Codex Gitz

Several dozen pairs of armoured boots landed on the steel plating of the space hulk, magnetised to ensure good footing, a necessary precaution during a deployment on the outside. Miraculously, their scanners had located a functional airlock on one of the hulk's derelict ships and such an entrance was deemed preferable to a breaching pod.

Finally, they reached the inside, figure after armoured figure spilling into a dark, somewhat tilted corridor. Their mighty armour was dyed in a faded gold, their oversized shoulder pads a dark blue, with the image of a draconic beast upon them. The Golden Wyrms spilled into the corridor, most in power armour.

Their leader, muckin' about in the most advanced Mark V suit, its collar painted a dark red to signify his rank, spoke into his vox-caster, his voice deep and almost unnaturally calm:

"Command, we are inside."

The response was constantly interrupted by static:

"Y-your sign... eak. Proceed w... ution."

"Understood. Drachen, out," he switched it to a secure channel, one reserved for the squad, "any contact?"

"Negative, captain."

"Remain vigilant, brother," the leader turned first to two of their own, wearing a heavily modified light suit, fully sealed, usually reserved for the imperial guard, "scout ahead and notify us of any danger."

"As you say." Swiftly, but cautiously, the duo moved ahead, under the cover of shadow.

Finally, he turned to their guest, a figure no longer strictly a man. With more bionic implants than body parts and a massive servo-arm on his back, the enginseer was looking into the corridor with exactly none of his birth-given eyes. The replacements shone slightly with a green light.

"I hope your superiors were right about this, Darius."

"You should not doubt the wisdom of the Mechanicus, captain. Our lost vessel is here. We just need to delve deeper."

"Very well," he turned to the corridor, "Emperor, grant us your protection. Space marines, move out."

The blasted hallway seemed endless. Their monotonous march was suddenly interrupted by a vox-caster:

"Captain, there are orks on this vessel."

"Blasted greenskins." commented another of the marines.

"How many, brother?"

"Just a small group of ten. But the corridor leads to what seems like a fort. This group is blocking out path."

"Stay hidden, we are on our way."

At a quickened, but still silent pace, they reached the scouts, hidden behind what seemed like remains of another ship's bridge, wedged into the corridor, with only a small passage next to it, big enough for a single marine to pass through at a time. Chatter and laughter could be heard on the other side.

"Attacking them head-on would be difficult, captain. Especially if we wish to remain unseen."

"Ignus, ready your frag and..."

Suddenly, a shout from the other side:

"Oy, let go of me burna'!"

As the area beyond their cover was suddenly engulfed in flames, the captain allowed himself a smile. Some problems solved themselves. As the frantic screaming finally died off in the distance, the marines moved forward.

The area they entered was massive, filled with buildings of all shapes and sizes. They were on an elevated platform, with a small metal tower in the corner. The scouts moved over to an improvised railing and gazed down, while the rest of the squad moved to cover, ever vigilant.

"Mathias, what do you see?"

"Captain, it's a bit strange. Large open area. Populated mostly by orks. But I see some tau, as well."

"Tau? Are they trading weapons?"

"No, sir. Just... chatting, in a casual manner."

"Remain in position." what sort of treacherous hive was this, where ork and tau co-existed? More importantly, how were they going to cross such a populated area without causing too much commotion, "can you see any other path?"

The scouts looked around, then upwards:

"Up, captain."

A bit above them, a system of catwalks connected the tallest buildings and was well out of sight. The entrance closest to them was the little tower, conveniently unguarded.

"Move ahead."

The catwalks did let them cross undetected, but were themselves a maze, sometimes spreading into several separate dead ends for no discernable reason. Another elevated platform was in sight, however, so their hopes were fairly high.

"Let's hope there's not even more on the other side." Ignus, a veteran of two campaigns, spoke his mind.

"With orks, that's always a possibility, old friend."

"I wish we," suddenly, a part of the catwalk, more rusty than the rest, bent downwards, but did not yet break off, "well..."

"Move!"

It was too late. Under their combined weight, the metal broke off and fell down below, with the marines only barely moving off it. An unfortunate gretchin was flattened into a fine paste and all eyes were suddenly on them. An ork on the ground, wearing what looked like blue rags, shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Space marinez!"

An alarm was sounded and the other platform was suddenly occupied by at least a dozen armed orks.

"Into the building! Ignus, take two and cover our rear."

"Roger."

The entire group rushed into the nearest tower and descended down a spiralling staircase into what seemed like a giant warehouse. A blast suddenly sounded from above. Drachen turned just in time to see their rear guard exiting a cloud of smoke. Ignus held his heavy bolter in one hand and shouted:

"They won't be using that entrance."

"And neither will we." the enginseer was less than thrilled.

"If you'd rather get stabbed in the back, be my guest."

"Calm yourselves," the captain looked at the tons of surrounding boxes, filled mostly with what might have been considered food, "Mathias, take point on this floor, everyone else, we go down."

Firing positions were set up with frightening efficiency at all entrances and the marines kept away from windows for the time being, choosing instead to use the stored goods as cover.

"Well, this could have gone better." came the veteran.

"I would tend to agree. Mathias, what do you see?"

"The orks are setting up barricades of their own. All of them are wearing blue."

Another marine came in:

"Blue? Which clan is that?"

"They may just want to feel lucky."

"There are also fire warriors setting up firing positions in surrounding buildings."

The captain audibly sighed, into his vox-caster no less:

"Clever, for orks. They're waiting for us to act first."

"Captain, I have a visual. It's a big one."

Drachen dared peek through the window. There he was, among the crowd, at least a head taller than anyone else, wearing what seemed to be a stitched-together hat. He pulled out some sort of primitive vox-caster and shouted into it:

"Testin' grot, squig, grot... yeh, dat'z gud. Listen 'ere, space marinez, you'z now on da' Big Rok."

"Big Rok? How imaginative."

"Shush, Ignus."

"And on da' Big Rok, we'z don't like shootin' dat much. Well, we do. But wez don't just shoot fer da' sake of shootin'. Well, wez do, but... listen, jus' put down yer shootas and everyone will be gud."

"I've got him in my sights, captain," Mathias' aim with his sniper was well known, "permission to shoot?"

"Not yet."

"As a sign of gud will and all dat, I'z sendin' me best gitz... I mean, me best boyz."

The nob looked down to argue with some smaller ork, who was then seen running, along with a black squig.

"Captain, we cannot just sit here."

"I know that, Darius. But I fear even we cannot best those numbers. Let's see what this trick is first. Stay vigilant, brothers."

The ork was not visibly armed and a squig was manageable. They were allowed to enter the building and walked into at least a dozen bolters, aimed right at them.

Snogrot had this to say:

"Bloody 'ell. Not da' best night ta' lose in cardz." Ugu growled in agreement.

The captain approached him:

"What message do you have for us, ork?"

"Well, da' kaptin just wanted a' know if ya mind not shootin' stuff up? We'z just finished cleanin' it up afta' da' squigfest."

"And why should I believe that?"

"Wez get dat question a lot, ya' know. Kaptin says ya' should always count who 'as more gunz," Ugu casually burped, unimpressed by the men on display, "oy, why youz 'ere, anyway?"

It was time for Darius to speak:

"We seek an artefact lost on one of these ships."

"Oh, well, da' gear 'eadz could help with dat. Just put down yer shootaz and ya can look fer it."

"Very well," Darius sheathed his laspistol with little consideration and wanted to walk away when Drachen's mailed fist grabbed his shoulder, "hmmm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Captain, look at our odds. If we fight, we fight outnumbered against a combined-arms force with no escape route. Furthemore, this rok is probably crawling with thousands more of them. The probability of this ork speaking the truth is larger than zero and I'll therefore take it."

"Iz dat gud? Iz didn't undastand some of it."

"Yes, yes. Lead the way."

Calmly, the enginseer, squig and ork crossed the entire courtyard to the ork barricades, where he remained unscathed and standing rather awkwardly next to the nob, who pulled up his speaka':

"Oy, youz comin' or what? Iz got betta' stuff to do today, marinez."

"Captain?" Ignus sounded unsure, for the first time in months.

He contemplated it for a bit longer and made his final decision:

"Wyrms. Move out."

As soon as they left the building, the barricades were removed and the troops started leaving. Life seemed to return to what the local denizens could call normal. Drachen noticed a small pack of tyranid gaunts carrying the ruined catwalk. Was he going insane? Was the hulk touched by the Warp, had it infected his very mind? He couldn't tell anymore.

Kaptin and captain met face-to-helmet, the ork smirking:

"Gud ta' see youz not completely stupid. We usually 'ave ta' gun youz boyz down. Stubborn."

"I can't say I blame them."

"Snogrot tellz me you'z lookin' fer some shiny stuff?"

"You could say that. We know only the name of the ship it was in. We detected its signal and embarked."

"Wez can 'elp ya with dat."

The office, if one could call it that, was a mess of desks and shelves, each a home to several stacks of paperwork. The visible ones did not seem to concern the ork looking through them, tailed constantly by his black pet.

"Oy, wot ya' say it be named?"

"Purity of Justice." the captain was accompanied by Ignus and the enginseer and they collectively stood out like a trio of sore thumbs.

"Right. So dat'll be ova' 'ere." he made his way to a seemingly random table.

"How can you tell where to look?" inquired the other marine.

"Chaotic system, now, lemme' see," he opened up the second drawer from the left, and picked out a single sheet of paper, "okay. Just Puritey, Purist, Pure 'Un... youz boyz need ta' think of otha' namez. Ah, dere we go. Puritey of Justice."

The kaptin appeared, cleaning a little bit of gretchin from between his teeth:

"You'z got it?"

"Yeh, kaptin. It'z one of da' old onez. Da' one wez left alone when ya' became kaptin."

"Oh, dat one? Dis'll be fun, den."

"Why, what is on the ship?" if an ork found something fun, it was probably bad news.

The nob scratched his neck:

"Well, it be a bit overgrown."

They stared into the open maw of the ship, where its bridge had once been, torn off during impact or perhaps the cause of its crash in the first place. More importantly, however, the entrance was covered in plant life of several dozen colours, some seemingly watching them via unnatural organs. The Warp had a way of making things creepy.

"This is your idea of fun?" asked one captain.

"Yeh. Especially when Iz send some of my boyz ta' burn it up every week or so. Gotta' keep it away. Speakin' of which," he whistled and a small mob of boys appeared, each carrying a sturdy-looking burna', "deyz can burn us a way, but not too far. Da' stuff in dere startz fightin' back when it smellz burnin'."

"Do you know what lurks inside?"

"None of me boyz eva' came back ta' tell me."

"Wonderful. Wyrms," his fist rose into the air, "defensive formation. Darius must reach the relic."

Oh, how he loved the smell of burnin'. Best there was, only magnified if any creature of flesh and bone actually strayed too close. Plants just couldn't produce that sort of sensation, even if they were giant, elongated vines covered along their entire length by razor-sharp thorns. Just like the pack which was blocking their path through what had been a large hangar door, aggressively swatting in the direction of fire.

"Stop, ya gitz!"

And they did, immediately trading places for more regularly armed orks. The vines seemed to retreat as soon as the flames were gone, letting them through. Slowly, they ventured deeper, orks and scout marines first, equipped with combat shotguns for a change. The corridors got ever smaller, the flora turning as they passed, as if wanting to chat. Flowers and weeds of all shapes tracked their movement, an army of all-seeing eyes.

"This place is unsettling." Ignus was audibly uncomfortable.

"Stay strong, brother."

"Captain," Mathias chimed in, "we have movement."

Gorasho was audibly displeased:

"Wot?"

"We'z seen it, too, kaptin. Dere'z dese small thingz dartin 'ere and dere."

"Keep yer shootaz ready, den."

"Indeed, stay vigilant."

"Or dat."

They reached something very strange. Almost miraculous. A clearing in the neverending, forested corridors. Tables could be seen there, overgrown with grass but still visible, much like the ground. In the middle of the clearing was an empty hole leading into a black abyss. They gathered around the chasm, scanning for danger.

In the end, danger found them. Roars of varying intensity came from all around them and figures charged in from the jungle. Most were tiny, little more than limbed balls of animated bile. Others were tall, bloated figures, carrying swords that seemed at least partly alive.

"Zog dem up, ya gitz!"

"Tear them apart!"

The two groups clashed with thunderous roars. While the tiny daemons proved to be little more than a nuisance, dispatched easily with a stomp, a swing, even a steely gaze, their large counterparts were much more menacing, their blades cutting through metal and bone alike.

While most of the marines filled the area with a devastating barrage of bolter fire, Drachen drew his power sword. Its hilt was golden, dominated by a single ruby, tightly grasped in the claws of a dragon. Its blade was not only crackling with energy, it also had several prayers to the Emperor engraved along its centre.

With a battlecry, Drachen charged at one of the large daemons, expertly dodging its blade and retaliating with a mighty strike. The Eye of Cyrax cut the monster in twain as if it were a simple boar.

Gorasho and Bessy faired similarly, though, more due to the kaptin's sheer strength, rather than fancy tech. Snogrot pelted the monsters from afar with a shoota, being slightly more than useless, while Ugu had found a very amusing past-time in jumping on the smallest of the daemon host, in sequence and rhythm, no less.

The onslaught paused, as suddenly as it had began. They assessed their losses. Twelve shield-grots, five boys, three gits and one marine. Ugu was still jumping in place, incapable of stopping the rhythm. A roar suddenly sounded, unnervingly close.

From the chasm, a creature of monstrous proportions rose. Shaped like a serpent, its flesh was bloated, its skin covered with pustules. Saliva trailed from its massive maw, sickeningly green and even corrosive, as its contact with the ground revealed. Immediately it chomped down on a nearby ork, effortlessly snapping him in half.

Another half-wit tried to swing at it from close range, but his choppa' merely got stuck in its flesh and he became a snack soon afterwards. The monster turned to a pair of marines who were unloading rounds into it, and unleashed a cloud of noxious fumes in their directions. Gorasho noted he should not stand in those, an observation accompanied by the sounds of dissolving respirators and excruciating pain. Mostly pain.

The group scattered as the daemon struck once again, targeting a certain squig, who luckily jumped out of the way. Two figures charged against the beast in accidental unison, from opposite sides, conveniently enough. With two battlecries, their weapons struck:

"For the Imperium!"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhh!"

Missing each other's blow by inches, the plague serpent was sliced in half, bile spewing out onto the ground in a small torrent. Wiping their boots on nearby foliage, the captains'... or kaptins' gazes met. Gorasho gave him an excited thumbs up and Drachen returned it in a rather awkward manner.

A voice broke the sudden silence:

"Ah, I have located it!"

The enginseer had seemingly ignored the entire fight, choosing instead to examine a nearby wall. After applying sacred oils onto a button on the wall, mumbling prayers while doing so, he simply pressed it, revealing a small compartment. Within it, was an unnecessarily decorated data slate. The enginseer beeped happily upon noticing it and held onto it like a mother holding her newborn.

The goodbyes, such as they were, were brief. Overly excited on the side of the orks, with random gunshots, screams and even tears. The marines returned the favour, albeit only with awkward waves, maybe a few timid shouts.

Close to the airlock, the signal once again returned:

"Cap... Drachen?"

"Here, command," with each step, the other side got clearer, "mission accomplished."

"Good to hear good news. Any losses?"

"Three brothers."

"May the Emperor guide their souls."

The thunderhawk's interior felt good. It felt familiar, logical, grounded in the laws of the universe. One final question arrived:

"What is the state of the xenos threat?"

He saw their looks, of all those on the craft, from Mathias, to Ignus. His words earned him many nods:

"The threat is contained. Small pockets of xenos, fighting each other over scarce resources. No cleansing necessary, at least for now."

"Affirmative. Command, out."

That night at Joe's, the kaptin was busy retelling the story to Miriana, who had decided to try the daily special, 'Lendin' a Leg'.

"I bet they won't forget such a meeting."

"Hopefulley, dey'z won't bring any more boyz along."

"Iz don't think so, kaptin. Seemed like an 'onest bunch, deyz did," a tyranid warrior sitting with them in the VIP area coughed up a handful of teeth onto the counter, "plus, Iz don't think dey'z gonna' rush back 'ere."

"Gud point, senior kadet Snogrot," Joe gladly took the teeth and handed a large portion of squig pie to the beast, earning it a weird glance from Ugu, "gud point, indeed."