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Ere' we go! Ere' we go! Ere' we go! - An Orkoid RP (IC/Narrative Thread)

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by McScottish, Sep 19, 2016.



  1. [​IMG]


    Segmentum Tempestus,
    130.M42,
    WAAAGH! 'UMIE STOMPA,
    Aboard the Ork Rok 'Gork's Raff'





    The skirl of the squig-pipes and the keening wails of especially loyal, and therefore protected, Gretchin echoed throughout the cavernous corridors and passageways of the Greenskin Rok – known to their friends and foes alike as Gork's Raff – the procession of nearly three thousand Orks accompanying the ruined body of their former Kaptin.

    It was said that Kaptin Ogmuk Marine-flayer had died during their most recent engagement against the Imperial Navy, impaled by a hundred pieces of rock, metal and shrapnel when a torpedo impacted right in front of him. There were those however, suspicious and ambitious Orks one and all, that proclaimed it aloud as some sort of assassination instead.

    Now the Kaptin of the Freebooterz formerly known as 'Da Flayerz Gitz' was carried on the broad shoulders of his most loyal Nobz, the Jolly Ork draped across his colossal frame, choppas banging against the floors, walkways and stone walls of the hollowed asteroid, roars and hitting of chests showing an outpouring of emotion that many outsiders would probably think Orks were incapable of.

    Thousands of Orks from a hundred differing Tribes and Klanz, bought together by the vanquished strength of the Marine-flayer now left leaderless...without direction...and with each Nob eyeing the other warily, even as their deceased overlord was jettisoned off into the void of space.

    Not long passed after this that Mugrub Whatzitface, the oldest and most sage of the Ork Weirdboyz aboard the Rok – the closest thing the Orks had to priests or holy men it seems – summoned the most valiant and above all largest of the Kaptin's favoured bodyguards to the 'inner sanctum' of the Raff for a meeting that would decide the course of the Freebooterz destiny



    ************​



    They could not stay here forever, thought Mugrub to himself, and they could not continue using this Rok as their mode of transport. Yes, it had engines attached to it that allowed rudimentary direction and thrust, but they needed something better, something larger and more well-equipped, something that they currently did not have.

    It was what the Kaptin would have wanted...or so he thought.

    The Weirdboy waited patiently, for an Ork, in the largest chamber of the floating construct – the former 'cabin' of their departed leader. It was called a cabin, but was about ten times larger, and with a ceiling that went so high that it disappeared into shadow toward the top. At the farthest end of the room was his 'throne' – a seat made from pieces of armour taken from defeated foes, their weapons scattered before it, their heads stuck on poles protruding from the stone wall behind and above it – while a circular table taken from an so-called Imperial Feudal World had been dropped right in front of it, and it was here that the future of the crew and lesser elements would be decided. There were no seats around the table, both because they had been destroyed and because the Kaptin had always thought it better for his subordinates to stand while he sat.

    Mugrub himself was an Ork on the smaller side, looking more like a shrivelled piece of green leather with two red eyes than anything else, his staff of metal held in one hand and his hunched hide covered only by some flowing robes he had taken from a Cardinal of the Ecclesiarchy, and now he waited in front of the throne for the most cunning, strongest and more powerful Greenskins to assemble here.

    Each one was a potential leader, but, one way or another, the wheat had to be sorted from the chaff.


    Right then, this should be pretty self-explanatory! Get your Greenies to the Kaptin's cabin, so we can have an 'Ork election', this will most likely involve death. To be honest, even thought only the Nobz have been summoned, any Ork can join the meeting if they wish - that means Boyz and Gretchin too.

    Arrive how you like, bring what weapons etc that you'd like, just get here. GOT IT, YE RUNTZ.
  2. kanila kanila Subordinate

    Rot Toof had heard the call to da Kaptain's Chamber. He knew he wasn't the biggest meanest ork on dis rok but he gathad iz Grots to go see who da nex Kaptain wud be. "Com on youz lazy gitz! We gotta get in gud wif da new Kaptain!" With da Grots in tow Rot Toof prodded and poked his Grots ta move fasta. Once inside da chamber he pushed dem into a corner where he cud watch da procedins.

    Rot Toof didn't want to be da Kaptain, but wat he did want wuz ta be da main runtherda! Gettin on da new Kaptain's gud side would be da bes way ta do dat. "Yous betta be redy, wes gotta look gud fer da new Kaptain!" The little Grots hefted der weapons dat dey had looted durin da las Waaagh. Ranged from da humie light sluggas to scrap metal blades and grot sluggas. Rot Toof messed wif hiz own grot-prod an set it to xrta killy. Xtra killy would kill a grot but wuz only able to knock out a rival ork. Dats what da Grots wud do once da git was down. Da Grots were gud at hackin up easy gitz like a sleepin ork or a humie.
  3. Donairian Donairian Ordinate

    In the depths of the Rok Rok'ead was busy smashing orks heads together, eager to get as much teef as possible out from the band of boys he had chosen to confront, he had incited the mob to start infighting so that he could take each boy on one at a time and bash their heads in. Landing a powerful haymaker punch on the face of a much smaller Ork he sent the greenskin flying backwards into the metal wall behind him leaving behind a trail of teeth some of which Rok'ead caught in midair. Goading another nearby ork boy to come and attack when rok'ead momentarily found himself without an opponent he absorbed a series of blows from the challenger before bringing both his fists together crashing down onto the head of the Ork boy knocking him to the floor.

    His brawl was interrupted when a Grot messenger overhearing the fighting ran into the room and shouted in his annoying squeaky voice about the Weirdboy's summons to decide a new Kaptin. The declaration turned the heads of many of the brawling Greenskins in the room and after a moments awkward silence Rok'ead with his hands clenched around the throat of another Ork boy trying the shake his teef free finally roared with laughter.

    'HA HAHA! A meetin fer a new Kaptin iz it? Bein Kaptin will mean more teef, more gear and more fightin! Ah grab me my big shoota and mah shiny choppa an letz be on our way, I gotz an appointment to make!'

    After his speech Rok'ead collected his gear and ran out of the room in roughly the direction where the Kaptin's quarters was located, he was soon followed by a huge mob of boys who also wanted to attend this apparent debate creating a veritable stampede along the ship corridors towards the Kaptin's quarters.
  4. Biggest Nobs being called to choose next Kaptin? Gorewrencha spits to the floor, munches the tip of the nut-bolt on his mouth and spits again for a good measure. Another meathead on the lead was just what they needed. Some squigs-for-brain grunt that can't even count his own tusks. Overgrown mushroom who is so stupid he thinks he don't need to listen to anyone, bonehead dumber than his fists. Gorewrencha kicks toolbox lying open with his steel capped boot, sending it flying loudly. Nearby grots dive for cover, pulling down their pointy ears to look smaller. The Mek boy is angry, frustrated. He marches restlessly around the workshop, kicking and throwing tools left and right, scraping his green scalp with rough, broken nails.

    They just break down to a fight and toughest and loudest knobhead wins and next thing he is demanding this and that and bigger and louder and never happy or paying for it. Nobs can't think further than a grot can throw a rock. Gorewrencha has had enough of that. Last Kaptin at least paid, but there was no room for Gorewrencha to express himself, so to speak. Next one will no doubly be worse. But what can he do?

    "Um... boss? Maybe ye shuld, ye know, be da Boss, boss?" One of the grot oilers squeaks behind barrel, as if he predict the mek's thoughts. Grots hide in the shadows of the orks, but it is not only cowardly, for they are very cunning and plotting creatures. Getting their boss as Da Boss would mean no other orks could boss them around either.

    "Wat was dat squigshait? No... waits a bits. Me ams havin' idea. Me becumz Da Boss! Har har har! Yea! Me Da Boss! Me forgot me can do dat. Me gatha da Killa Kanz and grump dem all!" Gorewrencha stops his stroll. A wide, yellow teethed grin grows on his green face. Yes, he becomes the Kaptin. Then Nobs must obey him or be shot out of cannons on the next raid.

    "Umm... Boss? Wat if ye goes wiffout first? An' talk? Der iz many, many, many orkses an' ye haz only not-many Kanz. Dey may not obey ye an' throw ye out, boss." High-pitched voice comes somewhere hidden, making it's best not to be spotted.

    "Aagghh, ye cowards!" Gorewrencha throws another lead pipe, colliding into pile of boxes with loud clang. Only if he would have Deffdreads. Those things would do as he says, not questioning and cowering together like Kanz. Bah, ain't no helping it, is there? Gorewrencha begins to march towards the cabin, kustom generator short circuiting and sending electric arc on the wall.
  5. Borgar slams a third mug of some alcoholic concoction and let's out a hearty laugh. "BWHAHAHAHAHAHA zo dez pickin a new boss ey" he starts picking out meat in his teeth with one of his sharpend bones. "Iz bout zoggin time, I wonder whoz gon be da boss wot ye gitz think?" Hey slams his fist on the table making the Gretchen's squabble and hide in fear as they murmur which nob will throw their hat in while the other orks start laughing and betting teeth on who the next boss is. While this is going on Borgar gets up and grabs his things while his snake "d'ere" is wrapped around his neck

    Borgar shuffles himself through the halls on his way to the cabin and keeps smacking one of his sharpend bone knifes against the wall making a very loud Klang while D'ere drips venom from its fangs. "Erm i wonder if ona demand weirdiez is gona be Der." He rubs his rough chin "Betta yet i wonda whose gonna get killied first" he below shows another laughter as he walks down the poorly light hall
  6. Killburna Dakkagit had attended the sending off of their dead boss with a heavy heart or at least as heavy a heart an ork could muster. The Git was a good boss and had brought then to many good scraps and plenty of excuses to burn everything in sight. But he got himself krumped so he wasn't that great he guessed as he saw the body launched out of the ship. After the little ceremony he finished mourning and returned to his shop and continued working on a burna bommer one of the more prominent fly boyz had ordered kustom even paying him in advance. He grabbed one of his larger wrenches and began tightening the assorted bolts that held the machine together. So far he got the flying bitz finished and the loud zoomy bits were coming along nicely and was just securing the bomb dropping gubbinz. but he was interrupted from his work when some grot came running down the corridor yelling something about getting a new boss. He at first showed little interest since he was already big enough to be considered a big Mek and could easily order around other boys and Meks so why would he want to be warboss? Then again the biggest and the baddest orks on the ship would be headed there and it would be a fun if not short scrap. He paused from his work and placed a meaty soot covers hand on his chin. "Ah sod it!" He yelled as he hit the side of the flying machine with his wrench. The several grotz that lived in his shop took this as a sign for them to take over the construction and ran from their hiding places carrying assorted tools and began doing Mork knows what to the bommer.

    Meanwhile Killburna had gotten up and was making his way over to the workbench where he cobbles together weapons where a large tank full of burna brew and a strange looking burna was sitting amongst less important weapons. The massive Mek grabbed the tank by the squig leather straps and fastened it to his back before grabbing the Dakka burna as he called it and connecting the burna torch to the brew tank via a flexible rubber pipe and coked the shoota part of it being sure the Dakka gubbinz were still working. He adjusted the welding goggles that seemed to be permanently placed over his eyes and reached into one of his pants pocket and brought out a box matches as well as a squig cigar or squigar as the boyz called them. After the tricky business of opening the box with one hand while the other held his weapon he managed to get one of the primative matches between his hands and stuck it agianst the torch making a small hissing sound and creating a beautiful little flame that made his green maw smile as he pulled the release on the burna brew tank and fuel went into the weapon and out the popper end meeting the lit match and producing an amusing amount of fire which he placed his squigar into lighting it as well and he placed it into his grinning mouth and gave it a quick puff. "Daz da stuff." He said to himself as he let go of the release lever and the flames died down to a small flame not the much bigger than the match remained under the main nozzle. He pocketed the match box and adjusted his welding goggles again as well as the semi thick sheet of scrap metal he sometimes flipped down to avoid meting his own face and walked out of the shop grabbing his flame choppa which hung next to the door on the way out.

    "Let's see 'oo finkz dez da 'ardest." He said with a grin as smoke trailed off of his squigar while he walked the hallways pushing grotz and lesser orks out of the way.
  7. Morkrazz'l Rokstompa Tenevhrael Arkhona Vanguard

    “WHAT DID YOU SAY? KAPTIN OGMUK’S DED?” Morkrazz’l yelled to the grot messenger that had come to inform him of the death of the Kaptin of the Gork’s Raff “ZOG ME DATS A ROIGHT SHAME, WHO’S TO BE DA NEW BOSS DEN EY?”.

    “We’z don’t know boss, a bunch of da Nobz are fighting over it roight now” Replied the grot known as Gutter, a spoil of war as it were from Morkrazz’l’s departure from his old warband. “ZOG ME I HOPE IT’S NOT A BLOOD AXES GIT, OR ELSE I’Z GUNNA HAVE TO FIND ANUVVER NUVVER WARBAND” Morkrazz’l sighed “DEY'Z JUS' DON'T FOIGHT PROPPA ENOUGH GUTTER, DA ZOGGIN GITZ...WAIT A ZOGGIN’ MINUTE…WHAT IF…WHAT IF I...WAS...TO...ERM...HURR, FORGOT WOT I WAZ FINKIN’ ABOUT, NEVERMIND MIND DEN GUTTER” Morkrazz’l looked like he had almost had a great idea but as usual the thought was consumed by other more explosive thoughts, like what’s the right amount of rokkits to blow up a tank, he's still not sure of if the answer is ‘lots’ or ‘many’.

    “So wotz we do Boss, we’z gunna watch da fighting and see ‘oo da new boss is for ourselveses?” What Gutter suggested seemed like a good idea to Morkrazz (as he was sometimes known to other Orks). “HURR, DAT…DAT DOESN’T SEEM LIKE A BAD IDEA GUTTER, BUT TELL YA WOT YOU’Z GO AND TELL ME FOR ME WHO DA NEW BOSS IZ, I’Z GOTTA STAY ‘ERE OR ELSE A GIT WILL TRY NICK ME PRIDE AN’ JOY, DA “DEFFWHEELA” HURR HURR, AIN’T SHE A BEAUTY GUTTER” Morkrazz said looking like a proud parent, or at least as much like one as an Ork can look like, with Gutter rolling his eyes at his boss's adoration for a pretty average piece of machinery.

    “Umm boss why’z don’t we just take da “Deffwheela” wif us, den you can see da boss for yourself and den i'z don't get krumped for being a Grot?" Gutter suggested, once again showing his propensity for good ideas “HUH, YOU A…YOU’Z A SMART GROT AIN’T YA?”

    “I likes to fink so boss” Gutter beamed at the apparent compliment. “FAIR ENUFF DEN, WE’Z RIDE ON DA DEFFWHEELA TO DA FIGHTAN AND IF A GIT TRIES TO STEAL ME BIKE DEN WE’Z KRUMP EM…WIF DA BIKE HEHA HAHA HURR HAH!!” With that Morkrazz stripped the tarp from his favorite bit of loot, his “Deffwheela” as he had named it, jumped on, strapped himself in and lifted Gutter onto his back who held on with a look of sheer terror. “ALRIGHT DEN, LET’S GET ZOOMY!” Morkrazz strapped his special looted helmet onto his head, flipped a few switches, (which Gutter would swear was a different combination and amount every time) and then turned the throttle and then they were ‘zoomy’ off in the direction of the Kaptin’s Chamber.
  8. Parkins Parkins Subordinate

    Bigtoof turned the chunk of metal over in his hand, studying it with a confused, focused expression. Low grunts filled the room, as the large, hunched over Nob confusedly studied the plain chunk of debris. This had been going on for hours, Hidaz performing various tasks nearby when he got the call about Kaptin Ogmuk's 'funeral' as it was, a small smile creeping across his green visage. Hidaz lept down from his perch, finally jumping onto Bigtoof's shoulder with an excited yell. "Boss! Da Kaptin got git! Nowz da best time ta go fight some Boyz! Yu could be da Big Boss!" Bigtoof looked up with a confused expression, merely staring for a few moments. "We gotz to ask da Kaptin 'fore we fightz all da other Boyz.." He mutters out, clearly confused. "No, no, da Kaptin is dead! You can be da new Kaptin!" Bigtoof continued to stare, confused, until finally speaking again. "But da Kaptin is da Kaptin, Hidaz.." The Gretchin would slap his face with his hand, beginning another of his long explanations. After an hour, Bigtoof would stumble his way toward the meeting, Big Choppa in hand, Hidaz on his shoulders cheering him on excitedly.

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