Brewhouse Bash

Those of us who played it earlier on had such a laugh playing it, I just had to do a short on it.

Krom grabbed his fungus beer from the grip of the ork that had just got it from the other side of the bar, and took a massive swig from it, downing a third of it in one shot. His fourth can that evening. Krom loved the stuff. Not unusual amongst orks, of course, any proper ork enjoyed thoroughly pissing himself up to the point of unconsciousness.
A shout from the other side of the room caught his ear. Krom couldn't quite catch what it said, but it sounded damned angry. Krom turned back to his beer, but only a few seconds later a massive slam hit the middle of the room. Spinning his head over to the action, he caught the sight of an ork sprawled face-down, spread-eagled on the floor, and a massive Nob taking a running jump from the first floor balcony on the other side of the tavern. Five dozen faces watched as the Nob leapt from the balcony and cannon-balled himself on to the hapless ork on the floor. had the Nob been half-sober, the spine of the ork on the floor would have cracked and split like a twig. As it was, the Nob had drunk enough to render a human unconscious, and so smacked into a table several metres from his target, splintering the thing and sending half a dozen beer-cans and their owners flying. Krom knew what happened next: the orks picked themselves up, and began swinging wildly at anything and everything within reach. Krom grinned, as it dawned on him this was an excuse for what orks love best: fighting with everything with a pulse. Krom hefted his can over his head, and lobbed it as hard as he could at the largest group of orks he could see. It hit them square on, sending beer flying, as one of the orks hitting the floor, with the another jumping on top of him and beating his skull with large bottle. Every so often, the ork on the bottom would land a good punch, get the better of his opponent, bring his arm round his neck, and pull him onto the floor to swap roles, the one on the bottom still clutching the bottle, eagerly beating his mate around the jaw with it.
Krom didn't stand still long enough to notice. He'd already picked out a new adversary, and had ripped a long plank from the bar, and was storming towards the nearest ork he could see. Bringing it behind his head, he brought it across in a huge sidesweep, catching an ork across the side of the neck, cracking his head to the side and splintering half the plank in the process. Before letting his opponent strike back, Krom dropped his plank, jumped up onto the nearby table and body-slammed him to the ground. Krom sat up on top of the face-down ork and began smacking his head repetitively against the flagstones, cracking his skull while doing so, laughing manically. He then grabbed the ork by his skull, brought him to his feet, and, after bringing his foot back, punted the hapless creature into the wall.
Krom looked about for a new opponent, and spotted a large one just off the centre of the room, swinging a chair at everything within reach. Krom searched with eagerness for a weapon, and took note of the ork, now out cold, that he had just kicked into the wall. He grabbed the creature by his leg and swung him round his head like a sling. He let go as his new club reached speed and chucked it at the ork he was aiming at, hitting him round the legs and sending him crashing to the floor. The ork he'd hit, a Nob like the one that had started it all off, stood up, grabbed his stool and began battering the still unconscious ork over his back with it, too utterly bombed to notice. He still gleefully smashed him with it till it was nothing but splinters. He then grabbed it by its neck and threw him over his shoulder. Krom balled his fists up and smacked the nob to the jaw with a big uppercut. The nob returned the gesture, punching Krom square to the face, knocking him into the nearby table, through it, and to the floor. The nob ran straight to him, climbed on top of him and began jumping up and down on the large of his back. As Krom himself was a nob, he didn't slide into unconsciousness as a weaker runt might.
As soon as he'd finished being jumped on, Krom stood up and staggered off after his fellow nob, intent on finishing the job. Before he was anywhere near him, something big and particularly heavy struck Krom's head, sending him straight towards the wall to his left. As the last bit of consciousness slid from his head, Krom smacked into the wall head on, and fell to the floor by the end of the bar, completely out cold.

In only fifteen minutes, the brewhouse had turned to utter chaos. About 60 orks had set about clobbering the daylights out of each other, and every one of them was enjoying it. Half of that number again had burst into the brewhouse, intent on joining in the fun. One group of three deathskulls had gone out of their way to make the fight special, and had vandalised a nearby trukk, tearing the engine out of it and carrying it inside. They had then launched it at nothing in particular, hitting several orks and sending them flying off in all directions, some hitting the wall, some hitting the wall and getting battered by another ork who they had hit the deck near to. The engine, once it had hit the floor, was set upon for parts and was torn apart in order that the orks might have something better to hit things with. The fan ended up around one ork's neck and one of the cylinders found itself rammed up somewhere quite unnatural. The remainder of the engine itself was repeatedly picked up and tossed across the room from side to side, each time causing havoc as the deathskulls that had brought it in looked on gleefully. From behind the bar, there was no short order of items being thrown.
Some orks behind the bar had teamed up and were lobbing everything they could lay their hands on at everything within throwing distance. Three of the beer taps were wrenched off and chucked about. The beer crates were all emptied off fungus beer and torn apart, then the planks from it were beaten around ork heads. One ork even ripped the sink from its socket and with his mate, brought it over and unceremoniously dropped it onto the head of a nob that two others were holding down. Another ork dragged his adversary around to the grill and, lifting him above his head, brought him down on the heated box till his backside began to steam.
Several more sober orks on the first floor had grabbed one ork, three holding him down on a table, and holding a cloth over his head, while another hefted a large jerry-can of engine oil over his head and water-boarded the hapless, struggling ork with it, the cloth getting removed and replaced every 15 seconds or so. His ordeal over, the ork was then lifted on their shoulders and dumped over the barricade to the ground floor, landing with a crash on a couple of stools. Another ork set about jumping on him, until he was well and truly in a sorry state.
Another small group had dragged one ork into a corner and taken the nearest chandelier off its rope. They then tied their victim's left ankle to the rope and heaved him a few metres from the floor. Another two orks pushed over a large barrel of beer, while the ork was slowly lowered into it head-first. As soon as he was in up to his chest, the rope was tied off and he was left to chug or drown, the rest laughing the whole way.
All the way through the fight ever more inventive ways of battering the hell out of each other were brought up. Two large orks grabbed a smaller one and hefted him lengthways onto their shoulders. They then ran up to the balcony and ran straight towards the window at the other side of the floor, driving their captive through it with as much force as they could muster, sending him tumbling into the dirt. In turn, they themselves hurled themselves out of the window, piling onto the small ork with a heavy bodyslam. A few others got the idea and followed suit, forming a pile on top of the almost completely crushed ork at the bottom. They picked themselves up and ran straight back inside to continue fighting with each other. The ork that had left the window first didn't get up.
Back inside, one ork decided to make an even bigger mess, and ran towards one of the beams supporting the balcony as hard as he could - the thing splintered, bringing half the first floor and the orks beating each other up on top of it down on the those doing so below. Those below crawled out from under the wreckage and began attacking each other with an even greater gleeful rage.
Just over two thirds of the orks that had begun the brawl had been knocked out cold in some spectacular fashion. Those still going were doing so more happily as they fought to be the one left awake at the end of it. They all scrabbled for weapons to use against their mates, each finding something useful and using it to good effect, happily battering the others with it, be it a chair, part of the engine, bits of plank from the floor and the bar, flagstones and even smaller orks. The lot of them were having the time of their lives, the best bar fight they'd had in a long time.

Krom drifted back into consciousness as he felt a small beer barrel hitting the bar over his head and the fungus beer splashing over his head. He blinked back to reality to see the bar totally wrecked. Most of the orks he had seen earlier were lying on the floor out cold. Not willing to be left out again, Krom got to his feet and grabbed the remains of the barrel that had hit the bar above him, and charged the nearest ork with it. He broke it over the ork's head, and kicked him to the floor, beating his fists against the unfortunate's skull. Krom looked about for another ork to brutalise, and spotted a large one making for the balcony. Krom ran to the door, and wrenched it off its hinges, ignoring the draught and lifting it above his head. As his quarry set about beating up another ork, Krom ran up to the half-destroyed balcony and brought the massive door down on the big ork's head. It splintered and the head came straight through it. Krom let the door go and the ork fell to the ground, half breaking through the floorboards and almost dangling in the small gap on the ground floor. Krom turned about and delivered a good haymaker to the other ork's face, sending him stumbling back into the barricade and a puddle of beer still on the boards. He slipped on this puddle and fell backwards through the barricade, and, as half the balcony had been lowered somewhat by a particularly destructive ork some time beforehand, the ork's head smacked against the flagstones on the bottom, leaving his body leaning upside down against the wooden struts.
Looking about himself, he took note that the other orks had ground down somewhat, and were staggering one by one back to the bar for more beer. Pleased with himself, Krom followed suit, fancying another drink after the hard work of fighting. As he sat next to the remaining six or so orks on top of the bar (all the stools had been smashed in the brawl), he noticed something quite interesting in the corner of the room: a lone ork hanging by one ankle in a large vat of fungus beer, obviously bombed almost beyond comprehension, as by the looks of it he had drunk his way out of it. Krom pointed this out to the others and after finishing their beers, they each found themselves a plank that hadn't been splintered, and wandered over to the wasted ork. To finish off the evening's entertainment, each of them took turns to batter him around its waist, doing so until it woke up or morning came in a few hours, whichever came first.

good but thier is a problem, this game is made for fantasy and thier arn't any Nobs in fantasy

use your imagination =)

You'd think its fantasy, but its spelt Ork

plus they bring in a trukk engine

Toastinator wrote:You'd think its fantasy, but its spelt Ork

yes but there are no bars in 40k and if a bar fight did break of in 40k, then all the orks would be shooting each other, also the base of the board has squares on it the size of fantasy infantry bases

IMAGINATION

Yes, imagination, like the name michael has now.

And you wonder why people call you emo?

yes i do. =)