Orks Quotes

“Orks, thought Oltyx, feeling pure hatred. Only they could enter the ancient tomb of a culture so might it had defeated gods, get massacred in the process, and then have a party.”
― Nate Crowley, The Twice-Dead King: Ruin

“The door opened. I stopped. Beyond it, orks lined both sides of the corridor. They had been watching for me. The moment I appeared, they roared their approval. They did not attack. They simply stood, clashed guns against blades, and hooted brute enthusiasm. I had been subjected to too many celebratory parades on Armageddon not to recognise one when it confronted me. I went numb from the unreality before me. I stepped forward, though. I had no choice.

I walked. It was the most obscene victory march of my life. I moved through corridor, hold and bay, and the massed ranks of the greenskins hailed my passage. I saw the evidence of the destruction I had caused around every bend. Scorch marks, patched ruptures, buckled flooring, collapsed ceilings. But it hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough. Only enough for this… this…

At length, I arrived at a launch bay. There was a ship on the pad before the door. It was human, a small in-system shuttle. It was not built for long voyages. No matter, as long as its vox-system was still operative.

I knew that it would be.

Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka awaited me beside the ship’s access ramp. I did not let my confusion or the sense that I had slipped into an endless waking nightmare slow my stride. I did not hesitate as I strode towards the monster. I stopped before him. I met his gaze with all the cold hatred of my soul. He radiated delight. Then he leaned forward, a colossus of armour and bestial strength. Our faces were mere centimetres apart.

My soul bears many scars from the days and months of my defeat and captivity. But there is one memory that, above all others, haunts me. By day, it is a goad to action. By night, it murders sleep. It lives with me always, the proof that there could hardly be a more terrible threat to the Imperium than this ork.

Thraka spoke to me.

Not in orkish. Not even in Low Gothic.

In High Gothic.

‘A great fight,’ he said. He extended a huge, clawed finger and tapped me once on the chest. ‘My best enemy.’ He stepped aside and gestured to the ramp. ‘Go to Armageddon,’ he said. ‘Make ready for the greatest fight.’

I entered the ship, my being marked by words whose full measure of horror lay not in their content, but in the fact of their existence. I stumbled to the cockpit, and discovered that I had a pilot.

It was Commander Rogge. His mouth was parted in a scream, but there was no sound. He had no vocal cords any longer. There was very little of his body recognisable. He had been opened up, reorganised, fused with the ship’s control and guidance systems. He had been transformed into a fully aware servitor.

‘Take us out of here,’ I ordered.

The rumble of the ship’s engines powering up was drowned by the even greater roar of the orks. I knew that roar for what it was: the promise of war beyond description.”
― David Annandale, Yarrick: The Omnibus

“As far as it could be grasped, orkoid minds seemed capable of believing more than one objective truth at the same time. Indeed, they could hold several entirely contradictory facts in their conscious reckoning at once, and not feel the slightest bit of mental discomfort.”
― Nate Crowley, Ghazghkull Thraka: Prophet of the Waaagh!

“One by one, the orks who'd scattered across the side of the spoil heap mobbed up on him - or at least, the ones who'd scattered in one piece. The one's who'd been scattered courtesy of humie high explosives stayed where they were, which was generally here and there, and sometimes a different there as well”
― Mike Brooks, Brutal Kunnin'

“Now the ladz scattered.
Not quickly enough, in some cases: assorted body parts flew past Ufthak, too torn and mangled to be of any use to even the most desperate painboy. He actually tripped on a hand that someone had carelessly dropped, and went head over heels, landing on his back in the spoil and sliding gracelessly further down the slope as the filthy stuff shifted beneath his weight”
― Mike Brooks, Brutal Kunnin'

“Dat's an ork,' Wazzock said, with feeling.
'Well, obviously dat's an ork,' Mogrot replied. 'He ain't a zoggin' squiggoth, is 'e?'
'Nah, I mean dat is an ork,' Wazzock said. 'Dat's an ork wot knows where 'e's goin'.”
― Mike Brooks, Brutal Kunnin'

“Whoo'za good squig?' Ufthak asked Princess, as the squig bounded up to him. 'Izzit yoo?' Apparently it was, because Princess squealed raucously, so Ufthak tossed it a humie arm that seemed mostly meat, and it crunched it down gleefully.”
― Mike Brooks, Brutal Kunnin'