The Orks of Tam'urt Chapta 16

Chapta Sixteen: Da Hunt Begins

Say of Da Day: "Two rights dun make a left, but fwree rights do." – Jinshak.

Nighttime had come and gone, leaving a mass of drunken Snakebite Orks in its wake. The camp was only just beginning to fill up as the Snakebites returned from the pubs, clubs, bars and casinos throughout Squigopolis.

One of the drunken arrivals tripped over a metal barrel, startling it's occupant. Cezzy-Po emerged slightly confused but quickly came to her senses and lashed out with her scalpels at the culprit.

"Ugh… be quiet will yer? I'm tryin' ter sleep." Ongrat whined from somewhere amongst the Jawge's coils.

Squiggy came running from across the camp with a rat clamped in his mouth, and another in his hand. The squig clambered onto Jawge and disappeared; it flew into the air several seconds later with Ongrat swearing after it.

"Ee's just tryin' ter show ee likes yer, ya big mean git." Cezzy groused at Ongrat and ran over to squiggy who was squealing in pain. "Oh dear, dat'll need stitchin'…"

While Cezzy-Po was doing open surgery on Squiggy Orlen came over. "Cezzy-Po, do yer know where Brudz keeps 'er tools? I need some ter fix da wartrakk."

Blood squirted onto the Dok's jacket as she cut something squishy. "Yeh, on 'er bike's a toolbox. Red fing it is."

"I tried lookin' for 'er bike, but I don't see it." Orlen replied, looking at the bloody mess which was twitching slightly.

Cezzy pointed her scalpel towards the back corner of the block without looking up. "It's over dere, or are yer blind?"

Orlen straightened up and looked to where she was pointing; there was nothing there except an Ork spewing his guts up. "Nope, aint dere."

"Shoo," Cezzy said irritated. "Leave me be 'til I stitch Squiggy back up. She probly moved it."

Orlen searched the camp and the surrounding buildings – he couldn't find Brudz' bike anywhere. He thought about how Brudz would react if she found out it was missing – possibly stolen. Orlen walked back to the camp to find the Evil Sunz Mek; Cezzy approached him before he got very far – her hands were covered in blood. When he explained the bike was missing, Cezzy sighed.

"I hope yer wrong about da bike bein' stolen," Cezzy-Po said glumly. "Yew won't believe 'ow much she loves dat fing; it belonged to 'er spore daddy. Not dat I care… but she's gonna chuck da biggest wobbly of da centaury if it's missin'."

"It can't 'ave been missin' fer too long," Orlen replied. "I could swear I 'eard 'er tinkerin' away early dis mornin' b'fore dat sun came up."

"Let's go 'ave a look at where she 'ad it parked; if someone stole it, maybe dere's tracks left." Cezzy-Po suggested and walked with Orlen across the block.

Where the bike had been the night before, there was now nothing more than bare dirt – and a puddle of spew nearby. Cezzy-Po inspected the ground and saw tyre marks leading out of a hole in the fence. She found something scratched into one of the wooden palings. Beneath the note was a picture of a hand with the middle finger sticking up.

Cezzy-Po studied the glyphs and read them out, "Zog… yew… all… ter… heel."

"I fink dat's meant ter say 'hell'." Orlen said pointing to the last word. "Whoever stole da bike aint a good speller."

"Da bike woz not stolen, Orlen." Cezzy explained. "What we 'ave is a case ov an Ork frustrated wiv da facts of life."

Orlen looked at Cezzy puzzled. "'Ow do yew know all dat?" He asked her.

She pointed to another fence paling with a childish picture of an Ork on a bike with a spanner in its hand running over another Ork. "Well, yew certainly didn't draw dat, did yer?"

"Oh well," Orlen shrugged. "Not much we c'n do. I bet she jus' went inta da city der da day."

Cezzy sighed; Orlen was right - there really wasn't much either of them could do. "Yeah, I guess so. Oh well, we might as well go inta da city today, too."


Cezzy-Po, Orlen, Ongrat, Jamz and Oric all walked to the business district of Squigopolis. Thousands of Orks of all shapes, sizes and shades of green packed the streets and buildings of the huge city. The Ork capital had once been a human metropolis before the Orks wiped them out over one-hundred years ago. Ever since, the buildings had picked up an Orky appearance as they were patched up and renovated. Exposed metals were oxidized, not a single window had any glass left in it and very few doors had a ninety-degree angle to be seen in the frame. Random bits and pieces were bolted, welded, screwed, nailed or glued over holes and cracks in the walls; some walls which had been completely demolished were now replaced with conglomerates of scraps, or the building was simply joined to the one beside it to make an even bigger building. The buildings all looked generally jagged or pointy; the entire city would have been classed as an OH&S issue by human standards if any of the citizens had been left alive to see what their city transformed into.

Despite the numerous casinos many Orks openly gambled on the streets; all kinds of contests could be witnessed – face eating contests, squig fights, Ork fights, scar poka, screaming contests, eating contests and even street racing in some of the less business orientated streets. Squigopolis was alive all hours of the day: the banter of Orks could be heard everywhere; not a single alley knew the meaning of silence. Even the sewers below the city were plagued with the Greenskins; mostly home to the smaller castes of Orkoid species, but wriggling with life nonetheless.


The four Orks wasted no time exploring the maze of shops and stalls; Cezzy-Po was excited to find numerous squig markets, Oric and Jamz sampled something from every food and drink stall they came across, and Orlen got extremely upset when he realized his bag of teeth had been pilfered. Having nothing to buy tools with, he hung around with Cezzy-Po; she was the only one who wouldn't tell him to shut his gob and stop complaining.

By the time they were all ready to head back to the camp the stars were up; they slowly walked down the road together, not in a real hurry to return to the comparatively far less exciting camp.

Oric chewed the last of the meat off a bone before poking Orlen in the side with it. "Hur, hur, hur, poor 'ol povo Orlen didn't get ter buy nuffin. Heh, heh, heh…"

The Mek didn't like being reminded. "ah, shud yer yap 'ole," he snarled, "Least I aint a tank driver wivvout me tank."

"What? 'Ow'd yew find out?" Oric looked suspiciously at Cezzy-Po, but it was Jamz who declared being the culprit, laughing aloud.

"Har, har, it woz too much ov a funny story ter not tell someone." He smirked patting Oric on the back with his giant metal claw none too gently. "Dey all loved it! Hur, hur, hur!"

"'Oo da 'ell did yer tell?" Oric demanded, pushing Jamz' arm away roughly. "Besides Orlen?"

Jamz appeared so amused he couldn't do anything but snort for a while. Eventually, he got his snorting under control. "Oh, I fink jus' 'bout all da Snakebites."

"Yew bastard! I oughta tell 'em 'bout da time yew fell ov'r backwards inta a squig trough an' we 'ad ter git a crane ter lift yer out!"

Sensing a fight brewing between the huge Nobz, Cezzy-Po hurried ahead. Orlen took one look at Jamz and Oric, and did the same.

"Don't come inta or near da camp fightin'," Orlen shouted back to the fuming Nobz, "Or Ongrat'll burn anuver 'ole in 'is pants!"

Although the thought of Ongrat relieving himself of waagh energy was amusing to watch, Uurgrin usually got extremely cross whenever someone made Ongrat spark with waagh energy. This put a damper on the entertainment, and helped to deter such Orks as Jamz and Oric from deliberately fighting while Ongrat was around. They stayed away from the camp as Orlen had requested even though their bellows carried across for all to hear.

Cezzy-Po and Orlen headed to the camp fire where Uurgrin, Ongrat and some of the Nobz stood warming themselves and roasting meat. Despite the distance between himself and the fighting Nobz, Ongrat still had to sniff runny waagh energy back into his nose.

"Why's dey fightin'?" Uurgrin demanded as Cezzy-Po approached.

Settling herself down in front of the fire the Dok replied, "Oh, da usual fing. One inshults da uvver, an' dey gets all cranky like."

The Snakebite boss chewed on a squig leg. "Hurrr… dem two betta not be late fer da meetin'."


Less than an hour later, Uurgrin and the Nobz headed over to the demolished building to hold the second meeting. Jamz and Oric showed up on time; both were missing a couple of teeth. Jamz' mega amour saved mostly everything except his face; Oric was bruised and cut, but otherwise both Orks were fine.

When all the Nobz were silenced, Uurgrin wasted no time getting to the crux of the matter. "Alright boyz," he said looking at Oric and Jamz, "'Ave yer decided if yew'll take us to yer Boss?"

Jamz nodded. "Yeah, we'll take yer. But we aint guaranteein' dat Gotshik'll give yer a warm welcome. We's jus' showin' yer da way is all."

This didn't bother Uurgrin; he would deal with Gotshik's greeting when he came to crossing that bridge. Pleased, he promised the two Evil Sunz beer after the meeting and continued talking on. "Alright, dat's dat den. We'll set off first fing tomorrow. Now, Orlen, I got a bone ter pick wiv yew…"

Orlen didn't like the look he was getting from his Boss, and asked what was bothering him. "What iz it, boss? If it's about da wartrakk…"

"Yes Orlen, it's about dat blasted WARTRAKK!" Uurgrin's voice thundered across to the camp. "Why's it still lookin' like a 'eap of trash? Yew know I 'ate walkin', an' dat fing iz priddy good at cartin' me around! I fawt yew said yew were gonna fix it…"

"It's a bit hard ter fix it when I aint got no tools!" Orlen snapped back. "I woz gonna buy some today, but some Ork stole all me teef."

Uurgrin snorted indignantly. "Why didn't yer just borrow Brudz' tools? She's got a box ov 'em on dat piece ov junk bike."

"Brudz' an' 'er bike's been gone since dis mornin'," Orlen glared at his Boss. "Don'tcha fink I fawt ov dat?"

"Watch yer mouf Orlen, yew might need yer 'ands but yer sure az 'ell don't need yer tongue!"

Jamz and Oric looked confused. "Whadoya mean she's been missin' since dis mornin'?" The mega Nob asked, turning around to face Orlen.

"I went ter borrow 'er tools, an' me an' da Dok found a note scratched ona da fence post written by Brudz." Orlen explained, running out of patience. "We assumed she went inta town fer da day, so I went too ta buy tools. But as I already explained, some bastard stole me TEEF!"

"Why didn't yer tell us Brudz left a note an' went missin'!" Oric snarled, stepping closer to Orlen. "Me preshuss wartrakk'll nev'r get fixed at dis rate!"

Orlen felt like a piece of carrion that vultures kept picking bits off. It was one after the other of Nobz accusing him of something. "Would yer stop assuming' dat I'm ter blame fer everythin'?" He said looking around at everyone. "It aint my fault dat wartrakk's still broken, an' I aint responsible fer dat runt, so why's it suddenly my fault when she vanishes? If yer so concerned, ya shoulda put da git on a leash!"

All the Nobz began to mutter; the Snakebites didn't like two outsiders ganging up on their Mek and looked about ready to jump on Jamz and Oric.

"EV'RY ONE SHUT UP!" Uurgrin roared, spit flying from his mouth and his snake beard wobbling angrily. "I will give Orlen teef ter buy tools wiv ter fix da wartrakk. We'll delay leaving 'til da fing iz fixed. Den, we'll 'ead out as planned to da Evil Sunz' settlement. Yer lucky Ongrat aint 'ere, or I woulda cracked some 'eads togever t'night! Meetin's over, all ov yer git lost."


Unlike the last meeting, the Nobz left this one with tension hung in the air; when they all went back to camp, Ongrat's ears sparked. The Weirdboy had chosen to sit this meeting out; he knew Uurgrin was going to go off his nut about the wartrakk. He shook his head to clear the sparks and wrapped a squig skin blanket around himself to keep warm, moving back from the fire so he was shrouded in a shadow.

He watched as Cezzy-Po returned to the camp; the Dok had walked around outside the camp to see if Brudz was in a nearby building. Ongrat knew that the Dok had been unsuccessful on her search; otherwise she would have been dragging her sister back to camp by her ear.

Cezzy-Po came and sat down near Ongrat. "I like it better with dat git gone," he said as Cezzy-Po settled onto the ground.

To his surprise, she snarled at him. "Shut yer mouf, if I wanted yer opinion I woulda asked for it."

"Yew make me look like a normal Ork," Ongrat muttered.

Quick as a flash of lightening, Cezzy-Po pulled out her scalpel and swiped Ongrat across his squashed pig-like nose yelling. The sudden outburst caused waagh energy to swell within the Weirdboy; it was let out in a fart which sent dust out from around where he sat.

"I aint goin' nowhere wivout dat runt," Cezzy-Po growled at Ongrat, jabbing him with her scalpel. "Mumzy'll chuck a flip if Brudz doesn't get to da clan, an' I aint gonna be da one 'oo cops it. Yew'll 'elp me an' Jamz scour dis rotten city from sewer ter sky ter find Brudz, or I'll sick dat priddy pet snake onta ya!"

Ongrat was left completely stunned. Up until now, the Dok had been bending over backwards to please the Weirdboy. He put a hand over his bleeding nose and licked the blood which ran down his face to his lips. Sparks whizzed around his head; the Dok was clearly in a foul mood. "Who's dis Mumzy fella?" He asked, not sure what else to say.

Cezzy did not remove her scalpel while she answered Ongrat. "Mumzy iz an old girl Nob. She's so killy, Gotshik sent 'er away ter run a squig farm norf-west ov dis place. Even Jamz iz wary ov 'er. Me, Jamz, an' Brudz grew up on 'er ranch."

"Oh…" Ongrat nodded slowly. "Now I see why yer so cranky. Yew don't wanna get strangled."

"Yew could put it dat way," Cezzy replied, giving Ongrat one last glare before stowing away her scalpel.


_


The day before, Kargust had sent a group of bikers to investigate why the war band was late to return. He was no longer in a good mood after Mokka's dire prediction that morning. Now he sat in his hut watching his Nobz playing cards awaiting the return of his scouts – they were due any time now.

Everyone's heads turned around as Glof walked into the boss's hut; Mokka had ordered him to sing something entertaining for Kargust. His Gretchin musicians scurried in behind with their instruments and began to play an upbeat (if slightly out of tune) melody. Glof cleared his throat and began to sing.


"Dere once woz a fat git named Deg,
'Til one day 'ee shuddenly dropped dead.
Ee' croaked it wiv knives an' axes an' bullets in 'im,
An' ovuh da cliff.
'Ole Deg woz neva da brightest Ork, 'ee woz always a little dim.
'Ee shoulda paid more attenshun to 'oo ee stole from,
An' oo' 'ee sold fings to; for if 'ee took more notish,
'Ee might not 'ave passed on.

Oh dat fat git copped it gud 'n' proper,
'Ee stole me beer an' Glugbet's choppa.
Teef went missin' an' so did da pies –"


Kargust threw an empty beer bottle at Glof; it missed, smashing on the door frame. "Did I ask fer yer ta come in 'ere? No! Git out b'fore I gut yer an' dem runts too!"

The musicians fled the hut without a word; Kargust rarely ever made idle threats. Sick of waiting for his scouts, he stood up and over turned the table the Nobz were sitting at gambling, sending teef, cards, beer and food all over the stone floor.

"No more games!" he yelled angrily at them, "I want yer to get up an' tell all da clan ter get ready fer travellin'! An' Dyakka, I want yer to find Gilb-Rer an' tell 'im I wanna see 'im in me hut right NOW!"

Forgetting their scattered teeth and cards, the Nobz stood up nodding and replying, "Yes boss!" They then left to spread the word to the clan to prepare for travel.

Gilb-Rer hadn't been hard to find; he was at the pub, and on receiving the message from Dyakka walked over to Kargust's hut. Gilb-Rer was a large Ork, as big as Kargust. He wore a shiny snake skin vest and black leather pants decorated with strips of matching snake skin running down the sides. His belt and boots were also made from shiny snake skins; even his black wide brim hat, which was most strange for an Ork to wear, had a band of snake skin around it. By human standards, he looked like a pimp.

For anyone observant enough to notice Gilb-Rer's lack of scars for an Ork of his magnitude, they would have guessed right if they assumed him to be a cunning, wily character. Many an Ork described the Snakebite Boss as having similar persona to one of the Ork Gods, Mork: "cunnin' but killy".

The Boss picked up his walking staff; it was made from polished squiggoth tusk, topped with a brass replica of a snake skeleton. He walked out of the pub talking to no one.

"'Bout time yer showed up," Kargust snarled as the Snakebite boss walked in, the glass pieces crunching beneath Gilb-Rer's large leather boots.

Gilb-Rer knew what was bothering the Goff boss but played dumb. "What's got yer pants in a knot?"

The metal studs on Kargust's brow moved together as his face creased in anger. He raised his right hand which was clad in his mega-claw and pointed accusingly at Gilb-Rer. "Yew know exactly what's got me pants in a knot, yer filfy turncoat!"

Gilb-Rer feigned being offended and talked as though Kargust was making extremely ludicrous remarks. "Filfy turncoat? If yew 'ad a spore bruvver like mine, yew'd've done da same. Ee's dead now, fanks ter yer lot, an' I c'n rule da Snakebites of dis desert by meself. Now now, if yer worried I won't keep my end ov da deal, by all means, keep my lot under a close watch. But why would we want ter miss da opportunity ter plunder one ov da richest clans? We stand ter gain a lot by plunderin' da Bad Moons."

Kargust took a few moments to get everything sorted out in his mind. He hadn't formally been told that his war band were defeated, but after hearing that Mokka could no longer sense the war band's faint energy from across the desert he knew something had gone wrong. Kargust thought that perhaps Gilb-Rer had deceived him, betraying him by teaming up with Uurgrin to wipe out a good portion of his Goffs. It was the only explanation for his embarrassing failure that he could comprehend. As far as he was concerned, Uurgrin's Orks should have been easier to kill than squigs at a slaughter house.

Sensing Kargust's momentary uneasiness Gilb-Rer took the opportunity to turn the tables and accuse the Goff on not keeping his end of the deal. He laid aside his apparent ignorance to the Goffs deaths – no Ork, Boss or not, would accuse him of anything (be it a true accusation or not). He spoke in a harsh voice, staring Kargust in the eyes. "I know why yer ladz are late returnin'; I don't need no scouts ta tell me yer war band lost da fight. I really can't fathom 'ow they could – but let me tell yew right now, I 'ad nuffin ter do wiv it. It aint my fault yer an incompetent Boss. Yew shoulda been dere, fightin' wiv 'em! But no, yer sit back 'ere an' 'ope fer da best."

Gilb-Rer's accusations were like sparks to gasoline; Kargust flew into a rage and ran forward, grabbing the Snakebite by his chin with his mega claw, raising his mace threateningly.

"Are yew callin' me a coward?" He scowled angrily, spittle spraying over Gilb-Rer's face, "Yew dare say somefin' like dat ter me again, an' I'll break yer neck and split yer 'ead open! I stayed 'ere ta make sure yew didn't try nuffin funny – I don't trust yew, yer a born traitor to ya clan! Now, we made a deal… an' I will kill Uurgrin an' iz lot. I'll hunt 'em down, ev'ry last one ov 'em."

A small knocking interrupted the dispute. An Ork biker walked in, quickly stepping away from the two Bosses when he realized they were in the middle of an argument. When he received nothing but glares, he quickly gave his report.

"It's as Mokka predicted, Boss… I'll, uh, fill yer in on da details later." The Ork then excused himself, leaving Kargust and Gilb-Rer to themselves again.

Kargust felt a slight prick in his stomach; looking down, he saw Gilb-Rer holding a brass-handled blade which had been hidden in his walking staff jabbing into his belly. Gilb-Rer whispered so no eaves droppers could hear what passed between his lips and Kargust's ears. "I want da Bad Moons' booty az much az yew, Kargust. But I don't want ter talk no more 'bout dis 'til I'm lookin' at Uurgrin's decapitated 'ead."

The Ork Boss withdrew his blade and put it back into his walking staff. Kargust still had his mega claw clamped on Gilb-Rer's chin; he removed it after glaring one last time into the Ork's eyes. Gilb-Rer dusted his vest off and walked out of the hut, watching Kargust out of the corner of his eye.


Soon after, Kargust held a meeting with his Nobz and the scouts, who had returned with bad news indeed. Everyone had been quite surprised by the report: the Snakebite settlement was pretty much demolished, all the buildings leveled – the only thing left standing were the defensive walls, which looked like they'd seen better days. Piles of burnt Ork corpses surrounded the battleground revealing that although the Snakebites no longer lived at the settlement, some still remained alive. Kargust snarled when the scouts revealed that they suspected a giant bomb of some kind had been used; he regretted not wiping Uurgrin's Meks out all at once. He realized Orlen could well have been capable of making the bomb even without his hands, leaving him furious with himself for underestimating his enemy.

It took Kargust some time to calm down and think properly. He declared to his horde that they would be leaving that afternoon to go hunt down Uurgrin and his Snakebites. Gilb-Rer and his clan were to return to their settlement in the mountains, leaving the Goffs' camp in the hands of the Gretchin and a few Runtheards. Kargust hadn't really lost… Orks can't loose. They either die, or win. And he wasn't dead yet.