Da' Rippa' - Part Doz

Party Bitz

It was all going sickeningly well. The parade was fine, the polees were keeping an eye out for anything, and attendance was through the roof. He emitted a sigh and allowed himself a moment of enjoyment, looking into every corner.

Furthest from him, was the 'Petz Zone', filled with all manner of finely trained beasts, from the fluffiest of squigs and thorniest of gaunts to the smallest of squiggoths and carnifexes, much more docile than their gargantuan cousins and, to the enjoyment of many kids and some adults, perfectly rideable. Right next to them was the 'Big Rok Rodeo', a valuable source of anatomical knowledge, provided that one of the contestants couldn't quite hold on.

To the left was 'Da' Gearzone', where meks and other smart gits of all shapes and sizes came to show off their toys. In the case of Malakar and Tekbrain, quite literally, as their new line of Metul Punchiez clearly illustrated, capturing the playful spirit of any onlooker within seconds, as well as any teeth or shinies they might have been carrying at the time. Other meks went for one of a sextet of innovation categories. Bigga', shootia', stompia', killia', fasta' or burnia'. None of the attendees dared to go for all six and only those meks that had attempted such insanity were absent.

To the right, a spectacular fashion show had been set up, showcasing the finest, kinkiest and most rugged Big Rok had to offer. The ork section was rather small, since ork fashion was a largely loose term at the very best of times. Yet no one could deny the 'Blingy Bling Dress' of famed loota' Goldtoof was simply fabulous to behold. The light reflected off its surface actually hurt the eyes, which is why self-defence was actually one of its selling points. Not that that would help you against a famed loota' like Goldtoof.

And finally, there were the 'Eatin' Pitz' all around him. A haven for gluttons and orks, a place packed with more meat per square inch than a fully grown eating squig. From suspicious brews, to regular old unhealthy ones. From the classical to the experimental, like dok Grotsnik's special stew. That one tasted funky gud. Less popular meals included meatmasta' Irontoof's 'Rok Sausage', harder than the finest imperial steel, yet somehow pretty light, both in terms of weight and amount of time it lingered in one's digestive tract. A culinary mystery, indeed.

And above it all, ridiculously high on an elevated platform, the nobility watched it all with a smile. And while most of them were actual nobs, the odd human or tau did sit among them. Most eye-catching, as per usual, was farseer Miriana. Even from such a distance, he could see she was also scanning for danger.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying it, except for him. He could even see Snogrot and Ugu stuffing their faces in the crowd, the squig again choosing a vantage point on the ork's bare scalp. Suddenly, speakers all around them came to life, as Nignub finally rose from his seat, ready to deliver another potentially rousing speech. The parade quieted down a bit, though some particularly noisy blokes at the rodeo kept wailing on about missing body parts. Or something of the sort, it was hard to discern the words among bursts of concentrated pain.

"We'z 'ave gathered 'ere todayz," the boss started, optimising radiating from his imposing tower of hats. Sometimes, choosing was hard, "to celebrate Big Rok an' all of itz different inhabitentz. We'z grown beyond jus' a small..."

And then, it cut off, yet the speakers were still more than functional. Amidst the utter confusion, a new voice came, raspy even for an ork:

"Big Rok. Me good ol' matez," Gorasho immediately barred his teeth, "it'z been a long time, it haz. Well, I'z hate ta' crash yer party bitz, but I'z got some newz of me own ta' say. Rippa'z back, matez," shrieks echoed from the crowd, "and Rippa'z gunna' show ya' da' way. Da' way off da' Big Rok, of course. But before da' real fun beginz... a lil' demonstartion. Enjoy da' fireworkz. Oh, and just a lil' 'ello to me bestest mate, Gorasho Pain. I'z gunna' slice ya up real nice."

And with that, a massive explosion rocked the parade, from beneath their feat. As part of the sewer collapsed right under the elevated boss platform, Gorasho immediately acted, first by running over to the meatmasta'.

As the platform was slowly collapsing, the less gifted of brains, ie., the nobs, started jumping off, though their orky constitution made sure they got away with only broken limbs. Nignub started shouting orders at any groups of nearby grots, who in turn sighed and started forming meat cushions for the nobility.

The platform shifted uncontrollably and she lost footing, barreling straight off the edge. After plummeting a few metres, something stopped her fall. After a brief awareness check, she detected a large green arm clutching onto her, with a similarly large grin smiling down at her. The kaptin's other hand was busy holding onto an improvised lasso, its sausage-like form a culinary mystery for years to come.

After a surprisingly smooth landing, she looked up at her rescuer:

"You sure know when to make an entrance."

"Timin'z everythin', if ya' ask me."

A mighty shout echoed throughout the parade, even without speakers to assist it:

"Paaaaaain!"

The kaptin turned just in time to see Nignub smash another unfortunate gretchin under his boot. Gorasho chose to remain a snarky git:

"Told ya' so."

"Pain, dis be all yer fault! Me parade'z gunna' get ruined at dis point," thankfully, there were no casualties, though the pavement would need to get scrubbed clean of grot pudding, "why'z didn't ya' 'ave any boyz lookin' out fer dat?!"

As if called for, Snogrot came up to the duo:

"Kaptin! We'z found ten boyz cut up in da' sewa'!"

"Fankz, senior kadet," he turned back to the boss, "I'z told ya' we shoulda' cancelled dis. But no, we'z gotta' 'ave anotha' record."

"Watch yer tongue pain," they locked gazes, "dose look gud on pointy stikkz. Now, I'z give ya' two dayz ta' catch da' Rippa'. If you'z don't... yer whole 'ead will go on a stikk. Understand?"

With a defeated growl, the kaptin merely blurted out in defeat:

"Yeh, boss."

Tekbrain was busy looking over what remained of the bombs, while the kaptin nervously stood by. Snogrot and Ugu were busy enjoying themselves with two particularly awesome Metul Punchiez. Ugu seemed to be winning, despite his lack of arms.

The mek looked up from what remained of the bomb and spoke:

"Dis be a kustom stikkbomb, kaptin. No tima', remote bitz in it. He blew it from some distance away."

"Any way to track da' stuff?"

"Maybe if Iz 'ad da' whole thing, but like diz? Nope. He had ta' be pretty close ta' blow it up, though, an' den 'e ran away, I guezz."

Snogrot suddenly had an epiphany, though, he did not realise it, since orks didn't know what an epiphany was.

"Wait a minute. I'z got it."

"Wot?" shouted the other two in unison.

"I'z know where 'e iz."

And without any further explanation, he darted towards the exit, then towards the BRPD HQ, followed by a confused, if enthusiastic kaptin and reluctant Ugu close behind. Tekbrain merely scratched his scalp and, after having an epiphany, immediately contacted Malakar with a revolutionary new idea. Metul Shootiez.