2nd Primarch

Only Orks Can Fight Orks

When the Bone Crusher Legion deployed to the battlefield on Euro World, they needed no assistance from the Imperial soldiers. The war, once a protracted stalemate, was swiftly quelled by their brutal efficiency.

Standing amidst the chaos, Saraka, the Bonebreaker Warlord, waved his massive battle axe as he addressed the Orks. Employing a strategy of "win some, kill some," he quickly subdued the warring clans of Euro World.

The origins of this conflict lay in the deep-seated animosity between Orks and the Imperium, but it soon devolved into an Orkish civil war. The cause? A fervent dispute over which of the three Ork gods—Gork, Mork, or Duork—was the strongest.

For the Bone Crusher Legion, victory was effortless. Every Ork warrior was consumed by petty rivalries: "We've got three colors of paint, and you've only got two!" or "We've perfected the holy trinity of speed, attack, and defense—how can you even compete?"

As the civil war raged, countless Orks defected to Saraka's banner for bizarre reasons. "Your bloodmark is so waaagh! I want one too!" they'd exclaim before joining the Bone Crusher ranks.

From his vantage point, Dukeł, a Primarch of the Imperium, surveyed the carnage. The sight of Orks—vast as an ocean—tearing into one another left him awestruck. The Imperium's soldiers, meanwhile, watched with a mix of vigilance and relief. Though they didn't fully grasp the nuances of Orkish infighting, they were glad for the reprieve from combat.

Gris, the Great Sage, observed with barely concealed glee. To him, this was no mere battle—it was a masterpiece. He recognized the significance of this moment: a long-standing threat to the Imperium was being systematically dismantled.

For centuries, the Orks had been one of humanity's most formidable enemies, their relentless numbers and ramshackle technology proving a perpetual menace. But now, thanks to Dukeł's cunning, the Ork threat had been temporarily neutralized.

Even as Saraka prepared to launch the "Duork's Great Waaagh! Expedition," which would wreak havoc on xenos and heretics alike, it alleviated pressure on the Imperium's overburdened forces.

Yet not all within the Imperium were celebratory. The state religion's clergy found themselves conflicted. On one hand, the alliance with Orks had yielded undeniable victories; on the other, it felt like heresy. Was this a strategic alliance, or were they guilty of consorting with xenos?

The situation was further complicated by the actions of two resurrected Primarchs—Dukeł and his sibling, the Thirteenth. One had formed alliances with Orks, the other was rumored to be collaborating with the Eldar. Such alliances left the devout questioning their doctrines. Were the greenskins now guardians of humanity's borders? Were the Eldar dying for the Imperium's cause?

Despite their inner turmoil, the clergy remained silent. Criticizing the Primarchs during such a precarious time was unthinkable. They prayed fervently to the Emperor for guidance, but the Emperor offered no response. In the end, they chose to endure their doubts in silence.

As Saraka departed Euro World with his Waaagh! in tow, he left behind a cryptic warning:

"Humans, Duork's Waaagh! will never stop. Pray you don't cross our path."

Standing on the deck of his warship, Saraka opened his massive hand to reveal a golden Imperial Aquila emblem. The Ork warlord smiled faintly at the trinket before his expression hardened into a snarl.

"Boys, we're movin' out! Waaagh!!!"

A thunderous roar erupted from the Ork horde as the first Great Waaagh! Expedition set sail into the stars.

Meanwhile, the Imperium's expeditionary forces prepared to face new challenges. In the endless void, Dukeł led his fleet into battle against a demonic armada of Khorne. The clash was ferocious.

"Damn it, captain!" Dukeł roared. "Ram the Inner Fire into their line and tear them apart! For the Emperor!"

"Aye, sir!" the captain replied, sweat pouring from his brow.

Victory was not a given, but the Primarch's presence on the battlefield kindled unshakable courage in even the weakest of mortal soldiers. They believed, with all their hearts, that victory was inevitable—no matter the odds, no matter the cost.

Victory, even if it set the galaxy ablaze.

Victory, heralding dawn in an age of eternal night.

Dukeł would not stop until every enemy of humanity lay in ruins.