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'Ay, Jay Di!' Bork Bloodguts scratched himself with a bunch of old paper covered in squiggly lines and waved his dakka in the air. 'Looky ‘ere! Some right ol’ scrappahs.'
Jay Di Lancer lumbered over. 'Oi, wotcha bellyachin’ ’bout Bork? Iz midnight innit?'
'Looky Boss!' Bork gestured into the darkness. Five figures stood on a hilltop about thirty metres away. They were huge and wearing armour and, most importantly, holding absolutely tremendous dakka.
'Bork, ya tellin’ me to wake up all of our boyz and go see if those beaky gitz’re up for a scrap?'
'Yeah I reckon I am, Boss.'
'Alrighty then.' Jay Di turned to the camp. 'Boyz! Iz scrappin time!'
The quiet campsite erupted into a massive 'WAAGH!' Boyz splashed in red and blue and yellow burst from their tents, tusks and dakka gleaming. Fallen pillars and burned books crunched under the feet of excited and jabbering orks.
'Now, Bork, my good lad,' Jay Di said conversationally, speaking above the chaos. 'We’ve got about, what, fifty boyz here?'
'Yeah I reckon dats right.'
'And dere are five of the gitz?'
'For now, but I bet dere will be more if we get into a good scrap.'
'Fair enuf. WAAGH!!'
The orks rushed into the darkness, up the hill to the armoured figures framed against the moonlight. They were not noticed by a sixth figure in armour who was staring towards the horizon, beyond the broken towers and trampled roads of his home and towards the wounded sky.
'Oh Tizca, jewel of the Galaxy,' whispered the sixth figure. 'Your sons are hunted by their brothers. Our father Magnus, the Warmaster Lupercal, brothers without Tzeentch’s gifts; we mourn them all. But the perfidious Emperor is broken and the cursed Guilliman continues—what?'
His Rubric Marines down the hill were blasting at figures in the dark. More of his fallen brothers, Rubric runes glowing softly in the night, were moving towards his position. In the moonlight, the Thousand Son suddenly saw a green arm waving a bolt rifle.
'Scum,' he snarled. 'Bow before Zahhak, agent of Chaos and sorcerer of the Thousand Sons!'
'Oi, it’s a ‘eadbanga! Bork! Come on, letz git ‘im!' Jay Di Lancer kicked a Rubric Marine in the fork of his legs and leapfrogged over its head. 'Last one dere is a rotten squig!'
Bork ripped a helmet covered in glowing runes off of a fallen git and placed it on his own head. 'Jay Di! Lookit my nifty ‘at!'
'Come on, ya krumpin’ squig!'
'I’m comin’ boss!'
Zahhak snarled, caught a glimpse of the ork campsite, and gasped. 'The Great Library!' He raised his hands. 'Profane greenskin slime, feel the wrath of Zahhak! My Legion has been broken and betrayed and broken again. Your pestilential presence on the ruined planet of Prospero is the epitome of disgrace. Prepare to meet your puny gods!' Flame flickered around his fingertips.
Bork slid to a stop, staring down Zahhak. With great precision, he lifted one of his legs. A gentle tooting sound popped out of him, along with a foul smelling odor. Zahhak doubled over and gagged.
'Sorry, git. Wanna scrap?' Bork contorted his features apologetically, forgetting that the Marine helmet covered his head completely.
Jay Di whacked Bork with a piece of scrap metal, which shot out a bolt of red light. 'Oi, be polite when we scrap wif dese gitz.' He turned to Zahhak. 'I hope you can excuse dis interruption, weird git.'
'Oh, and you should know, beakie,' Bork said, fanning his hand behind himself, 'Gork and Mork ain’t exactly puny. Dey’re kunningly brutal and brutally kunnin’.'
Zahhak choked. 'Die!'
The firebolt whizzed past Bork and Jay Di, igniting a putrid greenish blue cloud behind Bork. One by one, the standing Rubric Marines caught fire. As did several orks.
As Bork collapsed to the ground laughing hysterically at the screaming boyz and the mechanically firing suits of burning armour, Jay Di pointed his scrap metal at Zahhak and fired. The bolt caught the sorcerer right under the chin and sent him sprawling down the hill. Zahhak raised his hand in the air.
'My brothers, to me!' Five more sets of glowing eyes in power armour stepped out of a nearby pile of rubble. 'Kill the greenskins.'
'Bork, stand up before you krump yourself,' Jay Di pulled out a choppa and shifted into a ready stance. 'We got a real nice scrap at last!'
'Wotcha.' Bork rolled to his knees and leapt to his feet. 'Go on one. One!'
The two orks, noticeably larger than they had been, jumped towards Zahhak as other boyz, some from the sky and some bored of playing with Marine armour, joined the fray. The sorcerer lowered his shoulder as they charged and threw Bork over his head into a sprawling heap. Jay Di found his choppa held by the blade a couple centimetres from Zahhak’s face. Grunting, the Thousand Son pushed Jay Di back.
'You have spirit, xeno. Why not reach out to Chaos? The Changer of Ways could make you into a mighty chieftain.' Zahhak’s words were forced. Each time a group of orks brought down one of his Rubric brothers, his grip on the choppa weakened.
Jay Di’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. 'Mmm, interesting idea, git. What do you fink, Bork?'
'I fink dat’s borin’. Gork and Mork foreva!' Bork grabbed the sorcerer’s head from behind and pulled mightily. With a pop and a squelch, he had another helmet and a headless git at his feet, its neck spurting blood. The Rubric Marines crumpled and collapsed.
'Dat was weird,' said Jay Di. 'Bork, is dat nifty hat o’ yours any fun?'
'Oh yeah, and the dakka is tremendous.'
Jay Di raised his arms in the air and bellowed victoriously. 'Dakka and toys and ‘ats for ev’ry body!'
The remaining orks, some slightly smouldering, cheered. They played with the weapons and armour of the fallen Thousand Sons in the ruins of Tizca until Prospero rotated into dawn.