Makari the Gretchin

Probably my last post about Warhammer 40K, I just need to get this out.

Back in the mythic prehistory of the hobby (during the late 90s) they created an Ork (like an Orc, but IN SPAAAACE) Warboss named Ghazghkull Thraka. He was meant to be the fiercest leader of Orks in known space, and a grand threat to the Imperium of Man.

However Orks, as a race, were more comic then most of the other races. Don't get me wrong they could be very, very dangerous, but predominantly they were comic. They did stupid things, their weapons blew up, all in all it was quite funny.

And to fit in with this image Ghazghkull, despite being a very serious character, had a Gretchin (Goblins IN SPAAACE) Banna wava (banner waver/standard bearer) named Makari. In a fight, Makari was useless. He would be outfought by a normal civilian, and had only a knife to defend himself with. What he did was carrying the banner of Ghazghkull into battle, waving it with all the strength his little arms could muster. How did he survive? He was lucky. Every time he was wounded you'd roll a six sided dice and on a roll of 2 or more he survived, no matter what happened. It's just what he did. Ghazghkull was written as being very fond of Makari, as were most of the other boys, because he was just so damned eager.

I quite liked Makari. He was an amusing concept for a character.

Then Games Workshop changed Orks from "comic relief" to "one of the three greatest threats facing the entire galaxy". And so Makari wasn't needed, so they made up some stupid story about Ghazghkull sitting on him, killing him, and throwing him to a Squig, and not really caring.

Bollocks to that. Screw you Games Workshop. Upon hearing about Makari's fate, I made the following in tribute. I know I'm not a great artist (my excuse is that this was done with a mouse) or a great writer (again, my excuse is that I did this in a rush), but I wanted to share this.

Orks are creatures of war and death. Deprived of it they waste away as other species would deprived a vital part of their diet. It is the slowest and most agonising death an Ork can face. But that is not to say that Orks do not have a kind side, a decent side. A side that allows them to feel fondness of others.
"Oi, Boss, where ya goin'?" asked Graknob, before a sharp smack to the back of the head from one of his fellow Nobs silenced him. Ghazghkull Thraka, greatest Ork Warlord the Orkoid race has ever seen, did not even stop in his plodding steps as he walked away from his main tent in the camp. Some of the boyz had objected to moving the Waaagh off course to visit this small, unknown, out of the way planet. 'Itz already been smashed, why we'z goin' here?' some had asked, but never loud enough for the boss to hear. The Nobz waited for their mega-armoured warboss to be out of earshot before answering the new member of Ghazghkull's retinue.
"'E's off rememberin'" said one, an old Ork named Griksnak who had served their boss for many many years.
"'E can remember jus' fine round 'ere. What's 'e rememberin'?" asked the curious Nob, uncaring of the death-stares he was receiving from his fellow Nobz.
"Think 'bout it dis way, ya git. Us Orks love ta fight, yeah?"
"Yeah, even a snotling knows dat!"
"But da boss keeps sendin' us 'gainst da 'umies. Dis is cuz 'e hates dem. Now, why'd da boss hate 'umies?"
Graknob remained silent for a few seconds, pondering the question he was asked. "Cuz dey got ugly faces?"
The other Nobz just shook their heads. "'E lost someone ta 'em." Graknob looked around, confused. Everyone knew it didn't matter if an Ork died, he just got belched back into another body. He couldn't understand the feeling of loss.

----

Ghazghkull had shed most of his mega armour by the time he got to the top of the hill. Being an Ork, the act of removing armour seemed... unusual, to say the least, but it seemed appropriate to approach this site somewhat vulnerable. After all, he was meeting with the one being he knew would never harm him.
"'ey. Uhh... not sure what's I suppose'ta say 'ere. Jus' wanted tah, y'know, say 'ello. See how ya's was. Dose 'umies who got dat lucky shot off on ya? Yeah, dey dead. 'Dere planet is dead. Got lotsa da bastards. 'Ope dat helps out somehow. Wells... I's be goin', den. I... I misses ya, boy." Ghazghkull Mag Thraka turned and began walking down the hill again, leaving the grave he had been speaking to behind. A grave that simply said:

Makari
Banna Wava

Everyone knew Orks were belched back into another body after they died. Not Gretchin though. No Gretchin could ever replace Makari.