Chapter one - Morkloud's Rise

INHALING THICK DARK SMOKE in great gulping gasps Morkloud sits bolt upright. His hands grasp automatically for weapons that aren't there as his eyes, ignoring dead orks and dismembered limbs, scan his surroundings for danger. Finding none he focuses on the sight of this massacre and recalls he'd been run through with a choppa by some low and sneaky grot-lover that had crept up from behind. Momentarily anxious, he feels for the wound but the gaping gash is gone, in its place large metal staples hold together rapidly healing flesh. The puzzled Morkloud staggers to his feet and shaking the disorientation from his head stumbles back toward the Orky fort, pausing only to scoop up a forearm to chew on.

Hours later, Morkloud finally approaches his goal, but wounded, without weapons or armour, he makes a tempting target for the younger orks. As he enters through the great metal gate, one of the upstarts pulls out a weapon and draws near. Morkloud's eyes narrow in recognition as he examines the choppa; the thieving scum has pilfered his weapon as he lay on the battlefield! Mind you, that was how he had come by it in the first place, but at least he'd had the decency to personally make sure its owner had been dead.

"Dat's mi choppa" snarls Morkloud ominously, rapidly closing the distance between them.

"Naw, Dat's MI choppa. I tuk it from yer. An' I iz gonna keep it!" gloats the orkling, as he lunges forward.

But Morkloud is faster. A subtle shift of his body weight places him out of the blade’s path and lightning quick his massive hands snap around the descending arm. Nearly faster than the eye can follow his hands reverse direction and with a sickening crunch that echoes around the courtyard, the upstart's arm shatters at the elbow forcing it’s useless fingers to release the choppa to clatter on the concrete. Continuing the same single fluid motion, Morkloud sweeps up the still ringing blade and plunges it hilt deep into the belly of the orkling.
"Changed mi mind, yer can keep it" he growls to the young ork as it slumps grievously wounded over the blade before he unceremoniously dumps the challenger to the floor. Eye-balling the others to ensure no more attacks, Morkloud grabs the dying ork by the collar and drags it toward a grubby, once white, tent.

"Patient for yer!" calls Morkloud into the darkness, as he slams the orkling onto the rusted metal operating table.

"Ah, Morkloud!" slurs the metal jawed Mad Doc as he appears from the gloom brandishing an overlarge staple gun. "Yer returned at last!"

"Wot 'appen'd Ramizead? I fort I woz ded?" asks a puzzled Morkloud.

"Morkloud, Morkloud." replies the older ork, slowly shaking his head, "Youz an ork, youz immoral! Only takin' yer 'ead can kill yer"

Morkloud nods, then shakes his head as, from deep recesses of his mind, Morkloud appears to remember something. " 'ang about. Wot about Ferm? 'e dint 'ave iz 'ead lopped off" he states.

"Naw, 'e woz on da rong side of da big-burna. Da onli fing dat woz left woz iz 'ead" answers Ramizead as he examines the orkling’s wound, eliciting a guttural scream from his patient as he twists the embedded blade, "Plus burna hurtz ain't gud for healin' "

Morkloud nods again, but the puzzled look remains, " 'kay, but den why iz I 'ealing so kwick?" he asks.

The Mad Doc turns his head to look at Morkloud and a mischievous twinkle appears in his eye as he loudly whispers, "Dat mi lad, iz da Fastenin'..."

His thoughts finally catching up with the conversation Morkloud says " 'ang on. Wen we tuk out Da Rius youz 'ad yer head lopped off by dat big Gurkan bast..."

Ramizead interrupts him by waving his hands before pulling away his collar to reveal the staples holding his head on. "Da Fastenin' can do mirikles for dem dat nose." states Ramizead flatly, "Now lend a 'and wiv dis grot" he finishes as he turns back to the injured Orkling.

Looking around for a means of escape, Morkloud finds the remains of his lunch in his belt and smiling wickedly, drops it on the slab before sidling quickly away.

...

DUSK IS RAPIDLY APPROACHING by the time he has regained most of his possessions. Using the time-honoured rituals of intimidation, theft and barefaced cheek, he even manages to obtain a grubby, but serviceable, power klaw. Around him Orks scramble toward the walls so Morkloud follows and climbs atop to find Orks are being knocked off to land hard on the floor below, so he seeks a good position. He shoves one particular ork and is told to "Frak off!" so he flexes his power klaw and obtains a front row seat by snipping the head from the obstructive ork and uses it's body as an impromptu chair.

Stood before the fort, outlined against the setting sun, Warboss Orkeez ignores the catcalls and jeers as he goes through a series of Heroic poses. "Wotcha fink ladz?" he bellows toward the walls as he drops to one knee, big choppa raised over his head as he aims the twin-linked shoota. "Gud 'nuff for da Pe-riz?"

Silence spreads across the wall and lasts for nearly ten seconds before being broken by brash laughter.

Smirking, Orkeez stands back up and rests the big choppa across his massive shoulders. "Everyone's a bloody critic" he mutters and peers toward a growing dust cloud "Now wot's dat slag dun?"

A rattling clank issues from the gloom and grows in volume before dropping like the airborne dust as a hulking Deff Dread is revealed. From a compartment welded atop, the maniacal screeching voice of the opposing Big Mek issues from a loudhailer, "Standard challenge rulez yer sed! Any weapon, winner teks all!"

Orkeez takes one look and runs, his silhouette rapidly diminishing against the dying sun.

"I iz da nu boss!" crackles the vox from the Big Mek's armoured compartment.

"Youz a cheatin' yella grox!" shouts Morkloud from his vantage point.

The Deff Dread turns following instructions from its boss. "Da so?" crackles the amplified voice as the walker draws nearer the wall.

Morkloud sees his opportunity and bellowing "DAT'S SO!" leaps from the wall power klaw extended.

He misses and ploughs face first into the hard-packed ground as the Deff Dread pulls up short. He pushes himself to his feet and stands swaying as he looks down the barrels of four big shootas. Shaking his head, Morkloud manages to clear the double vision and is smiles when he sees he only has to face two big shootas.

A harsh tinny laugh reverberates from the speaker, "Havin' a big toy don't make yer a big ork!" mocks the Big Mek before instructing the pilot to "Shoot 'im!"

Shells tear the air around Morkloud and at first he is sure he hasn't been hit, then he coughs out a glob of viscous fluid and realises a lung is punctured. Standing his ground proudly, Morkloud manages a weak smile and raises his middle digit as the Deff Dread bears down on him.

A sudden burst of gunfire hits the rear of the contraption, severing pipelines and cables and the Deff Dread slows to a stop. With the last of it's propulsion it manages to turn to face the unknown assailant and is greeted by the sight of a converted war-bike hurtling through the clouds of dust it is throwing up.

"Soz ladz" bellows Orkeez " 'ad ta get mi chariot cos I can't 'ave dat grox 'avin' a betta entrance dan mi!"

As if to prove his point the warchariot hits a dune and leaps into the air, where firelight and the last shafts from the setting sun glint from the carefully arranged 'shiny bitz'. Never one to miss an opportunity, Orkeez lazily fires his twin-linked shoota one-handed at the Deff Dread before the warchariot hits the ground and he loses his balance slamming into the metal floor.
Pretending he meant to crouch, Orkeez sweeps up his big choppa and bellowing "Waargh!" springs to his feet just as the vehicles collide. The added force from the crash causes Orkeez's initial blow to sever one of the machine's combat arms, a second and third blow rend apart the sarcophagus and kill the pilot, whilst the fourth and fifth tear a jagged hole in the armoured compartment. Entrapped by his contraption the Big Mek struggles in vain.

"Rite, jobz done" says Orkeez over the clamouring of the orks on the wall as he jumps down from his warchariot and approaches Morkloud. "Dat dere woz a gud distraction lad, I iz promotin' yer ta Banna Beara"

Smiling inanely, Morkloud manages a bemused "Fanks Boss"

"Dat's alrite lad. Yer first job is ta add iz 'ead" Orkeez motions toward the wrecked walker as stomps through the baying crowd into fort.

Morkloud opens and shuts the power klaw as he turns to the encased leader, his smile widening as he recognises the desperately struggling Big Mek as Ramizead's mortal foe.

"Oi! Gurkan! I fink yer woz sayin' sumfink 'bout big toyz not makin' big orks!" he taunts.

"Yer can't do dis." demands the entombed Fat Mechanic. "I iz da boss!"

Spreading his klaw wide to enclose the Gurkan's swollen neck, Morkloud leans in close and states calmly as the blades squeeze shut with the hiss of pneumatics, "Naw, youz ain't da boss, Orkeez iz. Dere can be onli one."

...

THE DEATH OF ‘DA GURKAN’ shatters all remaining resistance on Nreestanaysha (Magark) and Waargh Orkomenid quickly spreads to engulf Sowfurop (Aspaster) and Norfafrika (Keprok). Now in a position to threaten Imperial space in the Vestrid system, Warlord Orkeez sits astride a throne fashioned from scrap steel salvaged from his fallen foes and holds audience with his massed Nobz.

"Rite ladz, time'z cum ta konquer!" booms the Warboss, "Da boyz iz on der own cos I don't won't any of youz Nobz gettin' ideaz abuv yer stashun! Konna, Dunkan, Kwentin an Evva, youz all Morkloud's! Ramizead goez wiv yer so getz a trukk cos yer got ta keep up wiv mi. Mikel, youz kan ‘ave sum ladz wiv shootas an’ tek a Battlewagon. Rest ov yer, sortz yer senz owt. We’z sneakin’ in by way ov Da Perseus Deeps, so we gotta hit da first planet ‘ard an’ mek a base! Now git yer backsidez in gear an’ MOVE!"

From Roks and Kroozers in orbit high above Sowfurop, Big Meks activate teleportas and rip swathes of greenskins off the planet surface, dumping them randomly about the crudely welded battleships and hollowed out asteroids. The fortunate ones find themselves on the right side of forcefields whilst the others claw madly at the metres thick metal, trying desperately to scramble to safety as their blood freezes in their oxygen deprived bodies.
Within hours the planet is stripped of Orkish life and upon ‘Da Big Hulk’, massive Lifta-grabbers pull smaller Roks and Killkroozers into it’s gravity well. As it ponderously breaks free of the planet’s gravity and turns to face the Perseus Deeps, Weirdboyz are strapped into Shokk Attack arrays and launched into close orbit, where their augmented powers rip open the fabric of reality and propel the Space hulk through the Warp…