Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 27
The Orks advanced in a broiling wave of destruction, thousands of them barrelling over the sulphurous slopes of the volcano, climbing steep bluffs in a raging tide of roaring green. They came on bikes and Trukks, they came riding on Battlewagons and Squiggoths, gliding in ramshackle kites pulled by rope and bouncing in the seat of enormous monowheel contraptions. Every one of them was hellbent on meeting the foe in battle, eager to rend and slay anything that stood in their way. The Waaagh had begun.
Hed'breka stood on the back of a jostling Battlewagon as he rolled over the landscape. Ahead lay their target, a mouldering ruin set up the slopes of a fuming volcano. He neither knew nor cared who had built it, or why it had been abandoned. Such crumbling tombs dotted the worlds of the Copan system, ancient stones piled upon each other in an age forgotten by all. Orks infested many such ruins, but most weren't worth bothering with. But for some reason Bloody Red-Hands wanted this one.
Hed'breka stared at the growing mass of stone and counted himself lucky. As he gathered his Waaagh he'd never given much thought to how they'd find their hated nemesis. Bloody Red-hands had been a ghost for many years, attacking out of nowhere then disappearing just as fast. The Orks had never tracked him and no warband had stumbled on his base. Bereft of other options Hed'breka had spread his Orks out, sweeping the worlds for any hint of the elusive foe. Then barely three days in they'd spotted flights of gunships tracing burning re-entry wakes towards the surface of the seventh planet. Hed'breka hadn't wasted a moment to give pursuit, grabbing whatever gangs were nearby and launching a head-on assault.
"Fasta!" he roared into the howling wind, "He'z not getting' away dis time!"
"Wanna crump!" Gut'twista yelled holding aloft his mechanical arms, "Wanna smash an stomp an pulp em gud!"
The drivers struggled to obey, jamming gearsticks about and stomping on gas pedals. A morsel more speed was extracted from the labouring machines and Hed'breka grinned as they left the lumbering Squiggoths behind, the primitives orks on top calling out for the others to wait while those on the quicker machines made rude hand gestures. Hed'breka saw the ruin grow larger but was surprised when the ground dropped away under them. A hidden cleft in the mountainside concealed a sharp drop and the vehicles went over at top speed, hitting the crumbling slope with sprays of ash. Many bikes rolled over, tossing riders about and squishing them into paste but Hed'breka's broader battlewagon merely skidded about, as the driver wrestled with the steering bar.
The Warlord clung to the juddering side as the deck danced under him, making his teeth rattle in his head. Finally the Battlewagon ground to a halt, listing drunkenly at the bottom of the cleft on a broken axle. He'breka didn't bother to wait for the dust to settle as he stepped over the boards, hitting the ground with a fountain of black dust, crying, "We'ze gonna walk from ere!"
"Errrr... boss," Gut'twista called, "I tink we dun haf ta go far." Hed'breka lifted his eyes and saw a wave of black and green pouring over the crest of the far rise. The tainted and deformed Orks, racing to intercept his advance party. They came not as a cheering mass of aggression, as proper Orks should, but moved in lockstep, a uniform wave of stomping feet, as if their limbs were being puppeteered by an outside force. Their hands were already mutating, growing into spears and swords and flails, while metallic spikes protruded from their faces.
"Finally!" Masha yelled as he hefted hi Zapp gun, "Come get some!" he pointed the hooped rods of the barrel at the oncoming crowd and pulled the tigger. Instantly an arc of green lightning shot forth, crossing the distance in a flash. It hit the nearest freak and danced over its body, drawing sparks from the metal spikes. Hed'breka expected it to fry but instead the energy leapt again, dancing from mutant to mutant, spreading out among their mass and dissipating as it did so. The furious energy of the Zapp gun was negated, diluted to nothingness and leaving no trace of damage behind.
"Frakkin' useless piece a' crap!" Masha yelled as he ripped the gun off.
But Hed'breka yelled, "Gonna hav ta do dis da old-fashion way. Into em ladz!"
With a roar of savage frenzy the true Orks leapt to meet the charging foe. Ten thousand Orks against a few hundred freaks. In normal circumstances a fight that could only have one result, but the tainted mutants charged anyway, seemingly without fear. Hed'breka snarled as the wave hit his mobs, metallic blades bursting out of hands to plough into Green flesh. The Orks piled in, screaming fury as Choppas and knives stabbed home but having little effect. Rusty blades left shallow cuts on spiked flesh, that quickly closed over without a scar. In return staves shot from fingertips, piercing hearts and plucking out brains, culling Orks with ease.
Hed'breka wasn't going to have that, he charged into the fray, drill swinging wide. He caught a freakish Ork from behind, snatching up the body in the three heads of his weapon. The mutant finally let out a roar of protest as whirring points chewed its form apart, sparks spraying from the grinding maw but the power of his drill was too much and reduced it to offal, spraying guts everywhere. Hed'breka had no time to celebrate as a lance of pain pierced his side, sticking through a gap in two plates. He spun about to see another freak at his side, drawing back for another stab. His arm came about, swinging wide but the foe swayed back and the blow went past without touching, leaving him exposed.
Spears of silver shot out from grasping fingers and struck his chest. A terrible shriek arose as metal was gouged deep but though Hed'breka swayed back his new armour held true and did not yield. The freak cocked its head in a comical expression of disbelief, which was quickly smothered by Hed'breka's drill smashing into it. Spinning drills bits chewed through flesh and metal, dicing everything it encountered and reducing half the head to gristle. The freak amazingly didn't die, throwing itself backwards to hit the ground in an oozing heap. Dull spikes of metal began to grow out of the pulped mass of a face, trying to rebuild the skull but Hed'breka's boot put paid to that, squishing it flat into the ground and ending its motions permanently.
He looked about and saw his horde laying in, mobbing the freaks in tides of Green flesh. They piled in with knife and choppa, hacking and cutting for all they were worth. Gut'twista was among them, spinning buzzsaw tearing deeper than any other, but even the regular Orks were finally making an impression. They cut faster than wounds could close, repeatedly hacking over and over until limbs dropped off. Relentless and determined to fight to the last the Orks were slowly gaining the upper hand. Still the freaks fought on, growing new knives from their hands with every stroke. They killed and killed without pause, every motion made lethal by Chaotic gifts. A tight line of defiance they held and so long as it stood they would reap a fearful tally in defeat. They were killing twenty Orks for every one of them that fell, but that didn't matter for they were outnumbered fifty to one.
Hed'breka snarled as he saw victory was at hand, but too slow, too costly. The freaks would bleed his force dry, leaving him spent before Bloody Red-hand's fury. Then they came, rising over the crest of the hill like moving mountains, Squiggoths, three of them. The rearmost Orks had finally caught up.
Hed'breka lurched out of the way as the three giants set their feet upon the slope and began to pelt downwards. The ground shook with the weight of their stride, while Orks riding high above roared in savage glee and waved bone choppas. The air vibrated with the bellowing of huge lungs and their breath was hot upon the wind. With a hooting cry they charged into the fray, stomping many Orks under foot, but less than the freaks would have claimed. Into the middle of the fight they ran and their mighty feet squashed twisted mutants into gore. Tusks gored chests, headbutts smashed them off their feet and jaws snatched up foes, breaking them apart with crunching teeth. Nothing could withstand their charge and they barrelled through, leaving anarchy in their wake.
The freaks were thrown off-balance, their tight formation broken apart and into that gap poured the horde. With wild abandon the Orks swamped their prey, taking them apart one at a time. The Squiggoths paused and began to lumbar about but there was no point. The freaks were beaten, it was only a question how long it took them to die.
"Finish dem off ladz!" Hed'breka roared, "Den up da top ladz quick like, fore..." His words were cut off by the howling of engines and the shadows of dark shapes rising from the ruins. Thick hulls and broad wings describing hoomie gunships launching, hurling themselves into the sky. Like ascending angels they screamed into the heavens, leaving Hed'breka snarling impotently in their wake.
"Get bak ere and die ya runt!" Hed'breka roared.
Masha came up behind, crude choppa in hand as he muttered, "Watever Bloody Red-hands wanted from dat heap, he got it."
"Don't matter," Hed'breka growled, "I got his scent now an Iz no quitter. No matter how far he run, I'll catch him. Bloody Red-hands can run but he can't hide, not from me."