his guard. Shaking my head, I glanced down at Shrike. "Thanks."

Looking up at me again, Shrike shook his head. "Don't thank me. It was the truth. But when the fighting starts, and it will, you best decide what side your on." Turning, he went to follow the General, walking through the ranks of dispersing soldiers and tanks.

Slowly standing, I sighed softly, running a hand through my hair. More and more it seemed that was the case, that I was putting off the inevitable. Still, what else could I do?

Looking to me from my shoulder, Macha smiled faintly. "Now you know the pain of a Farseer Mon-Keigh. Knowing what may be inevitable, able to do little more then perhaps stall it."

Scowling, I walked toward the door, taking her off and sitting her down on the small bench I kept my bookbag on, grabbing my shoes. "What else can I do? I don't want you idiots destroying my house. Think you can restrain yourself while I'm at school?"

Macha smiled enigmatically, but said nothing as I did the laces, whistling for Bandit and opening the door to let him out, watching him run to the door, shake off the few orks that still clung to his fur (much to their cries of dismay), then run out to do his business as I shooed them off with my shoe, looking back out to watch him.

After a few minutes, my fluffy little friend ran back in, tail wagging as I knelt down, scratching behind his ears like he liked. "Just remember. Your the man of the house while I'm out. They give you any trouble, have a little snack."

My little friend barked, tail wagging as he gave me a little lick before rushing off to the living room, the sound of the TV reaching me. At least that would keep them occupied for a while.

Turning, grabbing my bag, I saw the hall was empty, smiling to myself. Looks like everyone was in the other room.

Just as planned.

About to sling it over my shoulder, I stopped when I saw the zipper was undone, cursing as I did it back up. That was all I needed. My books falling out walking across campus.

Stepping outside, I locked the door behind me, taking a deep breath of the air as I went towards the bus stop (Hey, I'm still working on my savings so I can get a car where the bumper isn't going to fall off everytime I hit a pothole. And with the crappy economy, that isn't so easy anymore.). And as I walked, I found myself glancing over my shoulder back towards the house.

Why did I feel like I wasn't alone?