The falcon had seen it all. It had been perched on the broken tree on this cliffside since the sun had slowly set over the Jaamanih Valley the night before. It had seen the campfires of two of the three forces, and heard the animal screams of the third. It had watched as suddenly one side, then another, and finally all three had joined the fray. Gigantic monsters and tiny units of motorbikes and light-skins with objects that spit metal and light and green-skins with dirty clothing, wielding rusty metal implements, and silent creatures lurking in the shadows, all trying to dominate the others and finally killing almost everyone in the slaughter. The titanic battle had raged far into the night, flashes of colored light blasting trees and dirt and warriors with equal ease. The scream of a dying engine or the cry of a triumphant fighter had sounded until just before dawn.
Now the sun had risen again and it was glinting off the broken heaps of metal and reflecting off the river Feralyn, now turned red from the blood of the thousands of warriors who had recently perished in this once peaceful valley. At first, nothing moved but the carrion feeders circling overhead, sometimes landing to pick apart a meal. A small shape suddenly began to move. The falcon saw it and silently took wing, moving closer to better see what it was. It slowly looped toward the shape, before landing on the twisted chunk of metal, the blackened heap now showing no sign of the colors or symbols that might have identified which side it had fought for. The falcon peered at the shape as it moved, sitting up and glancing around. It wondered how this all had come to pass, why the light-skins and the green-skins and the metal ones and the monsters had massacred one another, what could have caused such hatred and fear. Knowing the answers would not be revealed, the falcon lifted into the air and, without a sound, it flew into the west, the only direction that refugees from the battle had not gone, due to the cliff-face impeding them. The falcon did not look back.
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Lieutenant Commander Jacob C. Dafinov watched as the falcon disappeared over the ridge, flying to somewhere better. Somewhere better, ha! He glanced around, looking at what was left of the carnage from the night before. He could see the com-station he had been trying to defend on the other side of the river. The blackened carcass of his unit's Predator tank was lying a few dozen feet to his right. He could just barely remember getting thrown free as it exploded, bursting into flame and showering sparks everywhere. He saw a shred of cloth hanging onto the bloodied and burned remains of another soldier. Dafinov could make out what was left of the crooked scythe overlaying a blue triangle, signifying his own Harvesters legion. He grimaced and turned his head to empty his stomach.
He slowly stood up and looked for any others who might still be alive. He still didn't know how he was spared. The last he could remember was a gigantic nightmare hanging over him like death incarnate, its jaws glistening with poison venom and its massive claws reaching for him. He seemed to remember another shape, just as big as the monster, hurling itself into the thing, metal joints and gears creaking and rusty claws squealing as they clenched around the creature. One of the revolting orks' "killer kans" if he remembered correctly from the academy. He must have then blacked out; he couldn't remember a thing past that.
Dafinov slowly began picking his way across the battlefield, stopping every so often to try emptying his stomach again as he saw the remains of someone's body, someone he knew. He reached the opening into one of the three canyons leading into this gods-forsaken valley. He started through the canyon. After a few moments of hiking, he noticed something. There was absolutely no noise. The canyon was completely silent, not a carrion bird or anything else to make a noise. He warily looked around as he continued to make his way through the pass. He began to pray to himself. Surely Fate had not spared him the night before just to kill him as he tried to escape the battlefield. He kept on his way becoming increasingly paranoid, as only a sole survivor of a holocaust can.
Suddenly a large green shape flew at him from the shadow of a boulder. It held a broken, dirt-encrusted sword that it swung at him. Dafinov threw himself back. He hit another rock and heard a loud crack as his spine snapped. He slid to the ground, staring at the slavering ork who was about to kill him. He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't move, he couldn't even feel them. He began to crawl away on his stomach, knowing his flight to be useless as he felt the sword rip into his shoulder. His arm gave out on him and in a last effort, he twisted himself around, determined to face his death looking at his killer. The ork raised the sword up high and Dafinov stared it straight into its ugly purple eyes. The sword came down.
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Why did hooman blood have to be so red, and why did it have to spray so much, the ork thought to himself. Snotnose Bonecracker wiped the gooey fluids off on the hooman's clothes. He had seen his own blood a good many times the night before and it was a nice pretty green color. He prided himself that Snotnose's own insides were better colored than the hoomans. He started walking back into the valley. The only reason he had even killed the hooman was 'cause it had gotten in the way and Snotnose had been bored.
"Hello?" Snotnose yelled when he reached the valley. "Anybudy still not deaded? Smellyhead? Stubblearm? Bob? Where'd evrybudy git to?" He wandered around brandishing his sword until he found the remains of a fellow ork. "Ha! I is Snotnose the Mighty! Who'z you?" He prodded the very deceased ork with the toe of his muddy boot. "Huh? Speak up when I'z talkin' t' ya! Oh, itz you, Smellyhead! Eew, what happended t' you? You lookz likez a gunnerman gotcha. You seen Bob? He still owez me tree fingerz from da bet he made me last week. Prolly got hisself ated. No fair, he alwayz gitz all da fun. Oh, there ee iz. Yup, he'z deaded. Lookz like 'iz 'ead got bited. Big teeth markz. Well, now I'z kin git my fingerz." Snotnose used his sword to chop three fingers from his dead friend's hand, placing them in the leather pouch on his belt. "Dere! Now you'z know ya can't weasel out o' payin just by gitin yerself eated." The hapless ork continued on his way across the valley, mumbling to himself and stopping here and there to pick up anything of interest. By the time he reached the river he had accumulated a new helmet, dented and too big for his head, a shinier sword, despite the fact that it was even more broken and dull than his first, and a bright blue crumpled shirt that he had ripped off of a corpse because he liked the color . He knelt down at the river's edge and threw his face under the water, drinking and splashing himself. He sat up when he saw the water ripple toward the middle of the river.
"Watz this? Who goes der? Snotnose no like stuffz he can't see." As the ork continued to ramble on in this fashion, a large, dark creature slunk up behind him and raised its massive claws. Dozens more climbed over and into the com-station across the river. Snotnose finally noticed the creature's gigantic shadow around him. "Watz dat? Oh, no! Snotnose no likez da big monstas. Git away, you'z b'fore I'z gotta stik ya wi' dis. No? Okay, den: WAUGH!"
Snotnose charged the huge creature. "WAU-"
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"Pathetic humans. We are what you have designated Hive Fleet Arona. You are defenseless. We have already infiltrated your major cities and are slowly consuming the ork worlds. You will be next. Do not fight. You will be devoured and your genetic structure will contribute to make us stronger and more ready to consume the next alien race we find. Already your outlying colony planets have fallen. Your elite warriors were destroyed thirty years ago with Hive Fleet Kraken. We devoured the so called Ultramarines and we are stronger for it. You cannot fight. You cannot win. You will be consumed and we will continue as we always have. Give up now."
- Message received from com-station #4 in the Crupex system, shortly after it was assaulted by Hive Fleet Arona
- Crupex system being evacuated...
