Chương 67: Chapter Twenty-Four: The Last Hold (Part VII)
Location: The Elder-Bridge of Khazrik Hold
Date: Dawn of the last battle of the last hold.
Slowly the red-giant Star crested the horizon of Grungron. Its crimson light casting bloody shadows across the Last Holdworld. Reflecting off the armor of two armies facing each other. The Squats of Khazrik Hold standing behind their champion. Armored in shining Adamantium and wielding mighty hammers and drill-guns. Across the Elder-Bridge a tide of roaring green awaited. Orks, Gretchins, Stompas, Gargants, Weirdboyz, Killa-Canz, Buggies and Battlewagons all awaiting what was to come.
At the forefront of the Squat forces stood Ur-Dammaz. Walking slowly towards the middle of the bridge. Stretching across the volcanic abyss below. At the elder-bridges apex the champion of the Squats stopped. Planting the butt of his axe into the solid adamantium. In a voice that echoed across the ash-plains infested by the Orks and the titanic peak of Khazrik. Ur-Dammaz roared: "Come out and face me you swine-sticking shite stained excuss of a warrior! I've got my axe and your neck has an appointment with it!"
For a single moment the sound of the Orkish horde stopped. The Greenskins staring at the mightiest of the Squats. Soon a thunderous sound cut through the silence. A slow gallop of massive legs across the ground. The Greentide parted from the sound. Coming into view was a lumbering Squiggoth. As large as an Orkish trukk, covered in a mixture of armor and graffiti. The thuggish beast approached the elder-bridge. Upon the creatures back was a throne of blasted metal and bones. Occupied by Grunhag the Flayer himself. Standing seven meters tall the Warboss was a living mountain of muscle and cybernetics. Releasing the reins of his steed, Grunhag leapt from the Squiggoths back. Sending a large cloud of ash into the air around him.
Orks and Squats were both silent as Grunhag approached Ur-Dammaz. The Greenskin Warlord was a monsterous amalgamation of Orkish technology. Ugly mega-armor was fused into his flesh. Its servos and internal mechanisms let out a feral growl with each movement. In a display of twisted Orkish genius the Mekboyz and Dokz had rebuilt Grunhag with four arms. Two primary ones each clad in hulking power claws with underslung shootas and flame spitters. While spindly secondary arms stuck from Grunhags shoulder-blades like mechanical parasites. Those two each carried exotic Orkish guns. One crafted from the severed head of a Weirdboy, acting as a psychic-lighting cannon. The other a miniaturized Traktor Kannon designed to toss about small-vehicles with abandon.
Grunhag lumbered across the elder-bridge until he was maybe a hundred paces away from Ur-Dammaz. The two champions of this long-fought war eyed each other. Raising his power-claws towards the air Grunhag let out the ancient war cry that had shaken the galaxy for sixty million years. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHH!!!!!!!!"
The assembled Orkish horde roared an ear-bursting echo. In response, all of the Khazkhun warriors stamped their feet and weapons or beat their shields. A roar of primal fury dueling with the steady drumbeat of a dying peoples wrath. Ur-Dammaz was the first to charge. Psychic flames billowing from him, creating a great mane of fire atop his head and beard. He moved quickly, far faster than his stout frame would suggest possible. Even without the generations of psychic enhancement, Squats possesed natural explosive speed and power. Their short and dense frame contains muscles like a coiled spring ready to unleash at a moment's notice.
Grunhag matched his Squat enemy's charge and leaped forward. His shootas and Zzapp gun opened up storms of lead and lighting. Ancient Khazkhun energy-shields deflected and absorbed the weapon fire. This battle would be decided in melee. Closing the distance Ur-Dammaz responded to the hail of munition with his own sidearm. With his greataxe in one hand he unholstered a master-work drill-gun from his waist. This Squatborn relative to the Boltgun fired a burst of spiral-grooved rounds at Grunhag. Green-lighting spat from the Warbosses armor. Robbing the drill-shells of momentum, letting them tumble to the ground. Holstering his sidearm Ur-Dammaz gripped the Axe of Doom with both Hands. Whirling it around to face the Ork tyrant.
Grunhag brought his power-klaws down in an energized hammer-blow. The Klaws met the Axe of Doom. A storm of sparks detonated from the impact. Pushing both champions back a few steps. A lopsided grin spread across the Warbosses face. Teef of adamantium, gold. silver and natural Ork calcium shone in the early star light. Roaring his race's ancient cry, Grunhag threw himself back at Ur-Dammaz. His claws and munitions testing for any weakness in the Squats guard. Flames born of psychic power and promethium crackeled along Ur-Dammaz. His Axe-head and his own flaming scalp leaving a trail of fire and embers as they weaved between the Warbosses blows.
Crafted from exquisite materials the Axe of Doom was designed to be used more than a mere axe. Balanced with hyper-dense alloys hidden within its haft. Ur-Dammaz could wield it as both axe and pole-arm with ease. The Grudge Breaker leveraged the range his weapon gave him. His compact form letting him easily dodge or parry incoming blows. Then strike out with the crackling head of his axe or its molten-hot haft. Whenever Grunhag overextended or got cocky the Axe of Doom was there to punish him. So far the Ork had gotten lucky. Ur-Dammaz only had a collection of smoldering scratches on Grunhags armor for his effort. Fighting with the patience of mountains and the fury of molten stone. The Squat Champion intended to wear the Warboss down. Steadily chip away at the enemy of his people like a mason through rock. Until all that was left was a broken, beaten Ork.
Grunhag the Flayer was busy having the time of his life. The Warboss had gotten so massive and powerful that few things posed a threat to him. Throughout his WAAAGH!!! against the Squats he had taken to bullying and humiliating less useful Nobs. Just so he could have a light spar when they snapped and challenged his leadership. Now facing this"Big Red Stunty" Grunhag was thoroughly enjoying himself. Even as the Ork clashed with the Squat and intercepted his lethal blows. Grunhags twisted mind filled with dark fantasies of what he would do once he had won his duel. How he would desecrate the Squat Champion and break the last hold with his death.
The two combatants could not be more different. Grunhag was a hulking mass of machinery and muscle. Cobbled together with insane technology and hungry for battle. Fighting not like a warrior, with any particular style or technique. The Warboss fought like some mixture of a feral beast and back-alley brawler. Animal cunning combined with the skill born of thousands of brutal scraps. Watching Ur-Dammaz for any weakness and striking out with his arsenal at any sign. Power-Klaws acted as both a predators' claws and a thugs' fists. Hacking and smashing the Squat with a near constant flurry of blows. All while Grunhags shoota, flamma, Zapppa and Traktor Guns fired at the Grudge Breaker. A primordial monster testing its foe constantly. Waiting to rip Ur-Dammaz apart with sadistic glee.
Champion of the Squats and bearer of ancient misery. Ur-Dammaz was solid and stoic. A living being forged into the ultimate weapon by his people's best and worst attributes. Where Grunhag was the beast and brawler. Ur-Dammaz was the guardian and champion. Each of his blows a calculated assault, powered by incredible fury. The Axe of Doom striking out like a Dragon's maw. Leaving behind burning scars that cut into Grunhags armor and augments. The Grudge Breaker could feel the beady red eyes of his foe upon him at all times. Grunhag had elected to replace his eyes burst in his near-death aboard the Bigga Hulk with organic parts. Colossal Squig and Orkish eyes spliced together by a particularly nasty Painboy. The Warboss wanted to look upon his enemies as they died with natural eyes. The hardened warrior-intellect of Ur-Dammaz saw a weakness and sought to exploit it.
Whirling his Axe in a great arc. Ur-Damamz summoned a storm of flames that covered him for a moment. Forcing Grunhag to look away from the firestorm that erupted. Ur-Dammaz shot forward, a living fire-spout. Pulling his Axe up across Grunhag. The Warboss barely lept free of the attack. Snarling and relying on his other sense Grunhag pushed back. Green-Lighting born of Orkish technology and the WAAAGH empowering the Warboss dueled the Flames of Ur-Damamz. A slight wetness started to form on Grunhags forehead.
Reaching up with a deactivated Klaw. The Warboss felt his ichor run onto his armored hand. Ur-Dammaz had taken first-blood. His axe cutting through Grunhags shields with ease. Igniting his klaw, Grunhag quickly cauterized his wound, ending the bleeding. Staring at the readied Squat before him. He saw a ragged snarl of war-lust painted on Ur-dammaz's face. Grunhag realized he and the "Big Red Stunty'' had more in common than originally thought. Twin combatants, both creatures of bloodshed and red-ruin. Meant to live and die upon the fields of war. Each their happiest with a bloody weapon and new battle-scars.
A deep rumbling laugh echoed from Grunhag and the Warboss growled: "Datz wot Iz talking bout! YA GOT ME TINKING YU DIDENT AVE ANY GUTZ!"
The battle continued, the might of the two champions clashing. Each searching for weaknesses to exploit. In turn adapting to any trick or technique used. Grunhag had quickly learned to compensate for the flames' heat. In turn Ur-Dammaz had tasted the energized-metal of his foe's Klaws after failing to realize the gambles his foe was willing to take. This was a duel between two masters of combat. It would be ended by one decisive blow. With the Squat champion carving away at his foe. Building up to the shatterpoint he would use to end the fight. While Grunhag fought with feral intensity that would eventually find its killing strike. Ironically a contest for a final blow was being fought with attrition.
Neither side tired as the duel raged on. The augmented endurance of both sides faring equally. For hours they clashed. Grunhag would attack, attack, and attack Ur-dammaz. Switching his patterns and style not for any strategic reasons. Only doing so when he got bored. Using his Traktor Cannon to try and rip the Axe of Doom from the hands of his foes. Or attempting to drive him off the edge of the bridge. Ur-Dammaz resisted it all. Wethering a hundred blows. before striking out with a response worth a hundred of Grunhags attacks. Dragging on both fighters found themselves host to patchworks of wounds. Scratches and burns that healed quickly. Leaving ugly scabs and layers of dried blood to coat them both. Wherever Ur-Dammaz struck he had little effect. Layers of redundant systems and armor filled the Warbosses reforged body. Not products of any planned system of augments. Instead the result of dozens of Meks and Doks competing to impress the Warboss once he awoke.
It seemed only one target was worth the Grudge Breakers energy. He had sworn to take Grunhags head, and he was not one to forsake such an oath. Parrying dozens of blows and dodging weapon-fire when he could. Ur-Dammaz started to concoct a plan. One that would require all his patients and skill. Steadily the greatest Grudge Keeper let himself be pushed back. Letting the weight of his foes blows driving him towards the Bridge's edge. Eager and pressing his advantage Grunhag surged forward. The Warbosses' covering of stolen-skin dried under the noon-star heat. The red giant Karag hanging directly above them. The fight had dragged on for what were many terran days. A grinding duel between an unstoppable force and an immovable object.
Ur-Dammaz rationed his energy carefully. Falling back into the methodical marital-styles of the Squats. Not meant to slay the foe, but hold the line for the great cannons and guns to do their work. Drawing his flames in tighter, burning hotter and denser. Lashes of blue and white replaced the billowing waves of red and orange. Deflecting and parrying every strike with exquisite concentration. All while Grunhag laughed and taunted. Mocking and insulting the Squat in the ribald tongue of the Orks. The Warboss was confident victory was his. This had been a fun fight for Grunhag but he doubted the Stunty had anything else to surprise him. Which in a way was true. Ur-Dammaz had no tricks or secret techniques left to win this duel. Instead, he had the one thing that had never failed his people, the Mountain. Grunhag attacked with all his might as the Sun above passed behind the peak of the Khazrik Hold. Its indomitable heights hiding away the light in ancient shadow. In an instant, near-blackness covered the elder-bridge. The Mountain's shadow lay thick. Grunhags eyes proved their worth and adapted near instantly. The Orks had been designed to breed within great subterranean caverns. Darkness was no hindrance to them. Yet the threat came not as shadow, but as the one thing Orks fear. It came as Fire!
As Grunhags crimson eyes dilated to swallow the remaining light. Ur-Dammaz ignited his flames as bright as possible. Burning as hot and mighty as he could. All his psychic power poured into birthing a nova of white-hot flame. Wreathed around the Axe of Doom. Brighter and hotter than an Atomic Blast. The Axe lived up to its name. Grunhag screamed as his eyes burned and his senses overloaded. Flinching from the blinding light and creating an opening. With a mighty swing that used all the energy left in Ur-Dammaz's stout form, the Axe cleaved through Grunhag. Tearing through armor like foil in a clean horizontal slash. With a mighty roar of vengeance, the Grudgekeeper cut off Grunhags head.
The tusked head of the Warboss flew high. Carried by the sheer energy of the blow. Spinning through the air as a morbid standard of victory. With the sound of an avalanche, Grunhags body fell to its knees. Ur-Dammaz stared at his hated foe, the enemy of his people. The ancient warrior-squat had torn one of his arms from its socket with the force of his strike. His body and souls spent in the duel. Sweat dripped into his mighty beard and the flames dancing along his scalp simmered into steam. Propping himself up with his Axe the exhausted warrior let his body slump against it.
Just as he prepared to pop his shoulder back into its proper place. A noise caught Ur-Dammazs attention. A strange mechanical growl. Looking up he did not have time to react before a massive Power-Klaw plunged into his stomach. Impaling him on three crackling talons. Staring up in bewilderment Ur-Dammaz watched the headless body of Grunhag pull itself to its feet. Then with its unoccupied hand reach up and with a sickening plop, catch its own severed head. Jerkily the body deposited its head atop its severed stump. A clicking noise came from the free arms built-in shoota. Its internal mechanisms changing out ammo-types. With the sound of an ill-maintained industrial-press, Grunhag fired two-pronged metal-spikes into his neck. Forming a ring of staples, reattaching the severed head. A savage grin of primal cruelty spread across Grunhags face.
The revenant Ork stared into the stunned Squats eyes. Taking his Power-Klaws, Grunhag ripped into Ur-Dammaz's gut. With one Klaw gripped onto the Squats rib cage he started to disembowel Ur-Dammaz. In an almost casual tone Grunhag said: "Well now, itz lookz to me like yah actually got gutz yah stunty! Take a good look at em. All the rest of yur kind will get too soon when I string em up me boss-pole."
The Grudge-Breaker let out a mournful cry as he slid off the Orks Klaws. Not a cry of pain or defeat. A cry of bitter fury, a moan of vengeance denied. Nearly ripped in have with his intestine spilling everywhere Ur-Dammaz fell to the elder-bridges adamantium surface. Brandishing his gore-stained claws Grunhag roared out: "HOOSE NEXT!!!!!"
A resounding call of WAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! Shook the ground as the Orks celebrated the victory of their Warboss. Stunned horror filled the hearts of the Squats all across Khazrik Hold. Their defender had fallen, they would fall to the Greenskins. Unavenged, unknown, lost to time and the horrors of war. With the resignation of the doomed the warriors of the Last Hold prepared to fight. If this was to be the end, it would be a glorious one.
Then a flash of light crossed the sky. A flare of energy in the heavens so bright it was visible during the day. Another flash erupted, another, and another. Soon the sky was alight with wild-flames. Only the great ash-clouds of Khazrik Hold obscured the light. It was at this moment a storm of communications poured in from across the Karag system. Orkish Vox exploded in calls of enemy attack and panicked chatter. Something was attacking the Greenskin armada across the system. Grunhag activated his own Vox and was bombarded by Orkish screams and overlapping voices. Contacting the replacement Flagship of the WAAAGH!!! A massive Deadnots called the Busta-Rok. Kaptin Kruncher, nob of the ship, desperately responded. Between the sounds of explosion and screaming Orkoids the Kaptain yelled his message. "'ELP BOSS! 'ELP US! WE'Z GOTTA GET OUTTA 'ERE! DA MAPS ARE RIGHT BOSS! 'ERE BE DRAGONS!"
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