Interlude - Ork Times 3.

Summer. The Ork Range.

"Come on" says No Legs Munga the blacksmith who then mutters "You mad fucken cunt" as he looks over at Onka Donka the shaman, who is still sitting in the snow drift up against Munga's house and smithy.
"Huh?' says Onka Donka the shaman, who is well and truly inebriated as he's already drunk the barrel of winter wine that was given to No Legs earlier. Now he's drinking from another that the blacksmith had hidden away in his ramshackle looking house.
"One of them fucken airships is coming into the village" explains the weapons maker.
The shaman, the tribe's spiritual leader, as he sits there on the pile of snow, wearing nothing but a bright purple cloak. It looks more like a robe than anything else.
Frowns and scratches at his topknot, then he finally grunts as he understands what No Legs is referring to.
"Should i fucken blow the cunt up?" asks the extremely powerful ork spellcaster.
Rolling his eyes, Munga who wants to say "No you fucken ninny!" but instead says "Nah don't fucken do that" followed by "It's one of them from that fat cunt Dorc" he then adds "You know, with all the fucken loot and booze".
At the mention of booze, Onka Donka perks up, and says "Fuck that's right" followed "Why you not say so in the fucken first place ya cunt".
What other fucken ships come here?" the ork blacksmith sourly thinks to himself, No Legs then silently adds, you mad fucken asshead!
The ork shaman, who is the wolf tribe's spiritual guide, says "Here cunt, give me a hand down".
Onka then grins as he adds "Cause you know, you can't give me a fucken leg, cause you fucken ain't got any".
"Fuckhead" mutters No Legs Munga who rolls away, leaving a laughing Onka Donka to get down off the snow drift by himself.
The ork shaman does, by rolling down it. Careful not to spill any of the winter wine in the barrel he's holding.
He doesn't spill any as he stumbles to his feet, then staggers after No Legs, who is rolling away on his low wheeled cart.
"A fucken big one this time" quietly says Munga the weapons maker as he and Onka spot the airship in question approaching the village from the north.
The ork shaman grunts in agreement as the two of them head to the north side of the village, as everyone else is doing. As it's the usual spot where the airships that come most summers, for about fifteen years now, tend to hover over.
There's a large crowd there already, with many of the orks roaring and shouting at the approaching airship.
No Legs, who though mad like every other ork. Is rather intelligent for one of his race.
Shakes his head as he looks at the gathered crowd, which he and Onka Donka are just back from.
"Every fucken time" mutters the ork blacksmith as the gathered orks have every weapon conceivable in their hands, not to mention large rocks, and the occasional tree.
No Legs rolls his eyes, as he sees one of the female orks holding her screaming orkling, who by the looks of it was in the poo pond, as he's covered from head to foot in shit.
The orkling is screaming in anger as it watches the triple masted airship approach the village, which is the main settlement here in the lands of the wolf tribe of orks.
"You'd think they'd fucken learn" adds Munga in a mutter as he watches the gathered crowd work themselves up into a frenzy.
"What do you expect?" says Onka Donka the shaman, who continues with "We're completely mad as a people, it's what we do".
No Legs glances sideways at his friend the ork shaman, who just spoke with clarity, his words unslurred or affected by the alcohol he's drinking.
The ork weapons maker doesn't know what to make of his friend when Onka Donka speaks like that.
It happens very rarely, and the fact he never swears when he does so, is the strangest thing of all.
No Legs wonders when the shaman speaks like that, Onka is for the briefest of moments, not listening to their god Krom. As the extremely powerful spellcaster has often told him over the years that Krom speaks to him.
Or indeed, if Krom is actually speaking to him whenever that happens. The ork blacksmith hasn't decided which one it is.
Munga would be surprised if he found out he's very close to the truth. As it's more closer to the latter than the former.
The ork weapons maker just grunts, then as the airship slows, and drops down in altitude, No Legs quietly says "Here we fucken go". Standing next to him, Onka Donka nods in agreement as the gathered crowd of orks burst into action.
Spears are thrown, so are trees. The ork blacksmith sees a barrel get thrown up in the air. He frowns as he wonders who's wasting booze. Then he realises it's a barrel full of rocks, frozen solid by piss.
He sees the naked orkling covered in shit get thrown in the air, brandishing a rather large axe, made of course by No Legs.
He sees another orkling, follow that one as it's mother or father throws it up towards the airship that's coming to a stop about sixty feet above the north side of the village.
That one is holding a large rock it intends to smash the airship with.
Next to the ork blacksmith, the ork shaman snorts with laughter as he spots something.
After Munga sees a fairly decent sized tree getting thrown upwards. He spots what Onka Donka has seen.
The weapons maker of the wolf tribe of orks rolls his eyes, then snorts too.
As a couple of the warriors have a whale tail, that's at least twenty five feet wide, and about six feet deep.
They've got a large chain hooked to it. A chain that No Legs remembers making when he was an apprentice over thirty years ago.
The two warriors, standing near seven and half foot tall a piece, and weighing in excess of seven hundred pounds.
Start swinging the whale tail on the end of the fifty foot long chain. Other orks scramble out of the way. Except for one, who is too slow, and doesn't see it. And is slapped by the whale tail, that sends him flying head first into the side of someone's house.
Which only makes him even more angry than he was before. As the whale tail is swung up at the hovering airship.
"That's good fucken eating that" quietly says No Legs Munga, who then adds "What a waste of fucken tail".
Standing next to him, Onka Donka grunts in agreement, before taking a drink from the barrel of winter wine he's holding.
As he sits there on his low wheeled cart that he uses most of the time to get around. Though he sometimes uses the large round shield tied to his back, to slide around on at times.
Munga shakes his head, as things go as he predicts. As they've always gone whenever an airship from the north, in the Southlands, shows up here in the Ork Range, specifically to the lands of the wolf tribe.
Things just bounce off the airship as it floats above the north end of the village.
Spears, hammers, axes, rocks, trees, poo covered orklings, whale tails, and everything, and anything else thrown up at it, bounce harmlessly off the airship and fall back to the ground.
No legs sees one of the falling orklings caught, while the other one clips the edge of a roof, and hits a big pile of snow next to that house.
The ork blacksmith figures it's still alive, as it's momentum was briefly halted before it hit the ground. And indeed it is still alive. As the next moment it runs out of the pile of snow, screaming in anger, holding a broken arm against it's body, and shaking it's other fist up at the hovering airship above the village.
As the gathered crowd continues to attack the airship, all to no avail. Munga thinks about telling Onka to get them to stop.
He's done so in the past a few times. Because the two of them thought the airship might piss off back to the north, without dropping it's cargo off.
The two friends don't want to miss out on any booze that was dropped off. For during their time when they spent a summer, and then an autumn, and into a winter a number of years ago, outside of the Ork Range and the southern polar region of the world.
They developed a liking of all the different types of booze that's brewed beyond the frozen bottom of the world.
Alcohol they'd never tasted before, grog that can't be made down here in the Ork Range.
For obvious reasons, because it's so damn cold, and because pretty much nothing can be grown here.
Glancing sideways at the purple robe wearing shaman, the weapons maker is just about to tell Onka, to get everyone under control.
When suddenly someone else does what Munga wants.
As away to their left, there's a howl that sounds like a wolf howl, though obviously from the mouth of an ork.
Both No Legs, and Onka, who once again, looks to be intoxicated. Look away to their left, where behind the frenzied crowd of orks who are hell bent on bringing down the floating airship, by any means necessary.
They see the new matriarch of the wolf tribe, Brang who then shouts at the crowd of orks. Males, females, a few old members of the elder council. As well as a number of orklings.
"You fuckers, stop that fucken now!" shouts Brang the matriarch, who then yells "Or by Krom i will fuck the lot of you up!" followed by "I'll slap you fucken cunts, silly if you don't stop".
Which she proves by doing so. As she walks up, and slaps one of the lager ork warriors across the back of the head, sending him stumbling away to one side.
He turns roaring, until he gets a swift kick in the groin by the matriarch of the wolf tribe.
There's a few winces and grimaces by those who saw that.
No Legs Munga winces, while next to him, Onka Donka snorts with laughter.
Some of the others in the gathered crowd back away as Brang advances on them. She kicks another warrior in the back of the legs. Sending him tumbling to the ground.
He too turns roaring, though he falls silent when he sees it's the matriarch who just kicked him.
Brang picks up a tree that was thrown up at the airship. And she swings it back and forth, knocking over a handful of orks.
That gets everybody else's attention, and the gathered crowd stop attacking the airship that hovers over the north side of the village.
The only one still attacking, is the shit covered orkling, who is coming back down to the ground, after one of it's parents, threw it up into the air.
The parent in question is it's mother, who glances up, takes a couple of steps to one side, and catches the falling orkling who is screaming in rage and anger.
She puts it down on the ground, slaps it across the face, muttering at it to shut the fuck up.
The orkling falls silent, as it realises the gathered crowd has gone quiet too.
"Now you fucks" says the matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, who gestures with the fourteen foot ice covered tree she's holding, as she adds "Get out of the fucken way".
She points up at the hovering airship with the tree, as she continues with "So those cunts can lower down what they've bought with them".
The new matriarch knows that all manner of things will be lowered down as has been in the past.
And of course, the shaman and the blacksmith will get first dibs as they always do.
But this time Brang intends for the rest to be shared amongst the rest of the tribe.
And there won't be a mass brawl like there usually is. As everyone in the village will fight over the rest that No Legs Munga, and Onka Donka don't want.
The new matriarch also secretly hopes there's a message this time. As there has been sometimes in the past. Though not every year. She hopes this year there is. As it's the only time they ever hear from Dorc da Orc, who was sent into exile after killing his mother, the former matriarch of the tribe.
"What a bitch" No Legs Munga murmurs to himself in admiration as he watches Brang.
Not any old ork can get control of a bunch of frenzied orks. And the new matriarch of the wolf tribe just did it, and with relative ease too.
The tribe's blacksmith glances at the shaman Onka, who isn't paying much attention to Brang, who is now yelling orders at the gathered crowd.
Instead the spiritual leader of the wolf tribe, nods up at the hovering airship and he tells Munga "Not a fucken scratch" followed by "Good fucken magics them flappy cunts got".
No Legs grunts, as he caught scent that the airship is crewed by those called krean. It takes him a few moments to remember what they're called.
The ork weapons maker who also smells humans onboard the airship, glances sideways at his friend Onka Donka.
The ork shaman stands there, with his head tilted to one side as if he's listening to something.
Probably the voices in his fucken head, Munga dryly thinks to himself as he looks at the purple robe wearing ork shaman.
Then all of a sudden, Onka bursts out laughing.
No Legs eye ridges shoot up, and he scuttles sideways on his low wheeled cart. As often when the shaman starts laughing, it isn't necessarily a good thing to be around him.
As sometimes he might start blowing things up when he spontaneously laughs.
Others turn to see who's laughing. And when they see it's their shaman laughing. They too get out of the way. Infact some straight out run away.
Brang the matriarch turns to admonish whoever it is that's laughing uncontrollably.
But when she sees it's Onka Donka, she sourly smiles, and wonders if they're all going to die because he accidentally blows them all up.
Fortunately for everyone, the shaman doesn't do that.
Instead the extremely powerful, not to mention highly volatile ork spellcaster, says to his best friend "Hey Munga cunt take a guess what".
"Fucken what?" asks No Legs a little cautiously, who then looks up at the airship which Onka points at.
"That fucken cunt is on it" says the wolf tribe's spiritual guide.
No Legs grunts, for the way the shaman said that, implies it's someone the two of them know quite well.
The weapons maker sniffs deeply through his nostrils a few times with his eyes closed.
Munga's eyes open, and he grins, then starts laughing like Onka Donka, then the blacksmith points up to the bow of the large, triple masted airship, and says "Look!".
They see someone looking down, who spots the two of them.
And No Legs Munga the blacksmith as he sits upon his low wheeled cart, and standing next to him, his best friend Onka Donka the shaman who is naked apart from the bright, purple robe he wears.
Start to wave enthusiastically, and shout out "Hey cunt!" to the person they see looking overboard on the bow of the airship.
He spots them, and Kreece Van Der Linden the mage grins, and waves in reply to the two orks he knows so well . . . . . .