Warzone: Borhelia - a mini-campaign on the planet Boreliah in the Esenie system!
-Me has a plan! A very kunnin’ plan!
Leonid Grotskij straightened his coat and took off his cap. The cap was stolen from a human hot-shot-big-guy and Grotskij had improved it by sticking on lots of metal stars and other small pieces of bones and metal. He thought the cap looked very impressive. A cap for a great leader of great things! He knew that the cap would be stolen in seconds if he left it unattended, so he held it in a tight grip. He looked on his sorry rebellion force. A bunch of idiots, he thought. Without the right spirit. All those bone’eads wanted was to see explosions and shoot man-things. Not too bad, Grotskij pondered, but not too bright either. A bigger plan... that was what mattered. And Grotskij had that plan. His new cunning plan was bold, but devious. It couldn’t fail.
-Grots of da rebellion! he yelled to the audience, which stood dumb-funded and looked at him.
He’d got their attention and now it was time to tell the squigpissbrains what he expected of them...
-Grots! We will win! I has da most kunnin’ plan evva and nuffin can stop dat plan! We is gonna rock tomorra... we is gonna get da squigdung Izlambad (the crowd booed here) to wet his own diapers (the crowd laughed violently here). We iz gonna hit him hard and den we will blame da beeks and oomies (here the crowed started fighting with themselves) and den dat squig Izlambad will move to da oomies for da revenge (here the crowd cheered) and den... den... we is gonna watch dem beat da crap outta eachuvver… And! And.... (here the crowd listened to the now very calm voice of Grotskij) ... and... who will be dere ta pick up da pieces?
The Grots stared at Grotskij and then at each other. Noone spoke. Grotskij waited. Then one Grot raised his hand and said:
”Da beeks wiv da ‘orns?”
-Nooo! Yer stooped squig-crapping arsehole!!
Grotskij pulled up an autopistol and took a shot at the unfortunate grot who had spoken so carelessly. But the shot missed horribly and hit another Grot, who died with a surprised expression on his face.
-Oooops! Ah… well… No, fools! We is pickin’ da pieces! We is winners!! We! We!!
Grotskij made that certain smile where he pulled up the underlip over the overlip. It looked insanely ridiculous, but noone dared to say that. Instead the crowd cheered and started to fight with themselves again. Grotskij sighed, but was pleased. This could go really well. The number of tanks were increasing and Grotskij had seen what they could do when they shot humans at the battle of the bridge. Things were going well... he put on his cap and withdrew to his tent. Things were going well, indeed!
***
The looted vehicles took fire positions behind a hill. Leonid looked at them with pride. That moron Izlambad would think that it was human shells that hit his camp. Leonid had even ordered a couple of groups of Grots to advance, by the shelter of the darkness and use the new lasguns they had managed to steal in a small raid a couple of days ago. His minions were not the brightest creatures on this planet, far from it, but surely they could do this… If Izlambad thought it was the humans who were finding out about his plans of a Waaagh, and they would retaliate… oh, it was a good plan! The best! Ever!! Leonid turned to the crews of the looted tanks with a smile
-Yer, stooped maggots! When I says da word… yer will not… and me repeats… NOT… charge…
When Leonid said the word "charge" all Grots suddenly cheered and started shooting in the air. They yelled hard and started running towards the Ork camp. Then the looted vehicles fired away and hit several Ork battlewagons. But the Grots got so carried away that they continued to charge the Ork camp. Leonid stared in disbelief, before kicking into action. This was not the plan. Oh, those stupid arses! He ran to his command tankette and yelled in the microphone. The loudspeakers boomed with the sound of his voice;
-No! Stoopid arseholes! Come back! Dis is not what me meaned! Yer spoilin’ everyfing! Get back 'ere! NOW!!!
The Grots stopped. Some of them still shot up in the air, but they quit that as soon as they heard the howl from the Ork camp. It was a mother of howl. A howl from Mork himself!
-Uh-oh! someone said and started to run. That “Uh-oh” made all the Grots realize the danger in hanging around . They all turned and ran to their tankettes and wagons and trucks. Leonid shook his head. Why was he surrounded by idiots. But... if only Figglit could time his attack on Thermopylae… maybe, just maybe, this could go well…
***
The ground in and around Thermopylae started shaking by midnight. It woke the whole garrison and everybody in it knew trouble was coming. Recon patrols were sent out and ammo boxes were cracked open. The 22 eme Regiment de la Garde Imperiale du Metz had been around before and every soldier knew what to do. Nobody knew, though, what to expect. There had been several incursions around Thermopylae the past weeks by Cultists and greenskins, but nothing major and while every guardsman was aware of potential attacks, no one really expected it. After all, Thermopylae was in ruins after two major battles against Lord Entragian and of no value. Nobody … (or nothing) could possibly want something there…
Marechal Colbert overlooked the deployment of his veteran guard. They were a strange sight in their blue coats, red trousers, cap and their camo-cloaks, which made their appearance very ghost-like. As if a very smart looking pack of ghost were dressed up for parade. Colbert smiled for a second. Then he felt the shaking ground again… what in the Emperor’s name was it? Shouldn’t reports pour in by now? He decided to head to his HQ spot for some badly needed information. Just as he walked into the makeshift tent, a guardsman walked up to him;
-Marechal, we have some news… it seems it’s the greenskins again… but…
-What, soldier, what?
Colbert was growing impatient
-Marechal… perhaps you should listen for yourself…
The guardsman handed over a pair of earphones. Colbert looked grimly at him and put them on.
<static>…. Merde!! Merde!! There are so many of them… <static> Battlewagons, tanks… and Stompas!! We can’t hold the… <static>
Marechal Colbert closed his eyes. The Orks were going for a big one! That idiot Mek Izlambad had been a thorn in the side for a while now. The failed attack at Butangaz had made him stronger. Colbert didn’t like this at all. Nobody needed Orks around when Daemons and Chaos Troops were up and about. Damn! Damn! Stompas, tanks… something had to be done. The shaking of the ground was increasing and Colbert realized that his garrison would not be enough. He suddenly yelled to the guardsman with the radio:
-Send a request for reinforcements immediately! Everything that’s in the neighbourhood!! Now!! Merde!
Marechal Colbert pointed at the guardsman and then moved to oversee the defense once more. And the ground continued to shake…
***
-Here they come! They… but what is that? Marechal! There is a small number of little tankettes moving fast on the road towards us. I’ve never seen anything like it before!
Jean-Marie, Master of Ordnance, handed over the binoculars to Colbert. Colbert looked at the little tanks that sped forward. He had heard about these.
-It’s Grot tankettes, Jean-Marie! Haven’t you heard about the strange rebellion within the greenskins? At Butangaz, I think. They must have pissed off Izlambad badly this time! Look! The Orks are behind them!
Behind the Grot tankettes a sea of metal contraptions were advancing. Lumbering Stompas and huge tanks. Colbert was just about to laugh when explosions were heard behind his garrison!
-What? What was that?
Colbert turned his focus to the complete opposite direction. What he saw filled him with disbelief! Killer-Kans, self-propelled artillery, trucks filled with Grots, battlewagons… they were being attacked from behind! And, on top of that, large explosions hit home and killed several guardsmen, who were occupying a large, ruined, house. They were being hit from some long-distance artillery! Colbert didn’t hesitate though and quickly yelled out orders to his aides. The whole garrison turned about and started pouring shots into the Grot advance. The Orks were still far away and this threat had to be dealt with now! Hulot, his trusted radio-man suddenly yelled. It seemed that reinforcements were on it’s way. Colbert took a glance towards where Hulot pointed. A couple of Dreadnoughts and Guard artillery were moving up against the Orks. Colbert quickly saw that it was Iron Templars and the 113th Traumatican Brigade that was moving up. The Orks saw this too, and turned to face this new threat. Perhaps things were going in the right direction, Marechal Colbert thought as he turned towards his own battle in Thermopylae.
***
The Grots were everywhere and it was, in fact, a shooting gallery. And the guard fired away in a frenzied fusillade crippling a lot of looted tanks and battlewagons. Jean-Marie added to the mayhem and called down a strike of ordnance that hit home on a truck, exploding it and casting Grots around. The Grots were tough though and didn’t flinch. They made a hard counter-attack and many guardsmen were killed. In the middle of it all was Custodian Pinot and his Penal Squad. They were a bunch of psychopathic murderers that had been sentenced to do a last repentance before they were sent to hell. Pinot looked at them. They were a hard bunch of cretin’s, but oh my Emperor how they looked like they could rip the arms of a man. He gathered them closely:
-Penal Squad Pinot! In the name of the Emperor; this is your chance to do good before you are judged by him whose light we all seek! This is…
- Oh, can it, will ya? Let’s start killing instead! I’ll talk to the Emperor when I meet him over a glass of fraggin’ vodka in hell!
One of the prisoners spat out his blasphemous words and checked his lasgun. Pinot was shocked and impressed at the same time and just nodded. He waved to the Penal squad and they started to move. They got instantly shot at and a three prisoners fell dead, heading quickly to hell. The rest moved flat out away from the crossfire and found themselves heading towards a strange Ork with lots of feathers and boney things hanging from him. Pinot realized that it was a psyker, a greenskin that could do psychic stuff. He yelled to his squad and they sprayed the Weirdboy with lasgun shots until he and his squad lay dead. There was more to do though. Pinot spotted a new group of greenskins and he took off with his prisoners and charged them with a howl. This group was tougher though, and Pinot was hit in the head with a crude knife and died at an instant. So did almost everyone of his Penal squad. The prisoner that had spoken so blasphemously a few seconds ago was standing alone in a mass of greenskins. He yelled his defiance and lashed to the left and right, felling a couple of greenskins. The greenskins didn’t like this man at all. He smelled badly (generally not a bad thing when you are green, but he smelled terrible man-smells) and he looked ugly and insane (which was very true). The greenskins wavered and started to pull back. That made the prisoner even more excited and he slew them all in series of frenzied attacks! He then turned his gaze towards another group of greenskins. Perhaps he could slay these as well and then slip away. He went for it! He jumped right into the group of Grots, but slipped and fell in the middle of them.
-Oh, frag it! was his last words as he finally went for that glass of vodka in hell…
***
The Grot attack on Thermopylae had lost it’s momentum. But there was a lot of dead guardsmen as well. Colbert hoped that the Imperial reinforcements were about to give them a hand. That would be very sweet. The Leman Russ and the Vanquisher did good work though, as they methodically cleared the flanks from armoured threats. And the guardsmen and the veterans mopped up the green resistance. They were slowly grinding down the Grots. The casualties were heavy though…
-How’s the status with the Orks?
Colbert yelled to his radio-man. Henri gave his thumb up and Colbert nodded. There was a now good chance that they would hold Thermopylae.
***
Izlambad looked at the unfolding battle. More and more human tanks… some very big and scary ones, were advancing towards his Orks and their shooting hit home more and more often. Was it worth it? Reports told that the squig-poop Leonid Grotskij got his sorry arse kicked in the town (not that Izlambad thought Leonid took part himself in the fight… no, that coward probably sat somewhere and yelled his idiot orders from a safe-place) and the humans were getting closer to really hurt his army. His army wasn’t ready yet. He couldn’t afford to lose another Stompa and was seriously considering pulling back. He swore when he thought of that fool Leonid. The sorry excuse for a Gretchin had put the Ork Waaagh! at risk by acting like some glorious leader with a cause. That he would pay for. Dearly! Izlambad thought for a minute more and then ordered the retreat. He crushed the skull of an unfortunate nearby Ork when he thought of Leonid Grotskij. Pay dearly he would! By Gork and Mork!!
***
Leonid Grotskij was upset. No, he was upset beyond comprehension. Everything went wrong. Why couldn’t minions do as they were told? He had been trying to pull out his forces for a long time, but those arses weren’t listening. He spied Figglit among a group of Grots. Trying to hide, no doubt…
-Figglit, yer squig-face! Come ‘ere and face me!
Figglit moved closer, limping badly. He had a gaping wound in his side and one foot was gone.
-Idiot! Piss-brain!! Ninkom-poop!!! Why did yer attack to early? Yer couldn’t wait for me commands, stink-face!!??
Leonid tightened his grip around his autopistol… and in his maddened anger he suddenly squeezed the trigger. The shot hit his own foot!
-Naaaiiiii!!! Aaaahhh… now seee wha yer done to me foot!!! Aaaahhh…
Leonid raised the autopistol and pointed at Figglit’s face. The pain was intolerable but he had to do something about that ape-head Figglit. He shot… but missed and hit a tankette behind Figglit. The ricochet whizzed pass his own right ear and hit a fuel tank on a truck some meters behind him. The truck exploded and killed it’s crew and a chained squig.
-Dis… is… typical… Leonid said before he passed out.
____________________________________
Written by: Tony Melander (2011)