literature

The Orks of Tam'urt Chapta 18

Deviation Actions

Tundra-Sky's avatar
By
Published:
1K Views

Literature Text

Chapta Eighteen: Crossed Wires
Say of Da Day: "FER TANKABELL!" – Oric the Skarboy.

Squigopolis was a large city, big enough to lose a squiggoth in. This made tracking the runway Mek rather hard and tedious. Cezzy-Po, Jamz, Oric and Ongrat were trying everything they could think of to find Brudz. But it was hopeless.

"Maybe we c'd bait 'er ter come to us wiv some nice new tools." Oric suggested, knowing how passionate (or rather savage) the young Mek was when it came to hand tools. "An' den trap 'er in a net or sumfin'. Yeah?"

Cezzy-Po's mood hadn't gotten any better since the previous day. "Where ya gonna git tools from, eh? Orlen? 'Ee's still buyin' stuff, an' aint gonna lend us none – 'ee's gotta fix dat ugly fing, an' 'ee can't do it when 'ee's lendin' tools out!."

"It aint ugly!" Oric creamed, "IT'S MY BOOTIFUL WARTRAK!"

A giant metal claw clouted Oric over the head. "Oi, watch yer temper! ONGRAT'S 'ERE!" Jamz shouted; he wasn't helping the situation any.

"All ov yer jus' stop yer arguin', unless yer want me ta blow sumfin' up!" Ongrat snapped, his guts growling ominously with waagh energy. He was unusually clad in squig-skin body amour; he didn't like walking around the city bare-chested and open to a knife stabbing. "If yer all be calm, I might be able ter try an' sense Brudz - if she's angry, shoutin', or doing sumfin' to stir me 'ead a bit, might be possible. But with dis many Orks, we'll 'ave ter walk around a lot… I'll prob'ly only sense 'er if she's close."

"Dat's a shtupid idea!" Jamz grumbled. "It'd be easier jus' ter sick some squigs onta 'er trail. I hate walkin'!"

The four Orks went silent; Jamz suddenly realized that what he suggested was actually doable – this was Squigopolis after all, the squig capitol of the country!

And so that became plan A – Squig Sniffers.


Plan A started off well: they hired a Squig Herder who trained savage squigs. According to the Squig Herder, his squigs could sniff out anything – including stolen goods. After the squigs got Brudz scent from the fence post, they quickly ran in pursuit of the Mek's scent. Then things began to go bad.

The squigs ran down the streets; it wasn't so bad until they reached the inner city, and the squigs ran riot through pubs, Mek shops, casinos, street stalls… and just about everywhere a new comer might go to take a look around. Bozd, the Squig Herder, had to restrain his squigs after several threats from shop owners and city dwellers to eat them – some even threatened to eat Bozd if he didn't stop his squigs from knocking over bar stools and ravaging rickety market stalls.

Despite the plan's failure, the four Orks didn't feel demoralized – quite the opposite it turned out. They now knew there was a good chance Brudz was still checking out the city – no Ork could explore it in one day alone. It didn't take too long for the Dok to come up with what sounded like an easy, doable, plan.

"Let's ask all da Meks 'round 'ere if dey know where Brudz iz." She said, sitting down on the edge of the road to rest her legs. "If da Squigs' noses were anyfin' ter go by, she's visited a few workshops – she might even be in one ov 'em."

They split up into teams: Jamz and Oric went one way, and Cezzy-Po and Orlen went the other. The four Orks agreed to meet at a nearby pub in one hour's time to have lunch.

However, the 'easy, doable, plan' was by far not easy and proved rather difficult. None of the Meks wanted anything to do with anyone who wasn't at their garages for business – and those who saw Ongrat the Weirdboy walking in their direction quickly locked up their workshops; apparently Weirdboys were not favored customers of the Meks in Squigopolis.

Jamz and Oric struck out on a better note; Jamz' amour seemed to attract every Mek's attention – they all wanted to do stuff to it. The Meks answered his questions (mostly out of fear of losing a potential customer), but Jamz soon became weary of their constant badgering and his patience was already thinner than human skin.

He didn't want a new choppa – he liked his own giant cleaver very much.
He didn't want a grot oiler – that's what his sister was for.
He didn't want his amour repainted blue – red was much faster thank you.
He didn't want a new mega-claw – his was lucky.
And he didn't want to be asked any more questions – so he threw a mega tantrum and went rampant like a squiggoth in an Ork camp (squish! ROOOAR!).

After being thrown out (it took four big Meks to deal with Jamz and Oric) the Tam'urt Nobz decided to retire to the pub early. They were surprised to see Cezzy-Po and Ongrat there.

"Oi! I fawt yew two were meant ta be walkin' 'round!" Jamz growled angrily; he didn't like slackers. "Lazy gits!"

Ongrat burped, put his beer down and replied, "Yeah well, I c'd say da same ter yew – yaw meant ta be out dere too. An' we 'ad troubles, anyway. Stupid Meks would eiver lock 'emselves in when dey saw me, or dey wouldn't say nuffin unless we gave 'em a few teef! Lousy bums."

"Nuver fungus tonic 'ere… an' make it snappy, or I'll get me scalpels out!" Cezzy-Po sat nearby at the bar. She enjoyed the variety of alcohol being served. "Oi Jamz, why didn't yer jus' beat da infermashun outta 'em? Yer big enough!"

Jamz' curled his lower lip in resentment at Cezzy-Po's remark. "I DID yew fik 'ead! But dere woz fo- "

"Forty ov 'em." Oric spoke loudly drowning out Jamz. "Yeah… forty, aint dat right, Jamz? Forty… yep. Forty big 'uns. All wiv nasty lookin' spanners an' a whole mob ov Burna Boyz by dere side! Forty…"

It took Jamz a moment to realize what Oric was saying. He looked about shiftily as if he were making sure no witnesses were around to deny their claims. "Oh… yeah, forty… NOW SOMEBODY GIT ME A BEER!"

During their lunch break the Orks brain stormed their way to another plan. They had little success trying to track Brudz down, so they decided to try and get her to come to them.

"Right then," Cezzy-Po was going over the strategy one more time with the others. "Ongrat, yew buy da vehicle since yaw da richest – we aint actually gonna race so it can be as crap as yer like. Jamz an' Oric, yew two go 'round yellin' at da top ov yer lungz dat an Ork 'as challenged Brudz to a race, an' ter git ta Pig Shquare at sun down. Even if she don't 'ear it, 'opefully some Orks she may 'ave talked ter will badger 'er inta goin'. No sensible Ork turns down a challenge in front ov uvvers. Once we see 'er, we grabs 'er. Dis plans bound ter work!"

"An' what're yew gonna do?" Oric asked, not liking the way the tasks were distributed.

"Me? I's gonna do da most important fing ov all – fink ov anuver plan incase dis one fails… again."

Jamz spat a bone onto the floor. "I fawt yew said da plan would work! Why's yer need ta fink ov anuver one, den?"

"I aint Gork or Mork!" Cezzy-Po snapped back, "I can't guarantee nuffin! An' if da uvver plans are anyfin' ter go by, I say finking ov anuver plan's a good idea. Now… shall we get started? Or do I 'ave ter stab someone?"


By late afternoon Jamz, Oric and Cezzy-Po were waiting at Pig Square for Brudz to accept the challenge. Cezzy-Po had her tranquilizers ready incase she needed to sedate her spore sister, and stop her from escaping. A surprising amount of spectators had gathered (mostly bikers), chattering and counting their teeth – many were interested in making bets. Ongrat showed up a short time later, after searching for hours for something to buy for the supposed race. He walked through the crowd until he reached the other three.

"An' what da hell iz dat!" Cezzy-Po glared angrily at what Ongrat had bought. "If I said ta by a pig, I woulda said BUY A PIG! Are yew deaf, or jus' shtupid?"

The boar grunted and nosed about the pavement looking for scraps. Ongrat held it's reigns in one hand. "It runs, don't it?" he shrugged. "An' like yew said, we aint gonna actually race, iz we?"

"Maybe so, but do ya really fink she'll show up when she realizes da 'opposition' 'as a PIG fer a ride? Even da uvver Orks'll walk away when dey realizes da 'race' iz gonna be b'tween a pig an' a motor bike!" Cezzy looked angrily at the boar which stood just below her shoulders in height. Quick as a flash the Dok stabbed one of her tranquilizer syringes into its neck and emptied the contents – it slumped to the ground before it could retaliate. "Go an' see if one ov da Orks'll lend yer a bike fer a fee, Ongrat."

Unwilling to disagree with the Dok while she still had one tranquilizer at hand, the Weirdboy walked off to ask the bikers for a lend of their bikes. The anticipation of a race from the surrounding Orks made Ongrat twitchy with Waagh energy; he tried to release it as discreetly as possible so the Orks wouldn't notice – even so, he had very little luck trying to borrow one.


Ongrat approached the first Ork biker. "Oi, would yer rent yer bike ter me? My ride broke down an' I gotta race…"

"Get real, why'd I lend me bike to a twit 'oo can't even look after 'iz own?"

Failing, he went to the next. "Would yer –"

"No, you can't 'ave me hat!"

"I wasn't going to ask you fer ya hat…" He moved on, deciding it was for the better. "Would ya rent yer bike fer a nice sum ov teef?"

The next Ork, a Death Skull clan member, was as ugly as he was prejudice. "A Snakebite? Ride me bike? Hardly likely. Do yew even know what a wheel iz? Hur, hur, hur! Yew lot're prob'ly still inventin' it."

The insults and refusals covered the entire visible light spectrum. Ongrat was quickly growing short of temper, and finding it increasingly difficult to resist the temptation to use some of the Waagh energy on the Ork bikers. He looked across to the other side of the Square as a big Mek arrived with yet more bikers; the group didn't appear to belong to any particular clan he knew of.

"Oo's da challenger?" The big Mek asked, combing the crowd with his cybork eyes.

Cezzy-Po called out the Mek, "Why do ya wanna know?"

The Mek's head turned and he trained his cybork eyes on the Dok. "Coz it's me business ta know. Huurrrr…"

Jamz and Oric were about to protest when Cezzy hushed them, whispering, "Let me talk to 'im, 'ee might know sumfin'."

Agreeing, the two Nobz let her wander over the big Mek. "'Ello there, you look like a smart Ork. Why don't we chat a bit away from da crowd, I might 'ave somefin' ter say dat may benefit yew."

The big Mek paused to think for a moment. After seeing no harm in talking to the Dok, he nodded. "Alright, but not too far. Jus' over dere."

Once the pair was out of earshot of the biker mob Cezzy-Po whispered to the big Mek, "Do yew know an Evil Sunz Ork named Brudz? She 'az a smashed up bike, an' iz runty lookin'."

Leaning closer, the Mek replied, "Dat depends on whevver yew've got some spare teef…"

"I 'ave somefin' ter offer dat might be more appealin' to yew den some teef." Cezzy-Po pulled out a few medical instruments. "I couldn't 'elp but notice yer 'ead looks awfully cold up dere, surrounded by all dose metal chunky bits yer got screwed onta yer face. 'Ave yew ever 'eard ov a shquig 'air transplant? Latest medical break frew, ya know…"


_


Big Mek Shilf's workshop was silent except for the clicking of a ratchet and the clinking of metal. It was a large work shop located on the far side of Squigopolis in the industrial sector. Shilf had left the place with a skeleton crew to fend off anyone who thought breaking in would be a good idea.

Brudz was the only Mek left in the workshop; everyone else besides some of the Burna Boyz went to Pig Square. She had paid Shilf handsomely (with the teef stolen from Orlen) to use his workshop to fix her bike – parts and all. The Big Mek had allowed her to do so only under the conditions she was watched at all times, to make sure she didn't try anything 'funny'. This was no concern to her and agreed; ever since, she had worked feverishly to restore her bike, with little food and almost no sleep.

She had been around to many other Mek workshops but either they were too busy to lend tools or were far too pricy – she suspected that once they realized she wanted to fix the bike on her own, no of the Meks wanted her around. Shilf was the first Mek to allow her to rent the tools and work on her bike by her self. His fee wasn't the only thing appealing about Shilf's workshop; ever since arriving Brudz felt quite comfortable and considered asking if she could stay. She knew she would still have to follow orders from the bigger Orks, but she felt like she was on the same wavelength as the other Orks, and everyone seemed understood each other. Not even the squig ranch felt as homely as this.


Glim the Burna Boy sat on a bench near where Brudz was working; he was a young Ork, about the same size as the Mek girl. He kept flicking the flame of his burna on and off. "Yew got anythin' ya need cuttin' again?" He asked sounding bored.

Brudz shook her head. "I already told ya matey, da structure's all good now. I jus' need ta put da guts ov it back on, den paint it. Why dontcha light da furnace? It's gettin' chilly."

Having nothing else to do Glim got up and walked to the furnace; he opened its large metal doors and began to throw chunks of wood into the bottom. Glim used his burna to light it up, and had it roaring in no time. "I wish dere were more furnaces," he grumbled as he walked back over and sat on the bench.

"Oi, Glim buddy, do ya fink Shilf'd let me stay 'ere ta work for 'im?" Brudz asked, without looking up from her job. "I like it 'ere… much better dan bein' wiv dat uvver lot I told yer about."

"If yer leave yer clan he might," Glim replied with a shrug. "Shilf don't like 'avin' clan members in 'iz work shop. Says it causes problems wiv da customers."

The clicking ratchet stopped briefly. Brudz shuffled through the tool box looking for another end fitting. "Oh… well, that's alright… would 'ee let me ride me bike still?"

"Oh yeah, 'course 'ee will!" Glim laughed. "Lots of 'iz trainee Meks ride bikes an' fings. 'Ee don't mind, so long az yer bike or trukk's in good nick; 'ee don't want 'iz Meks gettin' a bad reputation for shoddy vehicles, see?"

Brudz understood. She clipped a new head to her ratchet, and started tightening another bolt. The doors to the work shop opened; Brudz froze when she heard a familiar voice that she didn't want to ever hear again.

"So, da git's 'ere, is she?" Ongrat snarled. "Yew betta not be pullin' a swifty on us Shilf."

Cezzy-Po sniffed the air. "If she aint 'ere den Shilf won't get 'iz squig 'air transplant, simple az dat. An' stop bein' so grumpy, you ugly git."

An argument broke out between Ongrat and Cezzy-Po; Shilf ignored the pair and stood waiting for them to be quiet.

Alarmed, Brudz grabbed Glim's shin whispering, "Don't let 'em take me Glim! I wants ta stay 'ere! I'll let ya do all da cuttin' for me whenever I gots stuff dat needs cuttin'!"

The thin blue flame some burna nozzles produced was ultra hot, and able to cut through inch-thick steel like a knife through butter. Burna Boyz who had such a nozzle found any excuse to use it, and often leant their services to Meks for no more than a few fungus beers.

"Alright, alright. Quick, follow me. We'll disguise yew." Glim led Brudz across the work shop to an equipment room; he threw her a welding face shield, overalls, and a pair of old boots.

Brudz tossed the overalls on over her clothes and ripped her boots off to replace them with the ones Glim provided. The boots were a bit big, and she had to roll the sleeves up on the overalls to fit properly, but it was better than nothing. Glim snorted a few laughs as he watched her adjusting the large overalls, knowing the young Mek was touchy about her size.

"Alright, let's go blend in wiv da uvvers." Brudz said as she adjusted her welding mask. "If we do what dey're doin', maybe Cezzy an' Ongrat'll fink I aint 'ere."

The pair walked out casually into the work shop. Brudz tried her best to navigate with the welding mask on but the extreme tint of the eye glass made it difficult to see and she walked straight into a tool box, tripping over and making a racket as the drawers jolted open and tools splayed across the floor noisily.

"Yeah, dat's real conspicuous!" Glim whispered harshly as he bent over to help Brudz clean up the mess.

"I c'n barely see frew dis fing," Brudz complained, sitting up only to bang her head on a bench overhang painfully. She clenched her teeth to prevent herself from yelling out aloud, "Fraggin' jim shiks! Dat 'urt!"

Glim shook his head; he stuffed the rest of the tools back into the tool box and grabbed Brudz, pulling her up straight. "We'll jus' stay 'ere, not point tryin' ter move, yew'll end up breakin' ev'rythin' in 'ere."

Not wanting to risk taking off the face shield in case she was seen, Brudz asked, "C'n yer see a Dok an' a Snakebite Ork anywheres?"

Glim looked about; he spotted the Dok and the Snakebite standing next to Shilf, chatting to some of the Bruna Boyz who had stayed behind. Shilf was looking in Glim's direction; he muttered something to two of the Burna Boyz and they walked towards the pair. "Yeah, I sees 'em wiv da Boss. An' some ov da boyz are talkin' to 'em. Don't say a word though, Shilf's sent Firf an' Zigz over."

No sooner had Glim explained the situation when Firf and Zigz hailed them. "Oi, yew two, eiver ov yew seen Brudz? Boss wants 'er."

Brudz merely shook her head; Glim replied to his fellow Burna Boyz, "Seen 'er? Well… last I saw 'er she woz fixin' 'er bike."

Firf and Zigz leaned on a work bench, narrowing their eyes at Glim. Zigz, the taller of the two, asked, "Yew woz put in charge ov watchin' 'er, so where iz she? Or shall we tell Shilf yer bludgin'? 'Ee won't like dat now, will 'ee Firf?"

"Nah, ol' Shilf sure won't like one bit." Firf replied, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Glim looked sideways at Brudz nervously. Shilf, like every other large Ork, had a tendency to become extremely violent when he got angry. Always one to put his own health before others, Glim gave in. "Alright, alright. She's 'ere, in da overalls."

"Glim! 'Ow could ya?" Brudz crouched down behind the bench and removed her welding mask. She looked up at Firf and Zigz pleading, "Pleez, yew two, don't dob me in – I dun wanna go back wiv dem mean Snakebites! Dey dun know da first fing about bikes! I wanna stay 'ere!"

'Please' was a word rarely – and sparingly – used by Orks. It was reserved for severe ass kissing moments. Firf and Zigz looked back at Ongrat and then at Brudz again.

Firf spoke sternly but with some sympathy. "Shilf'll decide whevver yew c'n stay, not da Snakebites."

Relief flooded through Brudz; she stood up and allowed the Burna Boyz to escort her to Shilf. When they arrived, Brudz greeted Ongrat. "'Ello pig face, I see yer got da sense ter finally dress yerself properly. Now me eyes don't sting ev'ry time I see yer, hur, hur, hur."

"Like yew c'n talk, look at yew!" Ongrat replied looking at Brudz in disgust, "Yew look like a clown in dose overalls an' boots."

Brudz pulled out a spanner from beneath the overalls and raised it threateningly, but Shilf grabbed her forearm with his large muscular hand. "'Old it Brudz, we don't want no fireworks from dat Weirdboy. Now, I've been talkin' wiv dese two an' dey says dey wants yer to go back wiv 'em."

"But I do-"

"Shut up, I aint finished talkin'. What I woz gonna say iz dat yew can stay or go. I don't really care what yew choose – if yer wanna stay, den I won't let 'em take yer. If yew wanna go, den I won't 'old yer back."

Shilf let go of Brudz' arm and she put the spanner away. She was silent with excitement – Brudz had permission to stay at the workshop. "F-fer evuh?" She stuttered. "Stay 'ere az long az I live, type ov stay?"

Nodding, Shilf replied, "Yeh, dat type ov stay."

"What?" Cezzy-Po caught on to what had just happened. "Yew want ter LIVE 'ere, Brudz? What's da matter wiv yew, 'ave you got rocks in ya 'ead? We're bound fer Gotshik's settlement! Dere'll be plenty ov uver Meks dere – Evil Sunz Meks!"

Brudz avoided looking her spore sister in the eyes. "Well… what's da point, if yer gonna be wiv da Snakebites? I aint goin' to Gotshik's camp jus' ta be wiv Meks when I c'n do dat right 'ere an' now. Even if da Snakebites end up stayin' at Gotshik's camp… graaah! I jus' don't wanna go! I 'ate it! Yew is leavin' me b'hind ter join da hill billies, jus' so yer c'n wait on Ongrat like a snivlin' grot!"

"Iz dat what dis iz all about?" Ongrat said rolling his eyes. "Yew fink da Dok's joinin' our Clan?"

"Yeah, why'd I wanna join dat git's Clan when dere's more casualties fer me wiv da Evil Sunz?" Cezzy said cheerfully. "I don't wanna work on squigs an' boars me whole life, I wanna dig around in Ork brainz an' intestines."

The Evil Sunz Mek turned away from Cezzy-Po and Ongrat and pulled the face shield down over her face. She made odd snorts and grunts as she asked, "I seen what yew woz like wiv Ongrat around. I dun wanna be iz friend – ee's a mean pig. Yew pay more attenshun to 'im den ter me, yer own spore sistah nowadays…"

Glim sniffed the side of Brudz' face shield. "I smell jealousy, hur, hur." He said grinning.

"I aint cryin'! Oh, er whad didja say? I mean, I AINT JEALOUS!"

Ongrat looked rather pleased with himself until Cezzy-Po grabbed him by the throat, and pulled him down level with her face as she yelled at him. "Why do yew look so smug, eh? Did yew set all dis up, ter make me sistah not wanna travel wiv us? I know yew don't like 'er!"

"C-can't b-breathe!" Ongrat said, struggling for breath with his throat under the Dok's surprisingly vice-like grip.

She let go, and Ongrat rubbed his throat and Waagh energy sparking from his ears. "I didn't do nuffin'," he growled angrily, "It's not like I asked yer to 'ang around! An' god only knows why she finks yer wanna join us Snakebites. I mean, we do need a Dok or a Pigdok but still…"

Cezzy-Po punched Ongrat in the nose and laid a swift boot to Brudz' bottom; both the Orks cried out in pain, but the Dok wasn't listening. She shrieked out orders which made Shilf and the Burna Boyz plug their ears.

"YEW TWO BETTA SORT DIS OUT RIGHT NOW! I'VE 'AD ENOUGH!" Lowering her voice slightly, she addressed Brudz who was lying on the ground. "Yew, now dat yer know I aint joinin' da Snakebites, are ya gonna come back ta camp now?"
"No… not unless Ongrat apologizes fer bein' a turd!"

Cezzy-Po's fiery glare turned to Ongrat expectantly. Ongrat touched his nose delicately, farting a green waft of Waagh energy. "I aint apologizen' ter no one!" He scoffed.

Cezzy-Po sighed. No body was taking the blame for anything as usual. It was time to do things her way. "I've got an idea dat I fink yew'll bofe agree to…"
First and foremost, I would like to point out several things about my Ork story:

1. No, the ork girls in my story don't have boobs and no they don't have the other accessory.
2. Orks in my story do not breed like humans.
3. If you haven't read the prologue, READ IT because it explains wtf ork girls actually are/do
4. Yes I like toilet jokes so either skip them or love them when you come across them
5. I like pizza. Wait. That has nothing to do with the story... yet.


More chapters uploading soon :)

Thus far, I've written over 20 chapters and a prologue; if you're wanting to read ahead of my uploading to DA, you can view it here on fanfiction dot net: [link]

_________________
Prologue: [link]
Chapta 1: Off Ta WAAAAGH! - [link]
Chapta 2: Da Fate of Tankabell - [link]
Chapta 3: The Imperials - [link]
Chapta 4: Wartrakk - [link]
Chapta 5: Arrival At Octavius Three - [link]
Chapta 6: Da Snakebites - [link]
Chapta 7: Confrontation -[link]
Chapta 8: Da Goffs Arrive - [link]
Chapta 9: Da Big Brawl -[link]
Chapta 10: Kaboom -[link]
Chapta 11: Pecking Order -[link]
Chapta 12: Bad Bowel Day -[link]:bulletgreen:
Chapta 13: Mokka's New Apprentice -[link]
Chapta 14: Zugzwanged -[link]
Chapta 15: Squigopolis -[link]
Chapta 16: Da Hunt Begins -[link]
Chapta 17: Mountain Hike -[link]:bulletgreen:
___
:bulletgreen: Chapters marked with this indicate they have Mature Content Filter activated and may not be accesable by some Deviants.
© 2009 - 2024 Tundra-Sky
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In