I am not the best at creating an Ork personality but will try my best UwU
George stepped onto the bridge of Eternity's Vanguard, the immense space alive with a hum of activity. Officers, both human and robotic, were gathered around the towering strategies table at the center, its surface awash with holographic displays. Star systems, fleet formations, and enemy movements flickered in sharp detail, casting eerie light across the gathered figures. The humans wore crisp uniforms adorned with insignias denoting their rank, while the robots stood silent yet purposeful, their sleek designs reflecting the pinnacle of technological mastery. The atmosphere crackled with tension. On the holographic display above the strategies table, a cluster of ominous red markers pulsed steadily, representing an Ork fleet. The sheer size of it was staggering—300 to 400 ships at the very least, their chaotic formation characteristic of the brutish Xenos. The markers shifted slightly as the Ork vessels moved, like a menacing swarm edging ever closer. Each flicker of red carried the unspoken promise of destruction, a reminder of the savagery the Orks brought wherever they went. The captain, noticing George's presence near the strategies table, immediately turned away from the holographic display. Straightening his posture, he brought his fist to his chest in a crisp salute, his expression a mixture of urgency and respect.
"Sir," he began, his voice steady but laced with tension, "we're under attack by an Ork fleet."
"I see that, Captain Titus." George's voice was calm, though his sharp eyes remained fixed on the glowing display. "Titus, tell me more about them."
"Aye, sir," replied Titus, a grizzled officer with decades of experience etched into the lines of his face. He stepped closer to the table, his fingers deftly manipulating the holographic interface. "Our scans picked up roughly 400 of their ships drifting through the void. Comparing their profiles to the database of Ork warbands, we've identified them as the Rustclaw Raiders."
Titus paused, his expression hardening. "They're led by Rottkrakka Scrapjaw, a notorious warboss infamous for targeting human vessels to scavenge weapons and technology. Their approach is crude but vicious—disabling ships before tearing them apart for salvage. They'll be coming for us with the same savage intent, sir."
"Jacob," George commanded, his voice steady, "calculate our chances against them. No—calculate the potential damage they can inflict on us."
"Understood, sir," came the smooth, synthetic voice of Jacob's. Jacob's avatar, a glowing humanoid figure with intricate, shifting patterns across its form, materialized above the strategies table. The holographic display shimmered as streams of data began to populate the screen.
"My analysis indicates that at least three of our heavy cruisers will sustain significant damage, primarily due to the unidentified lance weaponry aboard their flagship," Jacob reported, its tone calm and precise. "The weapon's erratic energy signatures suggest it may be experimental or unstable, capable of sudden bursts of devastating power. However, overall projections indicate a total victory. Our fleet's superior firepower and disciplined formations will outmatch their chaotic strategies with an estimated 92.4% certainty."
George nodded thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on the pulsing red markers. "Acknowledged. Prepare for contingencies regarding that lance weapon. I don't want surprises."
"Already accounted for, sir," Jacob replied smoothly, its holographic form dissipating back into the data streams as the officers around the table exchanged glances, steeling themselves for the coming battle.
"All right," George said, his tone sharp and decisive. "Calgar, you're in charge of boarding actions, correct?"
"Yes, sir," Calgar replied, stepping forward. His posture was confident, his weathered face bearing the scars of countless engagements. "But in this situation, sir, there's no need for a boarding action. Our firepower will handle the Ork fleet without issue."
George's expression remained resolute. "I understand your assessment, Calgar, but I have another purpose in mind." His gaze sharpened as he continued. "I want to test my sons and their soldiers' performance."
Calgar blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. George leaned in, his tone firm but with a touch of persuasion. "This is the perfect opportunity for them to prove their strength. And don't you want to see the men who'll soon be under your command in action? To evaluate the soldiers who will one day uphold the honor of Eternity's Vanguard?"
Calgar paused, then nodded, a grudging smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I see your point, sir. It'll be... enlightening to see what they're capable of."
"Go meet them and ready them in the teleportation bay," George commanded, his gaze unwavering. "Brief them on the mission. I'll signal you once I deem the boarding action is fit for deployment."
Calgar straightened, bringing his fist to his chest in a salute. "Understood, sir. We will achieve a flawless victory." Without another word, Calgar teleported out of the command center, the faint hum of the teleportation array marking his departure.
George turned to the rest of the officers. His voice was firm, each word carrying the weight of their impending actions. "All right, lads. The boarding action is prepared. Now, it's our turn to do some void combat."
A sharp voice rang out from behind him.
"Commander. Dante, I trust you're the one in charge of our ship's guns?"
Dante, a veteran gunnery officer with a reputation for precision, stepped forward, his expression steely. "Aye, sir, that will be me."
"Good," George said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "There are some experimental weapons I want you to test. See how effective they are in combat."
Dante's brow furrowed with curiosity. "Aye sir. Do you mean the Nova Cannon's light battery, or the Neutron Star Cannons, sir?"
George gave a slight nod. "Nova's battery, only on smaller ships. The Neutron Star Cannons—use those only on ships larger than a heavy cruiser. Power them at low levels. I don't want to explain to Terra why I shot such a weapon at Orks."
"Aye, sir. Understood." Dante's voice was filled with resolve as he stepped away, readying his crew for the test.
"Captain, Titus," George turned to the tactical officers, his gaze piercing. "Prepare our ship in a counter-defense position. I don't want our vessel anywhere near the enemy. No risk of us being boarded ourselves."
"Aye, sir," Captain Titus replied immediately, signaling to Lt. Decimus. "Lt. Decimus, set the ship in a counter-defense position now!"
The hum of activity intensified as the crew went to work, shifting the ship into a more defensive stance.
A grin spread across Lt. Decimus's face as he worked at his console. "Ha! I've been dying to see those Xenos writhe under our fire."
The Eternity's Vanguard moved with a grace and agility that belied its massive size, shifting into the calculated counter-defense position. Around them, the Ork fleet was still advancing, unaware that the Vanguard was positioning itself to strike with cold, methodical precision.
"Jacob," George said, his voice unwavering, "signal Calgar once that fleet is in firing range. Focus fire only on the smaller vessels; the boarding action will be on their flagship."
"Understood, sir. Calgar will be informed of your plan," Jacob replied in its usual calm, synthetic voice.
George crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the holographic display. The Ork fleet loomed closer, its chaotic formations shifting unpredictably. He watched the red markers that represented the enemy ships pulse with an almost savage energy.
The weight of the moment settled over him. Orks... Mankind's age-old enemies, ever-present since the dawn of space exploration. Their brutish, unpredictable nature had been a constant threat, and yet, thanks to the intervention of the Eldar, their worst tendencies had often been kept in check. But even with the Eldar's interference, the Orks' sheer numbers and relentless aggression made them a force to be reckoned with.
George clenched his fists. Still, their numbers don't matter if we can outmatch them in tactics and firepower. His eyes flickered back to the display, narrowing with determination. This will be their last mistake.
In the teleportation bay, Calgar stood watch over his new soldiers, each of them standing tall and confident, their faces resolute. As he observed them, it struck him that many of these young warriors could easily pass as seasoned veterans, despite their youth. They were already large enough to be considered fully grown adults by human standards, their strength and presence undeniable.
Twenty of them—each clad in combat gear and preparing their weapons—stood ready for the mission ahead. Calgar's eyes scanned the group, taking note of the subtle differences in their demeanor and approach.
A boy with blonde hair and a calm, calculating expression caught his attention first. He was carefully checking the power pack of his conversion laser pistol, his movements deliberate. Lion, Calgar thought, recalling the name. That one has a quiet confidence—he'll be dependable in a firefight.
His gaze shifted to another figure, one with similarly blonde hair, but much longer and more unruly. This boy was swinging his sword around with a wild energy, as though savoring the coming battle. Russ, Calgar thought with a faint smirk. Dr. Neoth did say to keep an eye on this one—he's got fire, but will it be enough to control it?
Calgar continued his inspection, mentally cataloging each of the young warriors. There was no time to waste; their performance in the upcoming battle would determine much about their potential.
Just as he finished his assessment, a soft ping interrupted his thoughts. A notification flashed across his comms, detailing the mission parameters.
"Calgar," George's voice crackled through the comms, steady and direct, "the boarding mission will be straightforward. I want you to lead the boys—and their soldiers—into the heart of the enemy. Your target is the warboss and the ship's reactor. Every tactic is approved, but I prefer you let them come up with their own strategies. This is a test for them as much as a mission."
Calgar's stance was firm as he processed the orders. He gave a sharp nod, his voice a low growl of confidence. "Understood, sir. We'll make sure they learn fast."
"Good," George continued, his tone softening slightly. "Dismiss your squad. The operation will begin in five minutes."
Calgar's eyes flicked over his soldiers, the young warriors now fully prepared for the coming conflict. With a single motion, he gestured for them to fall into formation. He could already feel their anticipation. This would be their first real test.
"Alright, kids," Calgar's voice rang out across the bay, steady and stoic, the weight of his words carrying a sense of purpose. "Gather your men. We'll soon be boarding their flagship. Your mission is to work together and take down their warboss. Every tactic is acceptable, as long as it's not deemed too dangerous. Gather your 'sons' and brief them."
His eyes scanned the young soldiers, each of them standing taller than their years would suggest. Their faces held a mixture of determination and uncertainty, but Calgar knew that would soon change. These would be commanders in their own right, in time—better, perhaps, than most of the so-called 'strategists' among the human ranks.
He let out a quiet breath, the weight of the responsibility resting on his shoulders. They'll learn what it means to command today, whether they're ready or not.
"Yes, Lord Calgar, we will make you and Father proud with our victory!" Horus declared, gesturing to his sons. "Right, guys?"
His sons roared in unison, their battle cries echoing in the bay, filling the air with a sense of impending glory.
"Failure is not acceptable," Lion said sharply, addressing his sons. "Understood?" They nodded in unison, their expressions focused and determined.
"Let's kill those Orks, my sons!" Russ bellowed, his voice full of fervor. His sons responded in kind, roaring back with primal energy.
"I trust you all to do this," Sanguinius said, his voice filled with unwavering confidence. "You will claim absolute victory as I lead you." The majority of his sons knelt, awed by his presence and the sheer power of his aura.
"I expect you to do better than those sons of Dorn," Perturabo stated coldly, his tone sharp and commanding. "But no dirty tricks are allowed."
"Remember the tactics I have taught you all and execute them flawlessly," Guilliman briefed his sons, his strategic genius evident in every word. His sons nodded, fully trusting in his leadership.
"...Stealth is optional," Corvus muttered quietly, his eyes glinting with his usual calculated demeanor. Konrad nodded beside him, echoing the same sentiment in his usual detached way.
Calgar nodded approvingly, his voice commanding as he addressed the group. "Alright, kids, position yourselves and your soldiers in the teleportation bay. The boarding action begins now!"
With swift precision, the young warriors and their soldiers moved into the massive teleportation bay, the bright white lights casting an almost heavenly glow upon them. The moment they were in position, the familiar hum of the teleporters activated, and with a flash, they were transported aboard Rottkrakka Scrapjaw's flagship.
Aboard Skullkruncher, Rottkrakka Scrapjaw's flagship, the Orks were running around, raring to go, all set to blast the humies outta the sky.
"Oi, boss!" one of the Ork boyz yelled, squinting at the hangar bay. "They's flashin' lights in our ship, like!"
Rottkrakka Scrapjaw, the warboss, turned with a growl. "Wot's it now, Nob?"
The Nob scratched his head, eyes widening. "Looks like they's teleportin' onto da ship, boss!"
"Oi!" Rottkrakka bellowed, slamming his fist onto the nearest console. "Deal wit' 'em then, ya bunch o' useless gits! I don't want no humie scratches on me ship!"
The Orks scrambled into action, ready for the fight, eager to spill blood and smash anything in their way.
In the hangar bay of the Ork flagship, twenty small legions of super soldiers stood at attention—each one a future hero. These twenty boys, still young yet brimming with potential, were led by their commanders, each one a prodigy in the making. Under Calgar's guidance, they had successfully bypassed the Ork void shields and were now within the enemy flagship.
"Ugh, what is this crude design?" Ferrus yelled, his voice echoing through the hangar. "Is that supposed to be a plane? It looks like flying scrap!"
"Hush, Ferrus," Fulgrim said, placing a hand over his mouth to silence him. "The Orks might hear you insulting their 'perfect' plane."
"Fulgrim!" Ferrus snapped, trying to push Fulgrim's hand away. "Remove your hand from my mouth!"
Fulgrim's chuckle filled the air as he withdrew his hand. "Hehe, but you need to be quiet, alright?"
"You both need to be quiet," Corvus spoke up, his tone calm and authoritative as he moved beside them. "Konrad and I will move ahead for reconnaissance. Is that alright, Calgar?"
Calgar surveyed the group of young warriors. He gave a firm nod. "You heard me. Every tactic is approved, as long as you work together and it's not too dangerous."
Konrad and Corvus vanished into the shadows, their legions moving with them as the rest of the Primarchs and their forces continued their advance through the Ork flagship, heading towards the command bridge.
"Where's those damn Orks?" Perturabo grumbled into the comm. "I heard they were loud, but this is too quiet."
"Patience, brother," Sanguinius replied, his voice calm and reassuring. "Soon enough, they'll show up. After all, they look forward to fighting us."
"Let's hope Konrad and Corvus haven't already killed them all by the time we arrive," Russ said, eager for his first fight, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The exploration of the ship was swift, but there was no sign of Orks—only eerie silence. Most of them suspected an ambush was coming.
Horus was the first to spot movement. "Guys, I think we found them," he said, his tone filled with confidence as he gestured to the large group of Orks. "Roughly a thousand. This must be their resting area."
"Calgar, this is Konrad," came the voice over the comm. "I've found their reactor. It's heavily guarded. I request a heavy firing squad. Preferably plasma weapons."
"Understood, Konrad," Calgar replied, his voice steady and clear. "I'll send Mortarion to your location."
He gestured to Mortarion, who nodded and began to move out, making his way toward the coordinates Konrad had provided.
"Alright, who's going to be the first to launch a surprise attack on those Orks in front of us?" Horus chimed in, his voice filled with eager anticipation.
"Strike them with grav-packs armed with gravitic hammers," Guilliman commanded, his voice cutting through the air with precision. "Sanguinius, you'll lead the charge. Once you've cleared a path, rain fire upon them with the Prometheus Flame Projectors. Vulkan, Ferrus, you'll take point on this. The rest of you, your task is to finish off the grunts. Understood?"
"Can I join in raining fire upon them with the Plasma Flames?" Perturabo chimed in, his voice full of enthusiasm for the coming destruction.
"Yes, brothers," Vulkan replied with a grin, his voice crackling with energy. "Let's rain hell upon them with flames."
"Alright," Guilliman responded, his tone firm and commanding. "It's set. Let's execute it swiftly. No mercy."
With that, the Primarchs moved into position, their forces gathering in preparation for the onslaught. The Orks would soon learn the price of underestimating the might of their father's finest.