Ork Fikkshun is the story of the two Orks Orgutz and Gromgark, who work for their Warboss as problem fikksers. Orgutz is an impulsive ex-Kommando and the younger of the two, while Gromgark seems to be a Nob and is more level-headed (if that could be said of any Ork).
The writefaggotry is written in the style of Pulp Fiction, but with Orks instead of criminals and a lot of Ork slang. General consensus was that it was indeed awesome, and more was delivered upon request.
"Oi, Gromgark, you know wot dem 'umies call dere shootas?" Orgutz said, shifting the trukk into the 13th gear. Green Deff vehicles generally started somewhere along the 10th gear or so, since Warboss Ingork hated having to accelerate before shifting into the higher gears.
"Nah, an' why should I give a zog?" Gromgark replied, picking his teeth with a bone he found in the corner of the trukk's passenger compartment.
"Cuz I say so, ya half-git. Dey's call dere shootas 'boltas'. Can ya believe dat?" Orguts turned the wheel sharply to the left, the entire trukk cringing. "I tell ya, I've been fightin' 'umies since I was a wee git an' I never heard no shoota make dat kinda noise. It jes' dun' make no sense."
Gromgark sighed, threw his tooth-picking bone to the side and leaned his back against the trukk's side. "Wot 'bout rokkits? Dey don't make no rokkit sound neither. Dey jes' kinda make dis 'fffsshhh' sound and den dey 'splode. An' snazzguns jes' sound like a couple'a shootas strapped tagether."
Orgutz stroked his chin, thinking really hard about what Gromgark just said. It was true that sometimes orks named their weapons after what they did and not what they sounded like, but what was a 'bolt'? But after a few seconds of hard thinking, his head started to hurt like that one time he got into a headbutting contest with the cybork Ugsnik. So he did what any self-respecting ork would do and pretended the conversation never happened.
"You hear wot dem screamin' 'umies wiv dem fancy 'ats do? Ol' Wotzutz tole me after we fought dose bugs on Hucks-Eyes."
"Wot, ya mean like dat 'umie wot krumped Orsnit? Da wun wiv da glowin' choppa?" Gromgark answered, yawning loudly. He looked like he would have fallen asleep long ago if it hadn't been for the fact that the trukk was constantly bouncing back and forth, probably due to the breakneck speed it was moving at.
"Yup, dat's da wun. So Wotzutz, 'e tells me da 'umies got dis fing called 'eresy, right?"
"'Eresy? Sounds weird..."
"Dun' hafta tell me. See, 'eresy's dere word fer unorky. Some git tries ta run away from a propa fight, it's 'eresy. Some git tries ta act like 'e's da boss when 'e's small an' weedy an' dun' 'ave no dakka either, it's 'eresy. So da 'umie wiv da fancy 'at, 'e's da 'umie nob. Anyone give 'im lip an' 'e jes' puts a slug in 'is 'ead. Zoggin' orky, it is! An' cuz 'umies are all da same size, 'e wears da 'at so da uvvers can see 'e's da boss."
"Wot about if 'e looses da 'at, den? Or wot if da uvver lads can't see 'im cuz 'e's too small? How dey gonna know who's da boss? Dey shoulda give 'im speshul shoes wot makes 'im look bigger. Dat woulda been da shmott fing ta do."
"Dey fink dey have beaten us lot. I fink it's safe ta say dey ain't shmott." Orgutz replied, suddenly slamming his massive green foot on the brakes. The trukk stopped surprisingly fast, tires screeching. The sudden stop threw the unprepared Gromgark headfirst into the passenger seat, a loud crunching sound echoing through the trukk as the ork's skull hit the metal.
"WOT DA ZOG DO YA FINK YER DOIN', YA GROT-LOVER!" Gromgark shouted furiously, drawing the knife he had made from a hormagaunt's talon during the fighting on Huxis Prime. Orgutz just turned around, a big grin revealing rows of gold-plated, crooked fangs.
Gromgark looked at Orgutz for a second, and then started smiling too. Rising to his feet, he unholstered his slugga and cocked it. "Let's rokk."
"Yer sure ya kin take care'a dis?" Gromgark whispered, pressing his gigantic green ear against the door to listen for any sign that they had been discovered.
"Fer da last time, I get it." Orgutz replied, obviously annoyed. He held a massive shoota in his hands, consisting of what looked like three shotguns that had been welded together and supplied with an almost comically oversized sighting mechanism. "I jes' keep an eye on da gits, an' if any'o dem try ta do sumfink weird, I blast 'em."
"An ya let me do da talkin'."
"Right, an' I let you do da talkin'."
"Da Boss jes' want wot dey took. Da last fing we need is Skumplot bawlin' 'bout how we're unfair fer takin' wot belongs ta da lootas fair an' square and krumpin' 'is boyz an' Mork knows wot." It wasn't very common for orks to want to settle conflicts peacefully, but things had been a bit uneasy in the clan lately, and Gromgark sure didn't fancy waking up with a bomb squig shoved down his pants. Like it or not, they would have to do this without killing anyone.
"I'm an ex-kommando, ya know." Orgutz muttered under his breath. "I fink I know a bit more 'bout sneakin' up on gits dan some nob wiv more teef dan shmotts."
"Wot's dat?" Gromgark said, raising his left eyebrow.
"Nuffink. Let's jes' do dis right an' propa."
"Ya got dat right!"
With a roar, Gromgark kicked the door in, showering the shocked lootas inside with splinters. Before they had much time to react, Orgutz had fired several shots into the roof of the hut, making the surprised orks freeze in their tracks.
"Right, I see any o' you lot reach fer as much as a snotling-zappa an' my buddy 'ere'll blast dem stupid gubbinz clean off yer faces!" Gromgark roared, pointing his slugga straight at the closest ork. "Now, how'sabout you lot tell me where da gubbinz are?"
The loota just gave Gromgark a stupid look (well, stupid for an ork, at least) and looked at one of the others.
"Oi! I'm over here, squig-brains!" Gromgark shouted, the loota quickly turning his head to stare at the gun being pointed at him. "Tell me where da gubbinz are an' I won't hafta shoot yer orky bitz off."
"W-wot... Wot gubbinz?" The loota stuttered, staring at the floor.
"Oi! Lookit me! Dis 'ere's da last time I'm gonna tell ya 'fore I start shootin'! WHERE'S. DA. GUBBINZ?"
"I... I dunno wot gubbinz y-yer talkin' 'bout..."
Taking two steps forward, Gromgark stood a few inches from the loota. Since he was at least two heads taller, he had to tilt his head down in order to look him in the eye.
"Who's da boss 'round dese parts?"
"I said: Who's da boss 'round dese parts, zog-face!" Gromgark accentuated his question by putting his slugga against the loota's temple, cocking it slowly.
"D-dat'd be Warboss Ingork."
"Dat's right. Looks like yer not completely zogged in da 'ead. Now, kin ya tell me wot Warboss Ingork looks like?"
Without warning, Gromgark smacked the loota in the face with the butt of his slugga, knocking him to the floor. The other two lootas started to run toward him, but were stopped by a warning shot from Orgutz's shoota.
"Dun' say 'wot' again. Fing's'll git ugly if ya do." Gromgark said, pulling the loota to his feet by his right ear. "I'll ask again. Wot does Warboss Ingork look like?"
"W-well... 'E's big. Real big. Like a dread. An' 'e's got all dese shiny metal gubbinz in 'is 'ead wot makes dese sounds like dem giant bugs in da swamp." The frightened loota responded, rubbing his head with fingers like green sausages.
"Right. An does 'e look like a grot?"
The sound of bone cracking could be heard as Gromgark hit the loota again, this time hard enough to draw blood. The loota lay sprawled on his back, looking up at Gromgark, who was starting to look extremely angry.
"I told ya, din' I? Dun' git up. Does Warboss Ingork look like a grot ta you?"
"N-no. 'E doesn't look like a grot ta me." The loota exclaimed frantically, blood running down his forehead and into his eyes in a steady stream.
"An' why do ya zog 'im like 'e's a grot? Why do ya steal 'is gubbinz an' hide dem away? Did ya really fink 'e wouldn't find ya? Now tell me where da gubbinz are, 'fore I lose my payshunz."
At this point one of the other lootas raised his hand and opened his mouth. "I kin te-"
Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, there was a loud bang as half his head was blown clean off, and the loota fell backwards, a fountain of blood gushing from what remained attached to his neck.
"Oops!" Orgutz exclaimed, his shoota still smoking.
With a shout, the loota that had been standing next to the dead one threw himself against Orgutz, only to end up with a chest full of bullets the size of a man's fist. He fell to the ground face-first like a big green sack of squigs.
"Fer da love'a Gork..." Gromgark muttered, shooting the loota on the floor right between his eyes. "Why da zog did ya hafta do dat?"
"Ya saw 'im! 'E moved! Ya told me dat if anyone'a dem moved, I wos s'posed ta blast 'em, an' I did!" Orgutz shouted back, waving his shoota around like a giant finger.
"Zoggin' kommandos... Fink yer Ghazghkull, an' dis is Armer-Geddem. Why da Boss dun' jes' git rid o' da lot o' ya, I'll never unnerstand." Holstering his slugga and tucking his knife back into his belt, Gromgark stared at the mess Orgutz had caused. It wouldn't be long until someone came to find out what all the noise was about and if there was something to loot. "Let's jes' find da gubbinz an' git out 'fore ya can git us inta any more trouble."
"I told ya, it wosn't my fault! 'E shouldn't've moved like dat. You tole 'em to jes' stand still! Wot if 'e wos gonna reach fer a blasta or sumfink?" Orgutz exclaimed, sounding quite ashamed of himself.
"'E wos gonna tell us where da gubbinz were, dat's wot 'e wos gonna do, squig-brains! An ya zogged it! Now 'elp me look, 'fore we both end up on da wrong side of a deffblasta." Gromgark growled and started to dig through one of the various piles of junk scattered throughout the hut.
"I didn't fink dere was no right side to a deffblasta." Orgutz said and scrathed his head. He never was very good at this whole 'thinking' thing.
"Ain't you a zoggin' orksyklopedya! Now stop muckin' about an' find dose gubbinz, will ya?!"
"Ya really are a stoopid zog, ya know dat, Orgutz?" Gromgark said between bites of his roasted squig, spraying bits and pieces of food across the table with every word.
"Fer da last time, I'm sorry! 'Ow wos I s'posed ta know 'e wosn't pullin' a blasta on ya?" Orgutz replied, throwing his plate right across the room in frustration. "I wos finking 'bout protectin' ya! An' dis is da fanks I get? Zoggin' great!"
"Protekshun? Dat ain't nothin' compared to da protekshun we're gonna need now, grot-zogger! I told ya, dose lootas wos Skumplot's boyz, an' right 'bout now, 'e's gotta be wonderin' who it wos dat krumped 'em. An' when 'e finds out, us two're propa zogged!"
"Wot makes ya fink dey'll find out it wos us? Dere 'as to be hunnerds ov orks wot coulda krumped 'em." Orgutz made a sweeping gesture with his left arm to hammer his point home. Outside the dining hut, hundreds of green shapes were busy fighting, eating and stealing.
"Let's fink abart dis fer a while, den. Skumplot comes fer 'is stolen gubbinz. When 'e gets dere, 'e finds 'is boyz ded an' da gubbinz're gone. So's 'e starts ta fink, jes' like wot we're doin' now. 'E knows da Boss wants 'is gubbinz back. An' when da Boss 'as a problem, who does 'e get ta fikks it?" Gromgark pointed a shiny metal finger at Orgutz, who seemed to think about it hard for a few seconds before suddenly lighting up.
"Dat's us! When da Boss 'as a problem, us lot fikks it!" He exclaimed, excited that he had solved the riddle.
"Dat's right. An' if a zog-brain like you can figger it out, den Skumplot can too. 'E's ded kunnin', dat sonnuva grot. We're zogged, da both a' us."
"So's we best get dose gubbinz to da Boss, den. Even Skumplot ain't stoopid enuff ta take da Boss on." Orgutz said in a nonchalant tone, taking another bite of his snotling-on-a-stick.
"Wot makes ya fink I 'aven't tried dat already? If it wos dat easy, dat would'a been da first fing we did! I ain't 'eard from da Boss since 'fore da misshun. So's wot we got ta do is find a safe place fer da gubbinz an' den try ta keep livin' 'til we kin drop 'em off."
"Arright, I fink I know a guy." Orgutz replied, burping loudly to show the waiter that he didn't have to bring any more food to the table. "'E's a grot, but 'e owes me. Saved 'is green arse when we wos fightin' dem pointy-ears. Got some kinda bettin' operashun down by da pits."
"Dis is yer last chance, ya know. Zog dis up an' ya won't hafta wait fer Skumplot's boyz ta krump ya." Gromgark said as he stood up. "I jes' got sumfing ta take care ov first." Pulling out his slugga and cocking it, Gromgark walked toward the cooking fires in the back of the dining hut. Finding a grot in a crude chef's hat standing by a large pot, he stooped over and tapped it on the shoulder. The grot quickly spun around and looked at the nob with a frightened expression on its face.
"You da cook?" Gromgark asked. The grot nodded nervously. "I jes' wanted ta tell ya dis 'ere wos da best zoggin' squig I've eaten." The nob continued, the grot breathing a sigh of relief. A moment later, there was a loud bang, the grot chef falling backwards into the cooking fire, clutching its chest.
"Wotcha do dat for?" Orgutz asked as they hurriedly left the dining hut and headed for their trukk.
"Well, da way I sees it, dat dere grot 'ad cooked da perfekkt squig. An' a weedy grot like 'im ain't gonna do nuffing better'n dat ever again. 'E's gonna spend da rest ov 'is life tryin' ta live up to dat dere roasted squig wot I jes' ate. I wos jes' sparin' 'im da trouble."
"Yer krazy, ya know dat, right? Zoggin' krazy's wot you are." Orgutz muttered as he unlocked the door and sat down in the driver's seat of the trukk.
"Enuff wiv da innerdukkshuns!" Gromgark yelled, slamming his massive green fist into the counter, which braely reached his kneecaps. "We jes' need ya ta take care'a dis 'ere bokks 'til we git back. I dun' care 'bout who da lotta ya are or wotcha did ta earn dat dere glowy gubbin ya got on da wall!"
The grot with the apron oddly enough didn't respond with fear, like most other gretchin. Instead he just continued polishing the metal mug he held in his hand with a dirty old rag.
"'E's jes' a bit angry cuz da last job din' go well. 'E's one'a dem perfekkshunists, ya see." Orgutz said apologetically, giving the grot a friendly pat on its tiny shoulder. "Well, we best git goin'! We's got places ta be, an' you's got yer bisniss ta take care ov. Jes' hold on ta dat dere bokks 'til we git back, arright?"
The two orks left the gambling hole, Gromgark chewing on a large piece of bone he had taken from one of the grots earlier.
"Wotcha actin' like a 'uge zog fer? Da grot's jes' doin' us a favor!" Orgutz asked, obviously annoyed by his companion's behaviour.
"Cuz we's both gonna git krumped, dat's why! We're zogged, ya kin unnerstand dat, right? Propa zogged!" Gromgark shouted back, biting the bone in half. He threw the piece he still held in his hand as far as he could, screaming curses as he did. "Skumplot's boyz'll get us, an' when dey do, 'e's gonna make us wish we ain't never even 'eard ov dose gubbinz. Da only chance we got is ta 'ide da gubbinz an' 'ope 'e wants 'em more dan 'e wants us krumped."
"Yer jes' bein' negutif." Orgutz said reassuringly as he entered the trukk. "Wot's Skumplot gonna do?"
"'Ow 'bout break inta da trukk?" A voice said from the passenger compartment in the back. Oddly enough, it didn't really sound like Gromgark usually did.
"Break inta da trukk! Dat's a good wun! An' 'ow's 'e gonna do dat?" Orgutz laughed, before everything turned black and his head hit the steering wheel with a loud thud.
When they woke up, both Gromgark and Orgutz found themselves chained to a pair of solid metal chairs, which in turn were bolted to the floor. In front of them stood a rather short mekboy with his entire lower jaw replaced by a metal plate with jagged teeth.
"I bet yer wonderin' wot yer doin' 'ere, right? Well, I'll tell ya, if yer willin ta lissen fer a while." The mek said, scratching his forehead with one of the talons on his power klaw. "I'm Skumplot, an' I fink you two boyz 'ave sumfing wot belongs ta me."
Orgutz opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get as much as a word out, he was struck from behind with what felt like a very large and very heavy blunt object.
"Yer gonna lissen when I'm talkin', boyz." Skumplot said, waving a finger in Orgutz's face as if cautioning a small child. "As I sed, I fink ya 'ave sumfing wot belongs ta me. I also fink you two zogs krumped my boyz back in dat 'ut. An if dere's sumfing I hate, it's havin' some guddfernuffink boyz wot fancy demselves Ghazghkhull Thraka runnin' about an' messin wiv me." Skumplot took a step forward, standing right in front of Gromgark. He grabbed him by the throat with his power klaw and slowly started to squeeze. "So I figger you two ladz owe me an explanashun, an' be kwick abart it!"
"We ain't done nuffing!" Gromgark managed to spit out, despite the grip around his throat hardening with every second.
"Dat right? Well den, I guess I wos wrong." Skumplot said in a mocking tone, letting go of Gromgark's neck and stepping away. "But jes' ta be shure, I'm gonna leave da two ov you wiv Drog 'ere."
An ork smeared with black warpaint stepped out from behind Orgutz and Gromgark, holding a large metal pipe in one of his hands.
"Ya see, Drog used ta 'ang out wiv da Blood Axes, 'e did. Bunch'a sneaky fellas, dose Blood Axes. Teach dere kommandos all kinds ov ways ta 'urt uvvers. Even green fellas like da two a' you. I jes' figger I'll leave 'im wiv da two o' you, see if 'e can make shure ya don't 'ave wot belongs ta me. Dat sounds propa, don't it?"
And with that, Skumplot left the room, leaving the two bound orks with the smiling Drog, who was busy practicing swing with his pipe in the air.
"If you's lot dun' want'a end up like little green flekks on da ground, ya better start talkin'. Skumplot might let ya jes' die wiv yer orkiness left." Drog said, swinging the pipe mere inches from Gromgark's face.
"Go zog a squig, grot-lova!" Orgutz replied, spitting on the floor.
"I fink I'll start by zoggin' da lot o' you first." Drog replied, lifting the pipe high above his head.
- http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/4974541/ - suptg archive of the thread that started it all.