Long Live Da Red Gobbo (Warhammer 40,000) by Justin Woolley

Author:Justin Woolley [Woolley, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: FLS
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2024-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Sand kicked up in great plumes behind the thundering feet of a dozen snarling, grunting squighogs that charged across the open desert. All of them were bright red, because not only did orks know that red ones go faster, but the squigherders of the Beast Snaggas also knew that da brighter da red, da brighter da speed, and they would often breed for colour.

The billowing dust cloud rose high in the air, providing a clear sign of the Beast Snaggas’ approach. Not that most orks cared about any form of stealth. The only surprise they cared about was how surprised you’d be about being alive one minute and dead the next.

Bludspilla certainly didn’t care about being sneaky or any of that. He knew there were orks out there that tried to copy the taktiks of other races, like making dakka as good as the fishboyz or trying to sneak about like da humies. That wasn’t what orks were supposed to do, though, was it? They were all forgetting what made orks orky. No point fighting the same way as what you were fighting against. If you did that it’d just be boring. Imagine two sneaking-about armies trying to fight each other; didn’t bear thinking on, did it? Orks were never going to make dakka as good as fishboyz or be as good at sneaking as humies. That was why Da Old Wayz were the best. Da Old Wayz were what kept you most orky, and orky was charging in and krumpin’ stuff. There was nobody as good as orks at charging in and krumpin’ stuff.

The Beast Snagga Boyz urged their mounts on, kicking them in the guts with the heels of their boots and slapping their rumps with the ends of the long-handled spears they carried. They were on Da Hunt, but that didn’t mean they were going to stalk their prey and sneak up on them like some scared, puny humie. They were going to hunt the grots in the forest like orks were supposed to hunt. They would charge in, smashing everything in front of them, trees and all, and drive everything out ahead of them where they could spear it, shoot it or bonk it on the head.

Warboss Brukka Bludspilla rode at the head of the charging pack, perched on the biggest, angriest, wildest smasha squig the Snakebites had ever raised. Its name was Fluffy on account of the tuft of hair that sprouted from its head, but don’t let the name or the tuft fool you; Fluffy was a nightmare of a squig.

The squigherders had tried to break in Fluffy the same way they did with every squig, roping it around the jaw and climbing on its back. Fifteen different orks had tried to ride the beast, with each attempt ending exactly the same way. Fluffy would buck wildly while the ork tried desperately to hang on, then break free of the rope. The ork would be tossed into the air, and Fluffy would snap at them with its massive teeth.

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