Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 16

Hed'breka's Waaagh was growing faster than he could track. Once he got into the void his name began spreading across all the planets Orks had infested. Crude vox spreading his name far and wide, his aura of menace growing with every retelling. Grots babbled about the growing horde while warbosses chewed their jaws and debated whether to join up or challenge this rising power. A few decided to make a fight of it and were diced to bits by Hed'breka's drill, a swift and brutal discourse that made up the minds of the majority for them. Only a few holdouts remained and Hed'breka intended to deal with these stubborn fools personally.

Currently he was standing on another planet, one he had never travelled to before. Unlike his former lands this world was further from the star, the sky a bruised purple and the gravity heavy. Almost liveable, save that constant volcanic eruptions made the air thick with pumice flakes. Anything that tried to breathe this atmosphere would choke on gritty particles, more than enough to make most species deem it worthless but Orks had no trouble thriving here. Their spores had dug deep into the land, growing everywhere as a tangled mat of fungi and mushroom. From them squigs and snotlings erupted, creating the bottom tier of a food chain that led up to Grots, Boyz, Nobz and the warbosses themselves. It was a braying mass of aggressive vegetation, the flora as violent and belligerent as the fauna.

Hed'breka breathed deep of the heady mix of Orkoid spores and ashy flakes and grumbled, "What'da say den?"

Blakgob chewed on his jaw and muttered, "Not sayin' no, not sayin' yeah."

"Bloody Red-hands iz muckin about with da Boyz, dat aint on. He makin' dem not propa Orks no more," Hed'breka urged.

"Yah, I'm not havin' with dat piss," Blakgob grumbled, "But dat don't make you da boss. Goffs not be followin' any old berk."

Hed'breka looked about as numerous sullen growls surrounded them. A circle of fierce and powerfully built Orks surrounded his trio, each onlooker big and beefy enough to be a warboss in his own right. Goffs were famous for their size and strength and surliness, growing bigger and meaner Boyz than any other Klan. Goffs would have been the apex of Ork society, had they the wit to stop battering each other senseless for five minutes and focus their efforts on their rivals. Still Hed'breka found much to admire in the Goffs, they were Ork's orks, brutal, aggressive straightforward and firmly believing that if any problem couldn't be solved by violence, then they weren't using enough of it. Hed'breka himself might have signed up to a Goff warband in his younger days, were they not all amazingly stupid, even he thought they didn't have two braincells to rub together.

Blakgob was a prime example of this trend. He was as tall as Hed'breka but broader and hunched so his head appeared to be growing out of his chest. He wore Megarmour to rival his own but with huge pincers over his wrists, that could shear through tank armour with ease. His eyes were dots in his face but his mouth was huge, a yawning chasm with rotten black teeth, stained by blood and beer. He seemed to be struggling with the idea of not launching himself at Hed'breka, the effort to talk causing his brow to furrow in pain. Hed'breka didn't like the prospects of that fight, not that he didn't reckon he could take the Goff boss, he could take anything, but the fight would be bloody and he'd be left facing an army of Nobz who would surely launch into a violent scrum that may well end him. No, to get the Goffs onboard he had to be kunnin'.

"Hows 'bout I proves it to ya?" Hed'breka proposed.

"Ya wanna fite?" Blakgob yelped with a happy noise.

"Later for sure, but now... let' 'ave a challenge."

"No fite?" Blakgob uttered with all the bafflement of one hearing nonsense, "You'ze aint a yella Blood Axe are ya?"

"Yella?!" Hed'breka snarled, "I aint yella, I can beat any a you'ze gits. But iz more dan a fist, I can out run, eat and drink any of ya, I say! Try's me, I prove I a bigga, meaner Ork dan ya ever see!"

There was a rumour of noise from the crowd and a voice from the back muttered, "We likes our beer."

"Dere ya go," Hed'breka hastily pressed, "I gonna drink ya under da thingy."

"Beer..." Blakgob muttered as his brain strained with the concept, "I likes beer."

"We'z agreed den, I beats ya, den you'ze join me Waaagh!"

"When iz agree to dat?"Blackgob uttered with befuddlement but it was too late.

From the crowd came a mob of Boyz, dragging heavy wineskins behind them each as big as a hoomie. Sown out of snotling skins, they sloshed with the weight of the liquid within, fungus beer, brewed out of a mix of Orks spores, blood and grot's piss, with all the texture of slurry and alcoholic enough to make paint peel. The warbosses waited as a dozen skins were dragged up to their feet and plonked down before them.

Masha stepped out of Hed'breka's shadow and picked up a skin, he winced at the smell and spat, "Dat's rank, even our brews better dan dis piss."

"Pass it us," Hed'breka muttered impatiently.

"Can I haves some?" Gut'twista called from inside his grumbling frame.

"When's I beats dis git, I get em to pour enouff in dere to drawn ya."

"Geez thanks boss, dis' gonna be da best day a' me life!"

Hed'breka turned his attention back to his rival who had claimed a skin of his own and snarled, "We drinks till we canna drink no more. No stoppin, no spillin, no chuckin up."

"Quit yakking an drink," Hed'breka growled as he lifted his skin.

The frothing liquid hit his mouth and his tongue erupted with acidic fire. Slimy ooze filled his throat, turgid and rotten, filled with rock hard chunks of grot crap. Ork beer was rank at the best of times but this was rancid, like it had been brewed under an engine and mixed with the oil drippings. His tongue shut down his sense of taste in self-preservation but his nose filled with mouldy fur and his eyeballs boiled in his skull as the awful sludge poured down his throat.

Finally the bag was finished and he looked up with bleary eyes to see Blakgob grinning around a maw stained ebony as he chortled, "Gud stuff eh, put some muscle on ya bones, ya scrawy runt!"

"Pass da next," Hed'breka snarled as he wiggled fingers he couldn't feel anymore.

Another skin was passed into his hand and his throat closed in protest but he wasn't having that and forced the bag to his lips and poured the contents down. Muscles had to be forced into action as the mix filled his mouth, stomach clenching in dread. He lost all sensation in his mouth but the top of his scalp trembled and he swore the wax in his ears was melting as he forced the beer down. He dropped the empty sack and watched the world spin before his eyes, the horizon heaving up and down as if made of water. Sounds had become tinny in his ears and he heard Blakgob laugh, "He gonna be sore come mornin'. If he makes it dat long!"

"More," Hed'breka growled as another skin was handed to him. He chugged this down as fast as possible, trying not to sense anything. His guts however were dancing, innards churning over themselves as the vile brew gushed through him. His throat wanted to heave out everything he'd drunk but he forced his maw to keep it down, not allowing himself to chuck it up. His belly was like a brick and his bowels uncomfortably loose, held in check only by fierce clenching. His body wanted this stuff out and it was going to make it happen, one way or another.

He lowered the empty sack and glared, seeing the rival boss swimming in his sight. Distance seemed to be having issue staying fixed, objects growing and shrinking at random and the Goff warboss was thin as an Eldar one second, fat as a tank the next. His laughter rang loud though as he called, "He can't take anymo!"

"Quit dancin an drink, ya pocky knife-ear," Hed'breka snapped.

But Blakgob laughed, "He's neva gonna last, he's a muck treadin' gut juoiis... heryua... jhihu.. Boy..."

Blakgob was still laughing as he keeled over, falling face first into the dirt. It was an impressive fall, straight over without rolling to one side or cop-out bending at the knee. He simply toppled over like a hewn tree, hitting the ground face first and then moving no more. A loud snoring noise came from the fallen Ork, as all looked on in stunned amazement.

Hed'breka stoof blearily in the middle of the silent crowd and growled, "When he wakes up tells 'im you'ze workin' for me."

Masha laughed, "You gots him gud boss!"

Gut'twista yelled, "Me next! Me, me, me!"

But all Hed'breka said, "Gets 'im standin, den make ready to move your arses!"

With that he turned and stomped away, leaving them to prepare for war as he went to find a dark corner to throw up in.