Crack bunnies are an even greater disaster than Plotbunnies.

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The USG Ishumura. A derelict planet cracker, first of its class. The single oldest ship humanity had commissioned to slowly and surely consume a planet whole. It would become the cradle to something horrible, inhuman. Its crowded halls would witness both the best and worst humanity had to offer.

A last stand made by one single Hero who sought to hold back the tide of inhuman monstrosities, seeking only to protect those who could not protect themselves. Another would see the first person to make it to the relative safety of a closed room, sealing the door behind them, dooming dozens more to a painful death at the hands of abominations, defilement the only thing that awaited them at the end of their struggles. Yet another would see those who broke from despair, and laid into their fellow man, killing and maiming dozens before they were brought down like the rabid animal they had become.

Things both great and horrid happened in the halls of the Ishimura. Leaving behind only a terrible void. An Abomination. And many, many questions. Questions that would be faced and answered by one fated man, a man who would bargain his very soul on a quest that failed long, long before he was even informed such a mission needed to be undertaken.

This, is not their story.

"Oi! Wut 'ta hell d' ya think yer doing ya blasted git! We need to go 't the 'humies not away from 'em!" Screamed Rotgut the Gutrotted at the Mekboy who was currently 'steering (read: yelling at the computer to move forward)' the Space Hulk.

"D'ya think I'm supid boss!? I keepz tellin' 'tis stoopid fing t' move forwardz! But it jus' dun listen!"

" 'Ten do sometin abou' it ya bloodeh gitz!" Roared Rotgut.

"Boss! I needs more powah from 't enginz!" Screamed the Mekboy as he banged on a random screen with a wrench. "Open communi…communiu…communicutili…ZOGG IT! Yell at 'ta buncha gitz 't work fastah!"

Rotgut moved to the 'communications terminal (read: The door to the 'bridge')' and 'opened communications.' "PUT YER BACKS INTO IT YA BLOODEH GITZ! UNLES YA WAN' ME 'T GIV' YA A GOOD STOMPIN!"

Impossible as it should be, his hollered demand echoed through the enormous length of the haphazard ship, traveling even through the compartments opened to the merciless Void, where no air was even present to carry the message. All the way to the boyz at the 'engines' causing them to shrink in fear of the Boss and work harder to make the abused engines blaze.

"Boss!" Screamed the Mekboy.

"Not now ya gitz I'm givin' orders 'ta tha boyz!"

"But Boss!" Repeated the Mekboy shrilly.

"I SAID NOT NOW YA GITZ! UNLESS YA WAN' ME 'T GIVE YA A GOOD STOMPIN!"

"B-But Boss!" Screamed the Mekboy fearfully.

"TAT'S IT! I'MA STOMP YA TO THE FLOOR YA STUPID WORTHLES-!"

Whatever else Rotgut was going to do to the hapless Mekboy was cut off, as the onrushing warpstorm that the poor Tinker 'ta Tinkers had attempted to warn Rotgut of engulfed them completely. Causing the Imperial defenders to cry in cheer as the backbone of the ork invasion was swallowed into the merciless and cursed Immaterium.

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The USG Ishimura, a vessel that, in all honesty, belonged in a museum. It had been the first ship to test revolutionary technology. A physical monument to human ingenuity. It floated, lifeless, corrupted, cold, stained.

Something decidedly Wrong had taken roost in it. Something terrible, Inhuman.

The dead were violated, deformed, re-made. The flesh of the living changed, warped, consumed. The dead walked the halls, seeking nothing more than to create more like them, the living fed upon one another, having long ago become something much less than Man, having traded that elusive and worthless thing called 'Humanity' discarded it in order to survive.

One of the walking dead heard something, a sniffle, a cry, a voice. It turned its 'head' to better track it, readied its scything limbs, lavishing under the crimson rain that fell from them.

And then a purple colored portal opened above it and deposited two hundred and fifty pounds of greenskin atop it.

"OOPH!" Said the ork boy as he squashed something with his landing. "Wut ta ruddin-?" He began to ask after he got up and noticed the thing below him.

The Ork Boy stared at something corrupt, something that Should Not Be, a sight that would drive most humans to madness with fear.

"Oi! 'Tis is 'ta ruddin UGLYEST friggin squigg Evar! Who 'ta ruddy hell letcha live?" Said Stompah.

The Necromorph sprang to its feet and roared.

Stompah recognized this as a sign of aggression and so did the thing for which his race was so known.

"WWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAGGH!" He exclaimed loudly as he brought his choppa around in an arc and tore the head off the Necromoph in a gory shower.

It kept coming and sunk its talons deep into Stompah's flesh.

"ARGH! 'TA HURTZ YA BLODDEH GIT!" Said Stompah intelligently as he kicked the Necromorph in the chest, sending it to the floor, its limbs trashing wildly.

Stompah screamed once more and sunk his choppa to the floor, cleaving through its right limb without trouble, he then took hold of its left limb, planted his boot on the Necromorphs chest and pulled, tearing the limb right off.

He then beat the twitching corpse to death with its own arm.

An indeterminate time later, Stompah sat back and admired his work.

"Ugly friggin squigg." He muttered as he picked up his choppa, readied his slugga and began to stomp around the halls of the human ship, looking for 'Them 'humies 'ta stomp' muttering the age old Ork WAAAGH traveling song.

"'Ere we go 'Ere we go 'ere we go.

"And 'were we end up we dunno.

"Ere we go 'ere we go 'ere we go.

"And were we end up we dunno.

"Ere we go 'ere we go 'ere we go.

"And were we end up we dunno."

In other places in the Ishimura, similar scenes could be seen repeating themselves.

In some a single Ork went against countless Necromorphs, eventually brought down by the sheer weight of numbers on a bizarre twist of Fate.

In others the Ork in question roared victorious, covered in blood and gore, surrounded by the slain corpses of his enemies.

Yet in every single one of these scenes, in each and every one that an Ork lived. The same thing could be seen happening.

Orks had to look for more Boyz, because a stompin' had to happen.

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This will be a series of shorts, a few hundred to maybe a thousand words per chapter at most. Of mostly isolated but overall connected instances of Orks getting in trouble in the Ishimura.

The is only one thing that can be assured.

It will be a funny ride.