Necromunda

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Da In“Terror”gashun  

Written by Joseph Channon

Morskul woke suddenly. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been out but it couldn’t have been long, the scar across his chest was still fresh.

The lads and him had been stealthily trying to sneak past the other Warband in the middle of the night, thinking that “Da Gits” were still asleep they had planned to get away in the middle of the night and leave them behind.

Unfortunately things had not gone to plan. “Da Gits” hadn’t been asleep. They had been waiting in ambush. The battle itself had been over very quickly. Most of the lads had escaped, but Moskul had been captured. Now it seemed that his new hosts were preparing a reception for him.

            “Roight bring da furst captive thruu!” shouted an important sounding Ork.

            A few seconds later a couple of Nobs came in and dragged Morskul through the huts door and into an adjoining room.

            Just as Morskul was recovering his senses, a large shape loomed over him. It looked very familiar to Morskul.

            “Ghazgal?” he asked.

            “Don’t be stoopid. I iz not Da great Ghazgal, merely da next best thing!”

            Suddenly something hit Morskul and he passed out. When he came to a few minutes later the Ghazgal shaped Warboss was still standing near to him.

            “Roight listen you!” shouted the Warboss “you’ze gonna tell me what you wuz up ta last night or you is gonna regret it very suun!”

            “Oi don’t no nuffing” muttered Morskul.

            “Oi nuu yer’d say dat!” shouted the boss.

            “No really its truu!” shouted Morskul.

            “Roight dats it den. Grishnek! Grab yer choppa and cut is arms off. One at a time until e squeals!”

            A largish Ork shuffled towards Morskul. Grinning like a maniac he unsheathed a very large blade.

            “No No I iz gonna talk!” squealed Morskul.

            “Well den wot woz you’ze up ta last noight?” Shouted the boss.

            “We woz making our way to da Waaaagh” Morskul said in the smallest and non-threatening voice he could manage.

            “Da Waaaagh!” said the boss in whispered awe.

            The boss’s eyes clouded over as he imagined “Da Waaagh”. The magical fight where an Ork’s dreams could be realised (as long as the were dreams of fighting).

            “Weell in dat case, Grishnek go an get anufver prisoner. Ya no ta tell us da way to da Waaagh. And when you iz dun you kan cut dis wun’s arms off. Dat oughtta teach dose gitz not ta try to sneak off ta da Waaagh wid out us.” Said the boss with an air of pride.

With that the boss walked off to get his mega armour ready. He was off to “da Waaaagh”.

Waitin fer Gork

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This page was designed by: 
Michael T. W. Na
Joseph Channon
Anthony Flynn

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