"Oi, Skrabby. Did you 'ear dat?" Skodmark elbowed the slumbering Ork beside him.

"Wot?" Skrabby replied groggily, angry at being woken.

Dat sound, sorta like howlin'." Skodmark continued.

"Naw, go back ta sleep. If da boss finds us talkin' 'e'll right pissed 'e will."

With that Skrabby rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. Tomorrow they were raiding the humies base and he wanted to be good and ready for what was going to be a really big fight. His efforts were short lived, however.

Aaawwwwrooooooooooo!

Skrabby sat bolt upright, his hands reaching instinctively for his boltgun and axe. Next to him Skodmark was already up and alert.

"See, see! I told ya I heard sumfing! Didn't I tell ya I heard sumfing?" Skodmark blurted out, almost not comprehending the severity of the situation.

"Shut up! If we keep quiet wotever dat fing wos, maybe it won't find uz."

"Okay...wot do ya fink it wos?" Skodmark whispered.

"Could 'ave been one of dem daemon fingies, like da one dat got da old Boss." Skrabby actually had no idea what had made the noise, but having an explanation for it - no matter how incorrect - was better than not having one.

By now the rest of the Orks were awake. Each one looking around the perimeter of the camp for the source of the howling. Panic and rumours spread like wildfire amongst the Orks until the Warboss found a gretchin to stand on so he could get his head above the rest of the Orks.

"Oi ladz! Lissen up. Accordin' ta Sneekit," he motioned to the Blood Axe Commando standing proudly beside him, "dere's a lot of beekees movin' towards uz." This only agitated the Orks more. "Oi!" the Warboss shouted, immediately quietening them, "Dat's better. Now we's got no optch...opt...opc, choice, we's gonna fight 'em. And we's gonna win!"

The Orks cheered as one as they realise that they were going into battle, even if it was against Space Marines. Many a flagon of squiglet beer was drunk as they readied themselves in the time-honoured Ork fashion.

Unknown to the Orks, they would be going into battle against the Black Wolves, one of the fiercest Space Marine chapters, and arch-enemies of the Orks. The Black Wolves would stop at nothing to completely eradicate the green menace and woe betide anything that got in their way.

Meanwhile, unknown to both the Black Wolves and the Ork, a third party watched. High above the surface of the planet the forces of the Space Wolves lay in waiting, and watching. This way the first solo campaign for the Black Wolves and the Space Wolves had taken it upon themselves to keep watch over the novice Marines.

The Space Wolves knew the way the Black Wolves operated and were proud of them for it. A cunning savgery dwelt in the heart of each and every Black Wolf, and the Space Wolves knew it for the very same thing dwelt in each of them. The cry of the Wolf.

On their massive holo-screens the Space Wolves watched as the mass of black icons - representing the Black Wolves - crashed into the green icons - representing the Orks - and the two began to mingle. The Space Wolves pictured the looks on the Ork faces as they realised who was attacking them. One by one the green icons began to wink out - the Black Wolves were suceeding, despite being outnumbered five to one by the Orks.

Back on the planet the battle was raging fiercely. Both sides had good fighters - the half-mad Executioners on the side of the Black Wolves and the Goff Boyz on the side of the Orks - but it was the Marines that had the tactical, and intellectual advantage and so were able to outwit the Orks time and again (no real mean feat).

For every Black Wolf that fell a dozen or more Orks fell with him. One Black Wolf, however, refused to fall, even when assaulted by an entire squad of Blood Axe Commandoes. He kept his ground and, when the time was right, threw back his head and let out the cry that had chilled the Orks' hearts mere minutes before.

Aaawwwwrooooooooooo!

He was joined by the rest of the Black Wolves who joined their battle brother in the unholy, bestial cry. The Orks' nerve immediately broke and they fled. A few of the younger Black Wolves persued them and tore to shreds those they caught. The rest remained and counted the dead.

In total eighteen Black Wolves lay dead, with a further five wounded awaiting the ministrations of the Wolf Healers. In return they had managed to kill two hundred and fifty of their green-skinned foes including their leader, whose head was impaled on a long pole and left at the battle site to remind others that the Black Wolves had fought.

And the Black Wolves had won.

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