All at once I returned to consciousness and found myself being smothered on all sides by the earth. I pushed, and strained, flexing my newfound muscles and bursting forth from the dirt womb like the world’s strangest flower. Standing in my tower, I found that not only did everything look smaller, but I also felt way stronger.

Judging from my surroundings, I was at least twice as tall as I was when I was a gretchin. Which would make me a newly formed ork boy, though I was far from a veteran ork, usually called a skar boy, or a nob which were taller than even space marines outside of their armor anyway. So I still had far to go before I was big enough to push around regular orks, but it was a massive jump from a slightly taller than average gretchin.

I looked down and found that although my plant fiber belt was busted, my pants now fit perfectly. After congratulating myself for my smartness, I began my search for Pig Sticka and located it amongst the rubble where I had dropped it. Or at least I thought I put it over there, as the last few minutes before burying myself were more or less a blur.

With weapon in hand, I walked back over to the hole I had created and kicked the dirt back into it. After stomping atop the now filled-in hole, I nodded to myself and stepped outside, back into my fort. Only to be immediately met with a small swarm of spiky hedgehog-looking things that filled almost the entire courtyard.

They were roughly as big as I was when I had been a gretchin, so not very intimidating. At least not until one of them yawned and revealed a row of sharp teeth that would put a shark to shame. I glanced down at the now rather diminutive scrap metal sword, and then over to the distant forge.

Between there and where I stood were about thirty of the little buggers just laying around. So far none had seemingly noticed me, the things just wandering about, or sleeping on the ground. I glanced at the sun and estimated that it was probably about midday, which made little sense given my recent hibernation.

“How long wuz I…” I began, only for my brain to immediately tell me that it had been a week. “Huh. I guess Iz smarta den I thought.”

The ork brain really was like a computer, only with some kind of soccer hooligan operating system on it. I shook such notions aside and was about to start shooing the creatures off when I noticed something off. I looked down, and after a moment of confusion, tugged open my pants.

“I guess orks do have im. Eitha dat or I'z a special ork. I fink Iz gonna go wit' special,” I declared to myself. “Right, let's start shoo'n dese little buggaz outta ma base.”

Gripping Pig Sticka tight, I stepped out of the tower and made myself appear as big as possible.

“Oi yer filty gitz get outta me place or Iz gonna krump ya wun!” I shouted, waving around my blade.

The assembled horde turned to me in unison, their many eyes all peering up at me like an unblinking swarm. I suddenly felt quite small despite the fact that I was over twice as tall as them individually.

“Go on, get! I don't want ya prickly fings ‘n me house,” I yelled.

All at once their attitude shifted, their mouths opening wide in a sputtering hiss while their soft quills sat straight up. The snarling horde then began to advance on me like a lake of rainbow colors all moving as one. Any lingering thoughts I had of them making for cute pets were tossed out the metaphorical window and I immediately brought up Pig Sticka.

“Fine den. I'll give ya krumpin, ya asked for it,” I declared.

I took another step outside and was met by a bunch of them suddenly turning around and firing quills at me. The tiny spiny appendages struck me all over, with very few of the things actually managing to pierce my thick green hide. Though I was tough, the sheer volume of projectiles made me flinch back, ducking back into the tower in order to avoid the prickly hail.

“Ow ow ow ow,” I muttered, plucking the stinging things out of my flesh. “I gotta find some kind uv shield or someth'n or Iz gonna end up a pin kushion.”

I located a half-rotten table in a pile of debris and pulled it out of the detritus pile. I got lucky, as it was probably originally meant to be outside with an umbrella mounted in the middle. As such it was round, with a single leg to stand on in the center of its mass. A quick chop removed all but a few inches of the leg, giving me something to hold onto, though it was a bit awkward.

“Now let's give dose prickly gitz wot for,” I thought to myself.

Hoisting the shield up, I stepped back outside, table raised so it covered the bottom half of my face and the majority of my upper body. The swarm of critters had advanced in my absence, with a small group of them pushing ahead of the rest. These particularly rabid little buggers were almost all foaming at the mouth, their tiny eyes wide and filled with rage.

“Kome on den if yer fink yer ‘ard enough,” I bellowed, smacking the flat side of Pig Sticka against my shield.

My taunting worked, as the angry little buggers came on like a tide of quills and animalistic rage. I met them with a charge of my own, bellowing the signature ork war cry while raising Pig Sticka above my head. Seeing something almost three times as big as you charge at you may have been intimidating to most, but these fuzzy abominations didn't care. They simply leaped up at me, claws extended and jaws open wide, hungry for my flesh.

I chopped one in half, then bashed another with my shield before stabbing a third with Pig Sticka. While I swiped, cut, stabbed, and generally killed, the bastards swarmed all around me, biting, firing quills, and generally trying to kill me back. None had managed to get all the way around me, but there were a few clearly trying to flank me. Regardless, it hurt and hurt a lot, even though my pants, tough hide, and makeshift shield saved me from a lot of it.

Red orkish blood was beginning to trickle down my body, though I was barely aware of this fact. I had become a brutal whirlwind of death, my stance always shifting in order to ensure that I didn't get completely surrounded. This way and that I hacked, batting aside any that had latched onto me with their sharp, needle-like teeth.

Each attack I made killed or seriously wounded at least one of them, yet despite this, more came. Hopping over the bodies of their fallen comrades without a care, they threw themselves at Pig Sticka. Who was happy to cut into their flesh, slicing off limbs, and heads, or cleaving them clear in twain.

In no time their strangely sticky blue blood nearly covered me from head to toe. Their corpses piled up until they reached almost my knee. By then I noticed that the swarm had begun to thin, though there were still a few left.

Downward chop, shield thrust, stab, right to left cut, my attacks were weighty but without finesse or style. Not like it mattered, as the rage-filled animals made no attempt to dodge, or do anything but leap at me in an attempt to bite off some more of my flesh. Thankfully few managed to do so, but even then, the couple that did were able to leave with a hunk of ork flesh in their mouth.

I crushed one such hungry little bastard with the bottom of my shield and was about to kill the next one when I noticed there were none left. With a grin, I lowered my shield, and was about to release a victory waaaugh, but was cut off by a shower of quills raining from the heavens. I instinctively ducked under my shield, brain idly noting that the projectiles literally blotted out the sun for a moment.

“Ow ow ow ow ow,” I muttered as I was pelted by a hail of quills.

Thankfully it didn't last long, though their aggression was unending, the horde attacking me the moment the quills stopped. I peeked over my shield to spot that there were still tons of the little buggers, and worse still they were unfazed by the dead they had to leap over. Seeing that my position was untenable, I backed up into the doorway, so I could keep them from getting around me.

With my hold point established, I braced my shield and prepared for the onslaught.

I didn't have to wait long, as the first of the angry abominations was on me almost immediately. I skewered him on the end of Pig Sticka, and flung him back into the charging mass of bodies. The disruption it caused to their ranks was brief, but gave me at least a moment to react, and react I did, chopping another in half.

By then their main mass had reached me and were clustering around the entrance, eager to take a bite out of me. For once their numbers aided them very little, worse still they lacked the coordination necessary to attack efficiently. They toppled over one another in a rush to get me, causing pile-ups that I could exploit.

A vicious overhand chop cut a half dozen of the things into various-sized pieces, while my shield kept them at bay, shoving them back. From left to right I went, chopping, hacking and generally taking advantage of the confused melee. I cut down dozens in the first few seconds of the second wave, but my victory was short-lived however.

They had organized themselves somewhat, with critters at the back firing quills over their allies. Who in turn charged in dedicated waves so they didn't run into the backs of their fellows and cause even more issues. I wasn't sure if this was an accident, true intelligence or the smarts that came with a swarm but it hardly mattered in the long run.

They weren't able to take ground, but they were minimizing their losses and forcing me to keep my shield up. This seemed to be their plan as a few of them scurried around my feet, biting or shooting quills into my legs. My leather pants were surprisingly good at blocking these attempts but my feet were completely unprotected.

“Ow, 'dat was me toe ya little bastard,” I shouted.

I chopped the toe thief in half before he could flee with the appendage he had chewed off. My shift in attention backfired immediately, with a dozen or so quills hitting me in the face and putting me off balance. Stumbling back out of the doorway, the mass of territorial creatures pushed forward, threatening to overwhelm me.

I shoved them back before they could gain much ground, hacking, and whacking at whatever critter tried to get around me. Even though each one of these attacks was lethal, there were just too many and I was slowly getting pushed back into the tower. Quills covered nearly every inch of my exposed flesh, chunks of my body were missing, and worse I was starting to feel woozy.

“I fink i need more blood," I muttered to myself.

I glanced up to find that although the horde had shrunk to a large pack, and though their numbers were dwindling, I was losing. I was bigger, stronger and meaner but I was losing a lot of blood and with that loss came the loss of a fair bit of ground. With victory slipping between my fingers, I hefted Pig Sticka and my shield, a wild grin splitting my face down the middle.

Even if I was going to die, I had to admit, this was the most fun I’ve ever had in either this life or the last. If I was to perish, I would do so in an orky manner, with a smile on me face, and a choppa in my hand.

“Waaaaaaugh!” I bellowed, throwing myself back into the fray once more.

I met the rabid hedgehogs head-on, chopping and bashing, my brain already aware of the fact that this was not a fight I would win. But then something strange happened, a rock fell on the last bugger through the doorway, crushing him flat. The sudden death of the least blood thirsty critter heralded the arrival of a familiar rainbow-maned pony, who landed near the tower entrance

Author's Note

Congrats to Lacunae for winning the request thread and suggesting more of this story!