As the first newcomers arrived on Tarandros, an enormous dust cloud raced across the south of the planet. Harsh voices could be heard emanating from this cloud; shouting and cheering for no discernible reason. At the head of this cloud, an enormous ork stood on-top of his battle wagon. He wore a black tricorn hat and wielded a great power klaw. A long, black leather jacket billowed behind him. “We’z a gonna cromp some ‘eads, cromp some ‘eads, cromp some eads…” the ork warboss sang at the top of his lungs, gesturing wildly with his klaw. “Kap’n Klaw!” cheered the nearby orks, whether they could hear him or not. Great fights were going on all over the planet, and they were all very excited to reach one.
Without warning, tiny red things started falling from the sky, which seemed very strange to the ork warboss. Only once they hit the ground a short distance away, did he recognize them for what they were. “Space Mahreens!!!” He shouted gleefully, and kicked his driver to make him go faster. The vehicle lurched as the bruised driver shifted into a higher gear, then careened forward at top speed. Seeing this, every other driver in this rag-tag convoy did everything possible to keep up.
But suddenly, strange beams of focused light erupted from the horizon and crashed into the ork vehicles. A truk was hit directly in the engine and exploded. Behind the Mahreens, the ork warlord could see sleek purple vehicles hovering in his direction, firing their strange weapons at him. “Dat no fair!” shouted the ork leader.
“Dat’s right, no fair at all!” boomed a deep and orky voice. The ork warlord was so surprised, that he almost fell from his wagon. He looked up, and saw an enormous winged ork hovering above him. Everything about this being shouted strength, cunning and toughness. He even shone with a green aura of orkiness. The warlord’s mouth hung wide open as he took in this awe-inspiring sight. He was so dumbfounded that he almost fell off his truck a second time. Eventually, he had the presence of mind to ask “um…wot are ya?” The being roared with laughter. The kind of laughter than one only hears from an ork during the best fight of his life. “I am Gork, puny one! From my orky realm I have seen your Grand Space Waaagh! It is, without doubt, da best Waaagh that I have ever seen!”
Though he was certainly amazed by this revelation, the ork warboss had no doubt in his mind, whatsoever, that before him floated an ork deity. However, he had a very strong suspicion that this entity was actually Mork, but he wisely kept his doubts to himself. “But, dere be one ting dat stands in da way o da best Waaagh evar!” Gork continued. “Da tricksy El’da! Dem pointy eared weaklings hate da orks! Coz dey jealous of how strong and green da ork is, so always dey try to spoil da best fights!” The ork warlord had never hear of these ‘El’da’ creatures, but they sounded like terrible people and nodded vigorously at everything that Gork, but more likely Mork, told him. “But have no fear, dat why I came! I’ll help ya beat da El’da so dat you can has fight wif da Space Mahreens! Now, I’ll be summonin some friends to help in da fight. Dey be ork spirits o da best orks to ‘ave died in da best ‘o fights!”
With a strong and orky flourish, Gork waved his his arms, and several large green clouds appeared throughout the battlefield. Fifteen great green hounds materialized out of the nearest cloud. In the distance, six orks riding strange wavy creatures exploded out of a second cloud. To the right, fifteen strange orks sauntered out of a third cloud. They looked just like ordinary orks, wielding two choppas, but they were slightly thinner and had two weird lumpy-things on their chests. The ork warlord was amazed and overjoyed that such beings would fight by his side. As his Battlewagon continued to speed along, Gork spoke to him one final time “now, just tell ya boyz dat dese ere ork spirits iz gonna fight wif us!” With that, he floated high into the sky and began to fire great green bolts of orky power at the enemy.
Aboard his Stormraven transport, it did not take long for Blood Angels Chaplain Malkor to realize that something was very wrong. The once-clear desert skies of Tarandros had turned overcast without warning. Soon, unnatural lightning, with no thunder, erupted all around him. The Astartes pilot fought valiantly with his controls, and succeeded in evading the ravages of this impossible storm. On the ground below, Malkor watched as vile daemonspawn materialized near the advancing ork vehicles and began to move towards the four Blood Angel assault marine squads that awaited him. Only now did the Chaplain understand. This was not a tempest of this world. He had flown into a warp storm. He attempted to contact Librarian Alfonso, or their strike cruiser in orbit, but the storm made all communication impossible. In this fight, the Blood Angels stood alone.
On the ground below, the brave Blood Angels prepared themselves to meet the combined ork and daemonic forces. Survival seemed an impossible goal, but they were each of them prepared to sell their lives dearly. “For Sanguinius, for the Emperor!” They shouted, as one. Fifteen enraged hounds of Khorne had materialized right next to the left-most assault squad and began to gallop towards the five Astartes. When they were only steps away from their prey, they were assailed by a hail of missiles. First, a storm of laser fire burned into them from three different directions. Next, thousands of mono-molecular discs sliced through them at hypervelocity. Many hounds fell to this onslaught. Heartened by the beasts’ thinned numbers, the five assault marines boldly charged into the daemonic dogs, firing their pistols as they went.
Four purple Eldar skimmers had joined the battle, firing their shuriken and laser weapons at the ork vehicles and daemons alike. Four of the six screamers were brought low, whilst a number of daemonettes were sent howling back to the warp from whence they came. The Eldar firepower also brought ruin to all of the ork transports but one; Kap’n Klaw’s Battlewagon. Three smaller, faster Eldar vehicles sped along the right flank, showering the orks with monomolecular death. Deep within the right flank, twenty Eldar warriors guarded two robed figures. To the eyes of the Blood Angel assault marines, these were clearly psykers. One was evidently senior, as his rune armor seemed more elaborate to the enhanced Astartes vision. They reasoned that he must be one of the famed “Farseers.”
Apparently the Eldar were just as susceptible to the depredations of chaos as humans for, without warning, the lesser psyker began to shriek in pain. His body began to spasm uncontrollably and started to twist and contort, until the Eldar’s physique transformed into the hideous form of a Herald of Tzeench. Enraged, the daemon fired a bolt of psychic energy at the nearest skimmer, inflicting noticeable structural damage, before being cut down by his former-companions’ shuriken weapons.
The ork warlord was getting very upset at the El’da. They were shooting up all of his boyz’ truks and wagons, slowing them down and stopping them from getting into the fight. Not his Battlewagon of course. Not only did it have red paint, but it had obviously been blessed by Gork, or possibly Mork, so was now fast AND indestructible. Soon they pesky El’da would be dead, and the ork warlord and his boyz could get back to fighting the Blood Angels. This thought reminded him about the Space Marines, who were now in dakka range. “Light em up boyz!” He shouted.
Every ork with dakka, which was all of them, opened fire. However, for lack of good aim, the disorientation of having one’s truk blown up from under one’s feet, or more El’da trickery, not a single Marine died to the, otherwise impressive, fusillade. “Dat was pathetic boyz! ‘Ere, lemme show yaz how tis done!” The ork warboss aimed his twin-linked big shoota and fired at the nearest Blood Angel, killing him instantly. Every ork was very impressed by this marksmanship. Clearly their leader was indeed blessed by the favor of Gork, just as he told them. Finally, the Battlewagon was within sight of one of the hated floaty-tank things that had been so annoying. While the vehicle still moved at full speed, the ork warlord jumped from his wagon. Ten Nobz followed suit, landing with heavy thuds, their impressive bulk preventing momentum from throwing them on their faces.
With a gleeful roar, the ork warboss shouted “WAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHH!!!” at the top of his lungs. Every ork on the battlefield heard this exultant cry and became overwhelmed by the constant itch for battle. They felt as though they could charge over any distance, so long as they ended up in a good fight. The Kap’n used this energy to pounce on the nearest El’da vehicle. With a few wild swings of his power klaw, the weird floaty machine was a smoldering ruin, that would spoil fights no longer. Overhead, a dakka jet fired madly into another floaty-thing. However, his weapons were not as big, nor as mighty as his leader’s claw, so they failed to destroy their target.
Two new green clouds appeared near the El’da. When the strange mist dissipated, two enormous killa kans were revealed. Somehow, giant scorchas had been welded to these mechanical behemoths. Gork’s realm must have very good meks! One of these walkers fired a gout of flame at the El’da on foot, cooking many of the weaklings inside their puny rubber suits. The other moved against one of the three remaining floaty-things. The ork warlord was ready to do the same, when he was distracted by a very loud buzzing sound. He turned, and saw a red box-looking plane flying directly at him. In moments, the vehicle was only a boyz’ throw away. It landed on the desert floor and opened. From inside, ten very angry sounding Space Marines charged at the Kap’n and his nobz. As they ran towards the orks, they shouted: “HOOORRRRUUUSSSSS!”
The orks were so astounded by this unexpected orky behavior, that they almost forgot their manners. “WAAAGH!” They all shouted, once they recovered, and jumped to meet the Marines. This was going to be a really good fight. The two sides collided like steel on rock. The combined mindless fury would have been terrifying for anyone to behold. The ork warlord grunted out a guttural challenge, but the marine leader calmly pushed one of his companions in the great ork’s direction. So infused was he by the power of Gork, that he could know no defeat. He swung his klaw five times, and five marines lay dead by his hands. His nobz did not do nearly as well, though they did manage to kill two more, while losing only five of their number. In the sky overhead, Gork continued to rain orky green death upon his enemies. The warboss smiled and raised his klaw in triumphant solidarity.
But then, disaster struck. The same plane that had delivered such a grand fight, returned to attack Gork himself! It fired its nasty weapons against the entity, making him howl in anger. Bullet after bullet smashed into the orky being’s form, until at last, he could no longer sustain his presence in this reality. “NOOOOOOO!” Shouted the warboss, as Mork was forced back to his orky realm. So distraught was the Kap’n by this great injustice, that he closed his eyes and wailed in frustration. When he opened his eyes, however, everything had changed. He was no longer standing on a desert world. There were no Marines or Eldar nearby, and all of his boyz were gone too. Instead, he was in a place where nothing made sense. Direction had no meaning, things that should never be together were fused as one, and a sense of deep wrongness pervaded everything. The ork looked up and saw that he stood before an enormous, two headed beaky creature, with blue wings, that held a long curvy stick. “Hey!” The ork complained “you’re not Gork!”
Malkor rejoiced as the greater daemon was forced back into the warp by the Stormraven’s weapons. The sudden and unexplained disappearance of Kap’n Klaw was also gratifying. Without their leader, the remaining five nobz had lost the will to fight and were easily run down by the frenzied Death Company. Yet elsewhere, the battle did not go so well. Of the four assault squads that had begun the battle, only one remained, valiantly wresting the high ground from the last remaining ork boyz. Nearby, the Death Company dreadnought that had also deployed from the Stormraven, had charged into a band of daemonettes.
Ordinarily, there is naught that can withstand the unstoppable power of the Blood Angels’ most vicious dreadnought. But the decadent servants of Slaanesh are not of this world, and mortal weapons do not always harm such as them. Malkor watched helplessly as the proud Astartes machine flailed ineffectively against the swarm of daemonettes, unable to slay even one of their number. In return, the fiends rent great holes into the dreadnought’s armor with their evil claws. Before he was able to retaliate, the daemonettes destroyed the Death Company champion utterly. For him, there would be no more battles.
The unlikely Eldar allies fared no better. The daemons had destroyed all of their vehicles but one, which listed badly to one side, its grav-engine damaged by the daemonic onslaught. The Eldar Farseer remained, directing his forces to slay the last remnants of the daemonic incursion. The orks all lay dead. Or so the Chaplain believed. However, Malkor now heard the unmistakable whine of the ork flyer that had proven so ineffective against the Eldar skimmers. This time, it unleashed its storm of bullets at the Farseer and his beleaguered squad, already greatly reduced in number. The psyker’s power seemed to hold many of the oncoming missiles at bay, and allowed him to anticipate and avoid the flyer’s shots. But there was nowhere to hide, and the ork strafing run was unrelenting. Eventually, only the Farseer remained on his feet, until he too was slain.
As this happened, the last surviving assault marine squad charged into a second group of daemonettes. They fought bravely, but the creatures were too lithe, too unnaturally fast and their claws cut through Astartes battle plate as though it were flak armor. It was not long before Chaplain Malkor and his remaining Death Company wards were the last standing Blood Angels on the battlefield. With the same energy that they had when the battle began, the doomed warriors charged into the daemonettes that had so humbled their entombed brother. “HOOORRRRUUUSSSSS!” they shouted. This time, the only reply was mocking laughter. Many daemonettes fell to the Blood Angels’ onslaught, but they were simply too many. Death Company marines fell in quickly succession, until only Malkor remained.
He swung his holy crozius and crushed a daemon’s skull, banishing its filth to the warp. The Chaplain had guided his brothers to an honourable death. He had fulfilled his sacred duty. His ceremonial black armor was cut in countless places, his lifeblood seeping from just as many wounds, and even his impressive Astartes physiology struggled to keep him conscious. At long last, Blood Angels Chaplain Malkor felt his knees buckle, and was powerless to prevent his body from falling upon the blood splattered mud of Tarandros. With his last breath, he gave thanks to the Emperor, that he may now rejoin his father, and was no more.
After making his final pass, the dakka jet pilot realized that he was the last ork left alive. He therefore decided that it would be best for him to head on home. But first, he thought that he should probably radio Kap’n Klaw. The real Kap’n Klaw; the single biggest, baddest, saltiest and most clever ork pirate that there ever was! Early on in his conquest of Tarandros, Klaw realized that the indigenous orks were really, really thick. So thick, that they would only follow him if they could actually see him. In order to be everywhere at once, the Savvy ork pirate concocted a most brilliant plan! To each of his biggest Nobz, he gave a hat, black leather coat and Klaw, just like his, only slightly smaller.
The pilot snatched his radio receiver and squeezed on the talk button. “Boss! Dis dakka jet…uh…four…methinks.” The ork released the talk button and waited patiently. After a few moments, Kap’n Klaw’s angry voice came alive from the plane’s radio. “What ya want maggot?!” The pilot snapped to attention in his seat. “Uh, da boyz…dey iz all ded” he said hesitantly. “Ded, all of em? How’s dat?” Asked Klaw. “Um, well hell beasties showed up an’…” “Hell beasties… damonz iz wot killed all da boyz?” Interrupted Klaw. “No boss, we woz fighting wif da hell beasties we woz” the pilot replied, hesitantly.
“What ya do dat fer??!” Demanded Kap’n Klaw. The pilot started to get nervous, as if Klaw could somehow reach through the radio and strangle him. “Uh…well you told us dat…well…dat he was da boss, cuz…he had da hat an’ da Klaw…smaller dan yours ‘course! Dat why you da boss…boss. But uh, ‘e said dat Gork appeared to im from ‘is orky realm an’ brought all dem hell beasties ta help. Only…’e called em ork spirits.” A long pause followed before Klaw asked, incredulous “an’ you lot believed all dat?!” The dakka jet pilot gulped audibly “uh…well…coulda been Mork an’ um…’e woz da boss…” Cap’n Klaw growled loudly in frustration and the line went dead. The pilot shook his head, shrugged, and turned his plane in the direction of the Jolly Roja. He was pretty certain that he would not outlive the night.