Filla Stuff N' Announcement
First, here's a small filler for all you very patient people (holy crud I hadn't realized it had been FOUR YEARS since my um… last update). University and all that. Thank you for reading and thank you for your reviews. I hope the story will continue to entertain. I suppose if no one else reads this, I'll at least enjoy writing it.
Yes I am going to continue The Orks of Tam'urt, I'm just re-reading it from the start and fixing errors and making minor changes as I go. Would you believe me if I said I've confused myself with the details? I usually keep a log of events, and a map (that I drew) to help me keep track but I lost those files since moving computers. This process will take me several days because I'm slow at reading (I literally type faster than I read). Then, I will continue on with the next chapter.
Please visit my profile page, there is a poll there. Although I have clear plans in my head for this story, I would like to know what you would like to see in the story anyway.
In the meantime, here are three Orky pieces of writing I did for a WriMo mini comp. These are also posted on my DA account under the user name Saiyan-Frost.
The first one has some of the Tam'urt characters, the last two are just random Ork stuff. Not sure if you'll find them terribly exciting…
Backyard Cricket
It was lunch time, and all the Orks were at the canteen eating. Glim was currently sitting beside Brudz at one of the benches, trying to persuade her to join his cricket team. He grinned and slung an arm around his slightly shorter companion's shoulders (Brudz insisted it was Glim's boots that made him look taller than her).
"Friendly game ov, er… what waz it again?" Brudz had never heard of cricket before; previously, she refused to play any sports with other Orks because she had a bad habit of being crushed, beaten and coat-hangered; it seemed as though whenever she joined a sport, she became the sport.
"A friendly game ov cricket… aint yew ev'r 'eard ov cricket b'fore?" He asked, but did not wait for a reply before continuing. "It's a game where ya flog a ball, an' run from one wicket to da uvver as many times as yer can!"
Besides the fact that when it came to Ork sports, there was no such thing as a 'friendly game' of anything, there was something suspicious about the way Glim was smiling that made Brudz wary. "Why do yew all ov a sudden want ter play sports?" She queried. "I've never seen yew play any kind of sport before."
"Dere's always a first," Glim replied indignantly. "An' 'sides, I's a growin' lad, I can deal wiv da uvver boyz now. But if you feel yer still too small ter play…"
"Yew jus' try an' STOP me from playin'!" Brudz growled; she hated it when she was reminded of her size. She just kept telling herself that one day she would be a big Nob, and then no Ork would make fun of her except even bigger Nobs (and the Boss).
"I knew you'd be a pal an' join me team, Da Squigeons." Glim said silkily.
"Escuze me, but da what's?" Brudz asked, not entirely sure if she heard correctly.
"Da Squidgeons," Glim repeated. "Now den, da first game starts today. So lissen up while I explainz how ta play."
Two hours later, out the front of the Mek workshops inside the warcamp walls.
"Oh bugger me," Brudz mumbled. It was past half time, and the Squidgeons were batting; the Squigsharks were fielding. Brudz was next in line. "Why'd I have ter agree…"
Just as she had predicted, the game of cricket had been anything but 'friendly'. The two wickets, one set at either end of the pitch, marked where the Orks had to run between and bat from. According to Glim, each run from wicket to wicket scored a point for the team. A batsman had to run as many of these as possible, but if the ball hit the wicket before the batter reached it, they were out.
Not a single Ork on the Squigsharks had hit the wickets – they instead focused on aiming at the batsman. According to the Squigsharks' captain, it was more effective to simply stop the batter from reaching the wicket. It was also a lot more motivating for the Orks to aim at something that was alive.
"Hur, hur, hur! Dezgut's gonna feel dat one in da mornin'," the commentator spoke. "Did ya see da way 'iz knee bent? Nev'r knew it could do dat. Doks, drag dat batter off da pitch. Who's up next fer da Squidgeons?"
Brudz tried to hide behind the other players, but she was booted out onto the field, and her giant spanner tossed to her – it was her chosen bat.
"Dodge an' weave, Brudz, you'll be fine!" Glim shouted his encouragement from the sideline. "Jus' pretend a giant Squig Hound is chasin' yer!"
Knowing that the ball was going to be travelling at more than one hundred and twenty kilometres an hour was enough encouragement for her to run fast without thinking about Squig Hounds; Brudz felt she had some hope though. Before the game, she had taken off her boots and painted her legs red – so they would run faster. The Squigsharks eyed the Ork as she walked bare-foot up to the pitch, and took a batting stance.
"Da next batsman appears to be some kind ov red an' green wicket," the commentator joked. "On wiv da game! I wanna see some guts flyin'!"
The bowler was a large Ork Nob who was missing a few teeth, and had a short pony tail hanging from the back of his head. He faced Brudz, raising the ball pinched between his thumb, index finger and middle finger, ready to pelt it. "Say good night runt…"
Brudz trembled as she held her giant spanner. She watched the bowler's arm moved backwards, and before she knew it he had flung the ball; it whizzed towards her. Instinctively she raised the spanner to try and cover her face; but the ball ricocheted off the edge, sending a painful shock up her arm. Realising what had happened, she ran like a bat from hell towards the other wicket. The commentator was roaring excitedly as he recalled the actions.
"Oh! Da punk hit et! Da ball's flyin' towards Grut – ouch! Grut got hit on da face while 'ee was pickin' 'is nose. Looks like 'is finger's stuck up dere permanently! Da ball's bouncing towards Klanger an' Slitbelly – an' da morons ran into each'uder tryin' ter get da ball. Wait! Friggit's ran an' grabbed et! An' ee' pelts it! Eugh, that would hurt…"
Brudz was on her third run, and hadn't seen the ball coming. Mostly because she didn't have eyes in the back of her head. When she heard the commentator, she had jumped in hopes that the ball would go beneath her. Unfortunately, things did not go as planned; the ball bounced off the dirt, and right into her backside giving her carpet burn, constipation, a severe uncomfortable feeling, and general butt pains. She now lay on the ground; the ball rolled away slowly.
"Ow, ow, ow… oh Gork that hurts! Dis's worse den da time I broke me spleen, or da time I got electrocuted! I'm gonna need to eat coconuts fer a week…"
"You'll live, stop whingin'," Two Doks ran over and picked Brudz up, and carried her towards the sideline so they could get on with the game. "We'll fix yer up, dontcha worry."
As soon as they had administered her with pain killers, a donut pillow, and a little "pick-me-up", she limped beck to the team scowling.
Glim was overly joyful; they were close to winning the game; he barely paid any attention to his crippled friend. "Just ten more runs Brudz, and we've won! I'm sure me an' da two uvvers left can get dem between us."
"Oh, I'm fine fank yer very much. I jus' has a broken arse cheek, and, pulled butt muscles and first degree burns. No, no, really, I'll be okay."
"Er…" Glim didn't register the Brudz' sarcasm. "So does dat mean I can borrow yer bike fer a few days, seein' as yer won't be able ter use et?"
"NO!" She screamed back, saliva spraying over Glim's head. "An' I hopes yer get as badly 'urt while yer batting!"
Three batsman remained; the current batsman was running for the wicket. The ball soon homed in on her, hitting her fair in the stomach and winding her. She keeled over in the foetal position, gasping for breath.
"Guess you're up," Brudz said with enthusiasm, patting Glim none-too-gently on his shoulder. "Break a leg!"
Looking a little nervous, Glim stood up, took a steel pipe for his bat, and walked out onto the pitch. He was greeted with the commentator's usual sarcasm.
"Da Squidgeons is bein' squashed like Snotlings in a stampede! Only da dregs ov da team is left; oh and look, dere Cap'n finally got da spine ter come an play – took 'im long enough! We'll make sure ee plays first batter next game, hur, hur."
"Oh shut yer gab yer mouthy turd," He muttered so the wicket keeper couldn't over hear him. "I don't see yew playin' cricket…"
Like all the other batsman before him, Glim realised just how intimidating the bowler was. He tried not to think about what would happen if the ball hit his arm, or leg, or throat or…
"Save me Mork!" Glim closed his eyes and hoped for the best as he swung the bat. He was rewarded by a loud CLANG! He threw his pipe down and ran for the wickets; the ball went flying up into the sky in a high arch. He was on his second run when the Squigsharks finally managed to get the ball as it bounced around the dirt field. They threw it hard at Glim, from near the sideline.
Glim looked across the field, panting for breath – he wasn't much of a runner. It suddenly dawned on him that the ball was coming straight for him; but before he could even twitch a muscle, it made contact.
Teeth, blood and saliva flew in every direction. The ball had crashed like a meteor into Glim's open mouth, jamming itself in there. At first the Ork had no idea what had happened; he realised he was staring at the cloudless sky, and that his mouth and jaw hurt like the blazes. His hand investigated the source of the pain; and he felt the ball. He sat up and tried to pull the ball out; he could still breathe through his nose, but panic began to set in. The ball was stuck hard.
"Oi, dat git's got da ball!"
Glim looked around; all of the Squigsharks were looking at him.
"Someone take 'im down, ee c'n still run!"
Brudz and the other Squidgeon team members watched as Glim was chased around the field by the Squigsharks; he was surprisingly fast for a stout Ork with a growing beer gut.
An Ork with a broken leg hobbled over on make-shift crutches. "Someone got a camera? We should pin da Cap'n's finest moment up on a cork board, so ee'll nev'r ferget what et means ter play cricket, hur, hur, hur."
Unusual, Rare Items Up For Auction Today
Orks don't have Christmas, but they do have Waaghs. Most sentient beings would think twice about getting themselves killed, but not the Greenskins – to kill or be killed was a natural and essential part of their lives, just like eating or breathing.
Shoot, stab, chop, stomp - carnage in all its forms is endorsed by the Orks. Some clans uphold certain methods, principles, and rituals more than others. The Goffs think shooting is cowardly, the Evil Sunz prefer death on wheels, and the Bad Moons care as much about pimping themselves as they do killing things and showing off.
One particular clan, The Deathskulls (pronounced as "DeffSkullz" by an Ork) have a fascination with items: everything and anything that isn't bolted down. Although Waagh and conflict is always very entertaining for any Ork, members of the Deathskulls are natural kleptomaniacs at heart and hand. It is after a battle or scuffle has ended that the looting, pilfering, selling and trading begins. This is where the Deathskulls truly shine.
The Deathskulls don't just wait for battle to get their hands on new goods; some go to great lengths to 'obtain' new items whenever their hands are idle, or they see an opportunity. Some of the most successful Deathskulls even have their own Auction House in numerous Ork cities such as Squigopolis and Shidney.
These Auction Houses are no where near the equivalent of a human or other civilisation's auctions, which are conducted in an orderly, sensible fashion. For the Orks, going to an Auction House can be both exciting and dangerous. Many Orks just go there to watch the riots which often break out, either because there's a dispute between two bidders or an Auctioneer is suspected of swindling his customers. An Ork should bring only what's essential to the Auction House – his teeth, his weapon, and the clothes on his back, for it is not uncommon for his possessions to go missing and a 'replica' to appear up for auction shortly after.
All sorts of items can be found up for auction: scalps, boots, squigs, Grots, organs, skulls, vehicles, clothing, armour, and any number of trinkets – the list is endless. One of the more famous auctions at a Squigopolis Deathskulls Auction House was a stale piece of bread smeared with peanut butter.
Although the item in question wasn't that unusual, it caused one of the biggest fights ever seen at the Auction House. The item was rumoured to have been a gift from Gork and Mork (the Ork Gods), and was therefore considered very lucky (and stylish). It wasn't just the bids that went through the roof – bullets, limbs and stick bomms also went through. The Auction House a smouldering wreck in less than fifteen minutes of the starting bid – after the bread was toasted, nobody considered it lucky anymore, and all bids were cancelled - except for one. A Burnayboy paid two teeth for it because he liked the smell.
Adequate, My Good Chap.
"Kapha, yew know yer my best employee. Yew know da ropes ov my Parlour, 'ow ter treat my customers, 'ow ter rip 'em off wivout 'em knowin', et cetra an' so forth. But yew'd be wise, my Orky friend, ter not ferget I'm da Boss 'ere, 'ead honcho, big cheese, yer pimp daddy, whatever floats yer boat."
Kapha was head Dok at Boss Helfar's 'Booty Parlour', a place which offered custom surgery, tattoos, piercing, and multiple other forms of bodily enhancements that customers' desired. As head Dok, Kapha often performed the most complex surgeries (such as brain and head transplants), and cybork augmentation. He also dealt with the customers face-to-face; something that usually only Boss Helfar would do himself. Kapha proved to have almost as silky a tongue as the Boss though, and was assigned 'assisstant swindler' on top of his head Dok position.
Helfar had been keeping an eye on Kapha to ensure the Dok didn't try anything funny since his promotion; all was going smoothly, sort of.
"I aint forgotten yew iz da Boss 'ere, Helfar. If yer don't mind me askin', Boss, what brought dis about?"
The Boss sat in his big leather swivel chair peering at Kapha, who stood in front of Helfar's desk. Helfar's voice was still calm and collected... for the time being. "Perhaps it woz just a mistake on your part. But I thought dat when I tells one ov de uvver surgeons to redo a squig-hair transplant, or put more colour into a tattoo, dat dey should. I've been hearin' stories though, sayin' yew 'ave been belaying some ov me orders. Dat's just not on, laddie. I run this joint, I pay yer wage, an' I'm bigger den you."
It was true… and Kapha knew that lieing was only going to risk escalating the situation from mild to bad. So he told the story straight. "Boss, I only did what I fawt was best fer business," he explained, "cut down on some hair here, use a little less ink there… steal an organ or two in surgery…"
Helfar held up his hand to silence Kapha. He then lit a cigar, and took a puff before talking. "I don't care what excuse yew 'ave, Kapha, da point is dat only listenin' to 'alf me orders just aint going ter cut it. If yew want to stay 'ere as head Dok and assistant swindler, you do ev'ryfin' I says, not just whenever yer feels like it. I knows me customers, I know who can't tell da difference between shit an' clay an' who can. I don't want ter go stepping on da wrong toes by giving less den adequate services to some of da more influential Orks in dis city."
"Adequate? Of course, Boss… I'll put dat on me memo. A list ov names with whom not ter tango might, er, be useful if you could perhaps provide one."
Helfar nodded with satisfaction. "Yer a proactive finker, Kaph. Glad yew saw what I was sayin'. Now den, I believe yer due fer surgery in fifteen minutes. Go an' prove ter me ya know da meanin' of 'adewuate', or else."
With a rather ridiculous salute and bow, Kapha departed the office to leave his Boss to enjoy his cigar.
So, if you want to have some input in the upcoming chapters, now's a good time to contact me via here or DeviantArt.