The Orkalorian [Warhammer 40k Isekai Ork OC SI]

The War Bikes raced through the streets at full speed, blurring in the moonlight, their engines roaring like a herd of beasts while their exhausts spewed fire and smoke, making it difficult to discern whether it was merely aesthetic or the result of machinery pushed to its limits.

Their headlights illuminated the path ahead as they cruised the main streets in search of the enemy Boss and his Boys. Their riders screamed at the top of their lungs in rage and anticipation of the upcoming fight, but no one greeted them.

They passed the facades of brand-new buildings, rows of unlit streetlights, overgrown squares, and more, growing frustrated at the lack of combat and failing to notice the many red eyes watching them from every dark corner and window.

A more experienced ork would have noticed something wrong, as a real Boy would never stay silent and hidden for long, and this rashness would prove to be their end upon turning around a corner.

Something ahead glinted in the headlights and they squinted behind their helmets and variations, trying to see the source of their interest.

Unfortunately, they soon found themselves staring at the starry night sky as their heads flew off their bodies, courtesy of an extremely sharp, hair-thin metal wire extended in the middle of the street between two alleys.

Each of the severed skulls flew for a few seconds, creating hoops of blood in the air before bouncing on the ground like balls, letting out a thud with each hit before stopping, revealing the last expression of their former owners, wide eyes and open mouths in a mixture of surprise and confusion.

The bodies continued forward, keeping their War Bikes in a straight line as blood gushed from their necks like fountains, painting the street red. However, their strength slowly faded and their grip on the handlebars loosened, causing them to skid through the streets.

The vehicles came to an abrupt stop, crashing into buildings or falling to the ground with heavy cracks as the corpses of their former riders rolled away, leaving a trail ending in a puddle of red.

The many eyes that watched in the corners left their hiding places, revealing countless Grots and Yoofs who immediately cleaned up the blood, checked the wire's condition, and looted their dead enemies, removing their armor, collecting their weapons, ammunition, explosives, and driving their bikes away, taking the material to a large building surrounded by a wall of equal size.

There, more Orks and Grots, with the addition of Snots and Squigs, prepared for combat, donning armor, checking and reloading weapons, repairing damaged vehicles, receiving and caring for the wounded, and more.

They ran, shouted, and exchanged insults, punches, and kicks, but despite appearances, there was order in the place. The wounded were laid on lined cloth pieces and tended by Grots with medical expertise and medicines made by the Snots.

The Orks were divided into mixed groups of Boyz and Yoofz, and carried standard armor and weapons, or as standard as their confusing equipment could be, and were given different roles by their Boss.

The smaller groups carried short-range weapons, such as Sluggas, Blunderbusses, Boomstikks, and Choppas, led Squigs on leashes, and wore medium armor that offered sufficient protection and did not restrict their movements.

They were sent to clear the alleys and lanes, dispatching enemies lost in the labyrinthine streets and preventing their allies from being surprised by more resourceful Orks.

The larger groups wore heavier armor, a mix of leather and metal that slowed them down but offered better protection. They were given more powerful weapons such as Shootas and Big Shootas and carried basic explosives.

Their positions on the battlefield were defensive, barricading streets with rubble and barbed wire to funnel enemies, using buildings at strategic points as fortifications and high ground to target those who dared to approach blindly.

A third group composed of moderate numbers confused most present, as it was composed entirely of Yoofz wearing heavy metal armor made of several steel plates welded together and a helmet.

This made them 'Ard Boyz, and as if the better armor wasn't enough, each of them carried a large, heavy, thick shield, a metal slab with an opening on top for their eyes and a side so they could fire their Dakka-Shootas without worry.

When asked why, the Boss simply replied that they knew how to follow orders and control themselves, whatever that meant. Speaking of the Boss, the newly arrived Orks spotted the green giant in purple armor shouting orders to the other groups he had just formed.

The first was made up of Orks carrying Burnas, Squig oil cocktails, and wearing gas masks and thick leather clothing, the Burna Boyz. The second was made up of Orks carrying explosives and explosive weapons from head to toe, the Boom Boyz.

It was impossible to hear what the Boss was saying from this distance, but the first group nodded and ran into the streets while the second moved to a far corner of the base.

There was a commotion as the Boss' garage opened and several Grots wheeled out a series of strange contraptions, several rectangular wooden and metal carts with four wheels and a large iron bar ending in a bucket.

They were lined up facing the fighting in the distance and had balls of Stikkbombz tied together and buzzing clay jars placed in their buckets.

Then a Grot operated each device, turning a crank and causing a spring under the bucket to retract, pulling it down, then releasing it, freeing the spring, and throwing the bucket upward with absurd force and speed, launching the load far away.

Everyone watched curiously as the projectiles disappeared into the distance as the Grots pulled the cranks and reloaded the contraptions. However, the Boss' shout directed at a Grot with a pair of binoculars on the walls shook everyone out of their stupor.

"DID WE GOT THEM?!"

"JUST A MINUTE, BOSS!" The Grot watched intently until explosions and screams echoed through the night.

BOOM!

"AAAHHH!"

"YES, WE GOT THEM!"

"GREAT! GET READY TO FIRE THE SQUIG CATAPULTS AGAIN!"

With that out of the way, more Orks arrived at the base of operations, bringing the bodies of fallen enemies and allies, stripping them of their equipment, and handing the corpses to the Snots for an unknown reason.

With that done, everyone returned to their previous positions in the city, checking and resetting traps in an endless cycle of death and looting.

-XXXXXX-

A group of Skullrippa Orks wandered through the dark, narrow passages of the city, looking for a good fight. They spotted the signs of such an event, bullet holes on the walls and blood stains on the floor.

Fire, smoke, gunshots, screams, and explosions echoed in the distance, but there were no bodies or anyone to face them. It was annoying, what was the point of wasting a good night's sleep in such a boring place?

Whatever it was, they had orders to follow, Skullrippa wanted the enemy boss alive, but no one knew where he was, so they did the same as the others and went from building to building, trying to invade them.

Unfortunately, this proved to be more difficult than expected, the buildings were sturdy and reinforced and had bars on the doors and windows, but they couldn't stop if they didn't want to find out how their boss got his name.

To the group's relief, one of their members spotted an unbarred door, grinning from ear to ear and running to open it while his companions crowded around him in anticipation of a confrontation.

However, the doorknob and door resisted as they moved, and the ork pushing them heard a metallic snap followed by something moving quickly.

PING!

ZIIIP!

He didn't pay much attention to the noises, after all, they were in the middle of a war, maybe this was just in his head. This train of thought lasted for a second, and it took another second to end when the entire building exploded in a shower of fire, glass, wood, and metal.

The walls expanded outward and glowed orange, scalding flaming fragments advanced in a deadly barrage, targeting everyone present whose insides turned to paste and flew away due to the proximity of the shock wave.

Their mutilated bodies became bloody and broken pierced messes into the walls of the opposite buildings while what remained of the initial construction was nothing more than a flaming crater raising a pillar of smoke.

A second group hurriedly turned a corner, stopping in horror at the scene in front of them, watching what remained of their comrades as the building's foundation creaked and slowly collapsed.

Suddenly, gunfire mixed with the crackling of flames, and an enemy squadron entered the alley from both directions, surrounding the group and sending a hail of lead in their direction.

Their equipment was their undoing, their firearms and melee weapons too large for such a narrow space and banging against the walls every time they tried to attack or turn to shoot.

First, several Squigs were released from their leashes, running wildly with bared fangs and salivating mouths, and sinking their teeth into the flesh of their enemies with deadly pressure, tearing apart and savoring the spilled blood with animalistic violence.

Second, Boyz wielding Blunderbusses and Boomstikks fired at a steady pace, pumping their weapons and pulling their triggers repeatedly, tearing apart those in their path with a series of loud bangs.

Third, Yoofs carrying Sluggas used more accurate fire to take down those who threatened to escape or fight back, striking their mass centers or legs, and ending their futile resistance.

Finally, there was the coup de grace, piercing the hearts or slitting the throats of those who remained on the ground but still had life in their bodies.

The squad gathered together when it was all over, exchanging cheers, smiles, and exclamations, however, a nearby explosion interrupted their celebration, causing them to exchange a silent nod before retrieving their Squigs and rushing to their location as another trap had been sprung.

Momentarily, one of the Yoofs looked back, spotting small green creatures leaving the rooftops and looting the dead. Their gazes met briefly, exchanging an unspoken message.

Approval? Pride? Acceptance? There was no way of knowing, as they had their duties to fulfill, so both parties departed in opposite directions, causing this interaction to disappear amidst the pressure of battle.

-XXXXXX-

An enraged mob ran at full speed through the main streets, shouting, shooting, and wounding each other in the process. Any control or patience they had immediately disappeared, replaced by anger and frustration due to the lack of combat.

As if that weren't enough, rubble and barbed wire blocked most of the streets, creating walls that were difficult to overcome.

They could climb the surrounding buildings or try to destroy the barriers, but why would they? Nothing was interesting on the other side, no one was shooting or calling them to fight.

So they followed the only possible path, a nearly straight line towards an open lot surrounded by buildings. Wide, cruel grins crept across their faces, their hearts raced in anticipation as a crowd awaited them in the opposite direction, Ork Boyz wearing metal armor and wielding assorted melee and firearm weapons.

Speeches or introductions were unnecessary as both sides raised their weapons and exchanged a war cry that echoed through the night.

"WAAAGH!"

The ground shook with their heavy footsteps, kicking up clouds of dust as the walls of green flesh crashed into the center of the lot, turning into a roaring mass.

Bullets of varying calibers tore through the air, tearing chunks of flesh from their targets, whirling screams of pain and emotion, encouraging those who did not fall to fight even harder as the steel of their blades gleamed in the moonlight.

Blood painted the walls a new color with the swings of Choppas. Arms, legs, and heads flew away with blows from Big Choppas. Bones, teef, and organs turned to dust with crushing attacks from Uge Hammers. And guts spilled onto the floor along with the roar of the Chain Choppas' engines.

It was complete chaos, the way true orks liked it, no tricks and no running. Both parties fought and died with satisfaction.

Their muscles ached and throbbed with each blow, their blood ran through their veins rapidly as their hearts worked to their fullest, their bones creaked and their eyes glowed red with cruelty, joy, and satisfaction.

The smell of sweat, blood, and gunpowder filled the air, assaulting their nostrils with a mixture that would be considered disgusting to other species, but a perfume to the Orks.

Unfortunately, this joy had to end at some point, and the Orks of Skullrippa fell one by one, either due to the ongoing fight or to gunfire from above.

Yoofs appeared in the windows of the buildings, repeating a strategy used in the past, and bombarding the enemies below with Shoota and Big Shoota fire, revealing that this was nothing more than a large killbox.

It took a while for the enemy Orks to realize the turn of the battle amidst the confusion, and the euphoria they felt turned to fear, forcing them to fight for their lives and try to flee.

However, it was too late, as the few who managed to retreat without being shot faced a wall of flames, courtesy of the Burna Boyz who left the buildings and blocked the only exit.

Fear turned to despair, finding themselves between a flaming inferno and an angry mob aided by shooters in a well-laid trap that took advantage of their indiscipline.

Some threw themselves into the flames, hoping to cross them, screaming as their flesh burned in a painful death. Others fought to the end until their bodies could no longer withstand the bullets and cuts.

In the end, the defenders celebrated as the last enemy fell, shouting praises to Gork and Mork while beating their chests wildly, for they had gotten what they wanted, and could not wait to get more.

Their emotions gradually calmed as time passed, making the fighters realize their injuries and how tired they were. Grots chose this moment to leave the rooftops and loot the dead, bringing them back to base and offering medical care to the wounded.

The Ork Boyz were not happy with the presence of the little green ones, wanting to kick them away, but they remembered all too well their Boss's speech and the consequences if they did so.

The Yoofs doing the talking helped to deescalate the situation and they found themselves sitting on the ground, grumbling irritably as the Grots climbed them, applying medicine, disinfecting and bandaging wounds, and putting dislocated limbs back in place.

The powerful Ork biology would heal everything on its own, but the welcome help would speed up the process and they would be as good as new in a few minutes.

The little helpers left when the job was done, ignoring the tongue-clicking and glares of the Ork Boyz who refused to accept that their help had been useful. However, some of them noticed how quickly it had been done, they didn't have to shout or threaten to get what they wanted, getting work finished quickly and well.

Was this what the boss meant by treating the Grots and Snots nicely?

These thoughts disappeared because they were too complicated and annoying, they got in the way of what mattered, the fight.

The Orks reloaded their weapons and cleaned the blood from their blades, returning to their initial positions and preparing for the next wave whose footsteps echoed in the distance, making them wonder how many times the Boss's plan would work and why the enemy Boss didn't do something similar.

Yes, it wasn't their style to fight like that, but they had to admit it was a good plan. Their Boss was kunning, but brutal, knowing how to krump as many gits as possible while losing as few of his own. After all, according to his words: You won't enjoy the fight if you die like a stupid git!

The biggest and strongest Ork was also the wisest, apparently, so why didn't the enemy Boss do the same? Wasn't he the biggest and strongest Ork to rule over his own?

Most of those present shook their heads to dispel these overly complicated and irritating thoughts. Their heads were starting to hurt and new adversaries had joined the fray.

-XXXXXX-

Skullrippa gritted his teeth in anger, listening to the explosions and screams coming from the city. None of his Orks had returned with Gorlonik, and those standing guard outside listened apprehensively to the deaths of their companions.

What was happening in there beyond the obvious? It was impossible to know, after all, there is no way to discover the enemy's strategy if no one returns alive.

However, he was an experienced Nob and knew the basics of what his opponent intended, since the duration of the siege was equivalent to the morale of his army.

His Orks would give up and leave if they couldn't have a good fight and realize that it wasn't worth dying here, no amount of teef or threats would make them stay.

On the other hand, he didn't see how his enemies would last long, they surrounded his territory, cutting off his exits to get more ammunition, food, and water that would eventually run out.

He needed to change his strategy since he wasn't dealing with a normal Ork who would fight on equal terms. Advancing directly without a plan proved to be a mistake, it was time to take it slow, which was unthinkable for most Orks.

Whether by luck or divine intervention, he saw a Boy in blue armor staggering out of the dark streets, smiling at finally having the chance to know what was going on, but frowning at his appearance.

The Ork was swollen from head to toe, his once green flesh now red and sore, leaking out of his tattered suit. His eyes barely escaped his face as his swollen mouth and tongue spilled rivers of saliva onto the ground.

Skullrippa would have demanded an answer, but the newcomer behaved erratically, looking back before desperately trying to run, failing with each weak step he took.

Slowly, a noise echoed through the night, gradually increasing in volume and causing the Ork to throw himself to the ground, covering his head as a black cloud left the city, moving wildly and filling the air with an incessant flapping of wings, a great swarm of Buzzer Squigs.

A moment of inaction was all they needed to close the gap and sting the Orks present, save for Skullrippa due to his heavy armor.

Screams and gunfire filled the area as the Orks tried to escape the pain, some hitting their allies, others fleeing, and a few locking themselves inside their vehicles. It took one deafening scream to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control.

"YOU IDIOT GITS, USE THE SKORCHAS!"

Skullrippa's subordinates acted as if a switch had been flipped and the crews manning the Wartrakk Skorchas aimed their massive flamethrowers upward, incinerating the swarms in a searing tide, but not without burning some of their friends.

The Nob looked around wildly, searching for something to take out his anger until his eyes settled on the only returning Ork. He couldn't krump his only source of information no matter how much he wanted to.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING STANDING THERE?! BRING BACK THE RUNNERS! SURROUND THE CITY, BUT DON'T ENTER! BRING THE GROTS AND SQUIGS! AND CALL OUR PAINBOY TO TREAT THIS GIT! HE WILL ONLY DIE AFTER HE TELLS ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!"

Then the orders were carried out with primal fear and Skullrippa could only watch, wondering how he would deal with the dire situation, and worst of all, it was only the first night of the siege.

END OF CHAPTER