Book 1 - The Defense of Firebase 342 Chapter 2 – All for the want of a Grot... Moondog’s knuckles were bleeding, making them stick a bit when they repeatedly made contact with Wizbang’s head. The ork pilot had lost conciousness several minutes ago, yet the Warboss was still angry that his dropship had made an irregular landing in front of such an important audience. A lot depended on this job – it was his first foray as a mercenary, or freebooter, and he wanted to come off as a professional. "Oi! Were iz da Grodd?!" A growling voice distracted Moondog from his embarrassment. He dropped Wizbang, who was carried off by several gretchin slaves, and turned. "Wut?!" Da boyz, who had been enjoying the show with Wizbang quickly stopped their laughter and snarled as several human warriors in power armour approached. Moondog’s spine tingled as he felt the battle-excitement amoung his comrades. He felt the rush of the Wauugh rising from his gutz, but choked it back. He muttered to himself, "We is here to frag da Bugeyez, not da Humiez..." The humans had suddenly halted and were drawing weapons. Moondog was puzzled. The gitz had asked him to come and help fight the Tyrannids, and now they were making ready to attack. Then he noticed that his arms had drawn his own weapons from his belt and aimed them of their own accord. The Wauugh was pulling him in. This was no good, no way to start a career as a Freebooter. He brought his weapons up and bashed himself in the head, trying to block out the psychic wave of bloodlust emanating from his troops. "Lissen up, yew Zoggers!" Moondog addressed his mob. "Dese iz da skum wot we iz here ta help! Shaddap an’ behave like proper orkses." "Proper orkses. Roit Boss!" One of the lads brought his shoota up and took aim at the humies. THWOK! Moondog’s choppa embedded itself in the warrior’s chest, knocking him to the ground, his shoota going off like a power hammer. "PROPER ORKSES DON'T FRAG DERE MATES!" The orks stowed their weapons, but were still suspicious. All eyes were now on Moondog as he approached the humans. This was going to be tricky. Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a freebooter. Maybe he should just gib the skum and call it a day. "Grodd Moondog! I is da Skumboss Magnaz wot wontz yer freebootaz ta fite da Bugeyez." The leader was not as big as some of the other humiez that were there. This was not good. Moondog knew that humiez were different from orks. He understood that their leaders had all sorts of weedy reasons that they used to make other humies do what they said. He knew that this was just their way, but the lads; they wouldn’t understand. They would think that Moondog was dealing with a guard, and that the real leader was disrespecting their Boss. It was all getting so complicated. Why were the humans always so complicated? Magnaz spoke again. "I ‘ave yer grot, Maggit." Moondog noticed the gretchin cowering behind the human’s armoured legs. Well that naffs the whole thing. The git had to go and steal a grot. Better get reddy for a scrap... "Harrpor – give ‘im yer toof." Magnaz gestured to the largest of the shell-hedz who stepped forward obediently and held out his hand. Moondog looked down into his palm, half-expecting to see a bomb... There was a bloody tooth. After a moment, the tension broke. The orks all straightened up, eyebrows raised and nodded at each other, muttering approval. Moondog felt the pressure of the Waaugh subside. This Skumboss Magnaz was alright. Moondog took the marine’s tooth and held it up, checking it’s quality. He bit it and then grinned at the ladz, "Da Emperor’s Teef!". The orks cheered and fired their weapons into the air. He tossed the tooth to Irk, his grot scribe, who stowed it in a bulging purse. Moondog then stepped forward and gripped Magnaz by the hand. "Sorry ‘bout da landin. Me pilot needs a bit more trainin’." "Lug dis, Grodd... da bugeyez is gunna be heer in 6 hours. Yew and yer boyz got da west half of da fort, da skinniez is in da east half wif da udder humiez." Magnaz was leading him towards a tough-looking metal fortress. A good place to fight. "Da ladz’ll be reddy, Magnaz. Yew iz gonna see some real skrappin’. Reely worf da teef." He looked back and saw the ladz opening bundles of equipment and assembling the wargear; Killa Kanz, Mega Armour, Kustom Mega Blastaz... they had started singing merrily to themselves, " ’Ere we go, ‘ere we go, ‘ere we go..." The Marines were helping to unload the ship, and exchanging slaps on the back as jugs of fungus-juice were passed around. Maybe this was going to work out after all. Dylan - May 10, 2001