Why couldn't it have been Star Wars?
- Thread starter Jackson Fox
- Start date
- Crossover Sci-Fi
Yes. It's called the Umbrella.
Also have a Unit Database.
I've only finish to read the chapter 1 but I seriously want say this:
1: i love it! It's well written, easy to read and very enjoyable. It's not an easy task to reach, good job!
2: i SERIOUSLY hope this will not a shitty-fancy-love stories when the protagonist trying desperately to make everyone and everything love each others. I HATE that kind of stories, especially for Warhammer.
3: i HOPE you will DESTROY the Imperium, Eldar, Tau etc....
I really want see a machine empire story not a dude who try just to survive when he have the power to be a God-Machine itself!
Well, now I go to read the others chapters 😍
1: i love it! It's well written, easy to read and very enjoyable. It's not an easy task to reach, good job!
2: i SERIOUSLY hope this will not a shitty-fancy-love stories when the protagonist trying desperately to make everyone and everything love each others. I HATE that kind of stories, especially for Warhammer.
3: i HOPE you will DESTROY the Imperium, Eldar, Tau etc....
I really want see a machine empire story not a dude who try just to survive when he have the power to be a God-Machine itself!
Well, now I go to read the others chapters 😍
Chapter 5 - Total WAAAGH!
Chapter 5 - Total WAAAGH!
The ork hordes had united into a single, emerald-green tide. He'd quickly built a new air factory and sent a force of fireflies to scout the approaching horde, though he'd been forced to keep at a distance to prevent the horde from noticing and filling the sky will so much dakka that even their inaccurate weapons destroyed his aircraft. Even while keeping out of range, he'd counted nearly half a million ork boyz and tens of thousands of other kinds, many of which were even larger. That was more than there had been the last time he'd counted the disparate factions. Somehow, the orks had come out of their infighting with even more forces.
They were led from the front by an ork that stood nearly four meters tall, even with its slouched frame, towering over the boyz and nobz. The horde's boss given how he was shouting and yelling at the others from atop some kind of tank cobbled together out of various pieces of scrap. His fireflies were too far above him to hear what he was saying, but it was clear that he was galvanizing them as the orks roared and pushed even faster towards the ruined city at his words.
The weapons and vehicles of these orks were not very advanced, not compared to the dark eldar anyways. From what he could tell, they had relatively few vehicles and none were larger than the boss' tank, which was on par in size with a drukhari raider, if far bulkier and less elegant in appearance. No aircraft either that he could see, though he did see a few stormboyz with the rockets strapped to their backs flying, if it could be called that, above the horde at various times, occasionally followed by a small explosion upon landing.
They were probably heading to the city to find out what had caused the explosion and see if they could fight it. The dark eldar were long gone, but their path would take them through the forest where his base was located. They'd likely stop at the crater with said base as well if they were bothering to investigate the sites of the explosions.
Fucking orks…
He could run. Send an air fabricator to one of the nearby islands, build a portal, send his commander body through and close it behind him. Even better, he could find another celestial body and build up there instead. He didn't need to fight…
Except, he knew he did. Beyond just being in the 40k universe, the fundamental forces of which literally demanded bloodshed, these were orks. If he left, they'd probably keep growing in numbers until they got a proper WAAAGH going. He wasn't sure where or even when he was in the 40k galaxy, but he doubted it was anywhere with strong defenses if dark eldar were able to raid this world without worry. He'd been planning on either asking the city people or getting the information from a computer or something, but that… hadn't worked out.
Regardless, if he left these orks alone, they'd easily dominate this world and then start looking for people to fight in the greater galaxy. The closest of which would be him and he would be at an even greater disadvantage as the orks would continue to advance in teknology while he would be relying on whatever he could find and work with out in the greater galaxy, if he even found anything at all. He wouldn't be able to win in the long term if all he did was run. He'd still send his commander body to another planet as soon as was possible, but that was just common sense. That was in the future, however. For now, he would fight.
The orks would reach his base in a little over a day. He chuckled in his own head as he brought up a new design he'd been working on.
Those xenos bastards wouldn't know what hit them.
24 Hours Later
Warboss Git-Crusha laughed and shouted and bashed at the boyz around him, beating down any one of them that looked at him funny and more than a few that didn't. The boyz were tired, he knew, tired of not having anything to fight 'cept each other for the last month. Fighting orks was fun, but it wasn't as fun as getting all the boyz together for a WAAAGH with somebody else and he'd crush anyone who said different..
When the big 'splosion had happened, Git-Cruncha had just finished smashing in the skull of Skullstompa, his last rival Warboss. It had been a good fight, but his blood was still aching for more. It had been boiling ever since they'd krumped the humies and the pointies came and blasted away the old warboss, Defftoof, without even showing up. When he saw the flashy blast that had krumped the biggest ork he'd ever seen, he'd felt a yearning in him, a call to go to where that blast had come from and beat the living daylights out of whatever had sent it. He'd thought he was hungry so he ate a nearby snotling, but the feeling had remained. Then, a bunch of even bigger blasts had come and made the world all shaky for a bit. So, he gathered up all the Boyz and led them atop Git-Crusha, his personal battle wagon, towards the places where the blasts had struck.
He was a thinker and he'd realized that even if whatever had sent the blasts wasn't there, the thing that had been shot at probably was. And, AND if the size of those blasts was anything to go by, then whatever had been shot at was probably even bigger and badder than Defftoof!
He laughed and crushed the head of a nearby snotling at the thought. Oh, this was gonna be fun, he was sure of it.
The sound of a loud humming, growing louder by the second, drew him from his happy thoughts of battle.
Meanwhile
The dagger-class speeders were excellent designs, in his own humble opinion. Fast, sleek, nimble, and deadly. Based off the Drukhari jetbike he hadstolen acquired, each one was equipped with a heat lance on par with the original. The lack of any pilot, at least that could be seen, made each one of them look essentially like a knife that sliced through the air, hence the name. Their tail fins doubled as mono-molecular blades, meaning they could slice through flesh as well.
He'd spent the day since his decision to fight building factories, fabricators, and nearly a thousand of these speeders. Not enough to fight that horde in a straight fight, but that was never the intention. He split the force in three, sending two to flank opposite sides of the ork horde to try and draw them away from the path to his crater-base and the third right up the middle. It wasn't likely to succeed, but if he could gain some breathing room by taking out their leader right off the bat, he wouldn't complain.
He had been, perhaps, just a bit too proud of the design and a bit too naïve about his chances.
His central force was completely demolished before it even reached the Warboss. The ranks of Ork boyz and nobz had roared and opened fire the moment they saw his speeders. Fast, sleek, nimble, and deadly perhaps, but sturdy? No.
The flanking speeders did much better, mainly because he wasn't making them perform kamikaze runs on the strongest. They swept in close enough to fire a few shots of their heat lances, before running away, much like what the dark eldar had done to him and his Wolffes.
The orks on the sides were smaller and had worse equipment than those in the center, who he assumed were the elites. Many only had choppas and other melee weapons. They feebly attempted to rush at his speeders, but their stubby legs were too short and too slow to catch up with aeldari designed hover engines. He lost a few daggers to the sporadic fire of the orks, but the few shootas meant there were less chances for a critical hit. When one of his speeders looked like it was about to fail, he sent them careening into groups of orks and overloaded their engines, causing explosions that often took more than a dozen out in one go.
Still, these were drops in the ocean of green. The attack was meant to get their attention and pull them away from his current economic center that was still being repaired and reinforced. He wanted a fortress to be built before they fell upon him, and it seemed like that was what he would get.
Orks weren't the most disciplined of warriors to begin with and his hit-and-run tactics were making their tempers run short. As the rest of the horde began to move back to deal with the speeders, he stepped up his attacks, moving along their flanks to their backs, away from his base. When the larger orks with more shootas came at his speeders, he'd quickly pull them back and attack somewhere else.
It was fun, in a strange way, seeing the tempers of the orks flare every time he pulled back only to explode into rage at his resumed attacks. The warboss in particular seemed livid at his refusal to engage in direct combat, his tank rushing back and forth along his lines in an attempt to keep up with his speedy daggers, more often than not crushing any unfortunate ork that got in the way.
When he felt like the orks were truly caught on the lure that were his speeders, around half of which were still active at this point, he began the second phase of his plan. Their hit-and-run attacks would now lead them further and further away from his crater, dipping in only to strike when he felt like he was losing their attention, occasionally sacrificing a few speeders in suicide attacks to make sure they didn't think it was pointless to keep chasing after their attackers.
That ought to keep them occupied for a few hours and he turned his focus to other endeavors. The islands surrounding the continent would be useful as he wouldn't need to expend resources defending the structures there unless the orks happened to discover them, so he would allocate the majority of his economic and industrial base there, leaving the central base as a decoy and something for them to focus on once it was prepared, with portals linking the factories on the islands to the inside of his fortress.
The main threat in the long term weren't actually the orks themselves ironically enough, but the spores they grew from. If he couldn't deal with those, he'd never get rid of them. From his memory of the lore, fire was the best method of dealing with them, so his forces would utilize heat lances heavily, with splinter rifle variations being dedicated to heavier weapons meant for dealing with vehicles and the like.
He also needed to start expanding from this single planet as soon as possible. Not only would that help if someone with planet-killing capabilities came and decided the galaxy would be better off without another threat like him in it, but it would allow him to more freely expand his industrial base as well. Hey, maybe he would even get lucky and find some technology he could 'acquire'.
To that end, he had an orbital launcher constructed at his central base and queued up a swarm of fabricators that were soon flung through the atmosphere into the stars above. The system he was in had around six planets in it, two gas giants, two solids including the world he was presently upon, and one ocean planet. The sixth world was so close to the blue star of the system that it was practically a second star and wouldn't be useable due to the heat. There were also around a dozen moons ranging in size from a few hundred kilometers wide to the size of the one which orbited his own planet, which had a diameter of nearly three thousand kilometers.
Not bad, not bad at all. He had a third of his fabricators begin constructing orbital factories around his world. Another third would go to other solid worlds and moons and begin establishing industrial bases there. The rest would go to the gas giants and spend half their time constructing more factories and half constructing jigs to further improve his economy.
Yes, he was going to show these orks the power that a Commander possessed.
The ork hordes had united into a single, emerald-green tide. He'd quickly built a new air factory and sent a force of fireflies to scout the approaching horde, though he'd been forced to keep at a distance to prevent the horde from noticing and filling the sky will so much dakka that even their inaccurate weapons destroyed his aircraft. Even while keeping out of range, he'd counted nearly half a million ork boyz and tens of thousands of other kinds, many of which were even larger. That was more than there had been the last time he'd counted the disparate factions. Somehow, the orks had come out of their infighting with even more forces.
They were led from the front by an ork that stood nearly four meters tall, even with its slouched frame, towering over the boyz and nobz. The horde's boss given how he was shouting and yelling at the others from atop some kind of tank cobbled together out of various pieces of scrap. His fireflies were too far above him to hear what he was saying, but it was clear that he was galvanizing them as the orks roared and pushed even faster towards the ruined city at his words.
The weapons and vehicles of these orks were not very advanced, not compared to the dark eldar anyways. From what he could tell, they had relatively few vehicles and none were larger than the boss' tank, which was on par in size with a drukhari raider, if far bulkier and less elegant in appearance. No aircraft either that he could see, though he did see a few stormboyz with the rockets strapped to their backs flying, if it could be called that, above the horde at various times, occasionally followed by a small explosion upon landing.
They were probably heading to the city to find out what had caused the explosion and see if they could fight it. The dark eldar were long gone, but their path would take them through the forest where his base was located. They'd likely stop at the crater with said base as well if they were bothering to investigate the sites of the explosions.
Fucking orks…
He could run. Send an air fabricator to one of the nearby islands, build a portal, send his commander body through and close it behind him. Even better, he could find another celestial body and build up there instead. He didn't need to fight…
Except, he knew he did. Beyond just being in the 40k universe, the fundamental forces of which literally demanded bloodshed, these were orks. If he left, they'd probably keep growing in numbers until they got a proper WAAAGH going. He wasn't sure where or even when he was in the 40k galaxy, but he doubted it was anywhere with strong defenses if dark eldar were able to raid this world without worry. He'd been planning on either asking the city people or getting the information from a computer or something, but that… hadn't worked out.
Regardless, if he left these orks alone, they'd easily dominate this world and then start looking for people to fight in the greater galaxy. The closest of which would be him and he would be at an even greater disadvantage as the orks would continue to advance in teknology while he would be relying on whatever he could find and work with out in the greater galaxy, if he even found anything at all. He wouldn't be able to win in the long term if all he did was run. He'd still send his commander body to another planet as soon as was possible, but that was just common sense. That was in the future, however. For now, he would fight.
The orks would reach his base in a little over a day. He chuckled in his own head as he brought up a new design he'd been working on.
Those xenos bastards wouldn't know what hit them.
24 Hours Later
Warboss Git-Crusha laughed and shouted and bashed at the boyz around him, beating down any one of them that looked at him funny and more than a few that didn't. The boyz were tired, he knew, tired of not having anything to fight 'cept each other for the last month. Fighting orks was fun, but it wasn't as fun as getting all the boyz together for a WAAAGH with somebody else and he'd crush anyone who said different..
When the big 'splosion had happened, Git-Cruncha had just finished smashing in the skull of Skullstompa, his last rival Warboss. It had been a good fight, but his blood was still aching for more. It had been boiling ever since they'd krumped the humies and the pointies came and blasted away the old warboss, Defftoof, without even showing up. When he saw the flashy blast that had krumped the biggest ork he'd ever seen, he'd felt a yearning in him, a call to go to where that blast had come from and beat the living daylights out of whatever had sent it. He'd thought he was hungry so he ate a nearby snotling, but the feeling had remained. Then, a bunch of even bigger blasts had come and made the world all shaky for a bit. So, he gathered up all the Boyz and led them atop Git-Crusha, his personal battle wagon, towards the places where the blasts had struck.
He was a thinker and he'd realized that even if whatever had sent the blasts wasn't there, the thing that had been shot at probably was. And, AND if the size of those blasts was anything to go by, then whatever had been shot at was probably even bigger and badder than Defftoof!
He laughed and crushed the head of a nearby snotling at the thought. Oh, this was gonna be fun, he was sure of it.
The sound of a loud humming, growing louder by the second, drew him from his happy thoughts of battle.
Meanwhile
The dagger-class speeders were excellent designs, in his own humble opinion. Fast, sleek, nimble, and deadly. Based off the Drukhari jetbike he had
He'd spent the day since his decision to fight building factories, fabricators, and nearly a thousand of these speeders. Not enough to fight that horde in a straight fight, but that was never the intention. He split the force in three, sending two to flank opposite sides of the ork horde to try and draw them away from the path to his crater-base and the third right up the middle. It wasn't likely to succeed, but if he could gain some breathing room by taking out their leader right off the bat, he wouldn't complain.
He had been, perhaps, just a bit too proud of the design and a bit too naïve about his chances.
His central force was completely demolished before it even reached the Warboss. The ranks of Ork boyz and nobz had roared and opened fire the moment they saw his speeders. Fast, sleek, nimble, and deadly perhaps, but sturdy? No.
The flanking speeders did much better, mainly because he wasn't making them perform kamikaze runs on the strongest. They swept in close enough to fire a few shots of their heat lances, before running away, much like what the dark eldar had done to him and his Wolffes.
The orks on the sides were smaller and had worse equipment than those in the center, who he assumed were the elites. Many only had choppas and other melee weapons. They feebly attempted to rush at his speeders, but their stubby legs were too short and too slow to catch up with aeldari designed hover engines. He lost a few daggers to the sporadic fire of the orks, but the few shootas meant there were less chances for a critical hit. When one of his speeders looked like it was about to fail, he sent them careening into groups of orks and overloaded their engines, causing explosions that often took more than a dozen out in one go.
Still, these were drops in the ocean of green. The attack was meant to get their attention and pull them away from his current economic center that was still being repaired and reinforced. He wanted a fortress to be built before they fell upon him, and it seemed like that was what he would get.
Orks weren't the most disciplined of warriors to begin with and his hit-and-run tactics were making their tempers run short. As the rest of the horde began to move back to deal with the speeders, he stepped up his attacks, moving along their flanks to their backs, away from his base. When the larger orks with more shootas came at his speeders, he'd quickly pull them back and attack somewhere else.
It was fun, in a strange way, seeing the tempers of the orks flare every time he pulled back only to explode into rage at his resumed attacks. The warboss in particular seemed livid at his refusal to engage in direct combat, his tank rushing back and forth along his lines in an attempt to keep up with his speedy daggers, more often than not crushing any unfortunate ork that got in the way.
When he felt like the orks were truly caught on the lure that were his speeders, around half of which were still active at this point, he began the second phase of his plan. Their hit-and-run attacks would now lead them further and further away from his crater, dipping in only to strike when he felt like he was losing their attention, occasionally sacrificing a few speeders in suicide attacks to make sure they didn't think it was pointless to keep chasing after their attackers.
That ought to keep them occupied for a few hours and he turned his focus to other endeavors. The islands surrounding the continent would be useful as he wouldn't need to expend resources defending the structures there unless the orks happened to discover them, so he would allocate the majority of his economic and industrial base there, leaving the central base as a decoy and something for them to focus on once it was prepared, with portals linking the factories on the islands to the inside of his fortress.
The main threat in the long term weren't actually the orks themselves ironically enough, but the spores they grew from. If he couldn't deal with those, he'd never get rid of them. From his memory of the lore, fire was the best method of dealing with them, so his forces would utilize heat lances heavily, with splinter rifle variations being dedicated to heavier weapons meant for dealing with vehicles and the like.
He also needed to start expanding from this single planet as soon as possible. Not only would that help if someone with planet-killing capabilities came and decided the galaxy would be better off without another threat like him in it, but it would allow him to more freely expand his industrial base as well. Hey, maybe he would even get lucky and find some technology he could 'acquire'.
To that end, he had an orbital launcher constructed at his central base and queued up a swarm of fabricators that were soon flung through the atmosphere into the stars above. The system he was in had around six planets in it, two gas giants, two solids including the world he was presently upon, and one ocean planet. The sixth world was so close to the blue star of the system that it was practically a second star and wouldn't be useable due to the heat. There were also around a dozen moons ranging in size from a few hundred kilometers wide to the size of the one which orbited his own planet, which had a diameter of nearly three thousand kilometers.
Not bad, not bad at all. He had a third of his fabricators begin constructing orbital factories around his world. Another third would go to other solid worlds and moons and begin establishing industrial bases there. The rest would go to the gas giants and spend half their time constructing more factories and half constructing jigs to further improve his economy.
Yes, he was going to show these orks the power that a Commander possessed.
Unit Information - Chapter 5
Hello, so I've decided to make these posts every five chapters. These will provide those interested with more information about the units used in the story up to the chapter in the title of these posts. Hope you enjoy!
Wolffe Bot (Original and Standard Variants)
Description: Around one meter tall, these units possess a similar frame as the slouch-backed werewolves of skyrim, though obviously much smaller. Also known as Gremlins, Tiny Terrors, Pint-Sized Packers, and Mini-Monstrosities.
Loadout: Two clawed hands with monomolecular blades, capable of shredding apart armor and flesh. Two disassembly beams embedded in the palms assist in their attacks by eating away at the armor of foes as they are clawed. The original design could fly using hover engines, but this was deemed to expensive and not needed at a later date and the standard Wolffe now lacks that capability.
Original: 150 Metal
Standard: 75 Metal
Rifleman Infantry (Base, Splinter Rifle, and Heat Lance Rifle Variants)
Description: At around two meters tall, these units resemble fully armored, phase one clone troopers, though they're taller than the originals and are fully mechanical, of course.
Loadout: Either equipped with a Splinter Rifle or a Heat Lance Rifle. Against the orks, definitely a Heat Lance Rifle.
Base: 130 Metal (No weapons)
Splinter Rifle-Equipped: 150 Metal
Heat Lance Rifle-Equipped: 180 Metal
Dagger-class Speeder
Description: A fully automated jet bike, these units resemble long knives with sharpened, monomolecular blade fins at the back that can cut flesh. They are extremely quick, using Dark Eldar hover engines to zip across the battle field. Around three meters long.
Loadout: Equipped with a Heat Lance that can easily incinerate a regular Ork and deal serious damage to larger Orks and vehicles.
Standard: 300 Metal
Wolffe Bot (Original and Standard Variants)
Description: Around one meter tall, these units possess a similar frame as the slouch-backed werewolves of skyrim, though obviously much smaller. Also known as Gremlins, Tiny Terrors, Pint-Sized Packers, and Mini-Monstrosities.
Loadout: Two clawed hands with monomolecular blades, capable of shredding apart armor and flesh. Two disassembly beams embedded in the palms assist in their attacks by eating away at the armor of foes as they are clawed. The original design could fly using hover engines, but this was deemed to expensive and not needed at a later date and the standard Wolffe now lacks that capability.
Original: 150 Metal
Standard: 75 Metal
Rifleman Infantry (Base, Splinter Rifle, and Heat Lance Rifle Variants)
Description: At around two meters tall, these units resemble fully armored, phase one clone troopers, though they're taller than the originals and are fully mechanical, of course.
Loadout: Either equipped with a Splinter Rifle or a Heat Lance Rifle. Against the orks, definitely a Heat Lance Rifle.
Base: 130 Metal (No weapons)
Splinter Rifle-Equipped: 150 Metal
Heat Lance Rifle-Equipped: 180 Metal
Dagger-class Speeder
Description: A fully automated jet bike, these units resemble long knives with sharpened, monomolecular blade fins at the back that can cut flesh. They are extremely quick, using Dark Eldar hover engines to zip across the battle field. Around three meters long.
Loadout: Equipped with a Heat Lance that can easily incinerate a regular Ork and deal serious damage to larger Orks and vehicles.
Standard: 300 Metal
Good to see the commander exploiting the fact that unlike most combatants he has absolutely no need for atmosphere and can easily exploit every bit of mass in the solar system that isn't the star.
Brutally Efficient Self-Replicating Mechanisms of War are a pretty perfect counter to the Orks as well given that they can use everything to make more of themselves.
Including the Orks and their ecosystem!
Brutally Efficient Self-Replicating Mechanisms of War are a pretty perfect counter to the Orks as well given that they can use everything to make more of themselves.
Including the Orks and their ecosystem!
Iridium Flare
Cyborg Commando
- Location
- AC-130 Gunship circling overhead
I wonder if you can set something up on the dark side of the innermost planet to harvest stellar plasma.
- Location
- California
I like the idea that if he wants any kind of mecha unit then he'll need to pin down a Titan-class level opponent for reverse engineering purposes, but there's no chance anybody will let him do that so he'll have to settle for 'pocket,' sized units.
Chapter 6 - Machine of War
Chapter 6 – Machine of War
One Month after the start of Total WAAGH!
Hills of scorched and smoking corpses surrounded a towering fortress covered in turrets. Ash, all that was left of ten thousand or more orks, filled the sky and choked the ground. This was easily the worst part of using heat lances as the main weapon for your army.
His fortress had stood strong and remained untouched by the Ork assaults for almost a month, yet that was all the territory he possessed on the surface of the main continent. When the Orks had realized he was starting to build up other positions elsewhere, they'd swarmed them before he could build up sufficient defenses to beat them back unless he was willing to engage them in a pitched battle by teleporting his army there. Even then, he never won without extreme losses and would just as often choose to pull back from that position as further assaults came soon. Of course, given his nature, such losses hardly mattered in the long run, but most of his resources were dedicated towards expanding his industrial base on the other worlds and moons of the system.
More annoying than anything else was just how damn adaptive the orks were getting. After their initial assaults in the first two weeks, he'd decided that his own discomfort was getting in the way of his ability to win, so he'd fully unleashed the Locusts. A massive swarm descended upon the Orks that attacked his fortress, disassembling nearly fifty thousand on a cellular level. It had been disgusting and their screams had been horrific and part of him was ashamed he had done what he had. The orks retreated for a while and seemed hard at work in their own camp. When they had emerged a few days later and attacked, he'd once more sent the swarm to deal with them.
He had overestimated the power of his swarms.
They'd built flamethrowers, tens of thousands of them. Bullets were all but useless against a swarm of Locusts, but flamethrowers? They were small, not sturdy or heat resistant, and they fell within moments of hitting the directed flames. He'd lost over ninety-five percent of the swarm and barely inflicted more than a few hundred casualties.
Since then, he'd only used the Locusts on isolated groups that had only a few flamers, or in ambush attacks where he spread the swarm across the ground and waited for the orks to come close. He returned to the tried and true tactic of drowning the sea of Orks in an even larger sea of bodies equipped with heat lances or in hit-and-run attacks with forces of speeders.
Most concerting was the fact that the Orks never seemed to decrease in numbers. There had been a time in the beginning after his initial use of the Locusts where it dipped, but since then the size of their attacks only ever increased. The spores were proving trickier to destroy than he'd suspected and a far larger problem than he'd hoped. New Orks were popping up every day all across the continent and they were getting larger by noticeable amounts as the battles became even more pitched and widespread. None showed up around the scorched areas of battle, which proved that the Heat Lances were working, but unless he decided to give the continent a plasma bath, he doubted he was going to manage to get rid of them permanently and he didn't want to use Halsey Engines to send a moon careening into the planet just yet.
He'd just build the engines as a back-up plan.
Two Months after the start of Total WAAAGH!
Git-Crusha couldn't be happier as he drove over another dozen of the tinnys, laughing as he reached down and grabbed another of them, bringing the git up to eye level. The tinny leveled its burn-shoota with his face and let loose a bolt of searing heat that tickled his nose and Git-Crusha laughed even harder as he squeezed and popped the head of the bot off before tossing away the motionless body.
These burn-shoota boyz were great, if a bit too small and weak to give him or the boyz a proper fight, 'specially not with choppas. The other tinnys though, the even littler ones with the choppas on their hands, they was a ton of fun! He could pick up a bunch with his hand and just crush'em like a bunch of snotlings! Not as much fun as actual snotlings, but still!
Even those clouds were alright, even if they didn't get krumped by shootas. The way they burned was great to watch, a cloud of sparks, like explosions. The best had been that big cloud at the beginning that had krumped a bunch of his Boyz all at once in the beginning. Git-Crusha had seen them go all screamy and he got so mad he forgot where the battle was and went in the opposite direction as fast as he could! And anyone who said different would get krumped! He'd had the mekboyz make a bunch of burn-shootas like the tinnys had and watched the flames burn the cloud. It was real pretty.
Those bikes though, they was no fun, and Git-Crusha scowled at the thought. Always ran away, the gits, never staying still enough for him to get his hands on one of 'em. Even Git-Crusha wasn't fast enough to keep up.
Now, Git-Crusha respected going fast as much as the next ork, but running away from a fight… Git-Crusha's blood boiled at the thought.
In his rage, he didn't notice the fight coming to an end as the last of the tinnys got krumped. Further annoyed that he didn't get to enjoy any more of it, he returned to his camp, got a snack (in the form of an unfortunate grot), and went to see his best Mekboy, the one who'd built Git-Crusha.
"BARUK, WHERE ARE YA, YA DUMB GIT!?! GET OUT 'ERE 'FORE I BASH YER SKULL IN!"
"Over 'ere, boss!"
The Mekboy in question was hard at work amidst a pile of the tinnys, tearing them apart and grabbing various bits of wires as he worked on something Git-Crusha didn't understand.
"OY, QUIT WORKING ON A NEW SHOOTA AND START WORKIN' ON GIT-CRUSHA!"
The Mekboy glanced up at him, shaking his head, holding up the device.
"But boss! This ain't a shoota, it's a rocket for-!"
He was cut off by Git-Crusha's fist bashing his head, sending the Mekboy tumbling across the ground.
"WHAT'D YOU SAY?!? IF I SAY IT'S A SHOOTA, IT'S A SHOOTA!"
"Yes, boss!" Baruk nodded so fast Git-Crusha thought it might pop off like that tinny earlier. "I'll get to work on Git-Crusha!"
"I DIDN'T ASK YOU TO WORK ON ME! GET TO WORK ON GIT-CRUSHA, YA GIT, OR I'LL CRUSHA YA!"
"Yes, boss! Sorry, boss!" The Mekboy turned to sprint away, but Git-Crusha grabbed him by his head and picked him up off the ground. Baruk cowered in his grasp, but couldn't run and certainly couldn't fight.
"YA GIT, I AVEN'T SAID WHAT I WANTED YA TO DO YET!" He bellowed even as Baruk continued to struggle. "MAKE IT GO FASTA! FASTA THAN THOSE CHOPPA-BIKES THE TINNYS USE!"
The Mekboy tried to nod, but given Git-Crusha's grip on his head, he could only shout, "Yes, boss!"
"THEN WHAT ARE YA WAITING AROUND FOR, GET GOIN!" Git-Crusha shouted before tossing the Mekboy aside, watching as he scurried away, slowing only to pick up various parts off the ground and a bucket of red paint.
Dumb git.
Three Months after the start of Total WAAAGH!
The orks had bikes now.
When had that happened?
For a while, the fastest thing they'd had was that battle wagon their Warboss drove around on that had no business moving almost as quickly as his speeders. And yet, now they had hundreds of red-painted bikes that equaled his fastest hover units in speed, if not in maneuverability. The hit-and-run attacks were suddenly far less effective as his units spent more time being chased away than turning and attacking.
More than that, he'd found that the orks were using his own destroyed units as scrap to build their machines and weapons. Where before only some orks had shootas, now all of them had at least one and some kind of cobbled together armor.
Orks got stronger and more advanced the longer and more they fought, he'd known this from his knowledge of the lore, but he hadn't expected it to happen this fast and to such a relatively small group of orks.
He'd had the decided advantage at least in the defensive battles, being able to hold them at a distance until they fell under concentrated heat rifle fire or to the blades of his Wolffes. Now he realized just how much of a mistake that had been. They had been advancing and growing, while he had allowed himself to stagnate. He had limited himself to a mere three to four units to fight the majority of his battles, while the Orks had been able to bring increasingly more diverse and varied units to the field.
He'd grown complacent with his superior industrial might.
He would correct that immediately. Even as his forces engaged in a dozen battles all across the continent, he opened his design files and began work upon a range of new units. He'd stuck to infantry and light speeders for too long, he needed something heavier.
And where better to start than the same universe that had inspired his troops?
The Tactical Enforcer was a blatant rip-off of the Clone Wars vehicle of the almost identical name, just like the Riflemen. With no one in this universe knowing what Star Wars was, who was going to call him on it? Certainly not Disney, unless they were really daemons or something (which, admittedly, would not be that much of a surprise). In place of the six laser cannons the walker should have possessed, he gave them six heat rifles even stronger than those on the speeders. The main cannon on top of the walker would be an upscaled splinter rifle capable of taking out tanks in a single shot. He didn't have the technology to allow the walker to scale sheer cliffs like those from Star Wars, yet, but it was still capable of crawling over most terrain with relative ease. Since the interior was almost entirely empty, he'd considered adding a fabrication unit to allow it to build new units on the battlefield itself. Then, he realized he could do even better and instead added a portal frame that could drop units to the ground from any of his numerous factories. It wouldn't fit many things larger than a dagger-class speeder through it, but it was acceptable since all of his other combat units were on par or even smaller.
The Scanner was based loosely off the AT-RT also from the Clone Wars. Small, two-legged, and fairly quick with a heavy heat rifle fixed to its chin. The hum of the speeders was too loud and easily heard from afar which made them inadequate as scouts, but these could fulfill a middle-ground between cavalry, scout, and ambush unit with their much quieter servos. It had excellent sensors as well.
Then, finally, was the Shock-class Gunship. It used both the deldar hover engine and the regular engines used by his aircraft, making it faster than either at its top speed. He also equipped it with a pair of twin rotary splinter rifles, a design he'd been toying with, giving it a fair bit of range. The main purpose of the gunship wasn't for combat, however, it was to ferry his army to and from the battle. It had a teleport frame of similar size to the one on the Enforcer, but the main method of transport was by latching onto and carrying Tactical Enforcers into battle, another idea he'd blatantly stolen from the Clone Wars.
If he couldn't be put in the galaxy of the Star Wars universe, he'd damn well put the Star Wars universe in this galaxy!
One Month after the start of Total WAAGH!
Hills of scorched and smoking corpses surrounded a towering fortress covered in turrets. Ash, all that was left of ten thousand or more orks, filled the sky and choked the ground. This was easily the worst part of using heat lances as the main weapon for your army.
His fortress had stood strong and remained untouched by the Ork assaults for almost a month, yet that was all the territory he possessed on the surface of the main continent. When the Orks had realized he was starting to build up other positions elsewhere, they'd swarmed them before he could build up sufficient defenses to beat them back unless he was willing to engage them in a pitched battle by teleporting his army there. Even then, he never won without extreme losses and would just as often choose to pull back from that position as further assaults came soon. Of course, given his nature, such losses hardly mattered in the long run, but most of his resources were dedicated towards expanding his industrial base on the other worlds and moons of the system.
More annoying than anything else was just how damn adaptive the orks were getting. After their initial assaults in the first two weeks, he'd decided that his own discomfort was getting in the way of his ability to win, so he'd fully unleashed the Locusts. A massive swarm descended upon the Orks that attacked his fortress, disassembling nearly fifty thousand on a cellular level. It had been disgusting and their screams had been horrific and part of him was ashamed he had done what he had. The orks retreated for a while and seemed hard at work in their own camp. When they had emerged a few days later and attacked, he'd once more sent the swarm to deal with them.
He had overestimated the power of his swarms.
They'd built flamethrowers, tens of thousands of them. Bullets were all but useless against a swarm of Locusts, but flamethrowers? They were small, not sturdy or heat resistant, and they fell within moments of hitting the directed flames. He'd lost over ninety-five percent of the swarm and barely inflicted more than a few hundred casualties.
Since then, he'd only used the Locusts on isolated groups that had only a few flamers, or in ambush attacks where he spread the swarm across the ground and waited for the orks to come close. He returned to the tried and true tactic of drowning the sea of Orks in an even larger sea of bodies equipped with heat lances or in hit-and-run attacks with forces of speeders.
Most concerting was the fact that the Orks never seemed to decrease in numbers. There had been a time in the beginning after his initial use of the Locusts where it dipped, but since then the size of their attacks only ever increased. The spores were proving trickier to destroy than he'd suspected and a far larger problem than he'd hoped. New Orks were popping up every day all across the continent and they were getting larger by noticeable amounts as the battles became even more pitched and widespread. None showed up around the scorched areas of battle, which proved that the Heat Lances were working, but unless he decided to give the continent a plasma bath, he doubted he was going to manage to get rid of them permanently and he didn't want to use Halsey Engines to send a moon careening into the planet just yet.
He'd just build the engines as a back-up plan.
Two Months after the start of Total WAAAGH!
Git-Crusha couldn't be happier as he drove over another dozen of the tinnys, laughing as he reached down and grabbed another of them, bringing the git up to eye level. The tinny leveled its burn-shoota with his face and let loose a bolt of searing heat that tickled his nose and Git-Crusha laughed even harder as he squeezed and popped the head of the bot off before tossing away the motionless body.
These burn-shoota boyz were great, if a bit too small and weak to give him or the boyz a proper fight, 'specially not with choppas. The other tinnys though, the even littler ones with the choppas on their hands, they was a ton of fun! He could pick up a bunch with his hand and just crush'em like a bunch of snotlings! Not as much fun as actual snotlings, but still!
Even those clouds were alright, even if they didn't get krumped by shootas. The way they burned was great to watch, a cloud of sparks, like explosions. The best had been that big cloud at the beginning that had krumped a bunch of his Boyz all at once in the beginning. Git-Crusha had seen them go all screamy and he got so mad he forgot where the battle was and went in the opposite direction as fast as he could! And anyone who said different would get krumped! He'd had the mekboyz make a bunch of burn-shootas like the tinnys had and watched the flames burn the cloud. It was real pretty.
Those bikes though, they was no fun, and Git-Crusha scowled at the thought. Always ran away, the gits, never staying still enough for him to get his hands on one of 'em. Even Git-Crusha wasn't fast enough to keep up.
Now, Git-Crusha respected going fast as much as the next ork, but running away from a fight… Git-Crusha's blood boiled at the thought.
In his rage, he didn't notice the fight coming to an end as the last of the tinnys got krumped. Further annoyed that he didn't get to enjoy any more of it, he returned to his camp, got a snack (in the form of an unfortunate grot), and went to see his best Mekboy, the one who'd built Git-Crusha.
"BARUK, WHERE ARE YA, YA DUMB GIT!?! GET OUT 'ERE 'FORE I BASH YER SKULL IN!"
"Over 'ere, boss!"
The Mekboy in question was hard at work amidst a pile of the tinnys, tearing them apart and grabbing various bits of wires as he worked on something Git-Crusha didn't understand.
"OY, QUIT WORKING ON A NEW SHOOTA AND START WORKIN' ON GIT-CRUSHA!"
The Mekboy glanced up at him, shaking his head, holding up the device.
"But boss! This ain't a shoota, it's a rocket for-!"
He was cut off by Git-Crusha's fist bashing his head, sending the Mekboy tumbling across the ground.
"WHAT'D YOU SAY?!? IF I SAY IT'S A SHOOTA, IT'S A SHOOTA!"
"Yes, boss!" Baruk nodded so fast Git-Crusha thought it might pop off like that tinny earlier. "I'll get to work on Git-Crusha!"
"I DIDN'T ASK YOU TO WORK ON ME! GET TO WORK ON GIT-CRUSHA, YA GIT, OR I'LL CRUSHA YA!"
"Yes, boss! Sorry, boss!" The Mekboy turned to sprint away, but Git-Crusha grabbed him by his head and picked him up off the ground. Baruk cowered in his grasp, but couldn't run and certainly couldn't fight.
"YA GIT, I AVEN'T SAID WHAT I WANTED YA TO DO YET!" He bellowed even as Baruk continued to struggle. "MAKE IT GO FASTA! FASTA THAN THOSE CHOPPA-BIKES THE TINNYS USE!"
The Mekboy tried to nod, but given Git-Crusha's grip on his head, he could only shout, "Yes, boss!"
"THEN WHAT ARE YA WAITING AROUND FOR, GET GOIN!" Git-Crusha shouted before tossing the Mekboy aside, watching as he scurried away, slowing only to pick up various parts off the ground and a bucket of red paint.
Dumb git.
Three Months after the start of Total WAAAGH!
The orks had bikes now.
When had that happened?
For a while, the fastest thing they'd had was that battle wagon their Warboss drove around on that had no business moving almost as quickly as his speeders. And yet, now they had hundreds of red-painted bikes that equaled his fastest hover units in speed, if not in maneuverability. The hit-and-run attacks were suddenly far less effective as his units spent more time being chased away than turning and attacking.
More than that, he'd found that the orks were using his own destroyed units as scrap to build their machines and weapons. Where before only some orks had shootas, now all of them had at least one and some kind of cobbled together armor.
Orks got stronger and more advanced the longer and more they fought, he'd known this from his knowledge of the lore, but he hadn't expected it to happen this fast and to such a relatively small group of orks.
He'd had the decided advantage at least in the defensive battles, being able to hold them at a distance until they fell under concentrated heat rifle fire or to the blades of his Wolffes. Now he realized just how much of a mistake that had been. They had been advancing and growing, while he had allowed himself to stagnate. He had limited himself to a mere three to four units to fight the majority of his battles, while the Orks had been able to bring increasingly more diverse and varied units to the field.
He'd grown complacent with his superior industrial might.
He would correct that immediately. Even as his forces engaged in a dozen battles all across the continent, he opened his design files and began work upon a range of new units. He'd stuck to infantry and light speeders for too long, he needed something heavier.
And where better to start than the same universe that had inspired his troops?
The Tactical Enforcer was a blatant rip-off of the Clone Wars vehicle of the almost identical name, just like the Riflemen. With no one in this universe knowing what Star Wars was, who was going to call him on it? Certainly not Disney, unless they were really daemons or something (which, admittedly, would not be that much of a surprise). In place of the six laser cannons the walker should have possessed, he gave them six heat rifles even stronger than those on the speeders. The main cannon on top of the walker would be an upscaled splinter rifle capable of taking out tanks in a single shot. He didn't have the technology to allow the walker to scale sheer cliffs like those from Star Wars, yet, but it was still capable of crawling over most terrain with relative ease. Since the interior was almost entirely empty, he'd considered adding a fabrication unit to allow it to build new units on the battlefield itself. Then, he realized he could do even better and instead added a portal frame that could drop units to the ground from any of his numerous factories. It wouldn't fit many things larger than a dagger-class speeder through it, but it was acceptable since all of his other combat units were on par or even smaller.
The Scanner was based loosely off the AT-RT also from the Clone Wars. Small, two-legged, and fairly quick with a heavy heat rifle fixed to its chin. The hum of the speeders was too loud and easily heard from afar which made them inadequate as scouts, but these could fulfill a middle-ground between cavalry, scout, and ambush unit with their much quieter servos. It had excellent sensors as well.
Then, finally, was the Shock-class Gunship. It used both the deldar hover engine and the regular engines used by his aircraft, making it faster than either at its top speed. He also equipped it with a pair of twin rotary splinter rifles, a design he'd been toying with, giving it a fair bit of range. The main purpose of the gunship wasn't for combat, however, it was to ferry his army to and from the battle. It had a teleport frame of similar size to the one on the Enforcer, but the main method of transport was by latching onto and carrying Tactical Enforcers into battle, another idea he'd blatantly stolen from the Clone Wars.
If he couldn't be put in the galaxy of the Star Wars universe, he'd damn well put the Star Wars universe in this galaxy!
Note
The other working title for this chapter was 'WAAAGH! What is it good for?'
Some more units, some more orks, some more WAAAGH! Hope you enjoy!
Some more units, some more orks, some more WAAAGH! Hope you enjoy!
- Location
- Puerto Rico
Good chapter.
Then you will have the two iconic armies of the SW at your disposal.
Hell, how long until they reach a level that talking and parley could be possible?
Hey:
Orks/Krorks = biological weapons (clones)
Commander = machine weapons (droids)
SW really brought to life.
Don't forget to get the Imperium's cloning tech.
Then you will have the two iconic armies of the SW at your disposal.
I got to ask but how long until the orks reach Krork level?
Hell, how long until they reach a level that talking and parley could be possible?
Hey:
Orks/Krorks = biological weapons (clones)
Commander = machine weapons (droids)
SW really brought to life.
- Location
- California
Lol, lmao even. And poor, everyone else is wondering what the God-Emperor happened to incite the Orks?
Iridium Flare
Cyborg Commando
- Location
- AC-130 Gunship circling overhead
Considering that the orks at Ullanor had an entire empire and still weren't Krorks, I'd say it will take a while.
Never. Orks don't do parley, unless it's "I'll krump dat git for ya if you gimme that flash dakka of yours", in which case the moment they receive said dakka they will turn it on the fool who provided it.
GeekGod_of_Speed
He Who Enjoys The Big Words
This is one of the better supreme commander fics I've read, all the other ones have them start with the best technology, build up for a chapter than swarm all enemies, harvest interesting things and move on to a new universe before repeating
Chapter 7 - The Grand Army
Chapter 7 – The Grand Army
Four Months after the start of Total WAAAGH!
His new units had shown their worth almost immediately. While he was still a novice in combined arm tactics (his previous RTS tactics had mainly consisted of slowly expanding defenses and zerg swarms), he was gaining quite a bit of experience as he beat back the orks. It had been a bit troublesome in the beginning, he hadn't quite figured out how best to use his units in combination with one another, yet as another month of war dragged on he had managed to find an effective method.
The backbone of his new army were his Tactical Enforcers, which had quickly shown their worth. They were larger than anything the orks had except for their Warboss' battle wagon, which had been increasing in size and power as had its driver, and were more heavily armed and armored than even that machine of WAAAGH! A few lines of Enforcers could hold territory as effectively his own fortresses, especially when supplemented with a swarm of Riflemen, Scanners, and speeders. His ability to ferry them anywhere on the continent with his Shock-class gunships was also proving to be a deciding factor in many of his engagements.
That said, he needed to be careful with them. They weren't invincible and he'd seen the orks swarm over a destroyed Enforcer, tearing it apart to manufacture new weapons and vehicles almost shockingly quickly. They seemed especially pleased with the main cannon, which now adorned the battle wagon of the warboss as its own main gun.
Even more than before, he needed to ensure his weapons didn't fall into the wrong, green hands. To that end, he designed a new fabricator hover craft, based off the Dagger speeder's frame, but unarmed. It was still able to fit into the teleport frame of the Enforcer, allowing them to join the battlefield and zip around at high speeds, reclaiming his destroyed forces, weapons first, repairing those that were damaged but still serviceable, and building new defenses. He dubbed it the Patent, as he foresaw itstealing acquiring the weapons and technologies of his foes in the future.
Still, his Patent units would only delay the Ork advancements. They still had acquired plenty of scrap from their previous engagements, a mistake he swore not to make again in the future, and they were clearly taking inspiration from his own designs. They'd attempted to create several designs of walking tanks, though these were fragile things in comparison to his own, barely capable of slowly moving forwards, let alone withstanding a shot from any sizeable weapon. He wondered if that was why their titans didn't use legs, unlike other factions.
With that thought, he was suddenly very glad he hadn't tried to field an Atlas against the orks, even if he had equipped it with ranged weapons. The orks clearly would try to build one of their own and a Gargant was far and away more powerful than anything he could field bar using halley engines to weaponize celestial bodies. If he did that, they'd probably build their own moon attack ship. The Beast had.
He mentally shuddered. Yet another thing he needed to ensure never happened with these or any orks he faced in the future. From what he could gather based off his knowledge of the lore and his experiences here, the Ork ability to grow and advance in technology was directly linked to their opponents. Specifically, how good of a fight their opponent gave them and how advanced said opponent was.
The more intense and lasting the fight, the larger, stronger, and faster the Orks would grow. It wasn't instant, but it clearly didn't take years. The Ork Boyz he faced four months into the fighting were all a dozen or so centimeters tall and wider than those he'd fought in the beginning. He would have taken a small bit of pride in knowing that he was strong enough to warrant such an increase, if it wasn't actively making his life harder.
Their relationship with the technology of their foes was something a little harder to fully understand, partly because their tek shouldn't have functioned at all and partly because he wasn't entirely positive he was correct in his assumptions. They had taken the scraps of his forces and used it to weld together new weapons and vehicles that, while still making no sense, still somehow made more sense than their old weapons.
Which had interesting implications. If the orks advanced enough, could he make sense of their technology? If so, what was that point? Could he make sense of tek of any orks that presently existed in the galaxy? Would they have to be Proto-Krorks like the Beast? Or would he have to face true Krorks? If he could provide them with a better fight than even the War in Heaven, would they become even more advanced and could he start farming them for new technologies?
Questions for much, much later, he decided. Like, when he had technological equivalence with the Old Ones and every other species. His immediate problems were more pressing.
He'd known the Orks were getting stronger and more advanced with time, but the problem was he didn't know how much stronger they could get while fighting him. Their growth had slowed, but it hadn't stopped. Every week, he encountered larger and larger orks. Their warboss in particular was getting bigger by the day. The same was true for their tek. Their walking tanks had been pitiful, but their existence alone proved they were experimenting with larger vehicles beyond just adding onto their boss' battle wagon.
He currently held the advantage with his new units, but how long would that last? A month? Two? If he was correct, the presence of his new units would only further increase the size of the Orks and galvanize them to further improve their tek. He needed to end this, sooner rather than later.
To that end he began formulating his plan.
Four Months and One Day after the start of Total WAAAGH!
"OOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYY!!!"
Every ork in the camp cringed and instinctively rapidly looked to and fro in search of the source of the loud, angry voice, looking for the angrily approaching form of their Warboss. Yet, Git-Crusha was nowhere to be seen. Instead, from a newly created hole in the ground, one of the tiny-tinnys had appeared and shouted as loud as even the orkiest of orks. The camp was so stunned that they didn't even reach for their weapons or roar at the intruder. They'd never heard the tiny-tinnys utter a word before, only the humie-sized ones spoke. Yet this one was bouncing from one foot to the other like an overly excited snotling.
"YOU GITS!" The tinny continued, still speaking with a deeper and louder voice than any creature of that size should have possessed. "BIGGEST BOSS REX ORK-KILLA IS THE BEST THERE IS! HE'S GONNA SMOOSH ALL OF YA!"
That got their reaction. The orks roared, some brought their weapons to bear upon the tiny-tinny, yet it continued speaking fearlessly.
"IF YOUR BOSS ISN'T AFRAID OF GETTIN' KRUMPED, TELL HIM TO COME FIGHT AT OUR FORTRESS! OTHERWISE, YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF KNUCKLEDRAGGING-!"
What followed was a loud, screaming whine that made all the Orks roar in rage and pain, with some loosing shots at the tinny, though they all went wide.
"-COWARDS! SO THERE!"
With that, the tiny-tinny put its claws on its hips, somehow made the same noise as someone sticking out their tongue at another, and exploded.
For a few long moments, the Orks just looked at one another, utterly confused by what had happened. Yet, the smartest of them already had looks of fear on their faces. Not because of what the tinny had said, but because without the tinny to say it, one of them would have to tell the boss.
Four Months, One Day, and One Hour after the Start of Total WAAAGH!
"HE SAID WHAT!?!"
He'd known the ork war boss had an impressive voice box to him, but him managing to yell so loudly that even his fireflies that hung around in the sky above the ork camp could catch his voice was just plain incredible. His message had gone over well, it seemed.
Yes, he had chosen to go with the name of 'Rex'. He was fairly certain that wasn't the name he had used in his old life, which was one of a number of things he should probably be concerned that he's forgotten, however it was the name that was attached to his 'personality matrix'. It also worked well with his love for star wars, so he went with it and planned to have all of his forces be accented with 501st blue.
Him being the 'biggest boss' and 'ork-killa' had mainly just been to help get the ork's attention along with the way the Wolffe had acted and spoken, but he doubted he needed the extra bit of provocation given the rage of the Warboss. The ork was going around, yelling, shouting, and beating any Ork that he could get his hands on, while also sending out runners to other camps nearby to gather their forces. Or at least, he assumed those were messengers and not just orks running away from their boss' wrath.
Soon, the full might of the ork army would be ready for a decisive battle. One that Commander 'Rex' would make certain they would not be leaving as anything but ash. He'd gathered a massive around his fortress, out in the open and clearly raring for a fight. Over ten thousand Tactical Enforcers, five hundred thousand Riflemen, five thousand gunships, fifty thousand speeders and scanners, along with another ten thousand Patents. A force large enough to make any ork salivate at the battle to come. Certainly the largest he'd ever gathered in one place and around the same size as the fully gathered ork horde.
Of course, his plans had never included a fair fight before, he certainly wouldn't start now.
Four Months, Two Days, Three Hours and Two Minutes after the start of Total WAAAGH!
The ork horde approached. Rex was still somewhat surprised by just how slow they were to gather, relative to him, but he knew his own forces were unique in that they literally were him and functioned as extensions of himself. That was probably a major advantage he'd have against the Imperium, since from what he remembered they tended to take centuries to get anything done, at least when it came to gathering forces.
The only time they'd gotten things done any quicker in modern 40k was when they were united by Primarch Guilliman and waged the Indomitus Crusade to retake the Imperium in a single century. Which, while impressive when talking about an empire that spanned a galaxy and was literally ripped in half by a scar from hell, was still a significant amount of time. Enough that he could fortify the hell out of his worlds before they showed up.
Where was he in the 40k timeline? If he was past the fall of Cadia, that would be… both good and very, very bad. Good in that he might be able to work with Guilliman and not have the Imperium as an enemy despite his status as an 'Abominable Intelligence'. Bad in that it meant the galaxy was, at present, even more fucked than it had been for the last ten thousand years.
He couldn't exactly tell from what his sensors told him. They weren't exactly designed to search out warp-related energies, so he wouldn't notice even if he was in the middle of the Eye of Terror.
Well, he'd probably notice because of the daemons eating and torturing him for all eternity, but he wouldn't be able to notice the warp energies beyond those that physically manifested in some way.
Which in turn brought up the question of what were the precursors, creators of the Commanders, in the context of this galaxy? Or universe? He didn't think they were dark age of technology humans. He had no warp-related technology in his files, which meant they either weren't aware of the warp or they'd been removed, both of which could be issues for him if- when he inevitably faced chaos and had to deal with their corrupting influence.
Did he have a soul? He was-
He was nervous.
Huh.
He wasn't sure he could get nervous. Ever since showing up in this galaxy, he'd been afraid, yes, but never nervous. He'd known what he had to do to survive, yet now he was nervous? Why? Because he was about to fight the largest battle he'd ever waged? Because he knew that the difficulty of fighting these orks would skyrocket if they won and managed to acquire his forces as scrap?
Regardless, his meandering thoughts needed to come to an end. He needed to focus.
The orks were coming.
Four Months after the start of Total WAAAGH!
His new units had shown their worth almost immediately. While he was still a novice in combined arm tactics (his previous RTS tactics had mainly consisted of slowly expanding defenses and zerg swarms), he was gaining quite a bit of experience as he beat back the orks. It had been a bit troublesome in the beginning, he hadn't quite figured out how best to use his units in combination with one another, yet as another month of war dragged on he had managed to find an effective method.
The backbone of his new army were his Tactical Enforcers, which had quickly shown their worth. They were larger than anything the orks had except for their Warboss' battle wagon, which had been increasing in size and power as had its driver, and were more heavily armed and armored than even that machine of WAAAGH! A few lines of Enforcers could hold territory as effectively his own fortresses, especially when supplemented with a swarm of Riflemen, Scanners, and speeders. His ability to ferry them anywhere on the continent with his Shock-class gunships was also proving to be a deciding factor in many of his engagements.
That said, he needed to be careful with them. They weren't invincible and he'd seen the orks swarm over a destroyed Enforcer, tearing it apart to manufacture new weapons and vehicles almost shockingly quickly. They seemed especially pleased with the main cannon, which now adorned the battle wagon of the warboss as its own main gun.
Even more than before, he needed to ensure his weapons didn't fall into the wrong, green hands. To that end, he designed a new fabricator hover craft, based off the Dagger speeder's frame, but unarmed. It was still able to fit into the teleport frame of the Enforcer, allowing them to join the battlefield and zip around at high speeds, reclaiming his destroyed forces, weapons first, repairing those that were damaged but still serviceable, and building new defenses. He dubbed it the Patent, as he foresaw it
Still, his Patent units would only delay the Ork advancements. They still had acquired plenty of scrap from their previous engagements, a mistake he swore not to make again in the future, and they were clearly taking inspiration from his own designs. They'd attempted to create several designs of walking tanks, though these were fragile things in comparison to his own, barely capable of slowly moving forwards, let alone withstanding a shot from any sizeable weapon. He wondered if that was why their titans didn't use legs, unlike other factions.
With that thought, he was suddenly very glad he hadn't tried to field an Atlas against the orks, even if he had equipped it with ranged weapons. The orks clearly would try to build one of their own and a Gargant was far and away more powerful than anything he could field bar using halley engines to weaponize celestial bodies. If he did that, they'd probably build their own moon attack ship. The Beast had.
He mentally shuddered. Yet another thing he needed to ensure never happened with these or any orks he faced in the future. From what he could gather based off his knowledge of the lore and his experiences here, the Ork ability to grow and advance in technology was directly linked to their opponents. Specifically, how good of a fight their opponent gave them and how advanced said opponent was.
The more intense and lasting the fight, the larger, stronger, and faster the Orks would grow. It wasn't instant, but it clearly didn't take years. The Ork Boyz he faced four months into the fighting were all a dozen or so centimeters tall and wider than those he'd fought in the beginning. He would have taken a small bit of pride in knowing that he was strong enough to warrant such an increase, if it wasn't actively making his life harder.
Their relationship with the technology of their foes was something a little harder to fully understand, partly because their tek shouldn't have functioned at all and partly because he wasn't entirely positive he was correct in his assumptions. They had taken the scraps of his forces and used it to weld together new weapons and vehicles that, while still making no sense, still somehow made more sense than their old weapons.
Which had interesting implications. If the orks advanced enough, could he make sense of their technology? If so, what was that point? Could he make sense of tek of any orks that presently existed in the galaxy? Would they have to be Proto-Krorks like the Beast? Or would he have to face true Krorks? If he could provide them with a better fight than even the War in Heaven, would they become even more advanced and could he start farming them for new technologies?
Questions for much, much later, he decided. Like, when he had technological equivalence with the Old Ones and every other species. His immediate problems were more pressing.
He'd known the Orks were getting stronger and more advanced with time, but the problem was he didn't know how much stronger they could get while fighting him. Their growth had slowed, but it hadn't stopped. Every week, he encountered larger and larger orks. Their warboss in particular was getting bigger by the day. The same was true for their tek. Their walking tanks had been pitiful, but their existence alone proved they were experimenting with larger vehicles beyond just adding onto their boss' battle wagon.
He currently held the advantage with his new units, but how long would that last? A month? Two? If he was correct, the presence of his new units would only further increase the size of the Orks and galvanize them to further improve their tek. He needed to end this, sooner rather than later.
To that end he began formulating his plan.
Four Months and One Day after the start of Total WAAAGH!
"OOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYY!!!"
Every ork in the camp cringed and instinctively rapidly looked to and fro in search of the source of the loud, angry voice, looking for the angrily approaching form of their Warboss. Yet, Git-Crusha was nowhere to be seen. Instead, from a newly created hole in the ground, one of the tiny-tinnys had appeared and shouted as loud as even the orkiest of orks. The camp was so stunned that they didn't even reach for their weapons or roar at the intruder. They'd never heard the tiny-tinnys utter a word before, only the humie-sized ones spoke. Yet this one was bouncing from one foot to the other like an overly excited snotling.
"YOU GITS!" The tinny continued, still speaking with a deeper and louder voice than any creature of that size should have possessed. "BIGGEST BOSS REX ORK-KILLA IS THE BEST THERE IS! HE'S GONNA SMOOSH ALL OF YA!"
That got their reaction. The orks roared, some brought their weapons to bear upon the tiny-tinny, yet it continued speaking fearlessly.
"IF YOUR BOSS ISN'T AFRAID OF GETTIN' KRUMPED, TELL HIM TO COME FIGHT AT OUR FORTRESS! OTHERWISE, YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH OF KNUCKLEDRAGGING-!"
What followed was a loud, screaming whine that made all the Orks roar in rage and pain, with some loosing shots at the tinny, though they all went wide.
"-COWARDS! SO THERE!"
With that, the tiny-tinny put its claws on its hips, somehow made the same noise as someone sticking out their tongue at another, and exploded.
For a few long moments, the Orks just looked at one another, utterly confused by what had happened. Yet, the smartest of them already had looks of fear on their faces. Not because of what the tinny had said, but because without the tinny to say it, one of them would have to tell the boss.
Four Months, One Day, and One Hour after the Start of Total WAAAGH!
"HE SAID WHAT!?!"
He'd known the ork war boss had an impressive voice box to him, but him managing to yell so loudly that even his fireflies that hung around in the sky above the ork camp could catch his voice was just plain incredible. His message had gone over well, it seemed.
Yes, he had chosen to go with the name of 'Rex'. He was fairly certain that wasn't the name he had used in his old life, which was one of a number of things he should probably be concerned that he's forgotten, however it was the name that was attached to his 'personality matrix'. It also worked well with his love for star wars, so he went with it and planned to have all of his forces be accented with 501st blue.
Him being the 'biggest boss' and 'ork-killa' had mainly just been to help get the ork's attention along with the way the Wolffe had acted and spoken, but he doubted he needed the extra bit of provocation given the rage of the Warboss. The ork was going around, yelling, shouting, and beating any Ork that he could get his hands on, while also sending out runners to other camps nearby to gather their forces. Or at least, he assumed those were messengers and not just orks running away from their boss' wrath.
Soon, the full might of the ork army would be ready for a decisive battle. One that Commander 'Rex' would make certain they would not be leaving as anything but ash. He'd gathered a massive around his fortress, out in the open and clearly raring for a fight. Over ten thousand Tactical Enforcers, five hundred thousand Riflemen, five thousand gunships, fifty thousand speeders and scanners, along with another ten thousand Patents. A force large enough to make any ork salivate at the battle to come. Certainly the largest he'd ever gathered in one place and around the same size as the fully gathered ork horde.
Of course, his plans had never included a fair fight before, he certainly wouldn't start now.
Four Months, Two Days, Three Hours and Two Minutes after the start of Total WAAAGH!
The ork horde approached. Rex was still somewhat surprised by just how slow they were to gather, relative to him, but he knew his own forces were unique in that they literally were him and functioned as extensions of himself. That was probably a major advantage he'd have against the Imperium, since from what he remembered they tended to take centuries to get anything done, at least when it came to gathering forces.
The only time they'd gotten things done any quicker in modern 40k was when they were united by Primarch Guilliman and waged the Indomitus Crusade to retake the Imperium in a single century. Which, while impressive when talking about an empire that spanned a galaxy and was literally ripped in half by a scar from hell, was still a significant amount of time. Enough that he could fortify the hell out of his worlds before they showed up.
Where was he in the 40k timeline? If he was past the fall of Cadia, that would be… both good and very, very bad. Good in that he might be able to work with Guilliman and not have the Imperium as an enemy despite his status as an 'Abominable Intelligence'. Bad in that it meant the galaxy was, at present, even more fucked than it had been for the last ten thousand years.
He couldn't exactly tell from what his sensors told him. They weren't exactly designed to search out warp-related energies, so he wouldn't notice even if he was in the middle of the Eye of Terror.
Well, he'd probably notice because of the daemons eating and torturing him for all eternity, but he wouldn't be able to notice the warp energies beyond those that physically manifested in some way.
Which in turn brought up the question of what were the precursors, creators of the Commanders, in the context of this galaxy? Or universe? He didn't think they were dark age of technology humans. He had no warp-related technology in his files, which meant they either weren't aware of the warp or they'd been removed, both of which could be issues for him if- when he inevitably faced chaos and had to deal with their corrupting influence.
Did he have a soul? He was-
He was nervous.
Huh.
He wasn't sure he could get nervous. Ever since showing up in this galaxy, he'd been afraid, yes, but never nervous. He'd known what he had to do to survive, yet now he was nervous? Why? Because he was about to fight the largest battle he'd ever waged? Because he knew that the difficulty of fighting these orks would skyrocket if they won and managed to acquire his forces as scrap?
Regardless, his meandering thoughts needed to come to an end. He needed to focus.
The orks were coming.
Note
The Final Battle approaches!
A lot of small stuff happened this chapter. Rex has fully accepted his new name. He's built a fabricator that goes zoom. He's told a camp of confused orks a number of naughty words!
Next time, we get to see him fight for his place in this galaxy.
A lot of small stuff happened this chapter. Rex has fully accepted his new name. He's built a fabricator that goes zoom. He's told a camp of confused orks a number of naughty words!
Next time, we get to see him fight for his place in this galaxy.
I know you try to make suspense here, but I'm pretty sure you are fine fir this WAAAGHHHH and even whatever Imperium incursion.
Iridium Flare
Cyborg Commando
- Location
- AC-130 Gunship circling overhead
What sort of economy does he have set up on other planets? Also, what does the rest of the system look like? How many other worlds, how many moons, are there asteroid belts? Is there a conveniently-wrecked spaceship somewhere that you can steal schematics for?
I want to know about more than just the orks!
I want to know about more than just the orks!
- Location
- California
When you want to follow in the Geth's Footsteps and ask The Question, but you can't because the Creators are gone.
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Chapter 8 - The Final battle
Chapter 8 – The Final Battle
It was dawn when the orks arrived, their war boss at the head of the horde. Either his battle wagon was smoking or the ork was so mad fumes were coming out of his ears. Given how orks worked, it very well could have been either. They numbered close to six hundred thousand Boyz, along with another one hundred thousand orks of various sizes, some larger, some smaller. They brought with them around sixty thousand vehicles of scrap metal kept together literally by duct tape and determination. They stood in a massive group to his south at the edge of the crater, no battle lines or formations, just a big smudge of green with pockets of brightly colored vehicles. A stark contrast to the solid white and blue lines of his own forces.
Rex's forces had changed their formation when the orks had arrived. Where before they had surrounded his fortress, now they moved to confront them with everything they had. A line of Tactical Enforces, five tanks deep and twenty thousand across in a checkered formation was his main battle line. The depth of the crater meant that the moment the orks moved down the sides, they would be in range of the main guns of all five rows of tanks for nearly a one hundred meter kill-zone. When they got closer, they would have to deal with the riflemen and their heat lances, who were spread out among the tanks, covered by the armored legs of the Enforcers.
He'd split his speeders and scanners into two groups on both of his flanks. The scanners would act as mid-ranged cavalry in an effort to envelop the orcs should they charge or counter-flank them should they try the same. The speeders would zip to the back of their lines once they'd engaged and try to relieve some of the pressure on his front lines with their usual hit-and-run tactics.
It was a fairly simple battle plan; one he'd used on smaller scales in previous engagements to great effect. If he could win the battle just through the use of his army, he would. If not, he'd resort to one of several back-up plans.
One of which included dropping a moon on the planet. That was the one he hoped the most wouldn't have to be performed. He'd grown attached to this nameless world, even if it did keep screwing with him.
The ork war boss had turned to his horde and was now addressing his troops. While such things might normally have been the theater of plays and films, speaking loud enough for an entire army to hear and understand you was all but impossible, the war boss managed it well-enough, or at least the orks in the back were smart enough to nod along with his every word.
"WE'Z GONNA FIGHT BOYZ! GIT-CRUSHA IS GONNA CRUSHA THESE GITS, AND YOU ALL IS GONNA HELP!" The warboss shouted, nodding once in satisfaction before turning back to face his foe.
Was… was that it?
"WAAAAAAAAGH!!!"
That was it.
The ork horde charged down the slopes of the crater screaming their battlecry and it only took a moment for his tanks to start firing. A hundred thousand cannons flashed once in a massive coordinated firing and a hundred thousand splinter shots exploded across the ranks of orks. Thousands of vehicles exploded, tens of thousands of orks perished instantly. Yet many still survived, picking themselves up off the ground and continuing their rush down the hill, only further excited by the death and destruction around them. The warboss was at the head of the charge, his battle wagon having shrugged off the six direct shots he'd dedicated towards it.
The boss was almost halfway through the kill-zone when his cannons finished recharging. They flashed again and this time he dedicated a hundred towards the tanky vehicle, half of those directed at its driver. Yet the warboss seemed to see this coming and, at the last moment, leapt from his ride just as it exploded, sending him hurtling forwards, well outside his kill-zone and practically unharmed. The ork stood, shaking off the dust that had covered his body, and yelled.
"REX ORK-KILLA!" The warboss addressed him by name. Was he calling him out? "I'Z IS WARBOSS GIT-CRUSHA! IF YOU'Z THE BIGGEST BOSS, THEN GET OUT 'ERE AND PROVE IT!"
If Rex had a mouth, he would be smiling. He knew it was probably a bad idea… but then, the whole point of this was to ensure that the orks stayed and fought til the end. And what better way, than this?
His fortress, the base he'd built up for five months, had recently gone under a few… modifications. Nothing externally noticeable, save for a few thousand new seams that wouldn't be visible except under a microscope, yet internally it had been altered greatly. Now, however, that would no longer be the case.
"VERY WELL."
The voice was the combined speech of every unit in his army, perfectly overlayed, and it drowned out the battlecry of the orks for a single moment.
Then, the ground began to shake as his fortress began to change. A loud whir, the sound of a thousand gravity engines kicking in, sounded throughout the battlefield. Pillars rose and fell, folding away into compartments while the many cannons spread across the surface of the fortress began to come together into massive lines of batteries. The fortress began to rise onto four massive pillars that emerged from the ground and all beneath them, while two arms emerged from what was now clearly a body, covered in yet more weapons. From the torso, a head the size of an Enforcer rose, a single gleaming blue eye in its center.
He never said he was only a fan of star wars.
"I. AM. METRO-REX!"
Git-Crusha grinned so wide it threatened to split his face in half.
So, yes, he'd said using titans against the orks was probably a bad idea in case they got the idea to use gargants, but given it was the final battle and he didn't intend to let so much as a single ork spore survive after this, he decided it was alright. So yes, he blatantly ripped off transformers to create a Titan out of his fortress. And, yes, it wasn't as powerful as an actual titan ought to be, just covered in more guns than a battleship. And, yes, it was named Metro-Rex.
What's your problem? It's cool and this universe needs some levity. Who cared if no one else would understand it?
Corny?
…
Shut up.
The battle itself was an incredible sight to witness, let alone participate in. The orks had been fractured by his sustained bombardment, even as they rushed heedless of danger through it and towards the waiting heat lances further into the crater. When his Metro-Rex had joined the battle, the orks seemed to fight even more intensely, as though fear was alien to them. His titan waded through the battlefield, its guns flashing and destroying any large groups of orks in a burst of death.
Git-Crusha and his elites were taking on his line of Enforcers, to shockingly great effect. Heat lances seemed to do little to the warboss, even the heavier ones used by the Enforcers. Around a thousand of his elite orks had contributed to the destruction of almost two hundred Enforcers, thirty of those being taken by the ork himself. That was nearly half of the tank casualties from this battle. The rest of the orks were doing alright, but under the sustained fire of heat lances from his combined arms approach, they would break in time.
It seemed as though he and Git-Crusha had come to an unspoken agreement of sorts. Both he and 'Metro-Rex' would not face each other until the end of the battle, once they had both defeated what they felt like was a sufficient amount of the other's force. Rex had a better time of it, since he could kill a dozen orks with a single step.
Yet, eventually, the game had to come to an end. Git-Crusha turned to face his towering form and Metro-Rex turned, albeit much more slowly, to meet his gaze.
"ARE. YOU. READY?"
"LETS GO, YA TINNY-GIT!"
Were this a movie, the battle would have halted as the leaders of the two sides faced off against each other. This was not a movie and these were orks, who would not stop fighting for anything. Rex didn't mind the lack of an audience, however. He was focused on his foe.
Perhaps bringing a titan to a one-on-one with a much smaller opponent wasn't the easiest way to fight, but it certainly was the only way he stood a chance in such an encounter against Git-Crusha. The ork was fast, darting towards him faster than his heaviest guns could track. His smaller weapons were able to damage him, but too weak to finish him, scorching his green skin dark.
When he reached the end of one of his legs, Rex wondered what he might do. A titan, even one as weak as his, wasn't an easy thing to even fight simply because of how big it was, not for a single ork. And the armor of his legs was extremely thick, several meters in fact.
So, imagine his surprise when the ork punches him and dents said armor, sending a shudder up Metro-Rex's entire body.
Were precursor materials just that weak or was this ork just that strong?
He raises the leg a few meters and stomps down, attempting to squash the offending warboss, yet the ork is nimble enough to dodge out of reach just as the metal mass comes down, bringing out his choppa as he does. The blade is made out of a welded together mass of Wolffe claws that is somehow even sharper than its components, the result of ork tek. It hacks into the leg, leaving deep gouges in the armor as the ork laughs maniacally. It wasn't enough to reach anything internal, but it was concerning.
Metro-Rex brought one of its gun-covered arms around to bear and fired every heavy weapon he possessed at the ork, sending up a cloud of thick, glinting dust into the air. It quickly settled and revealed the wounded Git-Crusha. His left arm was gone, there were holes in his chest and other remaining limbs, and half of his skull was missing, exposing his brain.
The ork just laughed, grinned, and brought his choppa down again and again on his leg.
Yeah, Rex was done. Ork tek was one thing, but this was just utter bullshit.
The dust rose again all around Git-Crusha, spilling in through his wounds to attack his internals. Across the battlefield, the same thing was occurring to every other ork, too quickly for any to bring the few remaining flame throwers to bear and destroy the camouflaged locusts.
He'd spent some time learning how best to deconstruct orks efficiently over the last few months, attacking their brains directly. Despite evidence to the otherwise, that was usually effective.
Git-Crusha fell to the ground, limp as his spinal cord was severed, staring up at Metro-Rex.
"Y-you… you'z… cheated…" The ork muttered, even as his brain was continuing to be eaten away at.
"I'm just brutally cunning," Rex replied, his titanic voice gone, now speaking only loud enough for Git-Crusha to hear. "Sorry you didn't get a good death."
The ork just laughed, a barking sound. "Heh, it… waz a good fight… you'z a… you'z a…"
The ork went still and spoke no more. Rex just stared numbly at the corpse.
Forty-Eight Hours Later
He'd dealt with the majority of the ork spores on the planet. Now that there were no orks left, he could send heat lance units in a coordinated search and destroy pattern across the continent. The ground was scorched and the local ecosystem was all but annihilated, but it had been necessary. The only orks spores left were a few clumps kept frozen in storage in a satellite that orbited one of his gas giants that he was keeping for study. He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to have a few on hand, he didn't understand anything about genetics, let alone ork genetics, but maybe he would learn in the future. Regardless, though, no way was he keeping them without enough failsafes to ensure they didn't get out of hand.
With the continent empty of enemies once more, he considered covering it in mines and generators and storage systems as he had the other worlds, yet he decided against it in the end. The lone form of Metro-Rex standing amidst a scorched continent was quite the aesthetic that he didn't want to ruin. He would still use the underground, of course, and he began delving deeper and deeper into the crust of the planet to make better use of the internal space as he had on the other worlds.
He would soon come to regret his decision.
It was dawn when the orks arrived, their war boss at the head of the horde. Either his battle wagon was smoking or the ork was so mad fumes were coming out of his ears. Given how orks worked, it very well could have been either. They numbered close to six hundred thousand Boyz, along with another one hundred thousand orks of various sizes, some larger, some smaller. They brought with them around sixty thousand vehicles of scrap metal kept together literally by duct tape and determination. They stood in a massive group to his south at the edge of the crater, no battle lines or formations, just a big smudge of green with pockets of brightly colored vehicles. A stark contrast to the solid white and blue lines of his own forces.
Rex's forces had changed their formation when the orks had arrived. Where before they had surrounded his fortress, now they moved to confront them with everything they had. A line of Tactical Enforces, five tanks deep and twenty thousand across in a checkered formation was his main battle line. The depth of the crater meant that the moment the orks moved down the sides, they would be in range of the main guns of all five rows of tanks for nearly a one hundred meter kill-zone. When they got closer, they would have to deal with the riflemen and their heat lances, who were spread out among the tanks, covered by the armored legs of the Enforcers.
He'd split his speeders and scanners into two groups on both of his flanks. The scanners would act as mid-ranged cavalry in an effort to envelop the orcs should they charge or counter-flank them should they try the same. The speeders would zip to the back of their lines once they'd engaged and try to relieve some of the pressure on his front lines with their usual hit-and-run tactics.
It was a fairly simple battle plan; one he'd used on smaller scales in previous engagements to great effect. If he could win the battle just through the use of his army, he would. If not, he'd resort to one of several back-up plans.
One of which included dropping a moon on the planet. That was the one he hoped the most wouldn't have to be performed. He'd grown attached to this nameless world, even if it did keep screwing with him.
The ork war boss had turned to his horde and was now addressing his troops. While such things might normally have been the theater of plays and films, speaking loud enough for an entire army to hear and understand you was all but impossible, the war boss managed it well-enough, or at least the orks in the back were smart enough to nod along with his every word.
"WE'Z GONNA FIGHT BOYZ! GIT-CRUSHA IS GONNA CRUSHA THESE GITS, AND YOU ALL IS GONNA HELP!" The warboss shouted, nodding once in satisfaction before turning back to face his foe.
Was… was that it?
"WAAAAAAAAGH!!!"
That was it.
The ork horde charged down the slopes of the crater screaming their battlecry and it only took a moment for his tanks to start firing. A hundred thousand cannons flashed once in a massive coordinated firing and a hundred thousand splinter shots exploded across the ranks of orks. Thousands of vehicles exploded, tens of thousands of orks perished instantly. Yet many still survived, picking themselves up off the ground and continuing their rush down the hill, only further excited by the death and destruction around them. The warboss was at the head of the charge, his battle wagon having shrugged off the six direct shots he'd dedicated towards it.
The boss was almost halfway through the kill-zone when his cannons finished recharging. They flashed again and this time he dedicated a hundred towards the tanky vehicle, half of those directed at its driver. Yet the warboss seemed to see this coming and, at the last moment, leapt from his ride just as it exploded, sending him hurtling forwards, well outside his kill-zone and practically unharmed. The ork stood, shaking off the dust that had covered his body, and yelled.
"REX ORK-KILLA!" The warboss addressed him by name. Was he calling him out? "I'Z IS WARBOSS GIT-CRUSHA! IF YOU'Z THE BIGGEST BOSS, THEN GET OUT 'ERE AND PROVE IT!"
If Rex had a mouth, he would be smiling. He knew it was probably a bad idea… but then, the whole point of this was to ensure that the orks stayed and fought til the end. And what better way, than this?
His fortress, the base he'd built up for five months, had recently gone under a few… modifications. Nothing externally noticeable, save for a few thousand new seams that wouldn't be visible except under a microscope, yet internally it had been altered greatly. Now, however, that would no longer be the case.
"VERY WELL."
The voice was the combined speech of every unit in his army, perfectly overlayed, and it drowned out the battlecry of the orks for a single moment.
Then, the ground began to shake as his fortress began to change. A loud whir, the sound of a thousand gravity engines kicking in, sounded throughout the battlefield. Pillars rose and fell, folding away into compartments while the many cannons spread across the surface of the fortress began to come together into massive lines of batteries. The fortress began to rise onto four massive pillars that emerged from the ground and all beneath them, while two arms emerged from what was now clearly a body, covered in yet more weapons. From the torso, a head the size of an Enforcer rose, a single gleaming blue eye in its center.
He never said he was only a fan of star wars.
"I. AM. METRO-REX!"
Git-Crusha grinned so wide it threatened to split his face in half.
So, yes, he'd said using titans against the orks was probably a bad idea in case they got the idea to use gargants, but given it was the final battle and he didn't intend to let so much as a single ork spore survive after this, he decided it was alright. So yes, he blatantly ripped off transformers to create a Titan out of his fortress. And, yes, it wasn't as powerful as an actual titan ought to be, just covered in more guns than a battleship. And, yes, it was named Metro-Rex.
What's your problem? It's cool and this universe needs some levity. Who cared if no one else would understand it?
Corny?
…
Shut up.
The battle itself was an incredible sight to witness, let alone participate in. The orks had been fractured by his sustained bombardment, even as they rushed heedless of danger through it and towards the waiting heat lances further into the crater. When his Metro-Rex had joined the battle, the orks seemed to fight even more intensely, as though fear was alien to them. His titan waded through the battlefield, its guns flashing and destroying any large groups of orks in a burst of death.
Git-Crusha and his elites were taking on his line of Enforcers, to shockingly great effect. Heat lances seemed to do little to the warboss, even the heavier ones used by the Enforcers. Around a thousand of his elite orks had contributed to the destruction of almost two hundred Enforcers, thirty of those being taken by the ork himself. That was nearly half of the tank casualties from this battle. The rest of the orks were doing alright, but under the sustained fire of heat lances from his combined arms approach, they would break in time.
It seemed as though he and Git-Crusha had come to an unspoken agreement of sorts. Both he and 'Metro-Rex' would not face each other until the end of the battle, once they had both defeated what they felt like was a sufficient amount of the other's force. Rex had a better time of it, since he could kill a dozen orks with a single step.
Yet, eventually, the game had to come to an end. Git-Crusha turned to face his towering form and Metro-Rex turned, albeit much more slowly, to meet his gaze.
"ARE. YOU. READY?"
"LETS GO, YA TINNY-GIT!"
Were this a movie, the battle would have halted as the leaders of the two sides faced off against each other. This was not a movie and these were orks, who would not stop fighting for anything. Rex didn't mind the lack of an audience, however. He was focused on his foe.
Perhaps bringing a titan to a one-on-one with a much smaller opponent wasn't the easiest way to fight, but it certainly was the only way he stood a chance in such an encounter against Git-Crusha. The ork was fast, darting towards him faster than his heaviest guns could track. His smaller weapons were able to damage him, but too weak to finish him, scorching his green skin dark.
When he reached the end of one of his legs, Rex wondered what he might do. A titan, even one as weak as his, wasn't an easy thing to even fight simply because of how big it was, not for a single ork. And the armor of his legs was extremely thick, several meters in fact.
So, imagine his surprise when the ork punches him and dents said armor, sending a shudder up Metro-Rex's entire body.
Were precursor materials just that weak or was this ork just that strong?
He raises the leg a few meters and stomps down, attempting to squash the offending warboss, yet the ork is nimble enough to dodge out of reach just as the metal mass comes down, bringing out his choppa as he does. The blade is made out of a welded together mass of Wolffe claws that is somehow even sharper than its components, the result of ork tek. It hacks into the leg, leaving deep gouges in the armor as the ork laughs maniacally. It wasn't enough to reach anything internal, but it was concerning.
Metro-Rex brought one of its gun-covered arms around to bear and fired every heavy weapon he possessed at the ork, sending up a cloud of thick, glinting dust into the air. It quickly settled and revealed the wounded Git-Crusha. His left arm was gone, there were holes in his chest and other remaining limbs, and half of his skull was missing, exposing his brain.
The ork just laughed, grinned, and brought his choppa down again and again on his leg.
Yeah, Rex was done. Ork tek was one thing, but this was just utter bullshit.
The dust rose again all around Git-Crusha, spilling in through his wounds to attack his internals. Across the battlefield, the same thing was occurring to every other ork, too quickly for any to bring the few remaining flame throwers to bear and destroy the camouflaged locusts.
He'd spent some time learning how best to deconstruct orks efficiently over the last few months, attacking their brains directly. Despite evidence to the otherwise, that was usually effective.
Git-Crusha fell to the ground, limp as his spinal cord was severed, staring up at Metro-Rex.
"Y-you… you'z… cheated…" The ork muttered, even as his brain was continuing to be eaten away at.
"I'm just brutally cunning," Rex replied, his titanic voice gone, now speaking only loud enough for Git-Crusha to hear. "Sorry you didn't get a good death."
The ork just laughed, a barking sound. "Heh, it… waz a good fight… you'z a… you'z a…"
The ork went still and spoke no more. Rex just stared numbly at the corpse.
Forty-Eight Hours Later
He'd dealt with the majority of the ork spores on the planet. Now that there were no orks left, he could send heat lance units in a coordinated search and destroy pattern across the continent. The ground was scorched and the local ecosystem was all but annihilated, but it had been necessary. The only orks spores left were a few clumps kept frozen in storage in a satellite that orbited one of his gas giants that he was keeping for study. He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to have a few on hand, he didn't understand anything about genetics, let alone ork genetics, but maybe he would learn in the future. Regardless, though, no way was he keeping them without enough failsafes to ensure they didn't get out of hand.
With the continent empty of enemies once more, he considered covering it in mines and generators and storage systems as he had the other worlds, yet he decided against it in the end. The lone form of Metro-Rex standing amidst a scorched continent was quite the aesthetic that he didn't want to ruin. He would still use the underground, of course, and he began delving deeper and deeper into the crust of the planet to make better use of the internal space as he had on the other worlds.
He would soon come to regret his decision.
- Location
- Anchorage, Alaska
for fucks sake, when will he learn to not fuck around?!?
when your in warhammer, escalate as hard and as much as you can...yes i understand Red is hampered by fucking whoever sent him there, but seriously you would think a machine mind like him would learn to not fuck around.
also keeping ork spores? Rex better have a fucking good explanation for that crap, also keep on grinding that research...when will he finally take 40k are serious as it needs to i wonder?
when your in warhammer, escalate as hard and as much as you can...yes i understand Red is hampered by fucking whoever sent him there, but seriously you would think a machine mind like him would learn to not fuck around.
also keeping ork spores? Rex better have a fucking good explanation for that crap, also keep on grinding that research...when will he finally take 40k are serious as it needs to i wonder?