I stood in the grey morning light, my cap pulled low, coat fastened tight against the wind that howled across the blasted plains. The banners of the Astra Militarum flapped hard in the breeze, snapping sharply like the crack of lasgun fire. The smell of oil, ozone, and damp earth filled the air as the men of the 122nd Harakoni waited for my orders.
It had been six months since I'd earned the aquila of the Commissariat. Six months of training so brutal it stripped away all weakness and fear, or at least taught you how to bury it deep. I had studied every battle log I could get my hands on, every scrap of tactical doctrine, and every weakness of the xenos we were most likely to face, as i was a scared little human.
Today… it was the Orks.
They were out there, beyond the horizon. You could hear them before you saw them. A deep, constant rumble, like distant thunder, mixed with the guttural roars of alien throats. It was the sound of thousands of boots pounding the dirt, of ramshackle engines coughing smoke, of war drums hammered by crude fists.
The scouts had already confirmed it, this was no small raiding party. This was a WAAAGH!. At its head was a Warboss named Grimsnaga Ironskull, a brute twice the height of a man, clad in scrap-metal armor thicker than a Chimera's plating. He had the Orks whipped into a frenzy, and if we didn't stop them here, they would burn three hive cities to ash before the year was done.
The Guard regiment assigned to me was battle-hardened, but they were tired. Months of holding ground against the greenskins had worn them thin. They had courage, but they needed focus, a purpose. If I didn't give it to them, we'd be trampled under the tide.
I called the men together. Platoon leaders formed up in front, the rank and file beyond them. Hundreds of eyes stared at me, some hard, some doubtful, some just plain scared. My boots scraped against the ferrocrete as I stepped forward.
"Men," I began, my voice carrying in the wind. "Today, you face the Ork."
I let the word hang in the air. The very mention of it was enough to put a tightness in a soldier's chest.
"Some of you have fought them before. Some of you have only heard the stories. You've been told they're savages. Brutes. Mindless beasts."
I let my gaze sweep across their faces.
"That's a lie."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I cut them short with a sharp gesture.
"They are not mindless. They are dangerous, more dangerous than many give them credit for. They live for war, they breathe it, and they'll keep coming until we stop them. But…" I let my voice harden, "…they have a weakness. A single, glaring flaw that we will use against them."
I paced slowly, letting each word sink in.
"The Ork is a creature of hierarchy. They follow the strongest, the meanest, the loudest. And if that leader falls, if their Warboss is killed, they will turn on each other like starving grox, fighting to see who takes his place. They will forget us in the chaos. They will slaughter themselves."
Now I could see it, the shift in their expressions. Fear turning to calculation. Doubt turning to grim determination.
"So here is our plan: we do not waste ourselves against the tide. We cut the head from the beast. We strike deep, we strike hard, and we bring down Grimsnaga Ironskull. When he falls, the WAAAGH! falls with him."
I paused, then let my voice drop lower.
"And if anyone here is thinking that this will be easy… you're a fool. Men will die. Many of you will not see tomorrow's sun. But the Imperium will stand because you stood today."
I raised my power sword high, its metal glinting cold in the light.
"For the Emperor!"
The cry came back like a rolling wave:
"FOR THE EMPEROR!"
When the Orks came into sight, it was like watching a storm roll across the land. Dust and smoke churned into the sky. Scrap-built warbikes revved and spat black fumes. Looted tanks roared, their barrels crudely welded to mismatched armor plates. And above it all, a massive figure, Grimsnaga himself, towered on the back of a gargantuan Squiggoth, waving a cleaver the size of a man.
"Target the Warboss," I barked into the vox. "All fire teams, ignore the flanks. Keep him in your sights."
The earth shook under the Orks' charge. The first wave hit our forward lines like a tidal surge. Lasguns spat red beams into the mob, cutting down dozens, but for every Ork that fell, two more took its place. The air was a mess of screams, gunfire, and the wet impact of steel meeting flesh.
We pushed forward through the chaos. My bolt pistol barked, blowing ragged holes through green-skinned torsos. Men rushed forward, rallying to my voice even as bodies dropped around us.
A Nob stepped into my path, a brute with an iron jaw bolted to his skull. He threw a massive choppa that would have cleaved me in two if I hadn't stepped inside the arc. I shoot him in between his eyes as he fell, bellowing his last breath into the mud.
We cut through the Orks like a spearpoint, but every meter was paid for in blood. The Warboss loomed closer, his Squiggoth plowing through friend and foe alike. Its tusks impaled Guardsmen like ragdolls.
"Bring him down!" I shouted. "All fire on the beast!"
Lascannon teams took position, their beams burning through the Squiggoth's hide. Autocannons barked, sending bursts of high-caliber rounds into its legs. The creature roared, but it kept coming, until a krak missile found its eye.
The explosion turned the top half of its head into a red mist. The beast stumbled, shrieking, and collapsed, throwing Grimsnaga to the ground.
Now was the moment.
"WITH ME!" I roared, charging forward. The Warboss rose, shaking off debris, his cleaver dripping with the blood of those who'd tried to stop him. He was easily three meters tall, his muscles like knotted steel cables under thick green skin. His armor was a patchwork of stolen plates, painted in crude glyphs.
"Youz da one in da funny hat, eh?" he snarled, his voice like grinding metal. "I'z gonna keep it fer me trophy rack."
He came at me with the force of a charging tank. I barely sidestepped, the cleaver slamming into the dirt hard enough to crack stone, why am i trying to melee him. My bolt pistol barked, once, twice, three times, but the rounds ricocheted off his shoulder plates, as he moved to the side.
Well i was out of ammo, i just it would have to be the sword.
He roared in fury, grabbing me by the coat and hurling me ten meters through the air. I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from my lungs.
He came at me again, but this time I was ready. I rolled aside, grabbed a dropped melta charge from a dead Guardsman, and slapped it onto his back as he passed.
"For the Emperor," I hissed, diving clear.
The explosion tore through his armor, punching a smoking hole straight through his torso. He staggered, bellowing, then fell to his knees.
I walked to him, my coat whipping in the wind. His eyes met mine, full of hate and fading strength.
"You… can't… stop… da WAAAGH!…" he rasped.
I drove my sword through his throat.
"Yes," I said coldly. "I can, and will."
The effect was immediate. The Orks froze mid-fight, looking toward their fallen Warboss. Then the shouting started. The arguments. The shoving. And then… the killing.
They turned on each other with gleeful fury, hacking and smashing in a chaotic brawl. Our men pulled back, reforming lines as the Orks tore themselves apart. Leman Russ tanks rolled in, their battle cannons pounding the densest clusters. In less than an hour of bombing them, the greenskin horde was nothing but corpses and a few scattered survivors fleeing into the wasteland.
By nightfall, the field was ours. Fires burned in the distance where wrecked Ork machines lay smoking. The dead were being collected for the Emperor's peace, both ours and theirs.
I stood on a ridge, looking down at the field of victory. The men were exhausted, their faces streaked with mud and blood, but they were alive, and they knew they had won because we'd fought with purpose.
A lieutenant approached, saluting sharply. "The men say it was your plan that saved us, Commissar."
I looked back at him. "No. It was their courage that saved them. I just showed them where to aim it."
And as the wind carried the smoke away into the night, I knew this was only the first of many battles. The Orks would come again, as their spores are everywhere on this planet, they will never get rid of them.
But I had learned something vital today: i hate warhammer, and i curse whoever came up with the warp and chaos, and i need to upgrade my body, you know "the flesh is weak and all that stuff".