>Deployed to the front of some backwater
>Tau have landed a beachhead and are pushing hard
>Draw straws for who gets the Special Weapon
>Get assigned Plasma Gun
>Last three troopers to carry it died when it malfunctioned and vented out the fuel cell
>Load up in the Chimera
>Reach Firebase
>Listen to Commissar and Platoon Commander bellow about duty and orders 
>Commissar is actually a frontline veteran 
>Two executions for cowardice 
>One for court marshaling 
>Lieutenant is reasonably competent
>Doesn't leave men behind
>Techpriests bless our lasguns
>Reaches me 
>Checks Plasma Gun
>[Screams In Binary]
>Repairs faulty coils due to whoever first had it fucking up the fuel cells on a reload
>Suddenly not so unhappy about having Plasma Gun
>Rest at post in trench for few hours rest 
>Roused to take watch
>Uneventful night
>Commissar walks our trench with Lieutenant 
>Carefully nod in acknowledgement 
>Always wary of snipers 
>Commissar is wearing a pull over fatigue coat to cover his laurels 
>Common helmet 
>Zone has been hot, really not taking chances with the snipers
>"Guardsman, why is your weapon not at the ready?"
"Garrett is getting his round of sleep. I've got his Lasgun sir. I didn't want the glow of the Plasma Gun to give us away."
>"Common sense. A rare trait. Carry on."
>Potentially score points with command
>Keep watch with binocs as the sun rises
>Notice weird shapes
>Wake up trenchmates
>Second looks and opinions 
>Warm up coils on plasma because bad feeling 
>Crunching noises 
>Smell of ozone 
>Bring Plasma Gun up over the edge of the trench and fire
>Splash a shimmering form
>Someone else calls out "STEALTHSUITS!"
>Fire shots into the air
>Lasguns flare off hundreds of bolts
>Catch a few lucky hits and boil the foul xenos in their armor
>Pulse munitions fly overhead 
>Ground shakes as railgun ordnance hits the trenches and surrounding bunkers 
>Barely hear anything over the sound of impacting artillery strikes
>See flicker
>Go to ground
>Railgun round skims the ground in front of the trench 
>Smashes into the rear
>Knocked out from shockwave
>Wake up sometime later
>Nothing happening 
>Blurry vision 
>Feel warm and wet
>Laying in blood
>Check for wounds
>Lucky to be unscathed 
>Squad not so lucky 
>Crunching noises
>Thruster sounds
>Lay still
>Tau battlesuits jump over the trenches while others march forward over them
>Pray to the Emperor for salvation 
>Not noticed 
>Hear eloquent High Gothic, but not human voice 
>Wait for clear moment to move 
>Crawl to edge of trench 
>Surviving Guardsmen on their knees in front of two battlesuits and one of those Ethereals
>Feel sick and full of rage as they remove their helmets
>They surrender
>Go with the Tau
>Slide back into trench
>Find Plasma Gun
>Looks intact
>Take a Laspistol and Chainsword off dead sergeant 
>Scavenge some grenades and a melta bomb 
>Try to sneak away 
>Find a spot to hide
>Take cover among the dead and supplies 
>Restless night, but stay safe
>Crawl from position at dark
>Forward base in ruins 
>Tau moved on
>Scavenge for equipment 
>Find a vox
>It works
>Contact anyone
>Unit has fallen back to a tertiary landing zone 
>Forty klicks south east
>There's a Salamander that still runs 
>Hope there's enough promethium in the tanks
>Roll out of the ruined FOB
>Cruising along
>Make good pace
>Vox occasionally flickers
>Weird crossed transmissions 
>Start catching odd xenos bits here and there 
>Something something gue'la
>Worthless xenos filth can't even say humans right
>Pedal to the floor
>Duty doesn't end cause someone thinks you're dead
>Two klicks shy of the LZ
>Engine sputters
>Out of fuel
>Curse the machine spirit for being a thirsty bitch
>Hear sound of battle in the distance 
>Grab gear, start marching 
>Come up on the rear flanks of the Tau artillery lines
>Broadsides lobbing ordnance into the landing pad 
>See the whispy Ethereal talking with other Tau
>Offer one final prayer to the Emperor 
>Sneak as close as possible 
>Laspistol in one hand
>Frag grenade in the other 
"Stop right there, xenos scum!"
>Honor Guard battlesuits spin up their Burst Cannons 
>Phalanx to protect the Ethereal 
>"Gue'la, put that down. There is no need for this."
>Keep aim, even though there's little point. 
>"You face such poor life with your Imperium. The send you to die for your Emperor. Why not join us and live for the Greater Good?"
>Footsteps approach
>Wounded Guardsmen with Tau bandages
>Barely a day and already the Aquila had been removed from their helmet 
>Crudely painted Tau symbols were on their shoulder plates
>"Your comrades have joined us already. They know what can be if we work for the Greater Good. See how readily we accept those willing to cooperate?"
>Lower the laspistol
>Burst Cannons spin down, but remain up. 
>Ethereal steps from between them and approaches. 
>"Good. Now drop it."
>Pistol hits the ground 
>Guardsmen look relieved. 
>Ethereal reaches out to touch your shoulder 
>Grab Ethereal
>Choke hold with grenade in hand
>Pull pin, hold lever
>Guardsmen no longer look relieved 
>Burst Cannons spin up again, but hesitate 
>"You are a fool, gue'la! You could have had such a better life in service to the Greater Good!"
>Tighten grip
>Crunching sounds 
>The artillery has stopped
>Broadsides are standing behind you
>Throw frag into the air
>Duck back between the battlesuits with your hostage 
>Tumble down the hill 
>Come to rest on top of Ethereal
>Frag explosion disoriented the battlesuits 
>But they're coming
>Hope Plasma Gun still works
>Pull trigger 
>Plasma flares up and erupts out the end
>Blast off a Broadside's head 
>Burst Cannons spit a rain of shots around you but not at you 
>Grab your hostage 
>Drag the Ethereal with you as you retreat toward the LZ
>Bombardments have slowed to a halt
>Must be telling each other what's happening 
>Battlesuits fly overhead 
>Getting surrounded 
>Prime Meltabomb
>Hold with Ethereal 
>Staring down dozens of Broadsides, Riptides, and Crisis battlesuits 
>Suddenly, huge lasbolts strafe the battlesuits 
>Vendetta gunships let loose shots
>Valkyries follow with a volley of missiles
>Battlesuits strain to turn and engage 
>Swing Meltabomb up and magnetize it to a Riptide's hips
>Dive for cover 
>Meltabomb blows the Riptide in half
>Splash plasma fire across the back of a Broadside
>Cover the Ethereal as the Tau are broken and panicked 
>Miraculously unscathed 
>Tau fight to the end to try and reclaim the Ethereal
>Valkyrie lands
>Lieutenant and Commissar disembark
>"Guardsman? We thought you dead in the trenches."
"The Emperor seems to have other plans for me, Sir."
>"It would seem so. I see you've not come back from the grave empty handed."
>Hoist the Ethereal up, despite its struggling. 
>Stormtroopers escort the Ethereal to another Valkyrie. 
"There's something else you should see, Sir."
>Gesture up the ridge. 
>The Commissar and Lieutenant move up to the Tau's former emplacement. 
>Some Fire Warriors had surrendered. 
>The dozen some odd wounded Guardsmen stood with them, held at gunpoint. 
>"More prisoners..."
>The Commissar stepped around the Fire Warriors to examine the traitors. 
>"And more corpses."
>The wounded Guardsmen fell to their knees, begging for mercy. 
>The Commissar raised his bolt pistol and fired with ruthless efficiency, pausing only to when his magazine ran dry. 
>Three remained. 
>"Lieutenant?"
>"Yes, Commissar."
>"Let the Mechanicus have these. I'm sure they need more servitors."
>As if on queue, a Valkyrie with Mechanicus heraldry landed. 
>A small squad of Skitarii with an Engineseer stepped out. 
>The traitors begged for mercy, death, forgiveness. 
>"Fear not, traitors. Your deaths would be wasteful. Now can you serve the Greater Good. For the Emperor, of course."
>The traitors were silenced by a number of shock mauls, then dragged away. 
>"Guardsman!"
>You snap to attention. 
>"You are to be commended for your actions. Only you and the Emperor know how you achieved such a feat, but for now, you've assisted greatly in securing this sector. The Tau will likely yield for a prisoner exchange."
"We're going to negotiate with these xenos?"
>"Are you questioning your superior?"
"Never, Sir. I misunderstood."
>"Of course you did. Get to the Medicae. You've earned a rest with your medal."
>The Lieutenant and Commissar offered you a salute, and a handshake. 
>Flanked by some veterans, you were ferried to the landing pad and brought to the Medicae facility. 
>You had suffered some internal bleeding and damage to your liver, no doubt from shockwave trauma. 
>You get put under by a Biologis Adept for some rather invasive Medicae procedures.
>You awaken some time later with some rather painful new scars and stitches. 
>A Hospitalier soon comes to your bedside. 
>"Don't move. You'll tear your stitches."
>Her hand reaches up to toggle the motion alarm from your monitor. 
>Her skin is a soft shade of bronze. 
>Her white hair sways in front of her radiant emerald eyes. 
>The heraldry of the Sororitas is visible on her shoulder plates and armor, along with her richly embroidered tabard. 
>Your muscles twitch reactively as she pulls off the sheet and touches your wound. 
>"For such a brave Guardsman you're rather jumpy."
>Her fingers carefully peel the dressing away to examine the area. 
>"Butchers..."
>She comments under her breath, bringing a stool over. 
>"Can you recite the Litany of Accuracy from memory?"
>You pause. 
"Grant me the sight of the eagle, the calm of the bree-EEE-"
>You hiss in pain as you feel the sting and burn of the needle. 
>"No stopping, hero."
"...the patience of a saint-Nnn!"
>More probing and prodding of the tender area. 
>"Keep going. You're almost there."
"...and the skill to smite the foe from afar."
>By the time you're done, the area is rather numb. 
>"Good boy. Now that you're numbed up, I'll see if I can't clean up what damage the Mechanicus did..."
>You can only feel mild pressure as she works, and see only some parts. 
>It seems like she is restitching your wound while quietly humming hymnals. 
>After she finished, she applied some balm to the area. 
>"Don't go trying more heroics like that for at least a week."
>You relax in the bed, only to feel a rush of warmth enter your arm. 
>She injects something into the IV line and sleep soon claims you. 
>"Sweet dreams, hero."
>You awaken with a groan as something cold hits your arm and travels through your body. 
>"Ah, our hero returns to life once again."
>The Lieutenant and Commissar flank your bed, with the Biologis fiddling with your IV bag. 
>"Your attending said you should not be disturbed but as you may know already, with the loss of most of the platoon, and then some..."
>"...You're being reassigned and promoted, Corporal."
"Thank you, Sir?"
>"How experienced are you at manning a turret?"
"I am quite capable of pointing a very large gun at something and pulling a trigger, Sir."
>"Wonderful. It won't be a glorious clandestine combat operation, but at least you'll be useful while you recover."
>You were briefed. 
>Removal from the standard rank and file and placed into one of the teams of veterans who normally operate independent from a majority of the platoon. 
>As a Chimera gunner. 
>"Make good of these next two days of rest. We've had the Biologis spike your drip to accelerate healing a bit."
>Your superiors offer you another handshake and depart, leaving a small file folder on your side table. 
>The Biologis follows soon after.
>Two days pass
>You're not sure how it passes as quickly as it does
>You're roused by another odd sensation travelling through your arm
>This time, it's the Hospitalier 
>"I hope you've had a nice nap, hero."
"Why do you call me a hero, Sister?"
>"I call all Guardsmen heroes. You fight for those who can't, and you serve the Emperor dutifully."
>She helps you upright and out of bed
>Your wound doesn't hurt anymore
>In fact, it's nearly fully healed up
>"This is going to feel odd but I need to remove those stitches."
>She isn't wrong
>Snipping each little thread, tweezers then tug them clear of your flesh
>I'm not going to realistically describe how it feels to get stitches out. It's fucking weird and that's all I can say.
>She seems satisfied with your healing progress and helps you dress, moving with your body
>Some light physical therapy to get you limber after being inert for so long
>She hands you your armor
>Not only is it also relatively new, it's carapace.
>Not as striking as a Stormtrooper, but being in medium armor feels a lot more secure. 
>"If you get injured, feel free to come back, hero. I'll be waiting."
>Like a dutiful soldier not interested in heretical thoughts of slamming your nurse into the gurney, you give her a proper Aquila salute. 
>It's only now you realize she's as tall as you are.
>You leave the Medicae facility and report to the command bunker.
>The Commissar and Lieutenant are waiting.
>"Ah, good. Sergeant Voldune, this is your new turret gunner. Corporal, your new Sergeant."
>A stocky man with half a head on you looks at you with teal irises that seem to glow. 
>Two scars on his face, with a bionic left arm.
>He reaches out with his right and gives you a firm shake.
>"I hear you're also confident with plasma. That's good. We'll have use for you on foot, too."
>You quietly make a note to try and find a Tech Priest to check whatever potential death traps they might be trying to shove into your hands.
>At least the Chimera turret is remote
>You tuck in the seat and familiarize yourself with the controls as an Enginseer instructs you in proper care of the turret's machine spirit
>You also drop subtle hints that the spirit of your plasma gun has been fickle, and requires soothing from a proper disciple
>Censored for tech heresy
>You're now part of an Emperor's Blade Assault Company. 
>It's covering the patrol routes for the large landing zone.
>Vox chatter has been sparse and there has been talk of diplomacy.
>Lots of jokes and jeers are flying around the transport cabin as your fellow veterans take to hazing you.
>They try and pin the nickname of 'Sleepy' on you due to your several days of near-coma snoozing.
>Fuckers.
>At least your first patrol is rather uneventful. 
>Auspex readings detect odd signatures here and there, but nothing when you investigate.
>The thought of stealthsuits comes to mind.
>Curiosity gets the better of you and you shift to the gunner's hatch.
>The Chimera slows to combat speed as you look around.
>Open ground.
>No shimmers.
>Eerily quiet.
>SUDDENLY!
>"Shut the hatch, Sleepy! You're letting the cool air out!"
>Dicks.
>Not even a hint of a Tau trying to sneak around.
>Probably for the best.
>You slink back inside and shut the hatch.
>Back in the turret gunner's seat, you return to scanning the area with the auspex and swing the turret around. 
>Patrol duty is boring, but at least you're not stressing your wound that doesn't seem to exist anymore.
>Nightfall
>No more trench duty for you
>Promoted to a watch tower
>Spotter for a sniper 
>Quiet night 
>Sounds of night time operations down below 
>Nothing else to report 
>Eyes get heavy
>Pour out some lukewarm recaf 
>Whistling sound 
>Drop cup, grab binocs
>Scan area
>Hear from camp "INCOMING!"
>THUD
>No explosion?
>A large kick up of dirt and some debris 
>Turn to look
>Some weird teardrop thing
>Tau markings
>Techpriests approach with their Skitarii at the ready
>Thing opens 
>Xenotech holo-vox of some sort
>One of those Ethereals standing and speaking High Gothic
>Commissar approaches with Lieutenant 
>Can't quite make out details
>Some kind of negotiation
>Searchlights flare up
>Tau flyer overhead 
>Hydras draw beads
>Vox: "Hold fire."
>Tau ship lands near the pod
>Crisis suits step out around an Ethereal 
>Other Tau walker suits recover the pod 
>Everyone pointing guns at everyone
>Mexicanicus standoff
>More quiet speaking 
>Eventually the captive Tau were escorted out
>The Tau were allowed to the craft to leave 
>Slide down ladder
>Move toward the commanders
"Sir, may I ask what that was about?"
>"That was called securing our interests."
>"Though the foul xenos deserve no such mercy, their expansions have been strained too far."
>"A naive attempt to besiege worlds of the Imperium without expecting brutal retribution."
"But we just... Let them go?"
>"Your duty is not to think or question, Corporal. Only to act."
"Of course, Sir! Forgive me."
>"Your insubordination will be overlooked, for now. Any other questions?"
"No, Sir."
>"Carry on. At your post."
>Return to watch tower
>Night passes quietly. 
>Next morning is a buzz of activity. 
>Reports from vox channels about the Tau force vacating the system
>A small fleet when counts came back
>Other regiments were called down for a new garrison PDF. 
>Seems to be a reshuffling. 
>The regiment is returning to the fleets for another deployment. 
>Warp travel always gets your belly roiling.
>Thankfully it passed rather quickly. 
>More reshuffling of regiments and soldiers. 
>Planetfall was just ahead of an oncoming WAAAGH! 
>Greenskins were chewing up worlds under the leadership of not one, but two rival warbosses. 
>Warboss Granddakka and Warboss Bigdakka. 
>Apparently they were fighting over who could bring the most dakka.
>Two stompas had been sighted with looted vehicles smashed on at every angle. 
>Baneblade roller skates 
>Vindicator fists
>Basilisk pauldrons 
>There were countless lighter arms all over the monstrosities. 
>There was certainly a lot of dakka. 
>And you were being told now about how, along side Tempestors, your assault company was going to ambush one of these hulking behemoths of war.
>The plan was laid out as a means of baiting the Orks into a series of traps. 
>A few sabatoged pieces of equipment laid about in paths of open terrain laid out like firebases. 
>Let them capture the booby trapped guns and hopefully blow each other up a bit as artillery rains down. 
>Your task was to serve as a distraction force. 
>Tempestors would drop in and infiltrate the Stompa of Bigdakka and set up a beacon. 
>They would plant charges to halt the walker's locomotive abilities long enough for Deathstrikes to rain down on the Orks and their Stompa. 
>Chimeras were not the transport, however. 
>Rather than using your Chimeras, you'd be situated in Taurox Primes to keep up with your Hellhounds while the Scions dropped from Valkyries. 
>The Taurox had a reputation for being a quick, lightly armored vehicle. 
>'Lightly' translating to 'a rolling Scout Sentinel'
>You felt a small pit in your stomach.
>The Tempestors were weird 
>Silent most of the time
>Like Skitarii, but human
>Kriegers gave you less of the heebie jeebies
>A quick coat of midnight blue over your armor and vehicles and you were ready for deployment
>Some of your squad mates took some dataslate pictures
>They faked being Inquisition Troopers 
>Public floggings curbed this behavior
>Holding your Plasma Gun close, you settled into the METAL BAWKS transport
>Again, you offered a prayer to the Emperor
>Two other veterans carried Meltaguns 
>Your sergeant and the rest had assault shotguns
>Thankfully the Taurox Prime had a reasonable amount of firepower 
>Missiles and autocannons were a nice addition to your armaments
>The Valkyries would have the first volley to punch holes into the Stompa with Hellstrike Missiles
>If that wasn't enough, your team was to get up and blast an entryway for the Scions to deploy
>"Ninety seconds to engagement zone."
>The voice was cold as ice and lacked any kind of emotion
>You slowly turned up the coils of your plasma gun 
>"Sixty seconds."
>The troopers fell silent
>You heard the Valkyries' engines as they came in low for their strike vector
>"Thirty."
>The Missile Launchers moved atop the transport. 
>"Twenty."
>The Autocannons outside the doors clicked and whirred as they fed and loaded their chambers
>"Ten seconds."
>THUD
>The Stompa was moving. 
>"Five."
>KA-CHUNK
>What was-
>KABOOM!
>The Taurox Prime spun, careened, then steadied back to its heading as the driver regained control
>Missiles streaked overhead and explosions rang out 
>"WAAAAAAAAGH!"
>The roar of Autocannon fire thunders around you 
>Explosions flank your transport 
>Launchers on the back fire off volleys of Krak Missiles into the nearing Stompa
>Your transport suddenly flips, throwing everyone inside like ragdolls with bad physics 
>One of the hatches flies open and spills four veterans out as the transport bounces and rolls
>When the ordeal is over you're left with a hot plasma coil searing at your balls
>You pray you're not going to suffer any long term damage or radiation 
>Everyone struggles to get out of the wrecked transport
>You're pulled free by one of the Scions who was driving
>Any thanks you offer is returned by silence
>Down to 6+2 Scions, your squad leaves the wreck and tries to make some cover
>A Melta, Plasma, and four shotguns with the two Scions carrying hot shot laspistols and Chainswords
>Totally adequate for fighting that oncoming horde if Ork Boys
>Oh fuck that's a horde of Ork Boys
>The squad moves to retreat, only for a Scion to lift his Chainsword and block the way
>Instesd he levels his laspistol and fires, charging headlong into the oncoming horde
>It would be pointless to try running
>You'll only die tired 
>Guardsmen die standing 
>You spool up the coils and fire volleys of blue bolts of death into the charging masses
>Limbs boil away as the pair of Meltaguns join in a lethal fusillade 
>Shotguns and laspistols plink away, earning participation awards
>A Scion catches the downward swing of an Ork Nob with his Chainsword and deflects the blow, coming up with the blade whirring
>Driving the blade into its throat and ripping the green flesh to shreds, he fires point blank shots through the greenskin's face
>The other sweeps wide and lops off another Ork Boy's choppa arm while blasting away lasbolts 
>Rockets rain down danger close as two of the Valkyries break formation to splash the area around you with a salvo of fire support 
>It's enough to open a gap to charge and try to break through
>Your squad is barely able to keep ahead of the closing Orks
>Orks are melee army
>I3 Guardsmen beat I2 Orks
>There's holes and smoldering craters in the metal ass of the Stompa 
>Orks shoot out from the holes 
>Your plasma flares up and splashes across the metal, kicking up sparks and molten metal
>Melta shows the encroaching Orks about the dangers of vaping
>A hail of lasbolts blast the openings before Valkyries scream off in a jack knife banking maneuver 
>Scions leap out the back with the momentum and soar
>Grav chutes slow their landing enough to storm in
>You can't see much but as you fire you hear the rush of engines again
>One of the shotgun vets blasts at an Ork as another makes contact at long last
>Shotgun tossed aside like a toy as the power klaw turned him into a bloody smear
>Another vet gets grabbed by a Nob
>Pulls a krak grenade
>"FOR THE EMPERORRRRR!"
>Punches grenade into Ork mouth
>Ork bites his hand off before the grenade blows his head apart 
>Valkyrie swoops down and launches another volley 
>Drop lines hang down 
>Scion drivers from your Taurox hook on
>Quickly snap lines to your squad as you continue firing
>Suddenly jerked up like a toy in a malfunctioning crane game
>Fast roped up via winch and the ship rapidly ascending 
>Meltavets, one hand man, Scions and you.
>The vox flares to life 
>"Beacon signal strong. Acquiring target."
>Explosions from the Stompa
>It halts all motion
>As if from instinct the Valkyrie swoops to the large adhoc entrance
>No sooner were you secure on the ship did the Scions push you and the two Meltsvets back out the hatch 
>Fast rope as 5 
>Hot LZ
>Covering fire as vox transmission comes through 
>"Target locked. Firing."
>You glance back over your shoulder 
>Three pinpricks of light in the distance 
>A literal volley of Deathstrike Missiles
>Tempestus Scions pop into view 
>Twenty of them dropped in
>There's seven left
>Two are limping as they retreat
>Warboss stomps into the fray 
>Hail of enormous bullets strafe your position 
>Cuts down three Scions and both the Meltavets
>Look up
>Basilisk cannons rigged for chest firing 
>Overcharge coil
>Blast up a volley of plasma
>Warning beeps
>Chains and melta boils from the plasma
>Coil reaches critical mass
>Throw the gun
>Detonates and sizzles away a hole in the floor
>Metal whining and creaking
>Warboss stops
>Looks up 
>SNAP
>Basilisk cannons fall
>Bounce around the walkways 
>Crash in front and around him
>[Frustration in Orky]
>Evacuate to the Valkyrie
>Turbo boosting out of the hot zone
>Valkyrie makes it out of range as the Deathstrikes come down
>Blinding flash 
>Deaf for life
>Crackles of lightning 
>Those were Vortex Deathstrikes
>And now there's small black holes sucking up Orks into the Warp
>What the fuck
>Vortexes moving around
>Fuckthisvalkinparticular.jpg
>Why is it chasing you
>Pilot boosts speed
>Still chasing
>Panicked Guardsmen shoot sponson guns at it
>Rape train has no brakes 
>OMNOMNOM REALITY
>Pilot banks 
>Vortex keeps crusing on
>Rampaging localized Warp rifts eat up Orks and planetary substances alike
>Eventually wink out of existence 
>Sighs of relief 
>PROXIMITY WARNING
>BOOM
>Right wing hit by rokkits
>Flipping through the air again 
>Tail hatch opens 
>Scions Grav Chute and jump
>Take a chute off the rack
>Jump 
>Hope for the best 
>Can't pilot worth shit, drift into what was once no man's land and now Ork territory 
>Land in jungle
>Alone
>Can't pickup vox 
>tfw you scatter 12"
>Laspistol
>Bayonet
>Commencing virtuous mission
>You can't even imagine how far you might be
>You rely on your instincts and favor heading east
>You stick to cover as best as you can
>You're no Catachan but it's not a tall order to keep yourself in a bush or something
>Something manages to startle you
>A tight snag on your leg
>You've seen enough holovids to drop prone
>A log swings down 
>Orks set traps 
>The fuck kind of Ork sets a trap 
>Rustling noises 
>Shapes moving 
>"I fink one a them 'umies landed o'er 'ere."
>Can't see the Orks
>What the fuck kind of Ork is stealthy
>This shit isn't real
>You roll to the side and under cover
>A huge foot crunches a branch not far from you
>An Ork with goggles and purple face paint 
>Ropes and stikkbombs
>Some barbaric hodge podge of flak or carapace armor
>Holy Terra, THAT is a knoif
>The Ork snarls and sniffs the air
>"'umies been though 'ere."
>"Course 'e wuz. Traps off ya grot."
>"Quiet ya gitz! Find 'im n kill 'im!"
>You recall hearing about Ork Kommandos at one point
>But that was grox shit wasn't it?
>Nope
>They're real
>And now they're hunting you
>You wait for the footsteps to pass
>You make your move and keep low
>Crawling on your belly you carefully avoid more tripwires thanks to seeing them before you reach them
>Idea
>You grab a rock
>Throw it at a nearby tree
>"WOT WUZ DAT!"
>Ork Kommando is near
>Hear him approach
>See him
>Take a pot shot at him and dive 
>"Youz a dead 'un, 'umie!"
>Trudges toward you with his shoota
>Big ass shells tear up the foliage 
>Ork stops
>Wooshing noise
>"...Cleva git."
>WHAM
>Ork tripped the wire
>Log smashes into his chest and sends him flying into a tree
>Approach slowly
>Still alive
>Spits a mouf fulla teef out
>Laughs
>Reaches up with his big hand
>"Got sumfink for ya... Cleva 'umie..."
>Reach out
>Hand opens
>Bunch of odd rings of metal
>OH FUCK THOSE ARE STIKKBOMB PINS
>DIVE FUCK GO TO GROUND 
>Ork laughs as a bunch of stikkbombs blow up the tree and leave a small crater where he was
>What's today's forecast, Ollie?
>SHRAPNEL AND BODY PARTS!
>A falling limb from the tree lands on you and pins you down
>You hear the footsteps of the other Kommandos nearing the blast site
>Panic finally sets in and you struggle that much harder to free yourself
>You hear the footsteps stop right behind you
>"Oi, 'umie. Iz gotta joke for ya."
"...What is it."
>"KNOCK KNOCK!"
>THUD
>The Ork bashes you in the face with the back of his shoota
>Fade to black
>"Dat ain' how one-a dem 'umie jokes go."
>"Wot, now yer an expert on 'umie kulture?"
>The Kommandos carry the unconscious guardsman through the jungle
>"I 'eard one say it diffrint s'all. Said 'Knock Knock'. Den ya s'pose ta make em say 'Who dere?"
>"Gork an' Mork, ye talk a lot... Shut up."
>"Jus warren' dat funny."
>"Well 'e killed Scalpkutta so dat makes me da NEW Boss Nob Kommando. And I say dat was funny!"
>"Yer about as funny as one a dem poncy Eldar wot wear dem paint and dresses."
>"STUFF IT YA GROT!"
>WHAM
>[Ork Kommando Snarling Noises]
>The figurative dickwaving continued for a while until they reached the odd encampment
>These Orks weren't part of Granddakka or Bigdakka's warband
>The flag was flying high of Gork and Mork
>And a black flag with an Orky Jolly Roger
>This was a kind of smuggling camp for a bunch of Freebootas
>With a new prisoner to toss into the mines
>Or Squig pens
>Or any other unsavory jobs
>These Kommandos dragged the guardsman to what looked like a bigger shanty structure 
>"Wot da zog ya bringin' me a 'umie fer?"
>This Ork was nearly 8 feet tall
>He was clad in a tattered black coat with a commandeered Commissar hat
>There was a number of shiny officer sabers fastened together on his wrist with a big bundle of wires running to a backpack
>Trophy lightning claw
>A giant blunderbuss was laid across the table
>It was more like a shotgun made of shootas
>"Dis one's smarter den most them uva 'umies. Got Scalpkutta out in the jungle."
>"So why ya bring 'im 'ere? Toss 'im wit the others ya grots. Gork an' Mork, ya both a couple a snotbrains you is."
>"'e might be one-a dem ones wot blew up Granddakka's Stompa."
>The Boss paused
>"Oh. You sure? Looks small ta me."
>"S'wot we thought but he showed up afta the 'ole thing went kaboom."
>"Maybe 'es useful then. Wake 'im up."
>WHACK
>"WOT YA HITTIN' IM FER!"
>"YA SAID WAKE 'IM UP! THAT WAKES ME UP ERRY TIME!"
>The Boss covered his face with his palm
>You wake up dripping with some foul grog
>"OI! WAKE UP YA GIT!"
>Some big ass Ork lifting you by your flak armor
>Doesn't look happy
>Probably cause he splashed you with his drink to wake you
>"You wuz one-a dem wot blew up Granddakka's Stompa?"
>He gives you a shake
"Maybe I was the only one. Just me."
>The Warboss laughs
>"Thas'a good one but you ain't lookin' like much, mefinks. But ye did get Scalpkutta. Not easy gettin' that slippery one that 'e wuz."
>He drops you to the ground
>"'eres wot yer gonna do."
>He takes a sword in his huge hand like a dagger and drives it into the table
>"We jus some 'umble Freebootaz n' we ain' want nuffink wit yer Guard comin' roun and muckin' up our loot. But ye blew up dat Stompa. And we's gonna loot it."
"Loot what?"
>"THE STOMPA YA GROT."
"It's not there."
>"Wot ya mean it's 'not there'? 'ow in Gork can it not 'ave any loot!"
"They launched Vortex Missiles. Whatever didn't get blown up got sucked into the Warp."
>"U WOT M8"
>The Warboss smashed his hand into the table
>"SO THERE AIN' NOTHIN' LEFT! RAAAAGH!" 
>He whips the empty mug at a wall, shattering it into fragments
>The Kommandos have vanished, seemingly anticipating some outburst from the Warboss
>"WELL WHAT ELSE IS DER TA LOOT!"
"...Some tanks and stuff we abandoned when it got too cumbersome
>He calms down for a moment
>"Keep goin' 'umie."
"They're miles away from any other conflict."
>"Uh huh."
"And they're all intact artillery batteries."
>You neglect to mention the whole sabotaged artillery thing.
>"BAH. We don' need to arty bombs. We want good loot! Stuff wot we can get teef an flashy bits fer."
"...You're telling me you can't trade tanks to other Orks?"
>"You gits don' build tanks big enuf fer Orks. Too 'eavy to get 'em to tha ship."
"You have a ship?"
>"COURSE I GOTTA SHIP! WOT KINDA CAPN DON'T GOT NO SHIP!"
>The Cap'n points at a crudely drawn picture of a giant pirate ship on antiquity 
>Only Orky
>And in space
>"Now yer a Prisoner of WAAAGH!"
"War."
>"S'wot I said. WAAAGH!"
"Prisoner of War."
>"WAAAGH!"
"WAR!"
>"WAAAAAAAAGH!"
"WAAAAAAAAAAR!"
>The two of you shout like idiots.
>Outside, some boys overhear the Kommandos talking about the guardsman they captured
>"Wot's 'e good fer?"
>"Absolutely nuffink."
>"So if ya don't wanna die, ye gonna pull yer weight. Else we krump ya or toss ya in the mines."
>For now you're tossed to the loading crews
>Something called a Tellyporta and you're beaming supplies up to the Orky Pirate Ship™
>Lots of captured munitions
>Lots of foodstuffs
>Mostly grog
>Okay, is ALL grog
>You quietly wonder if the Guard is trying to find you
>MEANWHILE BACK AT BASE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWgsdexkv18
>;_;7 Those brave souls are with the Emprah now
>Loading shit on a warp pad is boring and backbreaking
>Orks know nothing about proper inventory management
>Everything gets loaded in big crates or barrels without any rhyme or reason
>Get beamed up to the Orky Pirate Ship™
>Oh for fucks sake
>It's like one of those Hoarders holovids
>Only /k/ flavored
>Shout at Big Mek
>"WOT YOU WANT 'UMIE?"
"Ever try organizing?"
>"Organ-wot? Do I look like a Dok?"
"Organizing. Getting in order."
>"Das a waste o' my time. Wot ya need order fer when yer got dakka to haul?"
"What if you could... Haul your dakka... Twice as fast?"
>"Twice as fast? Wot, like, paint me tellyporta red?"
>You rub your brow in frustration
"You organize. Get all the same guns and bullets in the same boxes."
>"How'zat s'posed ta help?"
"You get everything in order so you can give your... Boys... What they need all at once and don't waste time."
>"Da Boys nevah waste time! They know the Cap'n 'll krump em if they do!"
"Look. See this crate?"
>You point to a fresh box you just hauled up."
"There's a meltagun and a plasma gun in there. How fast can you find it?"
>The Mek scoffs at you and flexes his power klaw
>He peels the box open like a sardine can
>Pokes around as more and more guns and ammo spill out
>Finds the two weapons eventually
>"Ha! Quick as nuffink."
>You point over at another box
>Using your well trained skills as a Guardsmen and having the drilled techniques of keeping your kit in order, you pull the box apart
>You organize in record time three shotguns, a number of shootas, some burnas, and various other Ork and looted weapons
"Order me to get a gun. I'll beat you."
>"Ain' no way you can beat an Ork at being quick to 'is dakka! Get a big shoota!"
>You grab one of the hefty rifles out of the box with no effort and a few odd box magazines 
>They're not really magazines, just more like paintball hoppers or something
>And some of the bullets are backwards
>Must be something from H&K
>"Wot. How'd you-"
"Pick another."
>"BURNA!
"Done." 
>The Mek scratches his head and stares
>"Das roit quick dat is."
"And if you load them properly, you can carry them better and load them quicker."
>"Yous a smart 'umie. But we gonna paint dem boxes and me tellyporta red, too."
"Cause red ones go faster?"
>"Now ya learnin' ta think like an Ork!"
>The Mek calls out some orders to grots and boys
>Questioning looks as he points to you and says you're in charge of inventory
>Start organizing loading bay
>Grots start painting everything red
>Get warped back to the base with the Mek
>Mek talks to the Cap'n about your exceptional skills at inventory management puzzles and stock taking skills
>You are now organizing logistics for an Orky Pirate Ship™
>You hope this doesn't count as heresy or treason 
>Your efforts increase efficiency tenfold as the Orky Pirate Ship™ loads up for it's first run since planetfall
>You're taken to the bridge to watch along side the Cap'n as you drop into the Warp for a jump
>Being on an Ork vessel in the Warp is ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING
>Mostly because shit is breaking off
>And there's not really a gellar field 
>Daemons pop up EVERYWHERE
>The Orks like a good scrap, though, and in between your own close scrapes with Bloodlettters and Daemonettes you make it through
>Orks are impressed at your ability to hit fight Daemons in close combat
>You're even given a big ol' Orky knoif (read: Claymore)
>The drop out of the Warp puts you on an intercept course with-
>Hey wait are those the same Tau ships you saw-
>CLANG
>"WOT DA ZOG WAS THAT?"
>As the Orks try to locate whatever it was they struck so they can loot it
>You look at the Tau ships on the screen
>Though, it's not really a screen, more like a fuzzy blur with pictures
>Back in 987M02 they were called 'CRT" units
>It hurts your eyes looking at it
>But you can recognize blurry colors of the Tau ships that you had engaged previously
>Suddenly, and idea
"Captain, I know those Tau."
>"Wot, you got all kissy face wot with them fish face blue gits?"
"Not exactly. But I did meet them. And fight them."
>"Wot yer wantin' then? Make it snappy, we gonna launch da missile pods n' board the ship ta loot it!"
"Do you have a... Do your Kommandos have 'sneaky' ships?"
>"Dem purple wunz in da hanga is roit sneaky."
"How is purple sneaky?"
>"Ya even seen a purple Ork?"
"No."
>"Der ya go."
>You suffer a minor stroke.
"What if you could get even more loot from the Tau?"
>"I'm lis'nin."
"Try and pretend to be friendly."
>"FRIENDS WIT DEM BLUIES?"
"...While some Kommandos sneak on and take over the ship?"
>"And wot about me Boys? Dey needs dem a good scrap."
"You can scrap with the Tau after you steal all their junk. Then you can make em fight like... Orks."
>"But theyz ain't Orky. Dey just gonna get krumped!"
"They're gonna get krumped anyway, aren't they? You gonna get a lot more loot if you use some strategy."
>You quietly muse on why you're offering tactical advice to your captors
>Maybe theres some appeal to being a space pirate
>Or maybe you're just secretly plotting a grand betrayal and escape
>Your advice has lead the Captain to launch some small vessels with Kommandos loaded up
>Another shuttle, big and Orky, launches alone toward the Tau ship
>Something about transmissions
>Tau are actually accepting this ploy
>You question how advanced they really are
>"Da boyz is landin' on the blueie's ship, boss."
>This is actually fucking working