Rumlar was on the bridge of his new Kroozer, inspecting repairs and generally making a nuisance of himself. Imperial ships had been lurking on the outskirts of the system, but none had yet tried to attack.

“Typical humie behavior,” Rumlar thought to hi’self. “An ork wouldn’t be slinking around avoiding a scrap like that!”

Rumlar glanced around his command deck looking for Slapdash, his grot orderly. ‘Dash hadn’t been around lately to provide Rumlar with regular battle reports, but was spending his time keeping an eye on the Meks for him.

Looking at his sitchy-ay-shun map, Rumlar saw something. When he looked again, it was still there; or rather it still wasn’t there. “HEY! You wit da’ brush! Yeah, yew! WHAT the ‘ell in GORK’s (or is it MORK’s?) GREAT LEFT FOOT do you think you are doing?”

“Who? Me? Slapdash told be to come up ‘ere and update da map. He said you’d be in for a surprise and… (FWOOM!).”  Suddenly there was a dark greasy spot on the deck where the unnamed grot in a red shirt used to be.

Rumlar peered down the barrel of his new Mega Blasta Pistol. “Hmm. So dat’s how dis monsta’ works. Shmitty said dis thing works better than a slugga. I’ll have to have him make me a bigger one.”

Hearing the familiar whisper-squawk of the door opening, Rumlar turned as Slapdash stepped in. ‘Dash looked at Rumlar…looked at the smoking pistol in his hand… and then looked at the dark greasy spot next to the can of brown paint by the map on the wall.

‘Dash hadn’t survived these past years because he was stoopid. Actually he was, in fact, stoopid, but to his credit he knew that and, like any good orderly grot, he was smart enough to surround himself with grots who were stoopidder still.

Putting on his brightest smile before Rumlar could say anything (or shoot)… “Guess wot Kaptin!? Good News! Come down to the Injinseeing deck. Shmitty has sumfink to show you!”

The din of banging and grinding metal quickly died down as Rumlar strode onto the main deck. Piles of Imperials gunz, components, wheels, and Mork (or is it Gork?) only knows what…was piled everywhere.

Shmitty beamed up at Rumlar with the largest smile he could energize. “Vell! Halo der Keptin! Vat brinks you to de grrreat vorks you zee around you?! Hmm?” Rumlar noticed the piles of scrap had not moved but were suddenly between him and all the Meks and grots on deck…except for Shmitty.

“Shmitty. It has come to my atenshun dat da humies have been shootin’ up me boyz before dey can get stuck in real good. Tell me it ain’t so Shmitty.”

“Oh Dat. Yes Baas, dat is all part of der Zarge’s great plan. He haas been testing da new dakka ve haf built vor him. You zee, deze new big dakka gunz you vanted must haf many more bigger slugs den bevore. Der Zarge has pulled back from de big ‘umie towns zo vee don’ haf to drive zo far wid all de new shells and da ‘umies don’t shoot up all de boyz because der are not enuff slugs. But zum of da Boys…vell boys vill be boyz…tried to get shtuck in anyvay…”

Rumlar was still digesting this new concept of ‘a plan’ put together by one of his bosses. Then he remembered, da Sarge is a Blood Axe. Mork (or is it Gork?) help da humies if he ever gets together with one of those thievin’ Death Skull gits. Da humies will be in for da surprise of their suddenly cut short lives. Har Har Har!

“Slapdash!” he roared. “Bring me a bottle! I’z thirsty!”

As Rumlar stomped off, Shmitty wiped the sweat from his brow; sweat not caused by physical exertion. Sprocket, his grot helper, looked up at him inquisitively. “Iz all dat true, wot ya jus’ told da Kaptin?”

“Off course it iz true…Or it vill be before not too long from now…HEY! Vot are all you gitz shtaring at?! Git baak to vork!”

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The artwork, “Oye MekBoy,” is courtesy of Musibat-Khan. Click here to visit his other work on deviantart.com.

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The Corvus Cluster is a Warhammer 40K blog documenting our adventures in the sci-fi universe of Games Workshop.