Another installment for the Warhammer Community team!
Grimsnik peers through the tangled ruins, over blast-tumbled walls and between heaped drifts of soot and ash. His view is magnified by the spottin’ gizmo given to him by Big Mek Nugzott. The gizmo is bulky, its lookin’ gubbinz a handheld unit linked by thick cables to the blocky transmitter strapped to the side of his backpack. But Grimsnik is a big, tough Kommando Nob; even if the spottin’ gizmo was annoyingly heavy, the Blood Axe would never let on in front of his ladz. Besides, Nugzott clearly knows his know-wotz: the device is proving extremely useful.
Right now, its glowing marker glyphs are helping Grimsnik pick out the three humie soldiers patrolling through the ruins. They look to be following a route back and forth along the base of the very ridge that Grimsnik and his mob need to get to the top of. There’s a half-collapsed tower up there that will serve as the vantage point they need but – much as it chafes at Grimsnik’s fundamental Orkyness – they’ve got to do it without a lot of dakka and din.
Grimsnik turns and sweeps his gimlet stare across his assembled ladz. The mob is gathered around him in the hollow shell of some old humie building. Crouched amongst them is an oil-smeared Deathskull Mek called Boggz. He’s one of Nugzott’s favourites. Strapped to his back is a contraption big and heavy enough to put Grimsnik’s spottin’ gizmo to shame. It’s not been made clear to Grimsnik exactly why Boggz is here, or what his device will do, only that it’s the Blood Axes’ job to get the Mekboy to a suitable vantage point, then protect him while he does whatever it is Big Mek Nugzott expects of him.
Conscious of the humie sentries patrolling nearby, Grimsnik employs the complex and extremely sneaky – in his opinion – non-verbal code he has developed with his mob for such situations. First, he points one thick, taloned finger in the rough direction of each sentry. Next, he makes firm chopping motions to divide his mob roughly in three. After putting his finger to his lips and giving the ladz another ferocious scowl – largely aimed towards Uznog who is cradling his prized rokkit launcha and looking hopeful – Grimsnik finishes his briefing with a violently exaggerated throat-slitting motion.
Moments later, Grimsnik’s mob are on the move. They slink through the ruins with exemplary Blood Axe kunnin’, making barely a sound despite the gear that festoons them and the brawny bulk of their physiques. Grimsnik has Uznog in his group – the better to keep an eye on the trigger-happy git – and also Mekboy Boggz, lumbering along beneath his mechanical burden. Hanging back a little to avoid either Ork causing problems, Grimsnik is thus treated to the sight of the other two groups of Kommandos reaching their prey ahead of him.
On the left flank, Shifty – the mob’s grot – pops his head up from behind a crumbling wall, then ducks swiftly back. The motion is just enough to catch one sentry’s eye. The humie frowns and turns towards Shifty’s position. In the same instant, Big Grug looms up behind the distracted sentry, wraps one thick arm around their face, and all but saws their head off with a single drag of his knife across their throat.
Grimsnik picks up the pace, loping through the ruins as he hears stones skittering over on the right flank. Slasha Lugg has dropped onto his chosen sentry from a first floor window, but the humie must have been quicker than Lugg was expecting. Through a gap in the ruins, Grimsnik catches a glimpse of the two of them struggling. The fight is resolved as Zogdak slips up behind the second humie and slams the butt of his big shoota into the sentry’s skull.
Regardless, the scuffle has caused enough noise that the last sentry – Grimsnik’s own target – is clearly suspicious. They turn towards the sounds, fumbling with some manner of communication gubbinz in their belt.
Now or neva, thinks Grimsnik. He unhooks a heavy-bladed hatchet from his belt and accelerates into a run. With a well practised motion, the Kommando Nob lobs the weapon overarm and sends it whipping end-over-end through the air. The blade hits the humie in the side of the head with a meaty thonk and drops them like a sack of squig dung.
Grimsnik advances up the slope to the ridgetop with his mob. They scramble through more ruined structures, most of which look to have been brought down by shock waves, or maybe even earthquakes, rather than any kind of dakka. Leaving most of his Kommandos dug in below, Grimsnik leads Zogdak and Mekboy Boggz up the crumbling steps of the tower to its third storey. There, ignoring the alarming creaking and swaying of the structure, Grimsnik and Zogdak drop in behind the scant cover of the tower’s slighted walls, while Boggz busies himself with his contraption.
Raising the spottin’ gizmo again, Grimsnik stares out towards the humie city now visible in the middle distance. He can’t help being impressed. It’s a big place with high walls and a lot of defences. There are numerous industrial structures belching smog or pillars of flame into the soot-wreathed skies, too. To Grimsnik’s disappointment, it’s on account of these that he finds his view of the humies’ infamous soopa-weapon obscured. He has a sense of something absolutely colossal amidst the smog – can’t hide something the size of a mountain, after all – but he can’t… quite…
Zogdak catches his attention with a thump on the arm and points with the barrel of his scoped big shoota. Grimsnik follows the gesture, and finds himself looking at a squat humie fortress that lies between his current position and the distant city walls. Crouched in the shadow of the structure is what Grimsnik quickly recognises as a humie maglev station. The fort itself looks to have suffered as much as the ruins around him, though it shows signs of having been repeatedly shored up in an effort to keep it standing. Grimsnik is fairly certain it wouldn’t stand up to a determined attack by the right ladz, and that would leave the railhead undefended. Following the tracks with his gaze, the Kommando Nob sees where they dip through a fortified tunnel in the city’s walls. Dat’s a way in, he thinks.
It is at this point that a rising whirr and static crackle announce the Mekboy’s success. Grimsnik wheels about to tell the daft git to be quiet, but finds himself face-to-face with a static-laced, grot-sized facsimile of Big Mek Nugzott, fashioned from glowy green energy. Haunting the fringes of the projection are more figures. Grimsnik can make out Snakebite Big Boss Rippa peering at him mistrustfully, and the massive form of Goff Boss Gargdregga looming over Nugzott.
The Kommando can’t resist a glance skywards. Somewhere up there in the void above Volkus, he guesses, Nugzott and his bosses must be clustered around an equally grainy green projection of Grimsnik himself.
‘Well?’ demands Nugzott, his voice crackling slightly out of sync with his mouth’s movements. ‘Ya found da way in yet, Grimsnik?’
‘Don’t need a way in,’ rumbles Goff Boss Gargdregga, before Grimsnik can reply. ‘Don’t need dat sneaky Blood Axe git ta find us one. Dis is all just mukkin’ about. Me an’ me ladz can bash down da humie city’s wallz an’ stomp ’em!’
‘Ya can try it, an’ da humie soopa-weapon can dakka yooz up good before ya get anywhere near da city,’ replies Nugzott dismissively. ‘We’z been over dis! We gotta be sneaky, or we won’t get a scrap at all!’
Nugzott swats away Big Boss Rippa’s hand – the Snakebite had started poking the holo-projection of Grimsnik in suspicious displeasure – then tries again.
‘Go on Grimsnik, wotcha got?’
‘I reckon we found a sneaky way into da humie city, an’ a good spot fer sum o’ Gargdregga’s ladz ta kick sum teef in,’ Grimsnik replies. ‘Been recordin’ it all wiv yer spottin’ gizmo. I’ll send it up in a mo.’
‘Good work Grimsnik, ya shifty git,’ beams Nugzott. ‘Before yooz know it, ladz, we’ll be stompin’ dem humies flat down dere. An’ then… all dat loot…’ Even rendered in grainy green light, the avaricious leer on the Big Mek’s face is obvious. ‘Wot about da mega loot?’ Nugzott demands, as Grimsnik knew he would. ‘Ya got me a good look-see at it?’
‘Still a long way off, boss,’ hedges Grimsnik. ‘An’ dere’s a lot of smoke an’ smog in da way.’
‘Zog me Grimsnik, it’s da size of a zoggin’ pile o’ Gargants!’ exclaims Gargdregga. ‘How can ya not see it?’
Gritting his teeth, Grimsnik turns back to gesture at the rolling banks of smog obscuring his view. Yet at just that moment, some whirling air current drags the atmospheric pollutants apart like a curtain drawing back. Suddenly, there’s the soopa-weapon, colossal, almost god-like in its proportions, towering over the cityscape. Something deep down in Grimsnik cannot help but respond to such unbelievable destructive potential. In that moment, he feels the closest his indomitable Ork psyche will ever get to real awe.
‘Got ya look-see, boss’ he says, and raises the spottin’ gizmo to his face again. ‘An’ zog me, ya woz right. We gotta loot dat!’
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