The Orkalorian [Warhammer 40k Isekai Ork OC SI]

The rest of the night passed silently as both sides collected and distributed their dead' equipment and treated their wounded in a peaceful moment.

Dark clouds partially obscured the large pale full moon's light that witnessed the glowing flames below, either from combat or from now-lit bonfires. This sky would have been beautiful on another occasion, but now it served as an omen of what would come.

Skullrippa and his forces set up camp, taking residence in abandoned buildings, tents, or inside their vehicles, forcing their Grots to perform unwanted tasks with threats, shouts, insults, and blows.

The little ones refueled and maintained vehicles, checked and reloaded weapons, cleaned blood from blades and armor, and cooked roasts and stews, always with their heads down and without complaint, for they knew the consequences if they acted otherwise.

Unfortunately, this was not enough to prevent abuse, as some were crushed, kicked, or punched to vent anger and lighten the Orks' mood.

The green giants laughed and smiled cruelly as if watching a jester perform. The Grots, on the other hand, worked with impassive faces, turning their heads and avoiding the pleading looks of those on the ground until the shine left their eyes.

Their hearts and minds ached with such injustice, a mixture of anger, fear, and despair at seeing their companions, the only ones they could rely on, dying uselessly for other's amusement.

Why? Why does it have to be this way?

Most of them asked themselves.

The answer was simple: They were small and weak, and the Orks knew it. According to their kulture, they could do whatever they wished with those weaker than them.

How could they fight back?

They had no Shootas or Chopas and the few that received Blastas, a piece of junk that barely fired, were watched closely for any sign of rebellion and quickly slaughtered if so.

A Grot's life was truly miserable, moving forward with staggering steps, swallowing their anger, and doing what was ordered amid the crackling of the flames, spitting ash, smoke, and embers.

Maybe things will get better someday. Gork and Mork would know.

A shout announced that dinner was ready, and disorder overtook the camp. All the Orks fought over their share, becoming an angry and disorderly mass that wasted half of what they wanted.

There was enough for everyone, but their greed and violence blinded them as the Grots watched sadly in a corner, hungry, licking their lips and holding their stomachs, but unable to eat from the ground.

Meanwhile, Skullrippa laughed at the display, enjoying his roasted Squig in front of his tent.

-XXXXXX-

The mood across the battlefield stood better, with most combatants returning to base and receiving their rations, while a few remained at their posts to alert in case of enemy attack.

Orks and Grots lined up eagerly in front of large tables laden with plates and cutlery, beside the fungus fields, where dozens of Snots prepared food with fresh ingredients in large pots over lit fires, filling the night air with a delicious aroma.

They salivated in anticipation, ready to taste such delicacy to the point that guards had to control them.

The bodies of the dead had fertilized the field, and now they were growing all sorts of fungi to be served, whether in drinks like Fungus Beer, Fungus Brew, Fungusnog, or as food, various Squig dishes seasoned with Puffballs, Pink-Spotted Trottlecap, Warted Nightbloomer, and Heartburn.

It was a great feast of shouting, singing, and laughter. They traded stories of the previous battle around large bonfires, boasting, bragging, and exaggerating their deeds until the original tale no longer existed.

If this was what came after all the fighting the boss gave them, then they didn't mind continuing.

The Grots preferred to stay in their groups in their dormitories, partying in a more controlled manner and inviting the Snots, creating a pleasant and cozy atmosphere, toasting and eating, as their lives had changed for the better, they wanted it to stay that way.

The wounded remained away from the noise, now in tents set up to protect them from the elements, sleeping after being treated with Speckled Bloodshade Fungus, rich in fungi and spores found in the Orks' blood and skin, used to enrich the blood and speed up metabolism, or to slow its flow, and compounds mixed with teef to aid in their regenerative processes.

They slept comfortably with soft and quiet breaths, a mixture of exhaustion and medication, however, one of them, a Yoof, turned, probably having a dream or nightmare, depending on the viewpoint.

Whatever it was, several images flashed in his mind, chemical formulas, natural and artificial compounds' mixtures, how to acquire, cultivate, or synthesize them, Orks and other organisms of the same species' anatomy, surgical techniques and tools, first aid, how to build equipment to better perform his function and much more.

It was too much information, too many ideas, too many thoughts and he couldn't forget it, as if a switch had been turned or a door unlocked, now impossible to close due to the strangely natural knowledge's endless flow.

Then, the night passed and he woke up breathing heavily, covered in sweat, and with his heart racing in surprise and effort, feeling as if he had fought the whole night, but now, there was something new in his mind, knowledge, and understanding.

The Yoof stood up with a jump, analyzing his surroundings and himself, frowning at the color of his clothes, feeling a sudden preference for white color instead of the current yellow.

The precariousness of the current medical facilities left a lot to be desired, but the treatment of the patients was acceptable, with no infections, amputations, or deaths. They would be ready for combat in a day or two.

But why not sooner? With his help, their injuries would heal faster, and in the future, he could make them better, faster, stronger, smarter, nothing that some surgeries, bionic enhancements, and battle stimms could not solve because now, their biology's functioning remained in his mind.

After all, they had the necessary materials and he could improve it with his knowledge, he only needed some tools and helpers, and the individuals in question chose this moment to appear, Grots and Snots entered the tent, carrying medicines and bandages, stopping when they noticed the awake Yoof.

"Hello!" He spoke slowly and politely, losing his accent momentarily as he smiled broadly, revealing his sharp teef and reddish glowing eyes.

Strangely, it was not the usual Ork's cruelty, but rather a curiosity and desire for unimaginable innovations supported by countless ideas that came and go, fighting against and replacing each other.

The small green creatures backed away in fright, for no matter the species that witnessed, a smiling Ork was never a good sign, not only because of the disturbing sight of such a being making such an expression but also because of what it suggested.

"I won't krump yer, I want ya ta bring some fings an'…"

The Yoof told his ideas and several emotions replaced the fear of those present, hesitation to involve themselves, doubt if it would work, curiosity about what would happen if it did work, understanding of the plan, and acceptance, as the advantages outweighed the disadvantages.

Then everyone worked on the wounded, with the Ork demonstrating surprising and certainly painful medical skill and knowledge, as he was still a monstrosity of unkind green muscles, and a concussion was the only anesthetic.

When it ended, they left the tent, searching for the tools and ingredients needed to add a new advantage to the boss' forces.

-XXXXXX-

The siege's second wave advanced at the first glimmer of sunlight on the horizon, illuminating the partially night sky, with Skullrippa's Orks marching midst the birdsong and morning breeze, making some shiver or sneeze.

Their boss made sure to leave them fed and rested, as the attack began early and he didn't want anyone sleeping in the middle of the fight and dying, however, there was no longer the unbridled madness of before.

Skullrippa knew that they couldn't let the enemy rest and recover, they needed to keep pressing, on the other hand, attacking blindly during the night had disastrous results, so he formulated a new strategy with the survivor's information before ripping off his head in front of everyone, an example of what would happen if they failed.

His Boyz walked carefully through the now-lit streets in medium-sized groups, right behind several poorly equipped Grots who trembled with each step, having heard rumors of what happened to those who never returned.

Disabling the traps and clearing the way for the others was their goal, and the little ones would undertake such a dangerous and unpredictable task.

The tension was palpable, but they moved without haste, knowing that their enemy waited and would remain silent until the right moment.

One of the bloody metal wires that had decapitated so many was the first obstacle encountered by one of the groups, and the Grots moved with kicks and threats, entering the alleys the street's sides and severing with pliers the wire tied to masts.

Surprisingly, nothing happened, the green beings sighed relieved, wiping the sweat from their foreheads, and exchanging smiles before searching for more traps without noticing the shadows watching them in the corners and rooftops.

-XXXXXX-

Another group approached one of the explosive buildings, identified by its lack of defenses, and the Orks ordered the Grots to open the door while they stayed at a safe distance.

The green being grabbed the doorknob while sweating nervously, fearing the possible explosive death that awaited him, however, there was no return now, so he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, opening the door and hearing something tensing.

He stopped immediately in his position, asking his companions to squeeze through the half-open door and see what was on the other side. There were several surprised gasps followed by a snap and the lack of tension in the door.

Momentarily, the Grot thought that this would be the end, but those who entered let him know that everything was fine, calming his nerves.

His eyes widened as he opened the door fully and entered, seeing a mountain of explosives in its center, with a metal wire tied to something in the pile and the other end, now snapped, tied to the doorknob.

It was a simple but deadly trap, opening the door would start a massive solidarity explosion. Fortunately, that wouldn't happen and his foremen could use the explosives, which might improve their mood, which meant fewer beatings.

It didn't take long for the Orks to approach, since everything hadn't gone up in smoke, and smile at the loot, eager to wreak some havoc on the enemy. However, confusion covered their faces when the wire still attached to the pile retreated inwards and a noise echoed through the room.

TICK!

TAC!

TICK!

TAC!

Those present frowned, but they knew better than to check it themselves and ordered the Grots to do it instead.

The small beings removed parts of the pile until they reached its center, tilting their heads upon seeing a white circle with black lines and an arrow of the same color rotating slowly.

However, the Orks' reaction was more than enough for them to understand that it wasn't good.

The green brutes wasted no time in running away, pushing each other through the narrow exit, nearly clogging it while the Grots ran between their legs, causing their masters to scream in anger for not helping.

Anyway, everyone left and ran for their lives, falling to the ground while covering their heads to protect themselves from the flaming debris, or covering their ears, now sore from the resulting boom.

Some were not fast enough and perished in the explosion, but most of the group stood unharmed, bracing themselves for the eventual enemy charge, but nothing happened, minutes passed, but no one came, no footsteps, screams, or shots.

So, they moved, disarming more traps as everyone else did, hearing explosions and muffled screams of pain and death from the poor bastards who failed to cut through the air.

Their numbers dwindled due to some unfortunate accidents, but the work went well, however, the lack of retaliation tightened their chests and attacked their minds.

Meanwhile, the figures on the rooftops watched.

-XXXXXX-

"Are you sure we shouldn't do anything, boss?" Dobby spoke into a walkie-talkie as his Grots and he watched Skullrippa's forces slowly dismantle the traps.

"Yes, it's useless to risk ours for so little, Skullrippa outnumbers us, we need to use our resources wisely, besides, repeating the same trick will make our opponents get used to them."

"Right, so what will we do?"

"Ready your Grots, it's time for you to participate in the next wave."

"Understood, boss!"

"One more thing!"

"What, boss?"

"Be careful, Laenae would be sad if you died."

Dobby went silent for a second before nodding, saying goodbye to his boss, and ending the communication. Then, he adjusted his helmet and turned to his companions, raising his Slugga and saying:

"Attention everyone, it's our turn to show these gits who's boss here! We'll make them pay for messing with us, so go to your places, the boss is counting on us!"

The Grots let out several confirmations before jumping from rooftop to rooftop, spreading the message to everyone and searching for the necessary equipment to defend themselves from the invasion.

Dobby watched, feeling a mixture of concern for what would come and hesitation about leading a force in real combat, but there was something else there, something burning in his chest, the feeling of fighting for something greater perhaps?

-XXXXXX-

The real attack began during noon with surprising coordination and discipline for Orks, who now showed themselves focused and attentive, spreading out, but without isolating themselves from each other.

And new vehicles came with them, dozens of Trukks, armored troop transports that now raced at fifty miles an hour, with dozens of Orks inside, eager to fight.

But their job was something else: demolition work. The massive vehicles bombarded buildings with incendiary Stikkbombz fired from their side Stikkbomb Chukkaz, setting them ablaze.

They dragged their Grabbin' Klawz across walls and roofs, tearing through the reinforced material in a shower of rubble, and swung their spiked Wreckin' Ballz, bringing rows of buildings crashing to the ground in thunderous dust clouds.

After all, if the enemy liked to hide, then all they had to do was get rid of their hiding places and make them fight properly. Breaking down the barricades to them was a bonus.

This became a veritable symphony of destruction, and their enemies recognized this, as clusters of Stikkbombz and jars filled with Buzzer Squigs fell from the sky, exploding and shattering near the vehicles.

Their armor withstood the initial attacks and their enclosed environment kept the insects out, but this was nothing more than a distraction, as a Grot watched the vehicle approaching from an alley.

They would soon destroy his hideout, but at least he would prevent the same from happening to the rest of the city.

Bottles rained down from the rooftops and hit the Trukk's windshield, covering it in a dark substance and causing its driver to lose control and crash into a building, knocking down its wall.

The Grot crawled under the vehicle and grabbed the wreckage, waiting for the Trukk to return to its path while he attached a Stikkbomb to the wheels' axle, releasing his grip and rolling on the ground shortly after, watching as the explosion lifted the heavy truck before disappearing into the streets.

The revolted troops had no choice but to leave, or they would be trapped in a stuffy metal box. Simultaneously, the drivers inspected the damage, noticing that there was no way to repair it now.

All present began a long discussion, exchanging insults and accusations about who was to blame for their situation. The driver who had not driven properly? The troops who had not seen the enemy? The enemy itself who had not fought fairly?

They never found the answer, as the roar of the approaching engines captured their attention.

The Teefrippa orks finally revealed themselves, laughing and shouting as they accelerated their looted War Bikes, leaving a trail of smoke in their wake, approaching quickly in a wall of flesh and metal.

Joy replaced the anger and frustration that the Skullrippa Boyz felt, and that same joy died immediately when they were shot down like flies, torn to pieces by a hail of lead courtesy of the side-mounted Dakkaguns on the War Bikes, fired with the press of a button on the handlebars.

They realized that their transport's debilitation was to keep them in place, and what had once been a source of safety became a metal coffin.

Some fought back, either with gunfire or explosives, taking down some of the attackers, others ran into the alleys and lanes, falling screaming as several Grots jumped from the rooftops and stabbed them to death.

The few that remained were run over or beaten as the riders closed the distance, hitting them at absurd speeds before returning and repeating their actions for good measure.

Unfortunately, there was little time to rest, that was one of the Trukks, the rest still caused trouble and they couldn't let their partners have all the fun, so they sped away, reveling in the addictive thrill of speed that made their blood boil.

The Grots did the same, stealing everything of value and dragging the bodies away before heading in a different direction.

-XXXXXX-

Skullrippa's forces suffered fewer casualties than their previous attempt, but that didn't mean things got any easier.

For the first hour, Stikkbombz still rained down, forcing them to break formation and run for their lives, but the swarms were turned to ash by the arrival of the Burna Boyz now that their boss had decided to send in the specialized units.

For the second hour, Stikkbombz of various types came down from the rooftops, covering the streets in blinding flashes and smoke clouds, disorienting everyone and allowing gunfire from above and advancing Warbikes to bring about their end.

For the third hour, a dark substance flowed down the streets, trapping them in place as soon as they stepped on them. Bottles of squig oil appeared out of nowhere, dousing their bodies in the liquid. Finally, a torch came down from the sky, creating a flaming inferno, turning them to ash.

At the fourth hour, the Orks ordered their Grots to climb onto the rooftops and see what in the name of Gork and Mork was happening, and whether it was safe to go up and krump their enemies, something they should have done when the first bomb came from above.

There were some fighting sounds as they waited for their minions' return. A shout of everything being OK made them climb the rooftops and face rows of grinning Grots aiming blunderbusses at them while the ones they sent earlier lay dead at their feet.

"Fire!" Dobby shouted gleefully, aiming his gun as well.

Interestingly, the Grots' blunderbuss could be reloaded with pretty much anything that fits inside, firing grapeshot, nuts, bolts, shrapnel, and rocks at their enemies. They flew away with the recoil of weapons so disproportionate to their size, yes, but their enemies turning to red mist made up for the pain of the fall.

"ON THE ROOFTOPS! THE GITS ARE ON THE ROOFTOPS!"

However, the survivors shouted their location to everyone else and the green giants climbed the buildings, discovering an entire world above their heads, hordes of Grots hidden far from their sight, because, as the saying goes, people never look up.

"TIME TO LEAVE! LET'S GO!" Dobby shouted and his Grots nodded, going from building to building as the Orks gave chase.

Gunfire filled the air as the Ork Boyz chased them, but Dobby and his group emerged unharmed, a combination of their diminutive size, speed, agility, and the poor aim of their pursuers.

The same went for all the other Orks who now fought and died at the hands of the Grots, an ignominious death due to their inferior numbers and impatience, whether torn to shreds by volleys of blunderbusses, covered in tiny green ones and stabbed, blown up by Stikkbombz, burned by lit oil cocktails and more.

The high ground proved a great advantage for the defenders, however, the Orks were still Orks and would not let that stop them. They used their dead as shields, threw their explosives, and attempted to topple the buildings, killing Grots in the process.

The defenders retreated when the attackers proved too much and allowed as many as possible to climb to the rooftops before jumping to the next, watching as their previous position gave away under the weight and led their enemies to death by impalement on the many steel beams waiting below.

Then, they resumed bombarding the Orks in the streets, always moving on to the next strategically booby-trapped building and bringing their enemies to their end. The same was true for Dobby's group, who saw their pursuers falling with a scream, followed by several wet gasps and then silence.

Their escape did not end there, as they dropped from the buildings and landed on the backs of the Squigs waiting below, kicking their sides and sending them riding away with the Orks close behind.

They crossed the city, spotting the outlines of their companions jumping from rooftop to rooftop or riding down side streets.

Soon, two green mobs appeared, one fleeing and the other in pursuit, until everything stopped when the Grots reached several warehouses whose walls shook violently with deafening noises.

"OPEN THE GATES!" Dobby shouted.

And so the Grots did, sliding the metal gates aside before circling the buildings and disappearing, just like their leader. Suddenly, a legion of angry Squigs advanced towards the approaching Orks, a veritable mass of mouths with legs, so many that it was impossible to count.

The Orks stopped with their mouths open and eyes wide, this moment of hesitation allowed the Squigs to close the distance, causing them to stomp on each other to escape, creating a situation where no one could flee.

The green brutes exchanged punches, kicks, cuts, explosions, and shots, against themselves and the mouths with legs that devoured them with crushing bites and voracious tongues, creating carnage and painting the streets red.

Meanwhile, Dobby and his Grots watched from the rooftops, the first with a serious face and the others with sadistic smiles and cruel laughter as they saw the death of their tormentors, feeling a sense of served justice.

Dobby did not share the same feeling. He could see beyond that. Despite their reduced size, the Trukks still demolished the city, destroying fortifications and hiding places, forcing the fighters to retreat.

The fires still spread, multiplied by Burna Boyz and their pyromaniac tendencies. Their adversaries learned from their strategies, the city's periphery was in ruins and the death toll on their side rose.

This did not taste like a victory, although they had repealed the enemy waves, he felt that it would only get worse from here onward.

-XXXXXX-

So the siege continued, for days and nights, both sides fought, attacking and defending in the elements, shooting in the blazing sun, fighting in the boiling heat, ambushing in the piercing rain, and waiting in the freezing night cold.

What should have been a quick affair turned into a war of attrition for Skullrippa and Teefrippa, with both waiting for the other to break first.

The Death Skull watched his Boyz stand crestfallen in their camp, burned, bloodied, wounded, bandaged, and with their pride crushed by the horrors they had faced in enemy territory.

They had not gotten a good fight or loot, only death and being looted instead. They wanted to be anywhere but here, anything but trying to attack in the next wave.

In other words, what Skullrippa feared happened, his army's morale was in a terrible state. Their numbers dwindled considerably, and he was sure some had fled while he wasn't looking.

As if that wasn't enough, Rukzod sent messengers, wanting to know why Teefrippa wasn't in the palm of his hand, though the words used weren't all that polite.

He was running out of options, and there were still curious outsiders trying to enter and join the fight, but they were more of a hindrance than a help, dying as soon as they set foot inside, serving as bullet sponges just like the Grots.

Speaking of bullets, Teefrippa never seemed to run out of ammunition, food, or water, no matter how much they attacked or destroyed.

Had he found a way to sneak past his Boyz? Impossible! He would know! They were everywhere!

The return of the survivors of the most recent wave caught his attention, less than he had expected, but not surprising.

Skullrippa paid them half-hearted attention, allowing them to rest before demanding answers, but something caught his eye as they walked towards the remaining vehicles, there were bloody cuts on their armor, but not on their bodies.

Strange. He thought, frowning until his eyes widened in realization, but it was too late.

BOOM!

Groups of Warbikes and Trukks exploded into fireballs as the newcomers ran away amid screams and gunfire that grazed their bodies. Suddenly, Warbikes rounded the corner, allowing the fugitives to climb onto their backs before driving away, disappearing into the streets of the wider city.

This destroyed Skullrippa's doubts, they had found a way to get through the siege unnoticed, but how? If they didn't pass above, then they disguised themselves, or... They passed under...

The Nob looked around in his fury, first at the ground, then at the city ahead, then at his troops and the curious ones trying to enter. Slowly, he formulated a plan, it was all or nothing now, he would use everything he had, every Ork, Grot and Squig, every vehicle, including his favorite.

And those trying to enter without his permission, well, they wanted to have fun, didn't they? Let's see how they like softening up the enemy.

-XXXXXX-

Dawn broke again in the Thumb of Gork and another wave advanced towards Teefrippa's territory, however, there was something different, these were not the usual blue-armored Orks, but rather the city's ordinary citizens.

Ork Boyz, armed with old and improvised armor and weapons, gang members, workers, and those wishing to move ahead in life, created an overwhelming force that clashed with the many traps and bottlenecks that lined their path.

They encountered the "street sweepers," the squads that ambushed in alleys and lanes, entered the "slaughterhouses," the open lots where the well-equipped Ork Boyz waited, ready to fight, and faced the many ingenious strategies employed by Grots and his Squigs, and the explosive, whirring artillery that came from the enemy base.

The defenders fought, but they kept coming, their vehicles rammed and gunned, but they kept coming, their blades cut and tore, but they kept coming, their bullets pierced, but they kept coming, their explosives ripped apart and burned, but they kept coming.

It became a meat grinder where bodies piled up in mountains, tiring the defenders who slowly retreated, losing ground meter by meter, their ammunition ending, their dead accumulating, and bodies growing weary, but they had to fight.

Simultaneously, the true attack force appeared on the city's ruined edge, Skullrippa's troops, every remaining Ork and vehicle at his disposal, Warbikes, Trukks, and the Wartrakks and Wartrakk Skorchas that would finally be used.

Suddenly, the ground shook with the roar of engines and the grinding of tracks, metallic clangs and groans filled the air as a massive machine approached, a Big Trakk, a larger and modified version of the Trukk, designed to traverse risky terrains without getting stuck, bigger, louder and carrying much more weaponry, used as weapon carrier rather than troop transport.

The great machine eyed the battlefield like a monster about to attack, and the first shot came in the form of its Suppa-Kannon, an artillery piece that fired a gigantic projectile, destroying a section of the city in a massive explosion, leaving a smoking crater in its place.

Then they advanced, a thunderous force of metal, led by an armored monstrosity, all to capture a single Ork, if they didn't accidentally kill him in the process.

-XXXXXX-

There was a building far from the siege with a large hole inside, a tunnel where Teef crates left and ammunition and water entered, large enough for Orks and motorbikes to pass through if necessary.

Unexpectedly, the building's facade exploded, knocking those inside to the ground amid a shower of rubble and smoke clouds.

Those present barely had time to react when blue-armored Orks advanced, passing through the dead guards outside and killing everyone in sight, entering the tunnel, and heading for what awaited them on the other side.

END OF CHAPTER