Cleaning out an old hard disk the other day I found this little gem. I wrote it circa 14-15, when I was playing Space Orks in Warhammer 40000 with my peers at school. I submitted this to the Black Library Yahoo group. Shortly afterwards, Games Workshop said publicly they didnt want any Ork or Eldar centric writing any more.

The Zogmekiad attempts to chronicle the warlord I created for my army, Zogmek Grimjaw. Zogmek was a Mekboy Warboss riding in a butchered Inquisition Dreadnought. I made several attempts to actually convert his model, but never got anything worthwhile. Someday I'll come back to it.

DISCLAIMER: This story is fanfiction borrowing heavily from Ork literature (Ere We Go, Codex: Orks). Anyone who is not familiar with Warhammer 40000 will have difficulty making sense of the story. I have put a few hints in as pipelinks. If you get stuck, read the Ork node.

part one

Zog had always been the subject of ridicule. Already a cycle and a half old, his genetics should have started him on the path he was destined to follow. He had never felt the urge for the drills and uniform of the Stormboyz Korps, or the desire to prove genetic dominance over the others of his tribe that he had seen the other juvenile Orks express. From day one he had been disadvantaged - he was smaller than the others of his brood, and had always been less aggressive. It was obvious he was not a leader, or even much of a fighter - but all Orks have a purpose.. his just hadn't made itself known yet.

He'd served as a Runtherd's assistant for a quarter cycle, and had some success: the fruits of his labour, his killa squig, Kunningham, lay only a few hundred paces away - devouring several of the plains animals native to the planet that reminded Zog of fat hairy squigs with their thick skull, thick hair and sharp horns that were much prized by the Goffs who used them to adorn their helmets. Six grots had been assigned by the Sumboyz Zog was staying with to ensure Kunningham was restrained. Several times the six foot squig had escaped and decimated parts of the great city of Nozberg.

Kunningham wore a red-yellow striped shokk collar that denoted him as a 'dangerous squig' and his red fur bore scorchmarks and great scars that were the badges of honor among his ilk in the Speshul Squig Unit.

But Kunningham had grown too big for Zog to handle, and was now in the custody of the Squig Forsus. In earlier days, when there were still oomies to be found, it would be Zog's job to ready Kunningham for the missions the Speshul Squig Unit had been assigned. In his finest hour, Zog had been involved in one of the Black Opz the SSU was infamous for. Kunningham had been fitted with a speshul air harness, and inserted into an enemy position via helly kopta. The mission had taken place under cover of darkness, and had been a complete success. The runtherdz of the SSU, or the 'Speshul Squig Handlerz' as they liked to be addressed, located Kunningham in the early hours of the morning devouring one of the last oomies stationed in the bunker he had been dropped on, a trail of broken bodies and vegetation clearly pointing out his position.

That part of his life was now behind him, and Zog was still trying to find his calling. He was staying with the Sumboyz at the moment, and they appreciated his company. As far as oddboyz go, the Sumboyz are pretty damned odd. They form the top level of the Logistikul boyz: the Runtherdz, Diggaz, Meks, Doks, and the massive gretchin korps without which the city and its army would perish. Sumboyz were gifted mathematicians and accountants, and distributed contracts and quotas to the logistical forces. Zog liked staying with them, because they were in charge of the teef, and as such had the biggest gunz. Logistikul Kommanda Bronwun had the biggest gun Zog had ever laid eyes on.

The Sumboyz were extremely busy at the moment though, and none had any time for Zog. Only recently, a massive Ork force had landed on the southern hemisphere of Xorn II, and within days found Nozberg, which was on the equator. Supream Kommanda Nozbet Nargrond had already pledged fealty to the forces leader, who Nozberg's Yellerz named as Warlord Morgoff da Krool. Kommanda Nozbet had placed all of Nozberg's inhabitants on full alert, for it was not known when Morgoff wanted to attack a nearby [Ooman[-controlled system - Zendarl, a favourite raiding target for the Space Korps.


A sharp bark jolted zog back to reality. It was Logistikul Kaptin Metzgur, carrying a tightly bound stack of bits of paper, metal, slate and squig hide. "I need yer skillz in carryin'. Take these ter the meks down in Echo Foundry. Produkshun requestz come straight down from kommand. Seems this new boss.. Morgoff or whateva they is callin him now, wants a zoggin stack four Orks high ov shoota ammo, and a gogload of other bog. Needz it fer his boyz, or so Nozbet says. Now get goin before I give ya some boot!"

Zog hurried out of the Sumboyz facility. Echo Foundry was not too far from him - the headquarters of the Logistikul Korps had been built near the center of Nozberg, and the important industrial facilities were kept within the inner walls of the city so they could be defended effectively. But the produkshun request seemed urgent, so Zog was running. He passed Nozbet's fortress. Outside, the mighty banner of Nozbet's Blood Axes, stained red with the blood of countless oomies, billowed in the wind. The towering figure of Nozbet raised the axe Gargrllshrlagur over the heads of two cowering oomies, his face stained with stylized ork blood and spots of real ooman blood - his twisted grimace of warlust expertly rendered.

Ten minutes later Zog reached Echo Foundry, and delivered the requestz to Mekboss Erlik, who studied the documents carefully. "Urgent production requestz?" panted Zog.

"Authorised by Kaptin Metzgur. Fer the blitz on Zendarl."

Erklik undid the bindings and took the top request. He peered at the etchings on a piece of bark from one of the many fruit trees that populated the agri-world of Xorn II. "Right. I think we have a lot of this sort ov stuff out back. Boyz!" - he was addressing his legion of Spannerz and Meks.
Some ignored him completely. Zog watched a slack-jawed Mek in an oomie work shirt in one corner of the foundry tinkering with the engine of a very impressive Dragsta. The red paint and stylized yellow flames that denoted it as a Speed Freek vehicle seemed to move under the light of the fires of the foundry.

"Borks bottom!" swore Erlik. Zog jumped and spun around to see a very upset Mekboss pining over his latest masterpiece. The spanner that had been holding part of the Dethkopta Gunship he was assembling in place had run off to help fetch the gunz that were kept in the warehouse behind the foundry.
The razor-sharp kopta blade he was holding was angling dangerously down, digging into the dirt.

"Give us a hand, you zoggin bum!" barked Erlik. Always one to respect the chain of command - Mekboss was the equivalent of a Lutennunt Kommanda - Zog leapt to assist. The weight of the kopta blade was a little more then Zog was used to holding, but he bore the discomfort in true Orky fashion. Like a tree squig, Erlik bounded to the top of the kopta, taking only two jumps and using the wall of the foundry to give him height. His tool belt jangled loudly. Now on top of the Kopta's blade assembly, Erlik double checked the angle of attack on the blades using his thumb and forefinger. With his other hand, while somehow managing to maintain his balance, Erlik bashed a few bitz in place with a mallet.

'Right.' Erlik jumped off the top of the kopta and onto the top of the left hand gun rack. He swung to the floor and began to attatch a rokkit launcha to the wingtip. "While yer here, yer may as well make yerself useful and try putting the gunz on the right hand rack." Zog looked at the rack, and the 'eavy shootaz stacked in a neat pyramid on the ground. Without thinking, he reached into Erlik's toolkit and pulled out a socket wrench. He lifted a shoota onto his right shoulder and pressed it against one f the gun mounts. Again, without thinking, he flipped a bolt up into his left hand using his boot.

As he tightened the first bolt, Zog felt a bit disoriented. The feeling passed, and the shoota was moderately secure. Zog reached down for another bolt, and again held the shoota into its mount with his right shoulder. He felt dizzy and nauseous as he tightened the second bolt. He took a few deep breaths, and reached for a third bolt. As he fitted this bolt into its hole and tightened it the first half turn, he collapsed, and went into convulsions.

At first everything was black, but gradually Zog began to hear voices. They were in a language alien, yet familiar to him. One voice was dominant. It was an advanced, yet chaotic voice, that sounded so refined and mighty it was almost digital.

It was a voice from the Ork's past, a relic. It was in a language long dead, but of extreme relevance to the Ork. It was the language of their creators, the ones Orks call the 0Brain Boyz.

"Chur alama chee'yoc, trii rambreytu alborocc escratu imbreya borlre Ork crelmorta screeat."*

Zog's mind was suddenly flooded with images. Formulae, ratios, schematics, designs, calculations, aspects, cross-sections. In a microsecond, the concept of hyperspatial travel was explained, broken down into subconcepts, reassembled, and explained again in practical terms. Burst after burst of knowledge flooded Zog's conscious mind, as parts of his Orky brain that had laid dormant powered up violently. He glimpsed pieces of information from other sciences: medicine, horticulture, cybernetics.. but physics, electronics and engineering was the most prevalent subject.

Suddenly, as quickly as they came, the visions stopped, and Zog was as alert as he had ever been in his life, lying on the ground looking up at Erlik and the familiar face of Dok Snikslum. "How much will ya give me for im?" Erlik asked. "Three teef. He's small next ter most ov us. Couldn't sell many bitz - he's too wussy. Oh, looky here, he's not dead at all." Snikslum knelt next to Zog and gazed deeply into his eyes. 'Yea, see - its nothin. Zog here has finally zagged**, that's all'.

Zog leapt to his feet, filled with a manic energy. 'Hreeoooooowwwwwww doooooo yeouuuuu fweeeeell?' Doc Snikslum's voice sounded very peculiar to Zog. His head began to throb. He squinted to see the Doc's scarred face. His voice had gone totally now, replaced by a high pitched ringing. Zog rubbed his ear to try and make it stop. Zog's eyes darted left and right, scanning the foundry for any useful scrap. His eyes set on a bunch of bitz the slack-jawed Mek in the corner had pulled out of the Dragsta's engine. Zog pushed his way through the Doc and Mekboss Erlik and strode defiantly to the pile of bitz. He picked through them, retrieving a few components which he held protectively to his chest. His eyes scanned the area again - he spied some parts lying next to a battlewagon near the back of the foundry. He took a few bitz from here, and turned and walked straight out of the foundry, continuing until he was far from the city.

Deep within some bush, he discovered a concrete plate with a manhole cover.

He climbed down to find a long abandoned bunker complete with diesel generator, electronics equipment and, in a corner, a dusty, red toolbox filled with exciting Imperial maintenance tools.

Zog had found his calling at last. He was born to be a Mekboy. Zogmek, he would call himself, and the genius his mekaniakal creations would dispel any misgivings about his name. He knew exactly what he was going to build first. A forbidden item, only built for the richest and most powerful Nobz and Bosses. Zog dumped everything on the floor and went to work. He was going to break all the rules. He was keeping this for himself. He cackled with glee as he held up pieces of scrap to the light from the hole in the roof of his bunker turned workshop. This would be the mightiest suit of mega-armor in the history of Orkdom. Zogmek was going to show everyone he was born to be a Grand Mekboss. His name would be revered, and at the same time feared!

Enough thought. It was time to go to work.

* Closest possible rendering using sounds available to human voicebox.
** Quickened, awakened.

End of Part One. Continue to The Zogmekiad: Episode II