A True Blue Bombardment

 “Boss- Boss- Boss-!” Grunted one of the many boyz within Da Blue Boyz clan.

“Huh?” Da biggest, bestest boss EVER sneered.

“Dem hoomies  be lookin’ for d’ose blackstone rockies ‘n der ‘ariah Nexush! '' The Boy exclaimed, arms flailing in the ice-cold air.

With his attention now focused on the scrawny boy, Stugbrod grins with a toothy smile, his teefs stained like the colour of dried bone, dusted with a light coating of congealed flesh. “Tell me moar!” He grumbles from the depths of his throat, his voice hoarse and raspy. Cowering a little, the boy from what looks to be from Da Ice Breakerz , obeys his Beastboss and looks around to find a chart on a very dirty screen, smeared with grime, and points toward the system to which this lad had found info for. 

Rising from his seat, Stugbrod leans in closer to the screen, the targeting squig perched on his shoulder, its eye darting its focus on varying points. (As we probably all know, Orks aren’t the best when it comes to shooting, or rather, as they don’t clearly state often, they actually can’t see very well… But they don’t believe that’s true… Right…?) Grunting, his jaw chatters a little, as he stomps away a couple of paces heading toward the hull of the vessel they happen to be boarded upon.

“Seems to me dat we ‘ave som’ of dem zappy doo-dads to deal wid, an’ ‘opefully-” He suddenly coughs, almost as if he were choking, and spits out a bone from his lunchum, continuing as if nothing had happened, “An’ ‘opefully we can krump some skullz an’ spill som’ gutz!” Grabbing his Beastchoppa, Beastboss Stugbrod da’Ard walks over toward one of dem noise catchers, taps it with his claw, -clunk- clunk-, takes in a big breath and roars, “WAAAGH!!!”

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Arriving at the zappy doo-dads, Stugbrod gets his bestest, meanest, and not-so-greenest, bosses in. Zagblad and Snikrat. Now these ladz are the proper job when it comes to talkin’ taktiks. No-nobz better. Zagblad’s Squigosaur, ‘Edchompa, often when not being ridden, will just terrorise Gretchin and Grots alike, treating them like little snacks when he gets a case of the dreaded munchies. Snikrat however will often, when not in a Waaagh! meetings, can be found Doktorin’ on the Gretchin and Grots himself, so more than frequently is getting up to no good.

After the big boyz concoct their plan, they depart from their vessel, stepping onto this grassy area, grass feels weird, not slimy and tough like rocks and dirt, urgh, almost soft. The zappy doo-dads ahead of them, and what appears to be golden hoomies!

It's krumping time!

The battle was fraught with stabbin’, screamin’, slashin’, and cleavin’ but not to the Orks' favour… Boyz left, right, and centre were blitzed to pieces, and Snikrat couldn't Doktor all of them back together again… It was a slaughter, Ork blood was strewn across the entire battlefield, a couple of Squighogs without their riders managed to stride away but nothing was left… Stugbrod, bruised and ashamed groaned in defeat… Dem golden hoomies won't survive next time, not by far…