The Orks of Tam'urt Chapta 13

Chapta Firteen: Mokka's New Apprentice</i>

Barely one quater of Uurgrin's boys remained; the rest had died, and lay scattered on the ground growing fungus. Those who were left alive had recovered from most of their wounds and were inspecting the damage to their settlement. If it wasn't for their sheer tenacity, the Snakebite tribe would have been obliterated.

"Is it even werf rebuildin'?" Ongrat muttered to Orlen. Inside the walls, everything was reduced to ashes. The Snakebites huts were built mostly from wood and mud. The only structures left even partially standing was the Mek shop and the brewery.

Uurgrin walked up and put a large hand on each of the Orks' shoulders. "We won, dat's wot matters. Once I 'eard yer plan Orlen, I knew dere wouldn't be no rebuildin'. We'll salvage wot we can, an' 'ead fer Squigopolis. Den, once we've 'ad some beer an' spent some teef, we'll find somewhere else ter live."

Rebuildin' wasn't the only thing plaguing Uurgrin's mind. He knew that the Goffs had by no means sent their real force. Not a single Goff vehicle was seen at the battle; something their clan would be regretting right about now.

"We gots ter move soon lads," Uurgrin spoke in a lower voice so he wouldn't be overheard. "Da Goffs' might show up once dey realises dere boys got blown up. Dey underestimated us Snakebites, and once dey realise dat, yew can bet yer teef dey'll want ter croak us fer sure. I ain't a coward, but I ain't stupid 'nough ter fink we c'n win anuver battle wivout all diein' in da process."

Ongrat felt a tugging on his pants making his cow bells jingle slightly. He looked around and saw Cezzy-Po looking at him with a stupid grin.

"Can I pierce yer ears for ya?" She asked with a slight quiver. "I noticed yer old ones healed after yer hoops got ripped out." Cezzy-Po ended her sentence with her high-pitched squeal-laugh. "Hee hee hee!"

"'Ow long've yew been standin' dere?" Uurgrin asked eyeing the Dok suspiciously.

She shrugged, replying "I dunno, a few minutes I guess."

"Oi!" A loud shrill voice called from across the wreckage to the four Orks.
"Someone come 'ere. I need a hand gettin' me bike outta da pit! Da snakes still seem ter be wrigglin'."

Cezzy-Po ignored her sister and held up five silver hoop earrings for Ongrat to see. "I found 'em near where yew was fightin', an' where yer jumped from da wall."

Orlen took one of the silver hoops from Cezzy to take a look. "Yaw a creepy Dok, ya know dat? Hur, hur." He handed it back. "Jus' don't go pokin' holes in Ongrat's 'ead; that part ov 'im is useful at least."

"Don't be a wise arse Orlen," Ongrat narrowed his eyes and glared at the Mek. "Or I'll turn yew into a squig."

A charred rock flew across the settlement and hit Uurgrin in the head. "Orlen! Go get dat git's bike 'fore I break 'er neck!" He growled, and walked off saying over his shoulder, "I'm gonna go an' round up da boys. We're leavin' as soon as we can."

Orlen agreed, and walked through the rubble to pull out Brudz' bike. He wanted to test his new hands out on something heavy to see what they were capable of.

Cezzy jingled the earrings to get Ongrat's attention again. "Fine," he said, and sat down where he stood. "Yew can pierce me some new earrin' 'oles."

"Shtabby bits!" Cezzy hissed excitedly, fumbling through her pockets for a needle. "Don't yew worry, I got a good hand wiv a needle, hee hee!"


Somewhere south-east of the Snakebite's settlement, beside the Gorfang River.


Goffs hated several things: Orks who stood back shooting their guns instead of getting in the thick of a battle with a choppa, Orks who weren't Goffs, bright ridiculous clothes, and being made fools of. Kargust, Waaghboss of the southern Goffs tribe, boasted loathing these things more than any other Goff in his clan. Anyone who said otherwise was soundly beat unconscious.

The giant Goff boss stood watching the horizon from a watch tower mounted on the walls to his settlement while drinking his morning keg of fungus beer. He was expecting his raiding party to be back in a day or so, after having cracked every last head of the Snakebite tribe in the north. Or at least that was how he had planned it.

After finishing his beer he climbed back down; the sentries returned to their now vacated tower. Kargust was the epitome of a true Goff; he refused to carry even a small shoota, instead he armed himself with a huge spiked mace and a mega-claw which had a flame-thrower attachment on his right hand. Kargust's fingers, fore arms, shins, and back were dotted with metal studs giving him a very brutish appearance. He wore a helmet with two long curved demon horns attached to the front, and a row of metal spiked ran from front to back; he enjoyed ramming his opponents with his extremely 'killy' helmet. The Waaghboss' clothes were all black, from his thick steel-toed boots to his sleeveless leather jacked. His belt was also studded with metal spikes; it was a very wide belt, which wrapped around his abdomen. Kargust was renowned for his savagery in battle; his fearsome fighting abilities made most other Goffs look like half-hearted battlers in comparison. It was the combination of his brutality and his barbaric appearance which earned him the title 'Kargust da Black Dragon' by his fellow Goffs.

Despite Kargust's optimism and pleasure, there were members of his tribe who were less than pleased with current events – no one dared breath a word of their displeasure to the Boss however, and knew it was best to just let Kargust do as he wished. Kargust had ordered that all vehicles remain behind, staunchly believing that his lads were more than capable of killing the Snakebites without them. All but the actual war bikers and truck drivers liked the plan; the wheeled killers moped around the settlement crabbily. What made most of the Goffs discontented was not that their vehicles were banned from battle, but a temporary alliance their Waaghboss had made with another clan's tribe.

Kargust entered his hut where his largest and most favoured Nobs had gathered, playing a game of cards. The air was thick with cigar smoke, the smell of roasted squig and alcohol.

He sat down at the table. "Deal me in ladz," he said, and pulled out a bag of teeth to wager with.

His Nobs obliged, dealing out a new round of cards. Kargust rarely played cards for simple pleasure; he usually used the opportunity to talk to his Nobs to gather the gossip and find out if anyone in the tribe needed putting in their place (if they hadn't already been). Kargust wasn't entirely oblivious to the fact not everyone liked his alliance, and kept his ear to the ground in case there was any problems.

"You know why I'm 'ere, ladz." The Waaghboss announced casually while lighting up a cigar. "Fill me in."

Shrettis, a mega Nob, nodded to his Boss. "Nuffin' much 'as changed wiv da war bikers an' trukkers, boss. Dey're still sulkin' about like lost Snotlings, hur, hur. Dey'll get over it soona or later. Dey jus' needs a good fight, yeah."

"Well dey c'n fight as long as dey don't go causin' a huge ruckus in da camp," Kargust replied picking up a card. "Remind 'em dat da pit is fer crackin' 'eads open. Da pit'll keep da rest ov da ladz entertained, too."

The 'pit' was where the Orks could fight 'official' brawls; it was different to fighting anywhere else because you had a large audience who witnessed whether you won or lost (or died!). There was a definite winner and the loser in the pits; none of the nonsense about 'ties' or acts of cowardice resulting in an Ork possibly fleeing an unfinished fight. Once you were in the pit, you stayed there until you, or your opponent, were dead or unconscious. The pit also provided a chance for the spectators to bet their teeth; an Ork could make quite a profit if he knew the combatants well enough. Anyone and everyone was allowed to use the pit, but Gork forbid if you get carried away and tried picking on an Ork bigger than yourself…

Kargust purposefully lost a few matches to soften his Nobs up with a few extra teef for their pockets; doing so would make it a little easier to get their gobs flapping – although they were in his inner circle, some of them still required a little extra persuasion. Once he had sufficiently lubricated the mouths of a few certain Orks with some teeth, he then continued to quiz the Nobs.

"What's dis I 'ear about some of me Goffs whingin' about da alliance wiv Gilb-Rer?" Kargust hadn't actually heard anything, but lying was sometimes the best way to get the truth. If some of the Goffs really had been complaining, he wanted to know.

Several of the Nobs glanced up from their cards. Dyakka was an old scarred Nob;  he chewed thoughtfully on his cigar looking for the right words. Kargust was surprisingly patient and waited for Dyakka to reply.

"Dere 'as been a few big-moufed gits, boss, but me an' da uver Nobs gave 'em a few lessons ov 'and-ter-'and fightin' dat dey won't forget." Dyakka looked Kargust briefly in the eyes before looking back at his hand of cards. "We'll let yer know if it looks like dere'll be a mutiny, Black Dragon."

A pleased growl rumbled from Kargust's throat. Only those privileged enough were allowed to call Kargust 'Black Dragon' to his face – and it gave him great satisfaction when they did. It was an ego thing.

"Don't show any of da ladz mercy," he spoke. "If any ov 'em try anyfin' funny I want ter know, an' I want ter see dere 'ead on a spike. Gilb-Rer may be our ally, but dat's only fer da moment. I want me boyz poised ter fight 'im, not us, fer da mean time. Dat Snakebite's as slippery as 'is pet serpents. 'Ee's also got da tongue of one, too. He'll only be our 'friend' while we're stronger den 'im. Da boyz may not completely understand why I chose ter form da alliance, but yew lot do. In uver words, I want any rebels dealt wiv – if da tribe's split, Gilb-Rer wouldn't waste a second ter take advantage ov it an' start a fight. As much as we all love ter fight, right now, I got bigger fights planned – an' I don't want Gilb-Rer to slow me down or git in me way."

All the Nobs agreed; some nodding with approval, others snarling at the thought of Gilb-Rer back stabbing the Goffs. The tension was soon relieved when Kargust stood up. "C'mon boyz, let's all go to da pub an' 'ave a few social drinks wiv da rest ov da boyz."

The Nobs all put down their cards and followed Kargust outside. The pub was not far away; it was in the centre of the north half of the settlement, with the brewery beside it. A large mass of huts lined the east side of the camp opposite the pub where most of the Goffs lived; a kitchen and 'gatherin' area' (somewhere for the Orks to mull about and where they could sit on proper stools) were wedged in between. Behind the pub was another set of huts where the Stormboyz lived. Most Stormboyz preferred to live separate from the rest of their Goff brethren so as to be able to follow a more militaristic life style without needing to throttle the other Orks. They didn't like being kept up at all hours of the night; Stormboyz had a strict curfew and liked it that way.

This afternoon, a musically orientated Ork by the name Glof was entertaining the mob at the pub with his electric guitar; he was accompanied by two Gretchin who played a drum set and an electric banjo. Kargust and his Nobs took seats at the back of the pub and listened to Glof's song titled 'My Mistake' – it was a song about a large Ork who always had a plumber's crack, and often got mistaken for a squiggoth. Like many of Glof's songs, it was riddled with swearing and was screamed rather than sung.

"Fetch me some roasted squig,' Kargust ordered a nearby Gretchin, and threw the runt a tooth. 'Make sure it's nice an' joocy."

"Sure fing, Boss," The Gretchin replied and scuttled away into the crowd.

A few minutes later, the Gretchin came back with a large fat squig skewered on a stick; it was still sizzling hot and the aroma made many of the Nobs mouths' water. The Gretchin was thrown many more teeth, and went to fetch more roasted squigs for Kargust's hungry Nobs.

Feeling the need to probe his Orks for information, Kargust turned around on his stool to face as table of smaller Ork boyz. He ripped a piece of meat off of his roast squig and leaned forward slightly.

If an Ork ever asks you if you're feeling lucky, ninety-nine percent of the time you should feel scared; or at least conscious of the fact he probably wants to kill you.

"So ladz, yer feelin' lucky today?" Kargust asked with a mouthful of meat.

The Orks looked a little cautiously at Kargust; after deciding this was one of those one-percent moments where no life is in danger, they grinned and nodded.

"Yeah, I feel lucky Boss," One of the boyz spoke grinning slightly. "I won twenty teef today at da pit."

"An' I got shat on by a bird!" A scrawny Ork yoof replied excitedly, breathing like a hyperventilating rabbit. "Eh-Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh! Heh!"

The Ork sitting beside the yoof sneered. "Dat's not lucky, dat's just gross."

"Now, now, per'aps dat bird shit woz a lucky fing fer dat lad," Kargust said dragging his stool closer to the table.

The yoof shrunk as Kargust's gaze fell on him. "Er her…" the yoof muttered nervously.

Kargust realised that something was a little odd about the yoof; he leant closer, and the boyz backed away enough so they didn't touch the Boss. The Yoof was wrapped from head-to toe in black cloth, with only his eyes and fingers visible. Although a strange habit, this was not what had been bugging the Boss. Kargust stared at the runty Ork with a puzzled look until he realised what made the Ork seem unusual. There were little glowing blue drops of waagh essence in the corner of the yoof's eyes.

"Yew idiots!" He yelled straightening his back and glaring at the boyz around the table. "'Ow long 'as dis lad been wiv us? What? Five years or so? An' yew didn't noticed?"

Too scared to runaway the boys quivered beneath their Boss's stern look. "S-Sorry Boss… but… realised what, exactly…?" One of the boyz quivered.

The young Ork tried to flee, but two of boyz grabbed him and forced him to sit back down on his stool; he shook nervously, babbling "Uuuur! No-no-no-no-no-no! Oh no-no-no-no-no…"

"So," Kargust spoke in a deadly quiet voice, "It seems dis runt prob'ly knew about his psychic powers a lot sooner dan we did. Huuuur…"

Total silence engulfed the pub; every Ork was looking at the table where Kargust sat. Even Glof had stopped playing his music. The yoof's eyes looked stunned, but also relived. No body noticed however, and Kargust went on to lecture the Orks in the pub.

"Yer lucky I noticed b'fore da whole camp went up in blue smoke!" Kargust said raising his voice and looking around at everyone. "Weirdboy's are dangerous unless dealt wiv properly! Dis one's been roamin' unchecked for fer about four years in dis camp! We're GOFFS! We fight like no uver clan, an' what 'appens when a Weirdboy's exposed ter that kinda excitement? 'EE GETS ALL SPARKY! Sparky is BAD! Especially fer a yoof 'oo aint got a clue how ter deal wiv it!"

When an Ork with psychic abilities was discovered he was thrust into a whole different life style due to his volatile state of mind. He was to forever wear bells to announce his presence wherever he went, and was to always be with a group of Minders. He was also forced to live in a separate community away from the majority of the boys to help prevent their rowdiness from causing the Weirdboy to build up too much waagh energy. Some Weirdboys dealt with the change quite well, while others loathed it; it truly depended on the individual Ork how they reacted.

"What's dis ladz' name?" Kargust asked one of the Ork boyz.

"Dat's Ilgil, Boss."

"Yer really are a lucky Ork today, Ilgil…" Kargust also felt quite lucky – having a free-roaming Weirdboy in the Tribe would help to prevent large fights; it would be less effective letting his elder Weirdboy loose as all the Orks knew he was good at keeping his powers on a tight leash and would be less careful around the Weirdboys Nob. But letting the yoof run around would be like giving a monkey a loaded gun – the Orks would be too frightened to set off Ilgil's awesome power, and refrain from doing anything that might cause any sudden surges of power in Ilgil.

"Fer da moment, yew can live as yer always have – provided yer wear da bells." The Boss explained. "Yew've done a good job ov hidin' yer powers so far, so I'll let yer keep yer freedom – fer now."

Distracted by the sudden exposure of another Weirdboy, Kargust forgot about informally interrogating the boyz. Instead, he told them to take Ilgil to the Weirdboy hut and familiarise him with the Tribe's older Weirdboy, Mokka, and get the yoof some bells for his clothes. Shortly after Ilgil and the group of boyz left the pub, Kargust went back to his hut; the Nobs stayed back to drink some more beer and listen to Glof's entertaining songs.

The Boss walked up a spiral staircase to his personal quarters. The room overlooked the camp; the windows were covered with mesh and made the room dark despite the exposure to the sun. Kargust stood looking through the mesh at the hills in the distance; beyond those, he imagined his loyal Goff warriors scavenging through the remains of his enemy at Uurgrin's camp to the north-west. Once the Goffs were back, Gilb-Rer would then fulfil his end of the bargain (or be punished).


On the opposite side of the river a small huddle of huts stood on stilts; they were set far aside from any buildings. The closest being the Mek shop and the pit (the first Ork to found the settlement wasn't very bright). Despite the proximity to the pits, the Weirdboy enclave rarely experienced any problems – and those problems that did arise were usually the Minders going on a bit of a psychotic rampage.

The boys shoved Ilgil up the ramp and inside the hut which was situated in the middle of the other huts. A dark shadow loomed at the back of the hut.

"What's the racket?" A deep voice asked from within the hut. A pair of gleaming eyes looked at the intruders.

"Boss said ter get yer ter meet Ilgil," the boys explained and shoved the yoof forward further inside the hut. "It's been discovered dat da runt's a Weirdboy, like yerself."

Mokka stepped forward into the light to inspect the short Ork wrapped in black cloth. "Why didn't I sense yer power b'fore?" He asked with a slight sneer.

Ilgil looked Mokka up and down; the Weirdboy was huge. Ilgil had seen him around, but made it a priority to avoid him. Despite Mokka's age and size, he was relatively free of scars and dressed rather fanatically for a Goff. From his ears hung cow bells - the weight of the bells had stretched the Orks' pointed ears over time so they looked like elongated puppy ears. Two rows of studs began at the outer edge of his eyebrows following the contour of his brow until the stud rows met and ran parallel down to the tip of his snout. He hung a large obsidian nose ring from the centre of his nose and had replaced his bottom row of teeth with Obsidian replicas. Mokka wore a robe made from black cloth - the hood drooped over his back lazily, and chains wrapped around his torso. The ends of the chains dangled from random places; half ended with more cow bells. Beneath his robes, the Weirdboy's arms, hands, legs and feet were wrapped in grey cloth – it used to be white but was rarely cleaned. The most noticeable of all Mokka's features were his black tattoos which had been applied to his face; the Weirdboy looked as if his mascara was running like a tap from his eyes. Tattoos were forbidden in the Goff clan, but no one dared try to tell Mokka what he could and could not do. Even Kargust merely begrudged the Weirdboy, but never formally told him to remove the tattoos.

"Never mind," Mokka huffed and walked around Ilgil and stood in the doorway with his back to the Orks. "Da last Weirdboy apprentice ov mine died coz 'ee couldn't control 'iz powers. If yew turn out ta be as crappy, I'll defecate on yer corpse when yer 'ead explodes."

Ilgil cringed beneath his rags; he had never spoken to Mokka before. The master Weirdboy's frank and crude expressions left the yoof feeling very meagre indeed.

"I need some bells an' I c'n leave…" The yoof mumbled. "Boss said I c'n run around wivout Minders for a while or somefin'…"

Mokka twisted around and looked unpleasantly down at Ilgil. "Wheneva yer talk to me runt, yew'll address me prop'ly. Me name's Mokka, but yew 'ave ter call me Masta Mokka. I'll call yew whateva tickles me fancy. Got dat, runt?"

The yoof rolled his eyes and turned around to face Mokka. "Yes, Masta Mokka…"

"Watch yer manners," Mokka snarled detecting a slight sarcastic tone from Ilgil. "Or I'll show yer why I's da only Weirdboy left in dis clan!"

"Er, Mokka, could yew pleeze give da runt some bells…" One of Ilgil's escorts asked. "We'll take 'im outta yer way once we get da runt prop'ly marked as a Weirdboy."

Mokka glared angrily at Ilgil a moment longer before he pushed his way through the Orks to get to the side of his hut. He opened a dented old metal chest, and pulled out a bundle of chains and cow bells.

"C'mere, runt." Mokka ordered.

Ilgil walked over and stood beside the chest. Mokka sized the yoof up, and pulled a small wad of chains and bells from the heap while muttering to himself. "Runts are weak,"  he muttered. "Pro'bly break yer neck wiv dese…"

He wrapped some chains around Ilgil's waist like a belt, and clipped cowbells to it. "When – if – yer get bigga, yew'll 'ave more chains an' more bells. Till den, yew wears dis – always. If I catches yer wivout ev'ry one of dem bells an' chains, I'll flog yer hide raw.  Don't care if dey make it hard ter walk, or irritate yer, a Weirdboy must always 'ave 'is bells."

After being fitted with his chains and bells Ilgil left the hut. He walked away followed by the Ork boyz; Minders looked through the windows and doors of their huts as the group walked out, some squinting their eyes as if to take a better look. Very rarely did the Weirdboy enclave get visitors.

Once outside the perimeter of the Weirdboy huts the Orks disbanded, leaving Ilgil to himself. The yoof had once been close to the gang, but now it was obvious none of them wanted to have anything to do with Ilgil. It wasn't that they disliked the small Ork, but the fear of being turned into a squig in the middle of the night or having mushrooms sprout from their ears made the boyz wary.

Ilgil smirked; it suited him fine. The less attention he got from the other his peers, the better – or so he surmised. The yoof thought his deepest darkest secret had been exposed back at the pub, but thankfully, only his second deepest most darkest secret had been revealed. The Weirdboy never wanted anyone to know that he was actually a Weirdgirl.