Scraploota Sortie

”…an’ dat was da fourth time I killed a squiggoth in single combat…”

Blue shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Rockeata droned on, rattling off another tale or even the same one as the last as Snekkit listened with rapt attention. This was the part she hated the most. The waiting.  Scouts had killed some space marine scouts and spotted a small task force moving in on the location of their base camp, where Urtylug and Tinka were busy sorting through the loot and fixing up Boris. Snekkit had stolen the little honorary ork away when Tinka wasn’t looking for the sortie that was assembled and Blue had been more eager to tag along and krump some gits with the turret mounted on Snekkit’s broad shoulders, but she had always hated this part. Snekkit may have been able to sit still and listen to Rockeata while they waited in ambush, but Blue wanted nothing more than to shout and holler and shoot and loot like a proper ork.

“…dat little encounta taught me ta neva leave me ammo in me back pocket…”

Blue curled up into a ball on the little platform she was situated in, the leafy camouflaged tarp providing adequate shade from the sun. She tried to imagine the occasional jostling Snekkit provided was the rhythmic rumble of Boris or the gentle hum of the Loot-hava, but it just wasn’t the same. In Boris or the Loot-hava, a good fight could be days away and there was plenty of time to muck about and relax, but out here there could be fighting to be had just seconds away and the anticipation ate her up inside. She sat back up and sighed, trying not to draw to much attention to herself. Otherwise, Rockeata might live up to his name and try to give her another rock to gnaw on to ”calm her nerves”. Instead she decided to clean her various guns yet again to keep herself occupied as well as polishing Snekkit’s should armor. She even went as far as to brush and toy with his signature mohawk until Snekkit lazily swatted his hand in her direction, signaling to her that she was being a nuisance.

“…so I looked ‘straight in da eye an’ said ‘I may be a ‘ard’eaded brute, but you’z a pansy eldar git’ an’ den I headbutted ‘im, right den and dere, and ‘is whole head jus’ splattered an’ broke ta bits like when you’z accidentally step on a grot, ‘elmet and all…”

Blue sighed and fidgeted again and looked about the tree line they were hiding in. She took off her helmet, inspected it for any scuffs or smudges she could polish out and upon finding none, polished her helmet anyway and put it back on, only to repeat the process a few minutes later. She was about to start pestering the grot perched similarly upon Rockeata’s shoulders in a big fancy lookout box when a hushed whispering started filtering through the ambush party. This was it! Those stupid metal humies were about to wander right into their trap! She could hardly wait! Unlike those squishy humies or those tau gits, Space Marines always put up a fight instead of falling over in the first swing on a chainaxe. And they never cheated and got back up after you killed them like those sleepy zogging metalboys. She glanced over at Rockeata’ grot, Skopeshot, his eye trained down a minuscule orkified tau rifle that Blue had built for Rockeata at Snekkit’s earnest request, a slight grin crept onto her face.

“Psst” she whispered, deciding to pester him anyways.

“Shuts it, you. It be’s fightin time.” Was all she got in return.

“Bet I’s gonna get more than you’s.” the petite blue ork taunted

“Yer on”

“Loser buys squigpies. Deal?”

“Deal’s, you sorry excuse of’s a snotling. I likes mines nice an’ crispylike.”

“That’s nice, seeing as you’ll be payin for the zoggin things.”

That order of business settled, Blue turned her attention to the clearing just as the space marines rounded the bend into view. She could hardly contain her excitement as she saw them. Featherheads! They must be looking for Boris, seeing as those ones hated him something fierce. Of all the space marines to fight, these were her favorite, because they were so easy to rile up. There was a good twenty or so of them, but they were no match for the fifty strong kommandos and their uncountable amount of grots.

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This particular detachment of the Blood Jaguars had been hunting the Scraplootas for some time now and had finally tracked them down to this planet, trying to get their hands on their quite literally infernal titan and destroy the heretical machine. Their orders had been to send forth a small task force that could quickly discover the location of the Imperator-class blight upon their chapter as well as deal with any threats the orks might throw at them. The Blood Jaguars were confident their small strike force, lead by Sergeant Huitzil, would be more than enough to deal with any straggling orks they might find, given their years of training specifically to the task of destroying the foul greenskins.

But the Scraplootas were not conventional orks.

They had been following the clearing made by the orks and their path of destruction for a few days now with no real presence of actual orks to be noted. The sergeant stopped, some sixth sense of his, honed by years of ork hunting on Tenocit, alerting him that something was amiss. The ground beneath them started shaking and rising, giving way to grots. By the Emperor! Dozens and dozens of grots, buried in the ground beneath their very feet! They had just barely begun to react to the new threat when the trees figuratively exploded with orks and gunfire. Damn it! Where were their scouts?! They were supposed to be running amongst the trees and covering their approach! Of course, nothing could prepare Huitzil for the sight that awaited him.

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Blue was currently having the time of her life, as she did every time Snekkit took her out on sorties. After the digga grots had ambushed the Featherheads, everything flew into a rage around her in a cacophony of shouts and gunfire, her own voice and dakka contributing cheerily to the mix. Skopeshot was firing as quickly as he could, and quite accurately for an ork, with over half of his shots hitting their targets, and some of those even hitting somewhere important with one in particular knocking one of their beloved two-sided chainswords right out of the hand of one hapless space marine. Now that Snekkit was charging up close to tear things apart with his trusty chainaxe, it was time for Blue’s favorite part. She grabbed a device she had made to emulate Boris’s big booming voice and shouted.

“OIY YA LOUSY BEAKY FEATHERHEADS! YOUR EMPRAH’S A LAZY GIT AND THAT LITTLE BORIS OF YOURS IS NOTHIN MORE THAN AN OVERGROWN METAL GROT!”

Blue quickly put the Borisian Booma down and gripped her turret tightly. She loved taunting space marines because they didn’t even know how to yell properly and with their go-to insult being “Filthy greenskins”, they usually didn’t know how to respond to a blue ork calling their beloved emperor a git. This band was no exception, with all the remaining marines pausing for the briefest of moments before redirecting all of their efforts on reaching Snekkit and his offending grot, struggling against the green tide of grots all the way. She could even see the one helmetless one’s eye twitch and mouth froth as he uttered an endless stream of raging incoherence, punctuated by few key swears such as “YOU…YOU THIRCE HERETICAL DOUBLE XENO! I SHALL END YOU!”

Blue could only giggle.

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Sergeant Huitzil had had more than enough! None of this was going according to plan and now one of the Scraplootas – a tau child (a CHILD!) posing as an ork, no less! – dared insult the sacred Sun-Emperor and most cherished Chapter Master in the same sentence?! Even if he were to die this day, even if he were to fail his chapter and his Emperor, he would see that this, this abomination is brought to justice! He saw his men get cut down by the hail of gunfire and grots alike, but he would not falter, for his goal was in sight. The blue blasphemer would face justice by his hand and his hand alone. Everything else, even the grots chewing and stabbing at his armor, was a blur to the Black Rage Huitzil now felt. Using the last of his momentum, he shoulder barged against the large ork his target was roosted upon with all his might, sending the ork sprawling and the tau sailing across the battlefield. Huitzil stepped forward to claim the crumpled bundle and his justice.

“You do not even deserve to be sacrificed upon the altar, pitiful tau.” he said, reaching down to grasp her. She mumbled something unintelligible against the ground.

“You’ll have to speak up, little tau.” he taunted once more, lifting the little Earth Caste up to face. Huitzil wanted to look her in the eye when he killed her. He wanted to enjoy the look of fear on her face and relish his last moments of life. What greeted him was the coldest stare he had seen in his life.

“I said I ain’t no zoggin tau, zog it! I’s an ork! Always an’ foreva!”

With an enthusiastic WAAAGH from the tau, Huitzil felt something sharp dig into his throat with such force that he fell flat on his arse and lost his hold the little tau girl. Sputtering and coughing blood, as he tried to dislodge the cylindrical object, he heard it begin to fizz ominously. Before Huitzil’s brain had enough time to properly assess the situation and put two and two together, it was promptly severed from his body at the neck and flung in a hundred different directions.

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Blue holstered her handkannon, dubbing it a success, and muttered a low “Lousy git” as she brushed some of the humie brain matter off of her helmet as the rest of the Scraplootas swept up the last remaining space marines. Snekkit then surprised her from behind, hoisting her up by the waist and turning her several different ways until he finally found the right combination that made it to where the lucky little grot was right side up and facing them.

“Zog it, Blue! Ya ‘ad me worried! Da Big Mek woulda krumped me fer sure if I’da gone an’ wrecked ‘is favorite grot!” Snekkit fussed over Blue, licking his massive thumb and wiping it against her face, trying to clean her up to the best of his ability.

“Knock it off ya overgrown git, I’s just fine, see? I couldn’t call meself a right proper ork if’n I couldn’t handle a stupid humie.” Blue giggled as she pushed his hand away. “’Sides, I’m lucky!”

“Zoggin right you iz!” Snekkit perched his favorite grot gunna on his shoulder as they walked back to camp. “Didja see ‘is ‘ead asplode like dat?! You isn’t a weirdgrot, iz you?”

“I made it happen ya git!”

”You IZ a weirdgrot”

“Not like dat, you git! With me handkannon!”

“You’z GOTTA make me wunna dose!”

“Only if you loot me one of these beaky heads. They’ll look right flash on the front of the bike I’s got in tha works. Oh, and run us up next ta Rockeata! I’m hungerin for some squigpies…”

It was a good day to be a Scraploota. Then again, most days are.