The Lucky Blue Rock
A tale where you see Makari Banawava take on the Primarch Roboute Guilliman himself and walk away still alive
Roboute Guilliman's forces on Drainnic VI had engaged the Ork Waaagh! months ago, yet in this conflict he had gained almost nothing as a result. The Guard regiments, his own sons of the Ultramarines, and the Adeptus Custodes shield company under his command were engaged in a war of attrition against these Orks. Guilliman was at his command post, surrounded by advisers, poring over everything he had in terms of information against these xenos and how they conducted war while those under him shouted orders at each other. It left him stupefied that they could counter his strategies so effectively, especially when their standard method was simply trying to engage the enemy as soon as possible. He would have laughed had that been the situation he came to, but these Orks fought like nothing he'd seen since the Great Crusade; since his brother Horus slew the Warboss on Ullanor; and in his research again when his brother Vulkan fought the Beast in the Thirty-third Millennium. His cross-referencing of these events and how the Orks of those days fought as compared to the Orks he was fighting now led to only one conclusion: the Warboss that was leading this Waaagh! possesses a tactical acumen almost unheard of amongst their kind. This thought troubled Guilliman; if history were to repeat itself, he would have to engage this monster.
What little land Guilliman gained in this war against the Orks came at the cost of thousands of men, mortal and Astartes alike. He fought ever harder to keep hold of it, yet somewhere else on the battlefield he would lose a crucial piece of territory. Orks died in greater numbers to take it, but when factoring in their reproduction rate, the difference was negligible. Guilliman was effectively locked in perpetual conflict with this Ork, both trying to out-think each other and yet neither getting the upper hand.
Theoretical, Guilliman thought, this war will continue needlessly if I stay, but if I leave, the Orks will surely take this planet and the system as a whole. Practical, he continued, if this world is to remain in the Imperium's hands, then I must follow my brothers' examples. Engaging the Warboss has proven the most effective way of dealing with threats such as this.
Guilliman's command center continued their shouting match on what plans should be thought of next when Guilliman raised his gauntleted hand. Silence fell immediately.
"I know what must be done," he said, "These Orks effectively have us in a deadlock; neither side has been able to get the upper hand. Looking back at previous examples, if this Warboss is as dangerous as his predecessors have been, then I must follow Vulkan's lead. I must engage the Ork that leads this army."
The command post's silent atmosphere quickly turned into a tense stare-down between Guilliman and the commanders under him. Only Colquan, the Custodes who Guilliman keeps on personal retainer, had the courage to say anything to him.
"Lord Guilliman, I can assume you'll need a personal escort?"
Guilliman and the rest of the command post looked at Colquan. The other commanders were absolutely horrified, but Guilliman respected his bluntness. Colquan was a crude man, yes. He often criticized Guilliman openly, which was one of the reasons he kept the Custodian around, but he was glad nonetheless that he agreed with his plan.
"Yes, I will. I need you to call back your brothers, Colquan. They and my Victrix Honor Guard will provide us the chance to carve our way up the field of battle. Aggressor squads Danian, Romules and Ulysses will provide immediate fire support against the Orks that engage us along the way. While that is going on I will need three Leman Russ tank squadrons to mount themselves up on the eastern canyon wall and begin shelling the Orks' primary scrapyard. This will provide us the distraction we need to get up the field faster. Once we make it to the Warboss, I will need as many of the remaining men to keep the enemy off of me while I engage their leader."
Guilliman finished his order, watching his commanders grimly contemplate it. Colquan's face was absolutely devoid of emotion, yet his eyes showed he was in deep contemplation. The two Victrix Guards, Battle-Brothers Damodes and Thavian, behind Guilliman shifted slightly in anticipation. He knew they would follow him into the Eye of Terror if he asked them. It was a comforting thought.
Eventually Colquan and the commanders accepted the orders and began putting the plan into motion. As they did so, Guilliman took his helmet off the table before him and put it on, connecting it to the Armor of Fate. He then took the Emperor's Sword from its sheath, its blade immediately erupting in incandescent flame. He placed both of his hands on the handle, and drove it into the ground. Guilliman scanned the men and women before him and spoke with confidence.
"The Orks pride themselves on their skills in combat, slaughtering men and women like butchers. There is no honor to this kind of warfare, only disgust and depravity. If these xenos scum believe their way of conquest is superior to ours, they'd have swept us clean from the galaxy, but by the Emperor and by Terra that is not so! Let us show these Orks what it means to challenge a Son of the Emperor! I can assure you, they will be left wanting!"
His rallying words carried themselves through the post and its immediate surroundings, human commanders and advisors cheering in agreement, as well as the surrounding serfs or soldiers who heard Guilliman's speech. Colquan gave a grim smile and quickly left to gather his brothers and Guilliman's sons for the coming conflict. But it wasn't just the humans and Astartes in the camp that heard Guilliman's words, for in a storm drain not far from the command post, tucked in a little corner and hiding in the shadows, was a particularly lucky grot who happened to hear everything the Primarch said with utter clarity.
Makari Banawava crouched in the storm drain, quietly listening to the giant humie's speech. Every word filled the grot with both excitement and fear. For starters he'd get to see the Warlord go toe-to-toe with a giant humie, a fight he'd love nothing more to witness. This was followed quickly by the realization that if this giant blue humie killed Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka, Da Profit of Gork and Mork, he'd lose his only friend-- and also the one thing keeping him from being Squig food.
Ol' Ghazzy's gotta 'ear 'bout this! he thought. Makari clutched his blue rock, whispered, "Keep me lucky," then scampered through the storm drain until he reached the exposed sewer entrance Ghazghkull had sent him to investigate.
Once he reached the entrance, he spilled into a trench dug by the Imperial Guard and fell flat on his face. Next to him, witnessing Makari's fall, was a surprised guard. Makari just managed to look up at him when he heard the humie yell "GROT!" and point his weapon at him. Makari closed his eyes and expected to hear the sound of a lasgun firing, but instead he only heard the clicking of jammed weaponry. Opening his eyes, he saw the humie's angered face as he looked at his gun, looked back at the grot, and back down at the gun. Makari quickly stood up as the humie threw his gun to the side, drew his bayonet and shouted, "Die, xenos scum! For the Emperor!"
Makari yelped, and jumped back as the humie thrust his blade downwards. It missed entirely and stuck itself into the ground. Makari quickly then grabbed the humie's forearm in both of his little hands, and bit down hard. Flinching in pain, the humie reeled backwards and in the process kicked the freestanding bayonet, knocking it out of its place. Makari grabbed the blade, took it in both of his hands, and leapt towards the guardsmen, plunging the bayonet firmly into the man's chest, sliding the narrow blade in between his ribs. Makari wasn't sure of what he hit, but soon after sticking him, the humie pushed Makari off of him, stumbled further back, and then collapsed against the outer sandbag barrier, dead.
"Mork's toofy grin! Ya are lucky!" Makari exclaimed at his little blue rock.
Makari looked around and failed to see any other humies. He walked over to the dead humie, kicked him in his limp leg, and then climbed on top of the corpse to get over the trench. Looking down, Makari spat on the corpse's helmet then shifted his gaze across the way in front of him. In the distance he could see Ghazghkull's Waaagh! engaging with the humie's army, and on the far end of the field, there was a raised hill crowned with a junked Stompa-- Ghazghkull's command post. Groaning heavily, Makari scrambled off the trench, went over to a large boulder, grabbed his bana from behind it, and began his long trek back to his Warlord.
Making his way towards the battle, Makari ducked and weaved in between the legs of both the humies and the Orks, keeping Ghazghkull's bana low to keep it from exposing him. Though it did give him the opportunity to use it to sweep the legs out some of the less balanced humies. It took Makari hours to get across the battle, only narrowly escaping being stepped on by both sides, but when he noticed that there were more Orks than humies around him, he confidently raised Ghazghkull's bana to help make sure he didn't get crushed.
Eventually he made it to the junked Stompa, there, he found Warlord Ghazghkull at the top of it surveying the battlefield below with an unimpressed grimace. Makari, exhausted from the journey and the climb up the Stompa, stumbled up to the Warlord, panting.
"Oi! Boss!... I need ta... tell ya... wut I 'eard!"
Ghazghkull turned towards the grot, his grimace shifting slightly into an expectant grin. "Roight, den, tell me wot yaz got."
Makari related to Ghazghkull the plans that Guilliman had conceived. While listening, Ghazghkull's smile got wider and wider, and when Makari told him the part where Guilliman would challenge him to personal combat, Ghazghkull stood straight, his huge stature emphasized by his massive Kustom klaw and mega armour. Once Makari finished, Ghazghkull looked back at the battlefield and spoke to Makari without looking at him.
"Just as Gork an' Mork told me, Makari. Been too long since I 'ad a good foight on me 'ands. Da Waaagh! ain't stoppin' 'ere, ya 'ear me? Wez gonna let 'em take da Scrapyard, no good loot in der any'ow, an I'z gonna krump dis humie giant. Wut'd yaz say 'is name was?"
"I fink dey called 'im Gil-ee-min?' Makari responded.
"Roight, Gileemin. Dis 'umie ain't gonna last long against me powa klaw. I'm gonna enjoy addin' 'is 'ead ta me boss pole!"
Ghazghkull then shouted at the top of his lungs down to his ladz outside surrounding the stompa and to the Orks making their way to the battle below, "Oi! Boyz! Get ya shootas and Tankbustas ova to da eastern canyon! Der's gonna be some new scrap der ready for da takin'! Nobz! You lot're comin' wit me! We'z gonna krump some 'umies! Gork an' Mork wants me ta foight da 'umies' leada! Well I tell ya gitz, it's gonna be a good one!"
The orks down below all WAAGH'd in response to Ghazghkull's orders, once they started to move, Da Profit turned back to the grot and said in a tone more hushed.
"Makari, I'm gonna need ya to stay 'ere. Can't 'ave me favorite bana wava gettin' 'imself squished. It'd be too dangerous for ya, boy."
Makari was disappointed to hear that; he wanted to be with his Warlord when he gave the humies the krumping they deserved. But he wasn't about to disobey Ghazghkull for fear he'd be punished, or killed.
Ghazghkull leapt off the top of the Stompa; his gang of nobz, both in and out of mega armour surrounded him and they made their way to the battlefield. As Ghazghkull walked away, Makari walked up to the edge of the top of the Stompa, and nervously rubbed his blue rock.
"Keep 'im lucky fer me," he whispered to it.
Guiliman's strike team cut through the Ork army with ease, Aggressor squads torching xenos by the dozens with their flamestorm gauntlets. Any Orks who managed to make it through were quickly cut down by the Custodes surrounding Guilliman. However, the Orks' sheer weight of numbers took its toll; one by one the Aggressors were cut down by lucky shots from shootas or well aimed swings from choppas until only four of the eighteen aggressors remained. On the other side of the battlefield, Ghazghkull's nobz tore through the Imperium's forces without mercy. The two colossal forces met in the center of the battlefield; Guilliman's Custodes would not allow any Orks to pass through them while the Aggressors peeled off to continue the battle elsewhere. FGhazghkull's nobz eagerly spread out, brandishing their choppas and power klaws, ready to fight if the opportunity showed itself. In an open clearing, both Warlord and Lord Commander stepped forward to present themselves, with Guilliman flanked on both sides by Thavian and Damodes.
The battle continued to rage around them as Guilliman and his Victrix Guard brandished their swords. Ghazghkull sauntered across from them, his massive klaw and big shootas as threatening as their wielder. Stikkbombs rattled atop his mega armor. Moments of silence passed between the two, then Guilliman spoke first.
"Ork, you have proven to be a larger threat than your lesser brethren. Most of your kind crumble when an organized force rallies against you, yet you remain defiant. An admirable trait, but ultimately futile. Let it be known that I, Roboute Guilliman, Lord Commander of the Imperium of Man, will be the one who will cut you down."
"Oi, ladz! Yoo 'ear dat? Looks like Gileemin 'ere finks 'e can take me on!" The nobz surrounding Ghazghkull all laughed in response. "Don't ya know who I am? I'm Warlord Ghazghkull! Da Profit o' Gork an' Mork! Dis Waaagh! is da biggest der eva was, an' I ain't gonna let sum 'umie try an' stop me. I got one fing ta say to yaz, Gileemin-- WAAAAAGH!!!"
The surrounding forces, nobz and Custodes, charged towards each other, giving their leaders ample space to engage each other.
Ghazghkull surged forward towards Guilliman; along the way, he pumped round after round from his big shootas into the three of them. The Guard's Ultima storm shields stopped almost all of them, but nothing could halt what came after. Once close enough, Ghazghkull swung his huge klaw downwards and caught Brother Thavian in his side, the three giant metallic digits piercing the space marine's ceramite and impaling him. Ghazghkull swung Thavians's corpse to batter Damodes away, tossing both Battle-Brothers metres away from their Primarch. Guilliman responded by volleying several shots from the bolter on the Hand of Dominion, yet the rounds that landed on the huge Ork seemed to do little, exploding harmlessly on his Mega armour or only grazing his green skin. Ghazghkull closed the distance between him and the Primarch quickly, bringing down his Kustom klaw. Guilliman's demigod-like reflexes allowed him to dodge the strike, stepping backwards. Ghazghkull's miss overextended him, leaving his back and face exposed. Guilliman clenched his Hand of Dominion, and threw it forward, the artificer's power fist finding purchase square on Ghazghkull's forehead.
Guilliman knew the Hand of Dominion could crumble Rhinos, Land raiders, and other heavily-reinforced vehicles with ease, yet when his power fist made contact with the Ork's head, it only sent him staggering back a few feet. When Ghazghkull regained his footing, he shook his head, then stared down Guilliman while clanging one of his klawed fingers against his skull's metallic parts.
"Me 'ead's a bit thicka than ya'd fink, 'umie," he said coldly.
Guilliman responded by pointing the Emperor's Sword at the Warlord. "Let us see if your neck is of the same calibre, then."
The two clashed once again. Ghazghkull lunged with his klaw, careful to avoid his previous mistake. Guilliman stepped to the side, turned around, and with his back to the Ork, swung his left arm under Ghazghkull's. Using his Primarch strength and the might of the Armor of Fate, he dug himself in and only just managed to get Ghazghkull off his feet, flipping the massive Ork over his shoulder and onto his back in front of him. Guilliman plunged the Emperor's Sword down at Ghazghkull's throat, its flames rippling through the air Ghazghkull raised his klaw in response and caught the blade in between its fingers. When he tried to snap the blade in half, he was surprised to learn it wouldn't give. Ghazghkull got to his feet, pulling Guilliman closer to him and delivered to him a thunderous headbutt. The Primarch reeled in pain, his vision going white for a split second. Taking the opportunity, Ghazghkull bounded forward and caught the Primarch in his massive arms and drove him into the ground.
The Armor of Fate's Machine Spirit was doing everything it could to stop Ghazghkull from piercing its metallic hide, the repulsor field straining under the Ork's weight and punches. The Primarch regained his senses; assessing the situation, Guilliman saw an opening and took it. As Ghazghkull swung his right arm, the Primarch caught it with the Hand of Dominion and squeezed. Ghazghkull's hand was crushed underneath the power fist's weight, the bones in his hand snapping and crumbling. Ghazghkull tried to pull back, but Guilliman swung the pommel from the Emperor's Sword into the Ork's temple. The blow threw the warlord off his target. As he tried to shake off the pain, he felt another piercing blow from behind him. Turning around he found that one of the two Victrix Guards was still alive, and he had thrust his power sword into a chink in Ghazghkull's armor.
Ghazghkull responded to this cunning trick by swinging his power klaw downward; the guard, his sword still stuck in the Ork lord, was cut in twain. But the distraction was enough; Guilliman seized Ghazghkull by the collar of his armor, swinging him around and off his feet. He collapsed to the ground before the Primarch, who stood over him with the Emperor's Sword held aloft. Ghazghkull couldn't think of anything to do that would be quick enough to stop that blade from cutting his head off, but he knew Gork and Mork had plans for him and went with fate.
What happened next, not even Ghazghkull would have thought to happen.
Atop the Stompa, Makari watched the fight between Ghazzy and Gileemin start, rooting for his Warlord, but as it progressed he saw Gileemin get several good licks in on Da Profit, and hebegan to worry. He knew Ghazghkull was the strongest Ork there ever was, but somehow this humie was beating him! Makari took out his blue rock, held it in his hand and shouted at it.
"Yaz suppose 'ta keep 'im lucky for me, ya stupid git! 'Ows 'e suppose 'ta keep the Waaagh! goin' if 'es to dead to do it?!"
The rock did not respond.
"Fine! If ya want somethin' done roight, ya gotta do it ya self!"
Makari scampered back down the Stompa, took up his boss's bana, and marched down towards the battlefield below. As he weaved his way across the battlefield, he could see that it wasn't looking so good for Ghazzy's ladz; the nobz were good, really good, but against these shiney boyz they looked like, well, grots. Makari's fear for his Warlord continued to rise, and when he reached the clearing between Gileemin and Ghazzy, he saw Ghazghkull on his hands and knees, his right hand crushed, and above him was Gileemin, with a flaming choppa hanging over his head. Makari panicked; though he prided himself on a bravado unusual to see in grots, he really didn't think interfering with this was a good idea. But then again, Ghazzy was his friend, and if that stupid blue rock wasn't gonna save Ghazzy, then he was going to have to do it himself.
Makari looked around him; it seemed like no one was interested in seeing this fight, and Makari stepped into the clearing. He breathed a sigh of relief that no one noticed him, even with his bana waving in the air. As Makari snuck behind the giant humie, he again heard with perfect clarity what he was saying.
"You Ork filth! Once again it takes a Son of the Emperor to cut the head off of this snake and put an end to this Waaagh! you've created. I dream of what could have been if it wasn't for your kind. Maybe Horus wouldn't have been named Warmaster, and Mankind could rule the stars unimpeded. Or at the very least Vulkan would still be here, at my side."
As Makari snuck behind Guilliman, Ghazghkull raised his head and caught Makari in his sights, locking eyes for a few moments. He was cunning enough to know that he shouldn't reveal this to Guilliman, but also brutal enough to know that Makari couldn't do much of anything to the Primarch. Nevertheless, Ghazghkull tried to wink at Makari; given he had only one organic eye, it looked like a regular blink. Thankfully Makari got the message; he snuck close to Guilliman, raised his bana, and thumped him on his left shoulder.
Guilliman stopped speaking and looked down at the grot. The creature he saw was hideous, with a large and pointy nose with ears to match, a crude and uneven chin, and a helmet with three metallic horns protruding from it. The banner was even more hideous than its wielder. Before Guilliman could do anything, Makari barked up at the giant.
"Oi! Yaz best leave Ghazzy alone or I'll krump ya wit' me bana, ya git!"
Guilliman kicked the grot away with his boot. Unfortunately the Primarch had never considered the notion that maybe, unlikely as it seemed, Orks could form attachments. And he just so happened to kick the wrong grot.
Seeing Makari go flying sent Ghazghkull into a rage like no other. He lept up from the ground and tackled Guilliman, sending blow after blow against him without pause. As Guilliman lay on the ground being battered, he only just managed to lift the Hand of Dominion, aimed the bolter at the stikkbombs on Ghazghkull's back, and fired.
The explosion caused by the stikkbombs would have killed lesser beings. Ghazghkull was sent staggering across the field while Guilliman laid stunned on the ground. Seeing his Lord Commander in this state, Colquan called for a retreat while he and his Custodes went to retrieve the Primarch and return him to the command post. Likewise, Ghazghkull's surviving nobz managed to corral him back to the Stompa, but not before the Warlord threatened his ladz to pick up Makari's body.
When Guilliman came to, he was atop The Macragge's Honor, in his personal chamber. With him was Colquan and scores of apothecaries and medicae. Guilliman requested that the help leave so he could talk to Colquan alone. The Custodes made no sign of interest or disinterest in the idea of speaking to the Lord Commander, only following his orders.
"I failed, Colquan, I couldn't stop this... Ghazghkull... His Waaagh! has seen Orks in numbers unheard of since the Beast ran across the galaxy, and I couldn't defeat him." Guilliman sighed.
"Lord Guilliman, if I may speak, you are not a peerless combatant like some of your brothers, though you are not without prowess, you are a tactician and a statesmen first and foremost."
"Yes, but even my methods as a general were lacking against this Ork. How did Vulkan do it? How did Horus do it? Their battles against those Orks seemed to work, yet when I applied the same methods, the same tactics, I had nothing to show for it." Guilliman fell silent.
Colquan looked down; this seemed to be the moment to leave. He saluted the Lord Commander and took his leave from Guilliman's quarters. After he left, Guilliman sent a missive to the fleet captain to issue an evacuation from the planet and to shell it once the Imperium had left. Once that was done, Guilliman walked over to the viewing port, and looked down over Drainnic VI. Je could see Ork vessels leaving the planet, same as his men were, but he knew that there would be greenskins left on the surface. Instead of performing his usual mental exercises of theoreticals and practicals or planning his next move against this Ork Waaagh!, he instead spent it reminiscing of what few pleasant memories he had of his brother Primarchs. Traitors or loyalists, he did not care; he just wanted to remember them.
Makari woke up at the foot of Ghazghkull's throne on his battleship. Looking out of the windows he saw that the ship was already moving through space and away from Drainnic VI.
"'Ey boss, wut are we doin? The foight's down there!"
Hearing him, Ghazghkull immediately shot off his throne and picked up Makari by the scruff of his neck, holding him in front of his face and glaring at him in a way that would make even Nobz cringe.
"I told ya ta stay at da Stompa! Wut wer ya finkin' goin' down der?! Gileemin coulda killed ya, ya git!"
"I-I-I'm sorry, boss! Me blue rock wasn't keepin' ya lucky so I 'ad to do somefin'!"
Ghazghkull stared at the grot for a good few moments in silence, then dropped him on the floor, sat back down and spoke in a calmer voice.
"I'm just glad ya safe, Makari. Can't be losin' me favorite bana wava now, can I?"
Makari gave a huge sigh of relief, and sat at his Warlord's throne in silence as the rest of the crew moved the fleet away from the planet. Mere seconds passed before both grot and Ork were back to their usual moods; though Ghazghkull always was the more serious one, both were jabbering at each other and making jokes. Eventually Makari asked Ghazghkull a question that he had been curious about since he woke up on the battleship.
"Oi boss, 'ow'd that 'umie foight? Was 'e any good?"
Ghazghkull pondered the question long enough that the half-eaten squig in his hand stopped twitching by the time he answered.
"'E ain't no Yarrick, but dat 'umie knows 'ow ta foight. Wouldn't mind 'avin' anotha go at 'im, ta settle da score fer givin' ya 'is boot."