On a dark, lone, barren world in some forgotten corner of the Segmentum Obscurus, Kaptin Dakdred’s rage grew with each breath he took of the thin air. The ork’s eyes darted between the two other freebooterz his two kustom-sluggas were pointed at; their menacing forms and their own aimed guns illuminated by the glowing gasses that belched from the open treasure chest that sat in the freshly dug pit below them. Inside this chest were untold hundreds of ragged, well-preserved teef.

‘So ladz,’ spoke Baron Blitzblud, breaking the silence, ‘It seems we three be in a klassik humie standoff.’

‘WHAT?!’ barked Meklord Hulkhed, his mega-armour shaking in confused fury, ‘We ain’t humies! We’z Orks! At least me and dirty ol’ Dakdred ‘ere be. Once a Blood Axe, always a Blood Axe ain’t ya Blitzy-boy?’
Blitzblud’s white-powdered face screwed up into a snarl, his unkempt wig shifting on his head.
‘It’s a figyah of speech ya snotling-brained squig-turd. Dis iz what dey call ‘metafo’rikal’. Humies are in deez ‘scenarios’ all da’ time.’
Dakdred finally spoke.

‘Yeah. I’m sure they humies be splainin’ that ‘metafo’rikal’ stuff or whatevah to ya while ye’ be kissin’ theyz boots for more of their useless crap. Isn’t dat right ya zoggin’ humie-loving, snivlin’, naffy, runt-headed, no-dakka havin’, skummy, grot fart smellin’, unorky, weedly little git?!’

Frothing at the mouth, Blitzblud spun about, roaring in a fury of spit and curses. He only got two shots off at Dakdred before the Baron was slammed by a hail of dakka from Hulkhed. Blitzblud’s bullets went wild, only piercing the top of Dakdred’s massive sailor’s cap. Seeing the opportunity, Dakdred too began firing into the quickly pulping mass of ork flesh.
Their guns customized with oversized ammo clips, it took a solid minute for Dakdred and Hulkhed to unload all they had into Blitzblud. Now drenched in dollops of blood and bits of gut like ghoulish painters, the opposing pair casually began to reload.

‘That was too ezay,’ Hulkhed chuckled.
‘Heh. Yeh,’ said Dakdred, grinning.
Suddenly, they both remembered what they were here for and quickly raised their weapons back at each other.

‘OL’ BOSS TOOFTAKAH’S LOOT BE MINE!’ Hulkhed bellowed, ‘I was da next bestest and da biggest of the Waaagh! I’m ardah’ den steel! Yah wimpy dakka can’t pierce my ‘ide!’
Dakdred spat out a sticky wad of phlegm. ‘Youz ain’t da bestest since ya haven’t killed ME yet! And it’s only be dat fancy suit of yourz that makes ya ‘big’ ya zoggin’ gretchin-sized, no-good, smug, slimy, annoyin’, small choppa-‘
Hulkhed and his arm-mounted big shoota screamed as one, pounding forth a storm of bullets. Dakdred ducked under the line of withering fire, his now free-floating hat taking the shots, shredding to bits. He rolled down into the pit and onto the chest of teef. Though this oversized trunk was almost twice Dakred’s size, he grasped it tight as his momentum in the low gravity somersaulted him over the lip of the hole and right through his opponent’s gigantic legs. Tumbling some dozen meters more, kicking up grey dust with each skip and skid, Dakdred soon was face-first on the ground. With an unceremonious thud, the chest crashed down just barely missing his head. 

Looking up, stray bullets and bits of rock spattering his already heavily scarred face, Dakdred could barely see through the dust cloud the bulk Hulkhed lumbering around to face him. Thinking quick, the Kaptin huddled behind the chest.
‘You wrecked me hat you wart-lickin’, bug-eyed-‘ 

‘I never took ya for a bloody Gorker ya sneaky git,’ interrupted Hulkhed, his voice booming across the wastes, ‘Just my luck I’d be facing a zoggin’ coward.’
With a cry of ‘WAAAAAAAGH’, Dakdred came out from cover, sputtering dakka from his twin kustom-sluggas. A slow, easy target to hit, each explosive round peppered Hulkhed’s mega-armour like a hail of miniature comets. Yet Hulkhed paid no heed, his trundle turning into a bull-rush, his shoota raised. Instinctively, Dakdred ducked back into safety.

‘Oi! Watch da teef bone’ed,’ Dakdred yelled, ‘Ya shoota’s gonna break da chest!’

‘IT’S HULKHED!’ Hulkhed roared, ‘ZOG IT! I’LL ZOGGIN’ TEAR YA LIMB FROM LIMB!’
Dakdred cocked his head up to see the Meganob thundering forward, his powerklaw snapping like hungry jaws. The Kaptin raised his sluggas but stopped himself. Instead, he hoisted up the chest into his arms.

‘THE TEEF ARE MINE DAKDRED! YA HEAR ME?!! MINE! WAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!’
Dakdred crouched his legs. ‘Then zog it! Here! Have ‘em!’

Just as Hulkhed bore down upon him, the Kaptin pushed with all his might off the ground, low gravity taking him high up in a great arc. Letting out a warcry of his own, he held the treasure chest up in one hand, teef dribbling from its hatch, aiming it right for the Meklord’s screaming, gapping gob.

+++

Kaptin Dakdred, with heavy effort, eventually managed to pull the chest out of Meklord Hulkhed’s bloody, ruined throat. It was especially hard having only one hand now, with the other still twitching in the grasp of his dead competition’s powerklaw. Dropping the trunk to the ground, he opened it. A waft of icy air brushed him as he grinned over what was clearly many, many teef. Gork and Mork could only guess how many, but it was a lot. That’s all that mattered. His attention then turned to the two ork corpses around him.

+++

Minutes later, Dakdred strode away from the carnage. The chest, now a few teef heavier, was tied precariously onto his back. He would have to pay some teef to get a Painboy to replace his lost hand, but he had more than enough to manage, and then some. With his competition now dead, he had plans for Waaagh Tooftakah. ‘Waaagh Dakdred’ had a nice ring to it. Happily whistling a jaunty freebooter shanty, Kaptin Dakdred walked off for his parked lander and into what this lone, forgotten planet could call a sunset.