Grok was bored. He and the rest of the Boyz had run into a ship full of puny humans. They weren't big, tough ones like the Space Marines, they weren't even like the Guard. They were puny, pathetic, stinky humans.
Still, it wasn't all bad. Grok was one of the Mekboyz, so looting the ship for shiny new parts was enjoyable. Still it was disappointing that there wasn't anything interesting on board. No shootas or meltas, no choppas or anything like that. Just shiny boxes, plastic discs, and paper. Lots of paper.
Looking through the useless junk, Grok was quickly becoming bored, and destroying the useless objects could only go so far in alleviating it. Even burning the papers had grown dull. If he had his way, he would have already blown up the ship and been on his merry way, bu the War Boss wanted to get everything useful first, so he was stuck sorting.
Idly, Grok started fiddling with other tiny, useless objects. Picking up a plastic box, he stared at it for a moment, before taking a bite out of it. Not too bad,
ôARE YOU READY TO ROCK!?! I SAID ARE YOU FUCKING READY TO ROCK!!?!ö
Grok shot up, blindly lashing out at the source of the voice. Realizing that he was alone in the room, he looked as the box behind him, now animated with tiny little humans on a platform, holding strange object in front of them.
As Grok watched, they began to hi the objects, and sounds filled the air. It was like the sounds of battle, but better there was something else, an underlying rhythm that was absent from the chaos of battle, and that something made him want to fight all the more. Grok saw several huans making a strange gesture with their hands, and he found himself imitating it, moving hi hands in sync with the rhythm.
Grok was completely entrancd with what he was seeing. It was lound, it was brutal, it was...
Orky.
Grok laughed, who would have though the puny humans had some Ork in them? Whenever he saw them, they were either running and screaming, or grimly looking down at him. Never before had he seen them yelling, cursing, and fighting each other. He watched as a small brawl in the mob grew and enveloped everything. The guys on the platform tried to calm them down for a few moments, before giving up, and joining the fray.
Grok watched for what felt like hours, before it abruptly ended, and the picture box spit out one of the plastic discs. Staring in shock, he desperately toyed with it, trying to get the pictures and sound and violence to return. Eventually, he worked out how to use it, and eagerly watched it again and again. Finally, Grok gathered up everything he could carry, and headed back to the ship.
If humans could Rokk like that, then it was only natural that Orks could Rokk even harder, and Grok was determined to prove it.
--- --- --- --- ---
Grok looked behind him, at the Orks he had bullied into helping him, and at the massive speekas he had built to make sure everyone heard. He affectionately toyed with his axe for a moment, before stepping up to face the bored and bewildered crowd. THis wa sit. After weeks of building and bullying, he was finally ready.
Several of the Orks threw rocks at him, other less polite Orks shot at him, but they missed, being more curious about what he was doing than angry. Grok grinned ferally. This was going to be the best thing ever.
And with that thought in mind, Grok brutally slammed on the strings of his axe.
The speekas Grok had built were crude, an barely holding together, but they weren't designed to be pretty, sophisicated, or enduring. They were built to be loud, and they did that very well. The soundwave of Groks first chords was visible, and washed over the shocked crowd with the force of an orbital bombardment.
Grok's grin grew as he saw the shocked faces of the Boyz, and watched as they erupted into cheers. Grok allowed the chers to wash over him for a moment, before regaining his focus and resuming the first Ork jam session of all time.
Grok was not a skilled musician. He would never have made it into Carnege Hall, or any type of formal playing hall. In all likelihood, he would probably have starved to death as a street performer, so poor was his musical ability. But the Boyz didn't care about skill, or how beautiful it sounded. All they cared about was that it was loud, and fun.
Grok's minions, now that they had finally seen what Grok had been trying to do, grinned, and added their own tone deaf music to the mix. As time wore on, the mindless noise slowly became more rhythmic, as the players learned how to play their instruments, and started to do what sounded best, instead of merely loudest.
Grok looked out at the still cheering crowd, and over the din of his music, heard the cries more more. Grok grabbed the microphone in front of him, and began screaming. He screamed, not the mindless, wordless roar of the Wagh, but about the battles he had fought, how he had ripped out the spine of a Space Marine, and massacred a planet of warriors. He screamed about the fights he hoped to be in, and how
The Boyz loved it.
The concert dragged on for hours, until Grok's voice began to fail, and the other Rokkers wre exhausted, but things just didn't feel right. As he mindlessly jammed on his axe, Grok struggled to remember what to do. Suddenly, he remembered how things always ended on the discs. His valor returning, Grok flipped his axe so he was gripping it by the neck, and brutally swing it at the front row. For a moment, silence reigned as the Boyz realized that Grok had brutally assaulted one of them. Then, the cheering returned as the Boyz fell upon themselves in a good, old fashioned, riot.
Atop the stage, Grok felt satisfied at the perfect end to his concert, before leaping into the growing brawl. Rokkin was exhausting, and he neded to smash some skulls to relax.
--- --- --- --- û
Grok's concert was the first, but there were plenty of other Mekboyz with more brains than him, and could do a better job of building speekas and axes and drums. Soon, the camp developed a purpose, as stages were set up all over, as the Boyz fought over the best spots to deafen their brethen.
The camp had wholeheartedly embraced the concept of Rokk, and as they began to argue and fight about who was the loudest and most brutal, the Warboss stepped in. He declared that the only way to decide who was the loudest wa to have them ll play at the same time.
And so the Orks had their first rockoff.
The sheer number of bands and speekas was staggering. Never before had Orks put so much effort into something that wasn't directly aimed as causing the most death and destruction possible. The redirecting of their energies towards creative ends was an amazing accomplishment. As the warm up chords died down, and the bands began their battle in earnest, the soundwaves built up, growing louder, and louder. As the mekboyz in charge of the speekas did everything to increase the volume in order to win, the sounds of the rock off spread over miles and miles, drawing the attention of other Orks. Unwilling to let go of their curiosity, they wandered towards the source of the noise, and were swept up in its rapture. Thousands of Orks were entranced with the concept of Rokk, and it spread like wildfire. As more Orks flocked to the concert, more stages were built, more speekas were constructed, and Orks fought to earn the coveted title of Loudest.
All the while, their blood began to boil, the desire to probe that they were the ludest merged with the desire for violence, and riots swept through the mobs. Bands plunged in the fray, only to have their instruments be taken up by some other ambitious Ork, whose shouts and crude music only inspired further violence. The few Doks who weren't rokkin or fightin were hastily patching up recently trampled Orks so the violent cycle could continue. The force behind it grew and grew, until the planet itself could no longer contain the brutal rokk of the Orks. They turned their eyes skyward, the music commanding them to go forth and share the new discovery with the Boyz on other worlds. Mad passion gripped them all, and within weeks, they had set out, each crew complete with a band, and a plethora of speekas, drums, and axes.
And so a Waagh like none before it surged into the universe, and forever changed it.
------ ------ ------- ------- -------
I have a couple more scenes I want to add on, so this isn't quite finished, but I covered the key components already, so I thought I'd try for some feedback.
What do you guys think?
Still, it wasn't all bad. Grok was one of the Mekboyz, so looting the ship for shiny new parts was enjoyable. Still it was disappointing that there wasn't anything interesting on board. No shootas or meltas, no choppas or anything like that. Just shiny boxes, plastic discs, and paper. Lots of paper.
Looking through the useless junk, Grok was quickly becoming bored, and destroying the useless objects could only go so far in alleviating it. Even burning the papers had grown dull. If he had his way, he would have already blown up the ship and been on his merry way, bu the War Boss wanted to get everything useful first, so he was stuck sorting.
Idly, Grok started fiddling with other tiny, useless objects. Picking up a plastic box, he stared at it for a moment, before taking a bite out of it. Not too bad,
ôARE YOU READY TO ROCK!?! I SAID ARE YOU FUCKING READY TO ROCK!!?!ö
Grok shot up, blindly lashing out at the source of the voice. Realizing that he was alone in the room, he looked as the box behind him, now animated with tiny little humans on a platform, holding strange object in front of them.
As Grok watched, they began to hi the objects, and sounds filled the air. It was like the sounds of battle, but better there was something else, an underlying rhythm that was absent from the chaos of battle, and that something made him want to fight all the more. Grok saw several huans making a strange gesture with their hands, and he found himself imitating it, moving hi hands in sync with the rhythm.
Grok was completely entrancd with what he was seeing. It was lound, it was brutal, it was...
Orky.
Grok laughed, who would have though the puny humans had some Ork in them? Whenever he saw them, they were either running and screaming, or grimly looking down at him. Never before had he seen them yelling, cursing, and fighting each other. He watched as a small brawl in the mob grew and enveloped everything. The guys on the platform tried to calm them down for a few moments, before giving up, and joining the fray.
Grok watched for what felt like hours, before it abruptly ended, and the picture box spit out one of the plastic discs. Staring in shock, he desperately toyed with it, trying to get the pictures and sound and violence to return. Eventually, he worked out how to use it, and eagerly watched it again and again. Finally, Grok gathered up everything he could carry, and headed back to the ship.
If humans could Rokk like that, then it was only natural that Orks could Rokk even harder, and Grok was determined to prove it.
--- --- --- --- ---
Grok looked behind him, at the Orks he had bullied into helping him, and at the massive speekas he had built to make sure everyone heard. He affectionately toyed with his axe for a moment, before stepping up to face the bored and bewildered crowd. THis wa sit. After weeks of building and bullying, he was finally ready.
Several of the Orks threw rocks at him, other less polite Orks shot at him, but they missed, being more curious about what he was doing than angry. Grok grinned ferally. This was going to be the best thing ever.
And with that thought in mind, Grok brutally slammed on the strings of his axe.
The speekas Grok had built were crude, an barely holding together, but they weren't designed to be pretty, sophisicated, or enduring. They were built to be loud, and they did that very well. The soundwave of Groks first chords was visible, and washed over the shocked crowd with the force of an orbital bombardment.
Grok's grin grew as he saw the shocked faces of the Boyz, and watched as they erupted into cheers. Grok allowed the chers to wash over him for a moment, before regaining his focus and resuming the first Ork jam session of all time.
Grok was not a skilled musician. He would never have made it into Carnege Hall, or any type of formal playing hall. In all likelihood, he would probably have starved to death as a street performer, so poor was his musical ability. But the Boyz didn't care about skill, or how beautiful it sounded. All they cared about was that it was loud, and fun.
Grok's minions, now that they had finally seen what Grok had been trying to do, grinned, and added their own tone deaf music to the mix. As time wore on, the mindless noise slowly became more rhythmic, as the players learned how to play their instruments, and started to do what sounded best, instead of merely loudest.
Grok looked out at the still cheering crowd, and over the din of his music, heard the cries more more. Grok grabbed the microphone in front of him, and began screaming. He screamed, not the mindless, wordless roar of the Wagh, but about the battles he had fought, how he had ripped out the spine of a Space Marine, and massacred a planet of warriors. He screamed about the fights he hoped to be in, and how
The Boyz loved it.
The concert dragged on for hours, until Grok's voice began to fail, and the other Rokkers wre exhausted, but things just didn't feel right. As he mindlessly jammed on his axe, Grok struggled to remember what to do. Suddenly, he remembered how things always ended on the discs. His valor returning, Grok flipped his axe so he was gripping it by the neck, and brutally swing it at the front row. For a moment, silence reigned as the Boyz realized that Grok had brutally assaulted one of them. Then, the cheering returned as the Boyz fell upon themselves in a good, old fashioned, riot.
Atop the stage, Grok felt satisfied at the perfect end to his concert, before leaping into the growing brawl. Rokkin was exhausting, and he neded to smash some skulls to relax.
--- --- --- --- û
Grok's concert was the first, but there were plenty of other Mekboyz with more brains than him, and could do a better job of building speekas and axes and drums. Soon, the camp developed a purpose, as stages were set up all over, as the Boyz fought over the best spots to deafen their brethen.
The camp had wholeheartedly embraced the concept of Rokk, and as they began to argue and fight about who was the loudest and most brutal, the Warboss stepped in. He declared that the only way to decide who was the loudest wa to have them ll play at the same time.
And so the Orks had their first rockoff.
The sheer number of bands and speekas was staggering. Never before had Orks put so much effort into something that wasn't directly aimed as causing the most death and destruction possible. The redirecting of their energies towards creative ends was an amazing accomplishment. As the warm up chords died down, and the bands began their battle in earnest, the soundwaves built up, growing louder, and louder. As the mekboyz in charge of the speekas did everything to increase the volume in order to win, the sounds of the rock off spread over miles and miles, drawing the attention of other Orks. Unwilling to let go of their curiosity, they wandered towards the source of the noise, and were swept up in its rapture. Thousands of Orks were entranced with the concept of Rokk, and it spread like wildfire. As more Orks flocked to the concert, more stages were built, more speekas were constructed, and Orks fought to earn the coveted title of Loudest.
All the while, their blood began to boil, the desire to probe that they were the ludest merged with the desire for violence, and riots swept through the mobs. Bands plunged in the fray, only to have their instruments be taken up by some other ambitious Ork, whose shouts and crude music only inspired further violence. The few Doks who weren't rokkin or fightin were hastily patching up recently trampled Orks so the violent cycle could continue. The force behind it grew and grew, until the planet itself could no longer contain the brutal rokk of the Orks. They turned their eyes skyward, the music commanding them to go forth and share the new discovery with the Boyz on other worlds. Mad passion gripped them all, and within weeks, they had set out, each crew complete with a band, and a plethora of speekas, drums, and axes.
And so a Waagh like none before it surged into the universe, and forever changed it.
------ ------ ------- ------- -------
I have a couple more scenes I want to add on, so this isn't quite finished, but I covered the key components already, so I thought I'd try for some feedback.
What do you guys think?
