The Starfall Deathblades, Eldar Corsairs
Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 2:25 pm
"But grandad, I'm not sleepy!"
The boy stood gazing out the window at the starlit sky. Both moons were up, and their tenebrous light illuminated the familar view of corn fields and occasional homesteads scattered across the landscape to the horizon. Here and there monstrous hulks, harvesters deactivated for the sleep cycle, stood idle, their shadows seeming to reach towards him, deep and impenetrable.
"Come away from the window, lad." called his grandfather. "It's gone past your bedtime, and your mother'll give you a hiding if you don't get up sharpish tomorrow. You were late for the scholam this morning, and you don't want to make her angry by doing it again tomorrow."
Grumbling, but not too much, the boy turned from the window and climbed into his bed. As the old man tucked the sheets up under his chin to keep out the seasonal chill, the servos in his left arm wheezed and groaned.
"Grandad, can you tell me a story?" He asked. "One of your stories about life in the guard!"
"Come on, Elim," came the reply, "That was a long time ago, and you know your mother doesn't like it when I talk about it."
"Aaaw, go on grandad! just a short one. Tell me one about Captain Jaq!" begged the boy. "I'll go straight to sleep after, I promise!"
The old man looked down fondly at his grandson. The boy was far too young to understand. To him, stories of life in the guard were an adventure, full of heroes and villains. He couldn't see the pain in his grandfather's eyes when he spoke about times long past. Still, it was good to see the boy's face shining with excitement, and he could leave out the gory details, to be sure...
"Ach, all right then - you've twisted me arm." The old man grinned and sat down on the edge of the boy's bed. "Right, did I ever tell you about the time when my regiment was sent to secure the Apophis system?"
The boy shook his head. "What happened?" he asked.
"Well, me and the lads had been sent in to sort out a bit of an ork problem on the fourth planet out. There had been some comms from a settlement there saying that those nasty old greenskins had come a-calling, and could your old grandad and his friends possibly come and help out a bit. Of course, we said yes."
"Of course." nodded the boy, sagely.
"Well, when we got there, we found that the comm signal was a bit too late. Unfortunately the orks had already visited the settlement, and made the usual mess that they do."
"Silly orks." grinned the boy. He knew what orks were from his grandad's other stories. Silly, smelly aliens who always made a mess of things and got in the way. His grandad had been kept very busy keeping them away from proper Emperor fearing folks during his stint in the Imperial Guard.
A thought suddenly occured to him. "But grandad, I thought this was a story aboout Captain Jaq?"
"Well, that's the thing." his grandfather continued. "The orks had certainly already been there - we could see that from the mess."
And what a mess it had been. The settlement had been a charnel house. The orks hadn't been long gone, and there were still plently of body parts left sufficently undecayed to be identifiable. A few ork limbs, even one or two whole corpses, but the majority of the reeking, rotting body chunks of meat left scattered around the little cluster of farmhouses had been undeniably human. The old man shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"Anyway, the orks had been there, but they were gone by the time we arrived. We went looking for them, of course,"
"to give them a good telling off!" interrupted the boy.
"yes, exactly so. To give them a good telling off." agreed the old man. "but we couldnt find them anywhere. We had to ask for some help from the Navy in their spaceships. Now, sometimes Navy people arent very nice, as you know, but this time around they were very helpful, and after a little while they sent us down a picture of where they thought the orks were."
"and where were they, grandad?" asked the boy.
"Not so far away. We all got into our Chimeras and trundled off to sort those orks out good and proper. Those Navy pictures showed a whole passel of em were grouped up just over the ridge nearby. Must have been three, four hundred of the devils, with their big noisy trucks and clankety clunkety dreadnaughts. Me and the lads were getting quite excited about showing them exactly who was in charge on that planet."
Excited! Hah! Crammed into the claustrophobic confines of a Chimera, blind to everything outside the vehicle, on the way to pick a fight with four hundred orks! Most of the men had been near pissing themselves with fear. It was one thing to hear how an ork can pull a man's arms off, and quite another to actually see it done to squadmates you'd known for years. Most of the men that day had been veterans of the Cairndon campaign, and knew exactly what was waiting for them over the rise. At least, that's what they had thought.
"Did you sort those orks out good and proper, grandad?" the boy's question snapped him from his reverie.
The old man's response blurted unplanned from his lips, almost a mumble. "No, we didn't."
"Eh? What happened?" In grandad's stories, he and his friends in the guard were always the winners. "Why didn't you sort the orks out, grandad?"
"Because someone else already had." replied his grandfather. "In the hour since the Navy had done their scanner pass over that valley, someone had come in, and killed every single ork there."
The boy's eyes widened.
"When we pulled over that ridge, at first we couldnt see anything. Then, the smoke cleared up a bit and we realised that the bumpetty bumpetty bump of the ground was actually a pile of dead orks, spread out all over the valley. Well, we all got out and started looking around for whatever had done this. You dont just kill four hundred orks in an hour, not unless you're a Space Marine, and we knew there were none of them in the area. Me and my squad got sent in to scout the valley. While we were walking, we noticed that all the dead orks had something unusual about them. Every single ork had something missing."
"what was it, grandad?" asked the boy.
"Their heads. Not a single one of them had a head. Now, usually I wouldn't have a problem with that, them being ugly great beasts and all, but I'll say this for orks - they're tough buggers, and hard to kill."
"grandad! you shouldnt use words like that!" the boy gently scolded the old man.
"You're quite right. I'm sorry. But still, tough they certainly are, and something had taken their heads right off, neat as you like. Well, as my boys got close to the end of our scouting route, we saw something just behind one of those big junky ork trucks I've told you about. I was first around the truck, and I'll never forget what I saw that day."
"Yes? What did you see?" whispered the boy, sitting up in bed.
"a pile of ork heads, heaped up willy nilly. And in the middle of the pile was a spear. It didn't look like no spear I'd ever seen before. It was all shiny and shimmery, and it kind of...glowed. Hung round the spear was a kind of plate, like you'd see on the front of someone's house, only it was made of the same shiny stuff as the spear. It had words on it, though. Proper Gothic words, too, although they was written in a wierd wobbly writing, like whoever had done it was copying letters he didnt know well.
"what did it say, grandad?"
"Our world, mon-keigh. Our world."
The boy stood gazing out the window at the starlit sky. Both moons were up, and their tenebrous light illuminated the familar view of corn fields and occasional homesteads scattered across the landscape to the horizon. Here and there monstrous hulks, harvesters deactivated for the sleep cycle, stood idle, their shadows seeming to reach towards him, deep and impenetrable.
"Come away from the window, lad." called his grandfather. "It's gone past your bedtime, and your mother'll give you a hiding if you don't get up sharpish tomorrow. You were late for the scholam this morning, and you don't want to make her angry by doing it again tomorrow."
Grumbling, but not too much, the boy turned from the window and climbed into his bed. As the old man tucked the sheets up under his chin to keep out the seasonal chill, the servos in his left arm wheezed and groaned.
"Grandad, can you tell me a story?" He asked. "One of your stories about life in the guard!"
"Come on, Elim," came the reply, "That was a long time ago, and you know your mother doesn't like it when I talk about it."
"Aaaw, go on grandad! just a short one. Tell me one about Captain Jaq!" begged the boy. "I'll go straight to sleep after, I promise!"
The old man looked down fondly at his grandson. The boy was far too young to understand. To him, stories of life in the guard were an adventure, full of heroes and villains. He couldn't see the pain in his grandfather's eyes when he spoke about times long past. Still, it was good to see the boy's face shining with excitement, and he could leave out the gory details, to be sure...
"Ach, all right then - you've twisted me arm." The old man grinned and sat down on the edge of the boy's bed. "Right, did I ever tell you about the time when my regiment was sent to secure the Apophis system?"
The boy shook his head. "What happened?" he asked.
"Well, me and the lads had been sent in to sort out a bit of an ork problem on the fourth planet out. There had been some comms from a settlement there saying that those nasty old greenskins had come a-calling, and could your old grandad and his friends possibly come and help out a bit. Of course, we said yes."
"Of course." nodded the boy, sagely.
"Well, when we got there, we found that the comm signal was a bit too late. Unfortunately the orks had already visited the settlement, and made the usual mess that they do."
"Silly orks." grinned the boy. He knew what orks were from his grandad's other stories. Silly, smelly aliens who always made a mess of things and got in the way. His grandad had been kept very busy keeping them away from proper Emperor fearing folks during his stint in the Imperial Guard.
A thought suddenly occured to him. "But grandad, I thought this was a story aboout Captain Jaq?"
"Well, that's the thing." his grandfather continued. "The orks had certainly already been there - we could see that from the mess."
And what a mess it had been. The settlement had been a charnel house. The orks hadn't been long gone, and there were still plently of body parts left sufficently undecayed to be identifiable. A few ork limbs, even one or two whole corpses, but the majority of the reeking, rotting body chunks of meat left scattered around the little cluster of farmhouses had been undeniably human. The old man shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"Anyway, the orks had been there, but they were gone by the time we arrived. We went looking for them, of course,"
"to give them a good telling off!" interrupted the boy.
"yes, exactly so. To give them a good telling off." agreed the old man. "but we couldnt find them anywhere. We had to ask for some help from the Navy in their spaceships. Now, sometimes Navy people arent very nice, as you know, but this time around they were very helpful, and after a little while they sent us down a picture of where they thought the orks were."
"and where were they, grandad?" asked the boy.
"Not so far away. We all got into our Chimeras and trundled off to sort those orks out good and proper. Those Navy pictures showed a whole passel of em were grouped up just over the ridge nearby. Must have been three, four hundred of the devils, with their big noisy trucks and clankety clunkety dreadnaughts. Me and the lads were getting quite excited about showing them exactly who was in charge on that planet."
Excited! Hah! Crammed into the claustrophobic confines of a Chimera, blind to everything outside the vehicle, on the way to pick a fight with four hundred orks! Most of the men had been near pissing themselves with fear. It was one thing to hear how an ork can pull a man's arms off, and quite another to actually see it done to squadmates you'd known for years. Most of the men that day had been veterans of the Cairndon campaign, and knew exactly what was waiting for them over the rise. At least, that's what they had thought.
"Did you sort those orks out good and proper, grandad?" the boy's question snapped him from his reverie.
The old man's response blurted unplanned from his lips, almost a mumble. "No, we didn't."
"Eh? What happened?" In grandad's stories, he and his friends in the guard were always the winners. "Why didn't you sort the orks out, grandad?"
"Because someone else already had." replied his grandfather. "In the hour since the Navy had done their scanner pass over that valley, someone had come in, and killed every single ork there."
The boy's eyes widened.
"When we pulled over that ridge, at first we couldnt see anything. Then, the smoke cleared up a bit and we realised that the bumpetty bumpetty bump of the ground was actually a pile of dead orks, spread out all over the valley. Well, we all got out and started looking around for whatever had done this. You dont just kill four hundred orks in an hour, not unless you're a Space Marine, and we knew there were none of them in the area. Me and my squad got sent in to scout the valley. While we were walking, we noticed that all the dead orks had something unusual about them. Every single ork had something missing."
"what was it, grandad?" asked the boy.
"Their heads. Not a single one of them had a head. Now, usually I wouldn't have a problem with that, them being ugly great beasts and all, but I'll say this for orks - they're tough buggers, and hard to kill."
"grandad! you shouldnt use words like that!" the boy gently scolded the old man.
"You're quite right. I'm sorry. But still, tough they certainly are, and something had taken their heads right off, neat as you like. Well, as my boys got close to the end of our scouting route, we saw something just behind one of those big junky ork trucks I've told you about. I was first around the truck, and I'll never forget what I saw that day."
"Yes? What did you see?" whispered the boy, sitting up in bed.
"a pile of ork heads, heaped up willy nilly. And in the middle of the pile was a spear. It didn't look like no spear I'd ever seen before. It was all shiny and shimmery, and it kind of...glowed. Hung round the spear was a kind of plate, like you'd see on the front of someone's house, only it was made of the same shiny stuff as the spear. It had words on it, though. Proper Gothic words, too, although they was written in a wierd wobbly writing, like whoever had done it was copying letters he didnt know well.
"what did it say, grandad?"
"Our world, mon-keigh. Our world."
Worth a shot I reckon, it ticks all the right boxes for warhammer fiction. Good stuff.