Lockjaw's Folly

Simmick Lockjaw, son of Vodreare Razorbeard and Lorgan Lockjaw, stared defiantly at the sky. The situation was dire, with the Star Children preparing the world for the Great Devourer. But, Lockjaw would never cede his planet to the foul Xenos. Instead, a simple blacksmith would be the one to change the outcome of this war.

Even though the world seemed lost and all hope was gone, the Squats of the remaining two clans continued to fight with vigour. The enemy had defeated the humans, and no help was coming. The end was near, and the Great Devourer would never be satisfied.

A man wearing a blue cloak appeared next to the Squat. The newcomer urgently explained what the Squat already knew; the Razorbeard clan would die with the planet. Only he could save them all from destruction. Moreover, the man promised to protect his kin if they swore allegiance to his master. There was no time to lose; Lockjaw needed to make the right decision. The young Squat turned to the man.

‘Oh, Great Saviour of Kharkadan! On my word, I pledge an oath, in the name of the Razorbeard Squat clan, to do as you wish. We shall build and repair ships and craft weapons for you and your master. Please save my clan and world from these creatures,’ begged Lockjaw.

Simmick stumbled as the earth beneath him rumbled and cracked open, releasing great gouts of blue flame. He looked back to where the man had stood only a moment before but was stunned to find that he had disappeared. The air grew thicker, and colourful mist churned and took on different shapes.

Meanwhile, the battle raged around Simmick, his friends and family lay dead on the battlefield, and the enemy was closing in. Nevertheless, he believed he had made the right decision; his people and homeworld would survive thanks to him.

A nearby Squat fended off a Genestealer with his masterfully-crafted axe before quickly running over to Lockjaw.

‘You fool, what did you do?” The Longbeard Squat from the Zaki clan shouted frantically, ‘I heard that oath you took. Squats don’t make deals with dark forces to save their own beards!’

Lockjaw squared his shoulders and ignored his friend’s words. Finally, Simmick Lockjaw, son of Lorgan Lockjaw, would be accepted. He would no longer be a bastard Neckbeard but a Great Saviour.

‘It’ll be alright, Zaki! I just saved us, our people, our world,’ Lockjaw announced with pride.

‘No, Lockjaw, we will die here! So take up your weapon, fight and die like a real Squat!’

The Razorbeards’ saviour did not come alone. Uncanny clouds of blue and green mist rose and swirled. Time seemed to stop and then move too fast, confusing all upon the planet.

An ear-splitting screech caught both of the Squats’ attention. Everyone but the Tyranids looked up to the sky. Large avian creatures had burst into existence. Soon there were dozens. They grabbed the Tyranids in their razor-sharp beaks and claws, ripping them apart. The ships that darkened the midday sky exploded in flashes of light.

Lockjaw straightened his shoulders with pride and smiled. Then, turning away from the creatures, he noted the nearby trees. They grew tentacles and grabbed anything within reach that was not a Razorbeard Squat. Finally, one took hold of the nearby Zaki Squat and threw him up high, where a large, green, wyrm-like creature caught him in its maw and ravenously devoured him.

Lockjaw felt lightheaded and heavy-hearted, his guilt weighing down on him. A sense of dread and crippling panic washed over him; he had forgotten about the Zaki clan.

A burst of sinister laughter echoed through his mind. The warp creatures neither dissipated nor returned from whence they had come.

As he looked back up at the skies and watched the swirling mist continue to take different shapes, Lockjaw understood that he had doomed his kin. The creatures squealed and screamed together in a terrifying victory chorus.

Lockjaw had saved his kin, but he had effectively sworn his clan to the Lord of Change. Kharkadan was never his pledge, but it now belonged to warp creatures.

The familiar man approached with a knowing grin on his face and addressed Simmick, ‘Your planet and people are safe from the Great Devourer and the Genestealers. We have upheld our end of the bargain, and now it’s your turn.’

The Saviour of Kharkadan placed a cold hand on the Squat’s shoulder and firmly guided him forward. Simmick felt a wave of nausea when the man teleported them both elsewhere. Once his stomach had settled, he looked up to see confused clan members. The Squats surrounded Lockjaw and the sorcerer. Behind them was an immense forge.

A nearby Longbeard noticed the new arrivals and immediately ran toward them. With his axe held high and ready to strike, the Squat let loose a rage-filled cry. At that moment, Simmick Lockjaw knew for sure that he had made a mistake. The sorcerer waved his hand a moment before the Longbeard reached them. Then the Squat fell flat onto his face, his angry screams muffled by the dirt. Then, as one, the other Squats turned to stare at Lockjaw.

He had lost his honour and faith. Simmick Lockjaw would be the name of the Squat who doomed Kharkadan and his clan to obey the will of chaos.

Lockjaw felt the intensity of their hatred. His shoulders slumped as he remembered the final words of Zaki. With contempt in their eyes, the Razorbeards spat at him. When the sorcerer began to chuckle, the Squats struck their chest armour with their fists. The sound echoed through the forge. Finally, they dutifully knelt before him in submission and carefully placed their weapons on the ground.

As puppets controlled by invisible strings, the Squats rose as one, turned to the forge, and began their task for their new master, the God of Change, Tzeentch.