Lotza Lotz Cleanse Mission - 1000 points - Orks vs. Imperial Guard We had been on the march for days. We had marched over snow-dunes thirty feet high. We had marched through forests of frozen crystal spires that sang eerily in the chill Netharian wind. We marched through wreckage-strewn battle-plains littered with bones blasted clean by Armageddon’s fierce sleetstorms. We scaled cravasses so deep that they seemed to have no bottom, but lay gaping wide like the ragged maw of a frozen dragon. We marched and we marched, though our bellies were burning with hunger and our throats cracked with the cold and our limbs stiffened with fatigue. We even after the flames of our desire for revenge against Shagrat the Traitor had burned low in the cold wintery night; we marched even though our wills had all been spent, because another will more unshakable than any force in the galaxy was pressing us on. Moondog Grodd ug Nazgof would not be denied though hell itself should bar the way. We were looking for a road, though there was none, and I was sure we were all going to die in that arctic waste. The smudge on the paper that had once seemed so very much like a road had dried up and flaked off the Imperial Datasheet the day after we embarked on the search. It did not deter my master. "Imperial trickery" he’d said. "’Oomie git map know’z we’re on to ‘em; tryin’ to hide the Big Road, but it’s too late. I seen it and now it’s there in my mind, and there ‘aint nothin anybuddy can do to stop meh!" And so we marched; forward, onward, northward until we came to – "The Big Road!" Some of the forward scouts reported back. The Big Road? That couldn’t be. There was no Big Road; was there? Moondog gathered us together and as we came over the next ridge, there it was. Thirty feet wide and as long as anything, stretching out to the edge of sight. "Mork showed us da way. Now we gotz ta show im we wuz wurf ‘is trubble. Let’z move!" He crumpled up the map and tossed it over his shoulder as his army slogged forward. I snatched it up quietly. The road made things much easier. The marching was quicker, our feet were not as sore, and there were various lightly guarded imperial supply depots that made easy pickings. There was one slight problem. It was taking us in the wrong direction. Orkwik Airfield was to the north, but this road was leading us to the west. I dared not mention this to my master, who was convinced that The Great God Mork had led us to this road and that it would prove to be the key to our victory against Shagrat the Traitor. I had to wait for an opportunity; before long it came. "Humiez!" the Bikeboyz reported back. "A whole bunch of ‘em up the road wif Battlewagginz!" Moondog looked interested. "Wuz dey shell-hedz or da uvver gitz?" Kroog, the Bike Nob stepped forward. "Dey wuz gitz, but lotz of em! Lotza lotz!" "Hmm." Moondog scratched his chin. "Lotza lotz, eh?" Fifteen minutes later we were all charging down the road full tilt ready to fight. The Imperial Guard column could be seen in the distance. Red coats, white helmets and Leman Russ tanks stood out in the snowblown haze. Moondog raised his arm to give the attack order, and then I saw my opportunity. On the north side of the road were some ruins that concealed a force of human soldiers, infiltrators of some sort. I grabbed Moondog’s arm. "Grodd! Look over there! Gitz in the ruinz!" Moondog turned his massive head and squinted. Then he sniffed. "Nah, Gibwort. It’s some kind of squiggy-beasts or somefin." I had to force the issue. Leaping from the wartrukk I scooped up handfuls of snow and charged at the ruins. Hurling my projectiles I let out a grotty shriek, "Waaugh!". The orks all turned and started to laugh at the sight, until the ruins erupted in a hail of laser fire as the hidden guardsmen opened fire. "Oi! Gibby was roit! Dere’s humiez in dem dere ruinz! Alright boyzÖ WAAUGH!" The full ork army surged towards the north side of the road and dispatched the ambushers in moments. What was probably intended by the Imperials to be a spoiling flank attack had become the focus of the full ork army. I had been grazed by a lasgun shot, but not seriously injured. Looking up the road I saw the main force of the Guardsmen had not wasted the opportunity I gave them and had advanced a great distance up the road. Smiling to myself, I limped over to the ruins to see the orks chewing the rent limbs of their defeated foes. Moondog climbed onto a broken wall and barked orders. "Roit! That was the appetizer! Now for da main course! Back to da road! Up and -" His harangue was cut short by the whine of an incoming ordnance barrage. Orks scrambled for cover just as a monstrous explosion rocked the ruins. Before da boyz could recover, lascannon shots sliced through the broken walls like they were made of wax. One of the nobz stood up and started to charge but an auto-cannon shell turned his torso into a red mist and he fell to the ground. Moondog was still standing on top of his perch, bellowing above the din, but he could not be heard. Purple balls of plasma were blossoming around him like giant radioactive mushrooms, and grenades landed in their midst, leaving smoking trails behind them before they went off; krak grenades made red firey puffs, frags left black smokey smudges in the air with white spark trails shooting away in all directions. Moondog was still on top of his wall, bellowing orders that none could hear above the hellish din. He was an impressive sight until a lascannon cut his perch out from under him, sending him tumbling into a shell crater where myself and most of his nobz were taking cover. "Master! The Gitz have taken the road! We must move to the north! There are too many of them!" "Bah!" Moondog sneered at my cowardice. "Whadda yew know about it, grotty gobbo? Zug Zug stick yer hed up an’ ‘ave a look see. How many gitz are on da road?" Zug Zug obediently popped his head out of the crater. "One, too, free, fore – " There was a purple flash and a sound like sizzling bacon. Zug Zug climbed back into the crater, wiping burning plasma off his face. "Oi. It stings." "Well? ‘Ow many gitzes?" Moondog poked Zug Zug. He looked up and then we saw that his eyes were two crispy smoking holes that blinked sickeningly. "Um, I was countin dem, and I got up to lotza lotza lotz and den I lost count after I got shot in da face, boss. What me to count ‘em agin?" Moondog’s lip curled back and he swallowed sharply. He broke a tooth out of his mouth and put it in Zug Zug’s hand "- uhÖ datz okay Zug Zug. Yew better go see Dok Gorbitz." He meandered off in search of the Dok as Moondog turned to me. "Okay, Gibby. Yew might have a point. Norf it iz. Just as well. Mork made dat road all wrong. It was goin da wrong way." Dylan - July 9, 2001