The Power Behind the Throne Strongpoint Mission - 1000 points - Orks vs. Ultramarines The bunker sat alone, commanding a view of the entire plain. In the chill of the Netherian wind it seemed almost welcoming, were it not for the occasional glimpse of weapon muzzles moving in the firing slits. We had been marching north for a day, and we had encountered nothing. Not a single patrol. The Imperial Guard we had encountered must have been ordered to stay and guard the road, or perhaps they assumed we had been wiped out by their artillery barrage. Whatever the reason, we had marched a full day, evading detection until we came upon the bunker. It was an Imperial Command Bunker, one that would have rich supplies as well as valuable intelligence information. Moondog wasted no time; he had the army assemble beyond a ridge and then prepared them for the attack. He strolled up the the mega-armoured nob bodyguards that had been dispatched from the throne world of Durshak. "Datz a lotta ground we gotz ta cover tah get to dat bunker. I ‘aint waitin for yew sorry lot dis time. No loggigaggin about!" "But Grodd – we gotz to guard yew –" the nobz were crestfallen. "Well if yew wantz to fight wit me yew gots to drop da mega armour. It slowz down da whole waaugh." Zorg, leader of the royal guards pondered for a moment and then made a signal. At once all the nobz poped open their monstrous mega-armour suits and stepped to Moondog’s side, sluggaz and choppaz at the ready. "We follow you Grodd-ug-Nazgof, where ever you lead us!" "Alroit den. YEW LOT! LETZ GO GIB DA HUMIEZ!" Like a green tidal wave, the orks surged over the crest with a mighty warcry. - - - Brother Sergeant Kalvin squinted out of the bunker at the frozen waste before him. He heard a sound that was very much like an ork war charge, but this bunker was well within Imperial territory, remote and isolated from the battle front. As an Ultramarine, he longed to hear the cries of enemies, and so he thought that perhaps it was his imagination. But then he heard it again. The cry of hundreds of coarse voices howling over the arctic wind. There was something out there, even though it didn’t make sense. He reached down and flicked on his sensor packÖ 300 blips; gene-code signature semio-algaic bipedal xenomorph, high residual psyker aura; analysis: hostile orkoid aliens approaching - *alert!* Brother Kalvin punched the alarm and cocked the firing pin of the heavy bolter. Let them come! - - - A yellow flare shot into the frozen sky; the alarm had been raised. Moondog cocked an ear as he heard a voice in the distance. "With Bolter We Shall Purify the Galaxy! Death to the Alien!" TOK TOK TOK TOK TOK The ground in front of the orks erupted as they charged forwards. Moondog thrust his choppa forward, gesturing to Slaver Chezz. With a crack of his cruel whip the gretchin attack squads filed to the front with Chezz’ ravenous squighound snapping at their heels. "On! On, you filth! Attack! Attack Attack!" The gretchin pressed together and advanced into the hail of death spewing from the bunker with the orks following close behind. Moondog then nodded sharply to Kroog and the warbikes tore off in a green cloud of pollution. Moments later Mekboy Gubbinz held the Kustom Lug-o-Matik up to his ear. It crackled and whined, but Kroog’s voice could be heard: "Big mobs - - - blue shell-hedz - - - back. Dey got - - - Dredd - - - left side - - - main big mob - - - TOK TOK TOK - - - Oi! Yew want sum? WAAUGH! - - - BUDDABUDDABUDDABUDDA - - - hey wot kinda git iz dat? ‘E’s ded ‘ard - - - I got ‘im! - - - BANG CHOP CRUNCH RIP SMASH – zzkzkkkzkzzkkk - - -" Gubbinz looked up from his Lug-o-matik. "It’s gone ded, Grodd!" Moondog scratched his chin. "Roit." He looked back at Daa’Bu, one of his nobz that had a fondness for rokkit launchaz. "Daa’Bu! Get over to dem icewalls an’ wait for da Humie Dredd to come around over dere – when e’ does, let ‘im ‘ave it!" "Rite Boss! Cummon ladz! ‘Ere we go, ‘ere we go, ‘ere we goÖ" "’Ardkor! Yew get yer skarboyz into da Doomwagon and drive up close to da bunker and wait for my signal. Dere’s some kinda gargin skum ‘humie in da big mob. Wait til he goes for da grotties den go waaugh the squigdroppinz out of ‘im!" ‘Ardkor and the skarboyz were delighted. They mounted up on their Doomwagin, a looted rhino and sped off. "The rest o’ yew; FOLLOW ME!" Moondog charged forward, firing in the air as the orks renewed their advance into the hail of bullets from the bunker. Moondog scooped up a gretchin and held him in front of himself like a shield and pressed the advance. The royal guards hurled themselves forward, leaping in front of bullets meant for the warboss, and firing blindly at the bunker with their pistols. At last they made it to the wall of the bunker. Moondog turned to his boyz. "Skorchy! Toast ‘em!" Skorchy stepped forward with two other boyz behind him, all armed with burnaz. They turned the nozzles and FWOOSH the bunker was filled with white-hot burning death. The doors flew open as scalded marines staggered out to be cut down by dozens of murderous axe blows. Then out of the flames came one marine still ablaze, carrying a heavy bolter, firing madly. "DEATH TO THE ALIEN! DEATH TO THE ALIEN!" THWOK Moondog’s choppa embedded inself in his armoured chest. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. He struggled to lift the weapon and take aim at the towering figure of the Grodd ug-Nazgof that now stood before him. Moondog gently took the heavy bolter from his hands and then bludgeoned him with it. He then held it aloft like a bloody club. "Everyone inside! Chezz! Get them grotz over to the right and shove em around the corner!" The orks were thrilled at having such a ded ‘shooty place to defend. They scrambled into positions at the windows and had a look off to the north. Masses of Ultramarines were advancing on their position, Razorback tanks firing, Devastaor squads hammering away, and a monstrous armoured Dreadnought stomped towards them. They looked out and saw the slattered remains of Kroog and the warbikes. They had been rent limb from limb. All were impressed, but puzzled. Shell-hedz were tough, but not that tough. What could have done that? Moondog laughed and bellowed to his boyz like a demented entertainer. "Just watch the show boyz! MUA HA HA HA!" Then Chezz sent his grotz forward to attack the marines’ line. Their pathetic little grot blasters went off like firecrackers, sending sparks shooting off of the marines’ armour. Unexpectedly, one of the marines toppled, clutching his neck, blood spewing from a hole punched in a weak point in the armour. The orks laughed uproariously at the sight and in the spirit of things, stuck their weapons out of the bunker and fired at the weedy naffers out of spite. Gakked by a grot! And then the laughter ceased as something unexpected happened. A mind bending howl of bloodlust rose out of the marines’ mob; the grots stopped their victory dances and looked up in horror as a figure all in black leapt towards them like a lion. It was the size of a humie, but bulging with muscles and its head was covered in a skull mask. This was no Space Marine. It was an Imperial Assassin. It charged into the grots with speed unheard of by anyone before and in the blink of an eye seven gretchin were gone, nothing but a few scraps of gut falling to the ground as the rest of the mob panicked and fled. There was a moment of stunned silence; and then – The laughter was redoubled. Moondog was right! This was a show unlike any other! It was all the orks could do not to charge headlong at that figure in black and have a go at ‘im, but Moondog held them in check. "I sed ‘Ardkor could ‘ave ‘im! Look!" The thundering sound of the engine of the Doomwagon came from the right flank and the looted rhino left the ground as it crested a frozen hill. Its red paint glistened in the arctic sun. Mekboy Gubbinz nodded proudly as all appreciated his ‘improvemintz’ to the otherwise weedy humie trukk. "Wait ‘til they use the Turbo-boosta!" Gubbinz was positively beaming with pride as the machine made a deafening roar. An enormous rocket engine welded on the roof of the rhino disgorged a fiery gout of smoke and shot the vehicle forward. It skidded to a halt and at once its hatches burst open and ‘Ardkor’z Skarboyz leapt out, ready to attack. The assassin turned to face them, and readied itself for battle. It had cannisters of different substances in liquid form. These were attached to a system of tubes that could be used to administer a dose of one or another of these drugs into its bloodstream. It was using one of them now; at the touch of a switch a plunger was activated which started to push the fluid into a tubeÖ But then from behind, the sound of snickering laughter rang out as a shower of pellets shot at the assassin. Chezz had rallied his gretchin and they had loosed a volley of blasta shots. A stray bullet pierced the assassin’s injection tube sending a shower of glowing goo across the snowy ground. The assassin glowered at the grots, but instead of cowering, they charged! Miniscule green warriors hung from the assassin’s limbs, bit at kneecaps, clawed at eyes. The black figure was lost beneath a mass of writhing green bodies. Never turn your back on a grot! ‘Ardkor, not to be outdone by a mob of grotz charged into the approaching space marines, followed by his skarboyz. The Ultramarine sergeant’s power sword cut deep into ‘Ardkor’s torso, but he only laughed and brought around his power claw, rending him in two. This was too much for the boyz in the bunker, who clambered onto the roof and started firing at the marines in earnest. One of the boyz turned to share a joke with his mate, only to find that his mate’s head had suddenly melted, leaving a bubbling stump of a neck. Turning his gaze he found the cause; the Dreadnought was closing in from the left flank firing its fearsome multi-melta gun. Upon seeing this, the orks all rushed to the left side of the roof and started firing weapons, tossing axes and hurling droppings at the blue behemoth as it lumbered forward, its power claw arcing and snapping in preparation for combat. And suddenly Moondog was there with the ladz on the roof laughing like a madboy. "Cummon yew zogger! Cum and get me! It’s Moondog and iz boyz! ‘Ere we iz! Waaugh!" The boyz, feeling the psychic surge of orkiness joined in and issued a mighty WAAUGH that shook the earth beneath them. The Dreadnought pounded forward and raised its power claw the the level of the roof, and Moondog brought his face down within striking distance and grinned. There was a pause. A moment as these two enemies sized each other up. And then Moondog’s gaze went behind the Dredd, to a patch of crumbling icewalls to the left side of the bunker. "DAA’BHU! NOW!" At the signal, a mob of orks popped up from their concealed position and raised their weapons. Four rokkit launchaz were leveled at the Dreadnought’s vulnerable rear armour and with a deafening roar they loosed a volley. One rokkit spiralled up into the air and exlploded in a shower of magenta sparks, another slammed into the Dredd and bounced off with a metallic BONG! The third however struck home. It tore into the machine’s back and blew a hole into its reactor core. It staggered backwards a few steps, molten plasma fuel spilling everywhere and then toppled forward as its power failed, power claw extended towards Moondog in a final gesture. "How’s that for a show, ladz?" Moondog was slapping the boyz on the shoulder and blindly firing at the remains of the Ultramarines that were still attacking. And then I heard it. A roaring sound that built into a high pitched shriek, as thoughÖ "INCOMING!" I dove into the roof hatch as the fourth of Daa’Bhu’s rokkits slammed into the roof of the bunker. The ceiling above me exploded in rocks and dust and I was buried in rubble. I dug myself out to see the laughing faces of the ladz and Moondog peering down through the hole in the roof as they watched me struggle to my feet. Moondog turned and shouted to Daa’Bhu, "Nice try, but yew missed! The blighter’s still alive – but at least yew got the Dredd!" All found this to be a great source of hilarity. I merely strolled over to the Imperial officer’s station and popped open the nutrition locker where I found some fine Terran lager. Kicking my feet up on his desk I set about a perusal of the various papers and documents. Let them have their fun. I was going to win this war, and Moondog was my instrument. I would win this war, and I would see Moondog sit on the Darkmoon Throne and then we would see; then we would see what Irk Gibwort could do with the entire Nazgoffic Kingdom under his power. Dylan - July 17, 2001