//------------------------------// // Lesson 3: I Can't Understand what my Ork Friend is Saying // Story: My Little Warhammer: Friendship is Waahg! // by conkersbadfurday //------------------------------// The Ork army thickened into a roar of strange contraptions as Doomer drove to the rear guard. Some stomped on legs while others sped across the ground, each with more weapons than anypony cared to count, and each heading for the front lines. It was time to waahg. Doomer called the bugs Tyranids, prompting a dozen questions from Twilight and a few groans from her friends, but the Ork wasn’t much help. What he did know wasn’t useful, and what he didn’t know was pretty much everything. The best she got out of him was that the red machines moved faster than the blue and yellow because they were painted red. “Red is da fastest,” he said, which was both the most and least sensible thing he had uttered yet. Doomer led them to what could best be described as a metal boat on even larger metal wheels. It had a thick body filled with windows, most plugged with gun barrels, and a flat top where Orks clustered about. Clouds of heavy smoke spewed from chimneys the size of trees. Its wheels churned over the earth, slow moving yet determined to rend everything they touched into dirt. “Wow,” Twilight said, fluttering off the ground. She craned her head for a better look. “This is amazing!” “I don’t think that’s the word I would use,” Fluttershy said. “Don’t you see!” Twilight gestured to the ship. “This shouldn’t exist! It doesn’t make any sense!” “We know,” Rainbow Dash said. “None of this does.” “Twilight, we want to go home,” Pinkie Pie said. “And I want my party cannon fixed!” “Home,” Doomer agreed. He jerked the steering wheel, and the truck zoomed on ahead, aiming for a loose ramp hanging off the rear of the land ship. Orks scattered as he rolled into the cargo hold. Groans and howls turned into clanks and zaps as Orks roved between tool chests, many carrying hammers alongside their axes and shootahs. Some hauled pieces of metal while others fired up torches and welded bent shapes into other bent shapes that looked suspiciously like car parts. Dark chemicals stained everything, and sour smells collected around barrels. The creatures seemed to prefer chaos, because no one worked together, and many fought over materials and tools. In the time it took to drive from one end of the cargo bay to the other, the ponies witnessed three fights and one accidental stabbing. The only time the Orks seemed to agree on anything was when a yellow-clad creature stubbed his toe and shot it off in a fit of frustration. No matter what color they wore, they all found that very funny. “I could write a friendship dissertation on this!” Twilight said. “Do you think,” Rarity whispered to Applejack, “do you think we could just, lightly tap her on the head and maybe she’d fall asleep?” Applejack frowned. “We’re not knocking our friend unconscious, Rarity.” “But this place is filthy!” The white unicorn wrinkled her nose. “It smells worse than … than … than I don’t know what!” “It smells worse than a bad attitude,” Pinkie agreed. The truck skidded to a shaky halt, and Doomer shooed everypony out. He then threatened half a dozen Orks away with a point of his gun. “This is mah boostah shootah, and if ya take it, I’ll knock yer teeth aahht.” Satisfied with his threat, he turned to the six ponies. “Ya and ya,” he pointed to Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle. “Yer wif me. We’ll see da weirdboyz. Deathskullz only.” “I believe you are mistaken,” Rarity said, but Doomer cut her off with a grunt. “Grots stay ‘ere. Unless ya wanna work in the bloomin’ grub hall.” Fluttershy shook her head. “Sorry Mr. Doomer, but we’re together. We’re friends.” “Na.” Doomer said. “Blood Axes go ova ‘ere, and Snakebites ova ‘ere.” He gestured to two separate areas of the cargo hold. “The weirdboyz are Deathskullz, ya rathead critters.” He gave Fluttershy a lopsided grin. “Ya alwigh’ for a Snakebite though.” In a mad rush, Rarity grabbed Twilight by the shoulders and gave her a rough shake. “Do something! Get us out of here!” “It’ll be fine, Rarity,” Twilight yawned. The bags in her eyes drooped so low they almost touched her chin. “Besides. I trust Doomer.” “We are doomed,” Pinkie said. She blew a balloon and popped it, which sent the nearest grot into a panic. “Doom da doom doom doom.” Rarity dropped Twilight and rushed to Rainbow Dash. “Dashie, I need you to do me a favor.” She grabbed the blue Pegasus by the face and pulled her in close. “Ask this … this weird wizard how to get us home, and write down everything he says.” “Okay!” Rainbow Dash shoved Rarity away. “Okay. I can do that.” “I’m not much for magic, but maybe I can cast the spell.” Rarity’s horn flashed light blue. “If it isn’t too hard.” “What should I do with Twilight?” Applejack sighed. “Just don’t let her do anything crazy.” “Hey!” Twilight said. “I’m right here!” Rainbow Dash gave Rarity a salute and then a hug. “Got it. We’ll get out of here, I promise.” Doomer scratched his head. “Yer not supposed ter ‘ug grots, yer supposed ter kick ‘em.” With reluctant looks and ears low, the ponies split into three groups, with Twilight and Rainbow Dash following Doomer. They marched into the heart of the fortress. Hallways zigged and zagged like a bad maze, one where every path wound up at a weapon barracks. Most of the hallways were just small enough to make passing other Orks a challenge, which led to clogs and fights. Others opened wider, presumably to make it easier to move weapons from one place to another. "Do you have a map, Doomer?” Twilight asked. “A wot?” The princess of friendship fluttered into the air. “You know. A map. Organization. Charts. Graphs and numbers. You can’t run a kingdom without a map.” Doomer laughed. “Yer a funny lil’ critter, ya kna?” He ran his hand along one wall and pulled it away covered in metal splinters. He plucked one out and ate it, though he did so slowly, like he was savoring the taste or maybe the ship itself. “This is the bloody bes’ stompa in the whole worl’. ‘Umans fink we’re rathead dumb ya kna, but we made dis. And den we killed ‘em.” “I could organize the rathead out of this place,” Twilight said. “Twilight!” Rainbow Dash pleaded. “Please stay focused!” Twilight yawned, but kept her questions to a minimum as the group climbed two uneven staircases, veered outside to a walkway that overlooked the ship’s wheels, and approached a door with a Tyranid skull nailed to it. Doomer pushed the two ponies into a dark room filled with potions, cauldrons, various sticks, and a full weapon’s rack. Two Orks dressed in purple sarongs took turns slapping each other. Both were naked from the waist up, and both wore steel crowns that looked like someone had welded the tip of a rake to a headband. The older of the two had various pieces of metal bolted into his skin. “Dis is Zigdek and Ol’ Zogdek,” Doomer said. “Dey kna everytin’ about everytin’.” Ol’ Zogdek stopped the slapfight to look at the two ponies, and Zigdek took the opportunity to slug his elder in the jaw. The older Ork’s two front fangs flew into their cauldron, which turned teal. Someone screamed from the floor above. “Haha,” Ol’ Zogdek said. “Tol’ ya!” Zigdek nodded. Doomer did too. “Na ‘oo ‘re those glue critters, and wot ‘orrible fin’ ‘appened ter make them butcher’s so butters?” Rainbow Dash flew to the older of the two Orks and held out a hoof. “Uh. Hi? I’m Rainbow Dash and this is Twilight, and we’re trying to find our way home. We do not belong here.” “You have a friendship problem,” Twilight said. She rubbed eyes. “And an organizational problem, but that’s easier to fix.” She clapped her hooves. “Would you like me to make a list?” “Twilight!” Rainbow Dash yelled. “We need to get out of here!” “But the bucket took us here for a reason!” Twilight magicked the piece of broken tin into her hooves and hugged it close. Three Ork chins dropped open. “We have to solve the friendship problem, or we can’t go home. The best way to do that is to make a list.” “Wuzat?” Zidgek asked. He rubbed his head, and his trident crown fell to the floor with a spark of electricity. “Why, dat’s warp magic, dat’s wot dat is.” “Warp,” Ol’ Zogdek agreed. “Take ya anywhere.” “Oh thank goodness,” Rainbow Dash said. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” She darted to the nearest table and pushed all the strange objects aside until she found what she hoped was paper and a quill. The paper was a bit on the thick side and tinted green, and the quill wrote with red ink instead of black. She shuddered but pressed on. “Tell me how to get us home.” “Yes,” Twilight agreed. “Tell me about this warp.” * Engines rumbled and Orks waved spiked weapons as Fluttershy flew over the rocky landscape, doing her best to keep up. Dark clouds traveled across the sky. Some threatened bad weather, most war, and yet a seldom few twisted into pictures of places the yellow Pegasus would rather be. She missed Ponyville. She missed Angel, and her animals, and her peaceful cottage next to the Everfree Forest, where the worst thing was a timberwolf with a wounded leg. She tried to explain that to the four Orks, who were named Gar, Ger, Gore, and Gerk, but they took one look at her and insisted she come along. Snakebites had choppas to ride and settlements to raid! “I don’t know,” Fluttershy had said. “That sounds scary.” That suited the raiding party just fine, who preferred scary to a fault. Their two-wheeled choppas, all decorated with spikes, skulls, and guns, chugged over the uneven ground, belching fire like a dragon with a tummy ache. It was all, if Fluttershy was being honest, a bit much. “Almos’ der,” Gore said, a ferocious creature with a dirty ponytail and a spiked club, which he carried around much like a filly would a security blanket. “I clock i’ up ahea’.” “Ya daan’t clock aahht, ya idgjit,” Gar said. He weaved back and forth, not because he wanted to but because he had shot himself in the foot before they left and had trouble keeping his choppah even. “I daan’t clock aahht.” “I’ll clock yaah,” Gore returned. He waved his club. Fluttershy gulped. “Let me see.” She flew higher, trying her best to keep her head low in case any stray bursts of magic tried to burn to her a crisp, and scanned the area. It didn’t take long to spot what Gore was talking about: four shallow buildings with domed roofs and a torn-apart windmill. The ground around the homes was flat and scorched, but otherwise the place looked abandoned. She returned to her companions. “Gore is right, there is something up ahead. So you see, you don’t have to fight about it.” “Yah!” Gore said, and not to be outdone, the others quickly agreed. Despite their ferocity and almost uniform lack of front teeth, the Snakebite Orks had all taken a liking to the yellow Pegasus, who was the first Ork they had ever seen with wings that weren’t made of metal or explosions. She also talked funny, agreed with everyone even if they were wrong, and had the longest hair of any of them. This was apparently quite important. The raiding party reached the edge of the settlement, and Fluttershy calmly asked everyone to slow down. “It might be dangerous,” she said. The Orks all smiled and nodded. “We should go in quietly, so we aren’t seen.” “Dat’s for cowards and Deathskulls,” Gerk complained. He stuck a dirty finger into the hole where his ear used to be and tore out a hunk of something a little too red to be wax. “Let’s charge!” Fluttershy shook her head. “No. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” She gulped. “It might be a trap.” Once again, the four Orks nodded. Gar hopped off his choppah, already swinging a large butcher knife, and stumbled to the ground with a howl of pain. The other Orks laughed. Gar tried another step and repeated the fall and his howl of pain. His fellow Orks repeated their laughter. “Here,” Fluttershy said. She flew over to Gore and tugged on a dirty tear in his shirt. “May I have this?” “Wuzat?” Gore asked. Deciding that was close enough, Fluttershy tore a long strip of cloth from Gore’s shirt and flew to Gar, who was now sitting on the dirt and looking at his foot and his cleaver like they were a math problem he knew how to solve but didn’t want to. Fluttershy knocked the weapon from his hands. “Hey!” he complained. “I was usin’ dat!” “No!” She said. “That’s not how we solve our problems.” The other Orks gathered around the yellow Pegasus as she bandaged Gar’s mangled foot. They oohed and aahed once they realized what she was doing, and Gar even laughed when she scolded him for not cleaning it right away. He didn’t seem to understand the word, but he did clap when she said “infection.” She sighed. “You’re worse than Angel.” In truth, Fluttershy didn’t expect the Ork to walk, but he surprised her by hopping to his feet and stomping around on the uneven rocks. He didn’t even wince. When Gore shoved him, he shoved back. Both balled their hands into fists until Fluttershy flew between them. “Stop!” she yelled. “We’re here to … to raid, remember?” Gerk nodded. “The painboy critter is wite. Let’s kill sum bugs and loot a gaff.” They filtered into settlement. Up close, the scorch marks were filled with dozens of scattered bones. Fluttershy shuddered. Ger picked up a blue helmet and shrugged. “‘uman.” He tossed it back and gave it a hearty stomp. Of the four Orks, he was the largest, with dozens of red tattoos covering his arms and neck. “‘umans ave good shootahs. Maybe we can find sum.” “I daan’t like—” Gar began, but had to stop when a dozen pink monsters squirmed out the nearest building, each with four arms and wide, gaping mouths filled with yellow teeth. Fluttershy screamed. Ger and Gerk both opened fire. With a roar, Gore charged in with his club, and Fluttershy huddled low. She did her best to watch but kept putting her hooves in front of her eyes and wishing she was back home. The new monsters howled worse than the Orks. Gunfire filled the air. The ground shifted, and Fluttershy looked up, hoping to see Gore or Gar and instead almost fainted. A monster towered over her, its head lolling to one side, its tongue drooling a long hiss of saliva. Its skin was covered in glowing blue sores. Fluttershy fumbled with her gun as the monster lumbered towards her, raising a crude hunk of metal. It stared Fluttershy down with two, pinprick yellow eyes, and Fluttershy stared back. “No!” she hissed. The monster stopped. “No you won’t hurt me or my friends anymore!” Fluttershy flew up and poked the monster in the chest. “Now stop being bad.” The monster turned, stumbled, and headed for its closest friend. Fluttershy crossed her hooves but almost fainted again when the monster swung its club at its brother. The heavy weapon made short work of the smaller monster, which crumpled to the ground in a broken pile. Gore jumped on the monster’s back and swung his club so loud it sounded like a gunshot. The monster fell, and the Orks all gathered around Fluttershy, screaming in triumph and calling her “the bes’ painboy we eva saw!” They spent the next half hour looting what was left of the compound while Fluttershy wondered if her staring powers worked on bugs. * Covered in dirt, slime, and caustic chemicals, the cargo bay managed to be cleaner than what the Orks called their kitchen. Rarity took one look at the garbage-pile of mold and dirty dishes, turned right around, and screamed so loud all the Orks fled from her in terror. By the time she found Applejack again, disgust had simmered into a loud, obnoxious rage that kept most of the green monsters from bothering them. Rarity glared at the strange creatures walking passed, most arguing, some fighting, others building contraptions that didn’t make any sense. When they saw her, they scurried away. “Can’t believe you scaring them away is more helpful than you actually helping,” Applejack said. She heaved a piece of metal onto a cart and waved it ready to go. A group of grots, all very worse for wear, tugged and pulled. “Can’t believe how bad these fellas are at building.” “That’s what you can’t believe?” “Well.” Applejack took off her hat and wiped her brow. Instead of removing sweat, she added more dirt, which Rarity removed with a bit of magic. “I’ve built plenty of barns in my day, and they go faster when you’re not arguin’ every five minutes.” “I prefer a cleaner workspace, myself.” Applejack shook her head, sighed, and then burst into strained laughter. She gave Rarity a hug, which the unicorn returned with a squeeze so tight Applejack gasped. “There,” Rarity said. “Now we’re the same amount of dirty.” Applejack laughed. “That’s rich. Pretty sure I’m doing all the work.” Rarity scowled at a passing Ork dressed in red. He made a rude gesture but retreated, and a smaller blue-clad Ork gave her a nod of approval. “I like to think of it as delegating,” she retorted with a flick of her mane. The effect was lessoned given how split the ends were. The oddboyz, such as they were, existed to supply all the other Orks with weapons and machines. They knew their way around tools and schematics, and they knew how to wire a stompah without frying themselves to a crisp. At least most of the time. Their current project: a thick-plated mech dubbed a Deff Dread, equipped with blastahs, flamahs, shootahs, missiles, and three pinchy hands not made for holding things but tearing them apart. It also had a pointless amount of skulls and spikes for decoration. Rarity found it rather garish; Applejack took one look at the instructions and dubbed it worthless. Nothing connected together properly! There were no measurements, no lines to follow or weld allowances. The Orks didn’t even plan to wire half of it for power! When Applejack pointed this out, she was told to, “Get back ter work, ya idgit grot,” and threatened with a screwdriver. Now they were almost done, mostly thanks to Applejack’s brute strength and Rarity’s directed anger, both of which kept everyone in line, or at least, in something resembling a line. If friendship couldn’t make the Orks work together, fear would. Of course, fear could only go so far. The Deff Dread was almost done, and every Ork clan in the land ship helped build it. They all wanted to drive it. “Uh oh,” Rarity moaned. “Don’t think you can mean-look your way out of this,” Applejack agreed. A lean Ork carrying a red screwdriver hopped into the Deff Dread, and a larger Ork climbed after him. The larger creature grabbed the first one by the wrist and yanked him free while a third Ork bit the second one in the boot. The first Ork stabbed with his screwdriver; the third Ork watched all his teeth tumble from his head. Both were thrown to the ground. As more Orks turned to fight each other, the second hopped into the Deff Dread and slammed the hood shut, locking himself inside a metal orb with a skull twice the size of Applejack on the front. Not to be outdone, every Ork in the cargo bay leapt onto the mech with weapons drawn. Angry shouts of, “It’z mine!” intermingled with sparks, yelps, and moving gears as the mech raised an arm. Rarity shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know about this. Can he even see where he’s going?” “He can’t!” Applejack spat. “Tried to tell ‘em. Need glass or somethin’. He disagreed.” “Do you think he knows all his friends are there?” Applejack slammed a hoof into their work bench. “‘Course he does! Been like this all day!” “Should we hide?” “Na. The legs don’t have power.” Rarity took a few steps away in retreat anyways, but Applejack just smirked. Any minute now it would fizzle to a halt. It’s not like it could just run on spite. Yet the mech stomped forward, almost crushing a poor grot, and swung on its waist. Orks flew off in droves. One metal claw snagged into a yellow war wagon and bent it to shreds. The Snakebites howled, and the Blood Axess howled, and soon both were slugging each other. The Deff Dread twirled one of its shootahs and put four holes into the hull of the land ship. The Deathskulls opened fire. “Oh dear,” Rarity said. “But how!” Applejack exclaimed. “I don’t get it!” While the Orks fought, the mech stumbled on unsteady legs, threatening to crush everyone. It took all of five seconds for it to trip over a battle wagon. A growing shadow fell over the fighting Orks, who stopped just long enough to consider it before returning to their brawl. Applejack yelled, and Rarity yelled, and then Rarity’s horn burst with light. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. A crystal-shaped shield formed around the Orks. It looked like glass, and when the Deff Dread fell into it, it splintered. Rarity’s legs buckled. She groaned, and the light in her horn faded, but the giant mech stayed put. Dozens of Orks scrambled out of the way. When they were all safe, Rarity let her magic fade. The war machine collapsed, and so did she. The Orks cheered. Applejack helped her to her hooves. "Uh oh,” Applejack said. "Now what?” Orks of every color surrounded the two ponies, many grinning, all shouting, “Weirdboy grot! Weirdboy grot!” It was the first time any of the ponies had seen the three clans celebrating together. “Oh my,” Rarity said. She wanted to both blush at the attention and gag at the smell. “Now what do we do?” Applejack smiled. “Now we do what we should have done a long time ago: Show ‘em how to build a barn!” * “Help!” Pinkie Pie cried in one long, never-ending syllable that sounded more like a siren than a voice. She scrambled down corridors and leapt over Orks, many of which dove out of the way or scratched their heads. One offered the pink blur a gun. Pinkie bounced off him like a spring, trying to find her friends or a familiar path, but the land ship preferred confusion and was good at it. Metal lights sparked with electricity, and the strange smells in one room matched the strange smells in another. Worst of all, there weren’t any balloons! And her party cannon was broken, and her friends were gone, and she just wanted to cry. She was lost. Still running at the top of her lungs, Pinkie felt her mane straighten into a sad curtain of pink. It was all so hopeless. And then she rounded a corner and crashed head-first into an Ork. The creature grunted, cocked an eyebrow, and offered her a blue-gloved hand. “Doomer!” Pinkie shouted. She never thought she’d be this happy to see an Ork! She hopped up and gave him a hug. Then she shook him until more teeth fell out of his head. “Doomer you have to hide me!” “Wuzat?” “Hide me!” “There she iz!” a red-clad Ork shouted. He wore a thick pair of welder’s goggles on his head and no shirt. Metal chunks covered his chest like zebra stripes. “Someone catch ‘er!” Pinkie Pie dove behind Doomer. She fumbled with one of the shootahs in his belt and managed to yank it free just as the Bloodaxe clan converged on them both. “Wuzat?” Doomer asked again. The red oddboy sighed as if he were talking to a child throwing a tantrum and not the barrel of a gun. “Nah nah. We’re just tryin’ ter ‘elp. ‘Onest” “They want to cut off my arm!” Pinkie shouted. “I need my arms!” “Only the wahn.” “I need both of them!” “We’ll replace it wiff a powa klaw.” The Ork made a grabbing motion with his hands. “Iz much betta, ‘onest.” Doomer nodded at that. “Powa klaw iz much better. Ya can tear bugs real good.” Pinkie’s ears fell. She adjusted her aim, but now the weapon felt heavy. She was tired. Her friends were gone. Even Doomer was going to abandon her. “I can’t bake with a power claw,” she mumbled. “Or hold Gummy. Or make balloon animals.” She sniffed. “Or hug my friends.” Pinkie wanted nothing more than to hug her friends. The oddboy scowled. “Aw dat stuff aint important.” He made that grabbing motion with his hands again, and his Bloodaxe brothers nodded. “Powa klaw is for waahg. We gotta waahg!” “Waahg!” they cried. Satisfied with that answer, the Orks converged. Green shadows fell over the pink pony, who huddled behind Doomer and tried to imagine living in Ponyville with a metal claw made for tearing things apart. Well, she could become a gardener. Or be a sad, lonely character in a 90’s movie named Edward. Or maybe, just maybe if she put some googly eyes on it, she could travel the land as Equestria’s worst puppeteer! That might be fun. Or maybe— “Stop!” Doomer cried. He dug out his axe and waved the Orks back. “If this lil idgjit critter doezn’t want a powa klaw, she doezn’t need a powa klaw, see?” “Thank you!” Pinkie shouted. Her hair exploded back into a puffy mound of frizz as she gave Doomer another hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” “Wuzat?” the oddboy said. “Why’re ya doin’ dat?” Pinkie frowned. “I always hug my friends. See?” She gave Doomer another. The blue-clad Ork scratched at the top of his head, but he did smile. The oddboy looked around. Orks shrugged. Doomer did too. “Then wot should we do wif it?” “Wif what?” Doomer asked. “Da powa klaw, ya idjit!” Doomer sheathed his axe. “Give it ter Grog. ‘E lost ‘is arm a few ‘ours ago from weirdboy magic.” All the Orks dressed in red shrieked in protest. The oddboy spat on the ground. “Grog’s a Deathskull! Dis iz a Bloodaxe powa klaw!” “Den give i’ ta a Bloodaxe!” “We’re tryin!” the oddboy stomped his foot and gave Pinkie Pie a glare. “Da bleedin’ idgit don’t want it!” “So give it ter Grog!” “No!” The few Bloodaxe orks not holding weapons drew them, and Doomer grabbed his axe again. A light flickered in the hallway. Pinkie pointed her shootah at everyone then dropped it. She gulped, and ears low, hopped between the two parties. “Listen,” she squeaked, and all the Orks turned their attention her way, which included their axes, guns, knives, and one grenade. “You Orks like to party, right?” “Wuzat?” Doomer asked. Pinkie nudged him in the ribs. “You know. Party. ‘Waahg!’” “Waahg!” they all shouted. The pink pony giggled. She finally understood them! “See,” she turned to the oddboy who really wanted to give someone a metal hand. “You. You want to go outside and stomp on bugs, right?” “Yah!” the Ork said. He stomped on the ground. “Crush ‘em dead.” “And you,” Pinkie said, returning to Doomer. “Want to go outside and stomp on bugs, right?” Doomer nodded. “Wahg.” Pinkie Pie stretched her hooves out wide and drew both Orks close together. They smelled like moldy flower that had been sitting at the bottom of a swamp. “Don’t you see,” she grinned. “You both want to party in the exact same way! Why not do it together?” “Eh?” Doomer asked. “‘Ow?” “Yah,” the oddboy said. “‘Ow?” Pinkie Pie smiled until her face hurt. “Why, with friendship of course!”