The Orks of Tam'urt Chapta 8

Chapta Eight: Da Goffs Arrive</i>

Jamz and Oric were pleased for a change; the news of the Goffs, delivered by the tribe’s Weirdboy Ongrat, had been delightful. Oric was helping to prepare for waagh by doing what he was good at: sharpening stabby things. Jamz was able to lift heavy things the other Orks couldn’t and aided in reinforcing the walls.

The Snakebites had set up a pedal-operated sharpening stone for Oric to use in one of the huts. He was assigned four Gretchin who kept the flow of blunt weapons up to Oric, and delivered the sharpened ones to their owners. He was also allowed to have a free beer every half an hour.

“Take dis,” Oric said passing an axe to one of the Gretchin. “It’s all good ter chop stuff again.” The Gretchin obediently took the axe, which was almost bigger than itself, out to a waiting Ork. “Bring me back a beer!” Oric yelled after it.

As the day crept to night Oric was still sharpening things and ordering his beer every half an hour; the wheel still spun as fast as it ever had all day and was waring down. It wasn’t until Jamz walked in that Oric stopped pedalling for the first time in ten hours.

“Uurgrin wants ter see us in ‘is hut.” Jamz announced, entering the hut. He took his cleaver off his back and put it down near the wheel. “An’ sharpen dat for me when yew git back in ‘ere.”

“Yeah, yeah, whateva.” Oric said standing up and rubbing his sore butt. “I fergot I even ‘ad dis – it went numb a few hours ago.”

Jamz raised his upper lip in a half-amused grin. “C’mon, let’s go.”
The two Nobs walked to Uurgrin’s hut. The Waagboss’s shelter was busier than usual, with many other Nobs, boyz and Gretchin entering and exiting in a hurry as they delivered news of the waagh preparation and ran off to bark out orders from Uurgrin.

When Oric and Jamz entered the hut, Uurgrin looked up. The Boss was standing at a table which had a map on it with some of his larger Nobs. “Yew two, git over here.” Uurgrin ordered.

Jamz obliged, shoving aside two Nobs to make room for himself and Oric at the table. “Whadoya want?” He asked, looking down at the map curiously. “I ‘ate maps!”

Uurgrin ignored Jamz’ rude greeting and turned his attention to Oric who was less likely to complain. “Dat fing yew two rode ‘ere on, what’s it like?”

“What, dat wartrakk?” Oric replied. “It’s priddy good; sturdy, able ter run right frew just about anyfin’. Got a nice big shoota attached, an’ a nice big engine. Has a wide turn, but dat aint much ov a problem.”

Uurgrin nodded thoughtfully. “Good, good. We’ll ‘ave one of yew two drivin’ it when da Goffs git ‘ere, an’ I’ll be on da backseat so I can crack some ‘eads as yew drive through da Goffs. We gotta ‘ave two forces: one in da settlement, an’ one out. Dat fing can be out of da settlement, ta give da Goff Nobs a nice welcome. We’ll lead da cyboars inta battle wiv dat wartrakk.” Uurgrin grinned maliciously; the Waaghboss enjoyed the though of ploughing through the Goff Nobs with something they wouldn’t be expecting, and clouting them over the head with his big killy axe.

“I’ll drive it,” Oric agreed. “Nobody drives ‘er ‘cept me.”

“An’ yew,” Uurgrin said pointing to Jamz, “yew c’n lead da boyz alongside ov me finest Nobs, an’ hack at da Goffs ‘oo get past da cyboars. Dey iz gonna outnumber us two ter one, but we’ll beat ‘em; we’re better den dem. We’re tuffa, an’ savage. An’ dey finks we aint got no useful Meks or a Dok.”

Jamz and Oric were looking forward to the fight with the Goffs – it had been while since they had last had been in a fight of this scale. Sure, they’d been in a number of pub brawls, or gang bashings, but that was nothing to what this was going to be. They were glad to hear that there would be plenty of Goffs to go around…


Cezzy had been given all the fungus she needed; Uurgrin had ordered a party of boyz to retrieve as much as they could scavenge. She used the fungus to make a “special pig jooce” which she injected into the boars; now all they could do was wait for them to get better.

She was in the operating room that had once been used by the Snakebite’s Dok (until he was blown to smithereens by the Goffs). Cezzy had begun augmenting the boars which had not been converted to cyboars yet. The Dok began the procedure by drawing lines onto the boars, around their hind legs and bottom. Then, she brought out a whizzy cutter device and sliced along the lines. After pulling off the no-longer-needed hind legs, the Dok cut some more flesh and took out the boar’s hips. Next, she replaced the hips with some metal thing Brudz had made, and attached the wheel to that. After adding a few more mechanical bits and pieces (and a few extra organs), she stapled closed any cuts, riveted the plating onto the boar’s butt and stomach (as requested by Uurgrin), and gave the beast a shot of one of her secret concoctions to help it along. After only one operation, the Dok was smeared with blood and bits of meat.

The doors to the theatre opened and Cezzy pushed out a trolley with her first completed cyboar laying unconscious on it. She took it out to the pens which were not faraway.

“Got yer boar!” The Dok called out as she approached the pens where Orlen and Brudz were putting together the last few cyboar wheels and gadgets.

Orlen left Brudz to work on as he went to help Cezzy put the newest cyboar into a pen. The cyboars were large animals, which stood almost as tall as the sisters and weighed a good ton or two. Cezzy and Orlen lifted the cyboar between them (Orlen wrapped his arms around the cyboar’s head) and placed it in a pen by itself to recover.

“If any ov da boars look like dey’re gettin’ worse, come an’ get me,” Cezzy instructed as she wiped her face clean with her lab coat. “Now den, let’s load da next boar onta da trolley.”

Orlen tried not to imagine what happened in the operation room to the boar when he saw the extent of blood and chunks of meat on Cezzy. “Try not ter kill dem boars, or da Boss won’t be happy.” He warned her.

They loaded the next boar, and the Dok headed back to her operation room to start the process all over again, smiling like a child at a candy store. “I won’t kill ‘em… I’ll make ‘em da best cyboars yew lot’s ever seen!”


By the next day, the excitement of the coming battle had well and truly taken a hold of the Snakebites and the four Bad Suns. The settlement was like a hive of bees; Uurgrin was throwing orders left right and centre with more urgency as each hour passed.

Jamz and Oric had kept working until the wall and all the stabby things were sharpened, finally catching some sleep in the early hours of the morning. Cezzy was still operating - keeping herself going with a shot or two from her own special concoctions. Brudz and Orlen had finished building the last of the cybernetics for the boars; Orlen was off talking to the Boss about preparations, and Brudz was giving the wartrakk a little fine tunning (well, she was supposed to be, but she decided her bike needed more attention that the wartrakk).

The Dok came out of the operating room for the last time, and delivered the cyboar back to the pens. She unloaded it with the help of a Nob, and headed over to the Mek shop. She walked through a hole in the wall and followed the banging, clanging and the clicking of ratchets to the opposite end of the Mek shop where Brudz was up to her elbows in an engine.

“Can yer get me some red paint?” Brudz asked her sister without looking up. “Me bike turned black in dat last accident.”

“Good day to yew too,” Cezzy-Po replied sarcastically. “I jus’ finished da last operashun, I aint running errands fer yew – I wants ter sit down fer a liddle bit.” She promptly sat down on the nearest crate and folded her arms defiantly.

Brudz was too deep into her work to argue; she merely grunted with annoyance and continued fixing her bike in silence.

Cezzy sat licking the blood from her fingers as thought about how she could improve Squiggy. Her experimental pet squig (which was currently in the custody of the Waaghboss) had been of great interest to Uurgrin, and was the reason he put the lives of his cyboars in the outsider’s hands. She may have been affiliated with the Bad Suns, but that didn’t stop her from grabbing any chance she had to get her fingers into anyone - or anything’s – guts. Blood was blood, and innards were innards - that was as philosophical as it got with Cezzy-Po.

An hour or so later Orlen returned to the Mek shop. Seeing Cezzy-Po idle, he asked, “Can yew fix me up some new ‘ands? I need some.”

Cezzy hopped down off the crate. “Yew got some ‘ands I c’n sew on?” Orlen looked at her puzzled. Cezzy decided to explain the situation more clearly. “I aint got a spare pair ov ‘ands, so unless yer got some lyin’ around, den I can’t stich on what I aint got.”

“But da Boss said part ov da agreement was dat yew fixed me up!” Orlen growled. Arguing was his way of stopping himself from getting upset.

A spanner flew past the large Mek’s head, colliding with the wall and making a racket. “Stop getting’ yer furs in a knot, Orlen.” Brudz spoke impatiently. “I gots somefin’ figured out dat yew c’n use for da big brawl.”

“Oh, well dat’s good. Lemme know when yer finish makin’ it.” He replied without yelling. Orlen quickly switched back to cranky mode. “An’ don’t frow spanners at me ‘ead!”

The Dok wasn’t a very big appreciator of yelling, unless it was that of someone in excruciating pain or fear. She narrowed her eyes at the handless Mek, telling him off. “Ain’t yew got somefin’ better to do Orlen, den come in ‘ere wiv no ‘ands an’ get all grumpy?”

“Oh yeah! Dat reminds me.” Orlen suddenly remembered why he was at the Mek Shop in the first place. “Da Boss told me ter tell yew two dat dere’s gonna be a meetin’ durin’ lunch at da Boss’ ‘ut. Says yer bofe ter be dere.”

Brudz pulled her head out of the engine and looked warily left and right. She lowered her voice to just over a whisper. “Iz dat weird Ork gonna be dere?” She asked.
Cezzy wrinkled her nose into a mock sneer. “Why, yew scared ov ‘im?” She teased.

“No!” Brudz shouted. “Course I ain’t… I jus’ fink ‘ee’s weird. Very weird. I mean, ‘ee wears bells – ‘ee’s a crack ‘ead!”

“Idiot,” Cezzy sighed. “Don’t yew know anyfin’? ‘Ee wears bells ‘coz ‘ee’s a Weirdboy!”

“Don’t yew call me an idiot, I does all kinda smart fings, like makin’ big, loud, noisy bikes!”

Unwilling to risk being in the middle of a possible fight between the girls again, Orlen headed for the door. “C’mon, da Boss’ll throttle yer if yew’s late.” He walked out, leaving the sisters to themselves.


Half an hour later, Uurgrin walked into the hut. The hut was full of Nobs and other important Orks. Cezzy spotted Jamz and Oric sitting on the opposite side of the hut amongst the biggest of the Nobs. Brudz waved, but the pair didn’t see her (or perhaps they just pretended not to see her – the truth remains unknown). She heard a snicker from behind. Looking around, she saw the familiar faces from the day before, laughing at her.

“Snot-faced dim-wits,” Brudz hissed back. She saw the bell-totting Ork giving her a contemptuous look, teeth bared slightly. “I’ll stab yer a good one, ya weirdo!” She snarled to him, raising her middle finger.

“No yer won’t,” Orlen flicked Brudz in the side of the head, telling her off. “Shut up ‘n’ don’t be a prat. Uurgrin’s about ta talk.”

Talk was an almighty understatement. Uurgrin raised his voice so loud, the Mek swore her Mumzy would have heard him Tam’urt. “Tomorrow’s da time, boyz,” he began, “an’ I expects yer all ter fight wiv all da savagery we’ve all grown up wiv. No Snakebite tribe’s gonna be beaten by dem ugly Goffs. WE’LL KILL ‘EM ALL!”

All the Snakebites roared with agreement, and Uurgrin continued. “Dem Goffs fink dis iz our last waagh, but dey iz wrong. Dey fink dey whittled us down ter nuffin’, but dey is very wrong. Gork and Mork sent us jus’ what we needed ter win dis fight, an’ I intend ter make sure dat da God’s aren’t disappointed by da Snakebites. We eiver win, or we die. Dere aint no losin’ fer us!”

Everyone responded even louder than before; Cezzy and Brudz were the only ones not joining in the chorus – Cezzy was busy sleeping, and Brudz was sure she’d just end up screaming curse words at Ongrat the Weirdboy and his Minders if she opened her gob.

“Now den,” Uurgrin spoke in a slightly quieter tone which seemed impossible two minutes ago, “Let’s go over da plans.”

Over the next half an hour Uurgrin told his Nobs how they were to fight the Goffs. The Cyboars – led by the wartrakk with Oric and Uurgrin on board – would charge the Goffs before they reached the settlement. Anyone with a shoota would follow up led by Jamz, Ongrat and a few Nobs, to kill any Goff that made it past the Cyboars. Everyone else would be just inside the walls, where they would await any Goffs that made it to the settlement – the Goffs would undoubtedly try to flatten every building in sight if they did. If the enemy penetrated the settlement (Uurgrin didn’t like to admit it but the Goffs probably would – the Goffs had multitudes of stormboyz with jet packs), then all the Snakebites would slaughter their way back to their base to squash any Goffs left standing. Uurgrin explicitly ordered that the Meks and the Dok were to remain inside the walls, well away from the first clash. This of course offended Orlen, but his ego was quickly inflated again when Uurgrin told him that he needed Orks who could fix things after the battle was won.

There was a quick recess while the Orks were brought lunch. Everyone ate quickly, talking excitedly and eager to get on with the meeting. As soon as Uurgrin ate the last of his squig pie, and drank the last drop of his beer, he continued the meeting. The Waaghboss went on about why Snakebites are better than Goffs, and that any Ork who can’t handle a snake’s venom shouldn’t be called an Ork anyway, and how Brudz was going to make the ultimate killy device to prove once and for all that Goffs will never be as tough as the Snakebites.

“Wait a minute!” Brudz spoke for the first time since insulting Ongrat and his Minders. “I aint ‘eard nuffin’ about dis ultimate killy device. Dat was never mentioned in da deal!”

Uurgrin shot Orlen an annoyed glance. Orlen quickly explained, “Oh, er, I fergot ter mention it to ‘er. Musta slipped me mind.”

The Boss looked about ready to kill something. “Well, now she knows.” He glared at Brudz demanding some input. “So? Any ideas? We aint got much time. Fink of somefin’ NOW!”

Brudz looked to her sister for help, but the Dok shrugged. A snake slithered over her sister’s shoulder, causing Cezzy to chuck a fit. “Blasted snakes! Dey’s ev’ry where in dis place!”

“Well?” Uurgrin grumbled, impatient for an answer.

The young Mek fiddled with her singlet nervously; everyone was staring at her expectantly. “Uh…” She saw her sister fling the snake across the hut; an idea popped into her head. “Snakes!” She yelled.

Snakes were part of the Snakebite’s every day lives; Uurgrin didn’t look phased by Brudz’ sudden compulsion to yell out about legless reptiles with pointy teeth. “Yeah, what about ‘em?” However, his temper soon changed when Brudz explained her thoughts.

“If yer want an ultimate killy device, it means yer gonna need somefin’ yew ‘ave lots ov. An’ ‘scuze me fer sayin’ so, but yew ain’t got much in da way ov teknology, Boss. But yew do ‘ave lotsa snakes, see?” Brudz tried to talk as much as she could while she formulated a snakey weapon in her mind. Uurgrin and a few of the Nobs nodded; they liked where this was going. They told Brudz to continue. “Well… er… den why not use yer snakes ter fight da Goffs? Set up some pits, dat da Goffs c’n fall into, full ov big nasty snakies! It may not be a device as such, but it’ll sure ‘as ‘ell make ‘em wish dat dey never came to dis settlement lookin’ fer a fight.”

The Snakebites – Uurgrin included – agreed that the plan was a fit one. Suddenly Jamz seemed to notice Brudz (or just decided to cash in on her fifteen minutes of fame), yelling out, “Dat’s my spore sister! She’s a smart Mek. An’ she only listen’s ter me, Oric, an’ Uurgrin! WAAAGH!”

A little over excited by the attention, Brudz stood up, turned around, and punched Ongrat square in the gob. “Dat’s fer earlier!”

The room suddenly went dead silent. Brudz realised that perhaps she was a little over zealous with her actions, although she was unsure why anyone would care about Ongrat getting a fist to the face. “Ah… WAAAAGH! SNAKES!” She roared as loud as she could.

The Orks all forgot about the incident and began yelling out energetically, “WAAAGH! SNAKES!”

“What’s up?” Brudz sniggered at Ongrat, “Yew look like yer need ta pee, heh heh heh!”

Cezzy and Orlen looked around to see Ongrat holding his head with his hands and crossing his legs in a semi-crouch. A glowing substance began to dribble from is nose and the corners of his eyes.

“Oh no!” Orlen realised the situation was very bad indeed. It was never a good thing for Weirdboys to be anywhere near rowdy Orks unless they were in the midst of a battle. “Yew lot,” Orlen snapped at the Minders who were busy picking each others noses, “Get Ongrat out of here!”

Cezzy threw a beer bottle at Uurgrin to get the Boss’s attention. When Uurgrin looked around for the culprit, Cezzy was pointing madly at Ongrat and his Minders. Uurgrin was quick to silence the Orks. “SHUT YER GABS DIS INSTANT!” he bellowed.

The Orks all fell silent and Ongrat and his Minders barged their way to the doors.
Cezzy and Orlen glared at Brudz. “What?” She said confused as to why she was suddenly enemy number one.

A blast accompanied by bright light lit up the hut, coming in through the windows, doors, and the holes in the walls. Everything was calm a few seconds later.

“Dat sounded like… a giant fart.” Brudz observed.

“Dis meetin’s over,” Uurgrin announced. “We’ve got holes ter dig.” The Boss gestured for Brudz to come to him – not a very good sign at all.

Fearful of what might happen if she chose to ignore the angry-looking Boss, Brudz forced her legs to carry her over to Uurgrin. Once the hut was all but empty, Uurgrin yelled at her for a good ten minutes about many things, including something about how precious squig meat was. She had the feeling Uurgrin forgot what he was meant to be yelling at her for, and so choose to yell about whatever came to his ugly head. Unfortunately, Oric had hung around to witness the scolding and soon reminded the Boss why Brudz was being yelled at.

As punishment for “sheer stupidity ‘n’ bein’ an all-round git” Brudz was handed a shovel and ordered by Uurgrin to dig with a group of Gretchin. She also had a nice big lump on her head beneath her leather cap where Cezzy smacked her with a chunk of metal for punching Ongrat, and Jamz had suddenly denied that he was related to her. What a lovely brother.

“Gits… da lot ov ‘em…” Brudz thrust the shovel into the rock-solid dirt, barely penetrating the surface. She flicked what little dirt was on the blade. “Can’t wait ter git away from dis bog-‘ole settlement… Even da beer tastes second rate… jus’ wanna ride me bike ‘n’ let ‘em choke on da dust…”

“Stop yer grumblin’, I need yer to make dat fing yer said yew ‘ad planned for me.”

It had been several hours; the sun was now setting, and Brudz was sweaty from hacking away at the ground like an angry mole (the ground animal; not the type that shovels on makeup, or spies on people. And not the hairy type either). She hadn’t heard anything but smart-alec remarks from the Gretchin since she first started digging; surprised to hear an Ork’s voice, she looked up from her hole to see Orlen towering above her.

“I’m a little busy, case yew didn’t notice.” She replied to the larger Mek in a less than friendly tone. “Go break a leg or somefin’. I aint makin’ nuffin fer yew.” She bent back over and continued to hack away at the dirt, purposefully flicking the dirt up at Orlen in the process.

“Stop yer sulkin’ an’ git yer ungrateful butt outta dat ‘ole!” Orlen ordered. “Da Gretchin can finish dis. Right now I needs somefin’ ta kill Goffs wiv.”

“Take a flyin’ leap.” Brudz snapped, flinging more dirt at Orlen. “I aint doin’ nuffin’ fer yew!”

“I’d kill yer right ‘ere if yew weren’t da only Mek able ter fix me up somefin’!” Orlen roared; he was getting upset again.

“Well good fing I am da only Mek capable of makin’ fings. Useful ‘avin’ dese ‘ere ‘ands of mine, yep yep.”

Brudz heard retreating footsteps. She looked up to see Orlen walking away. It wasn’t over though; ten minutes later ha came walking back with something slung over his shoulder. It was red, black, and quite bent out of shape.

Brudz narrowed her eyes. “Why’s yer got me bike?” She demanded, thoroughly angry that he even dared to lay a stump on her precious vehicle.

“Coz yer sistah said dat dis waz da best way ter get yer to stop bein’ a turd.” Orlen grinned cruelly. “Now, ‘ere’s da bargain; yew make dat fing fer me like yew said yew would, an’ I won’t give dis fing ter Ongrat as a liddle present.”

The shovel hadn’t even hit the ground by the time Brudz was running back to the Mek shop. She would do anything to keep her bike out of the hands of Ongrat!


The next morning, at the crack of dawn, Uurgrin, Jamz, Oric, Ongrat and several Nobs were standing on the top of the walls looking out towards the horizon. A dust cloud was rising into the sky.

“’Bout time dey showed dere ugly faces,” Uurgrin snarled. The Boss was in the mood for a good fight. “Tell da boyz da Goffs’ll be ‘ere soon, an’ ta get ready. An’ Ongrat, yew stand out da front in case yer need ta let rip again.”

Jamz jumped down from the wall roaring aloud, “WAAAAAAGH!” He crushed an unsuspecting Gretchin as he landed. “Da Goffs are commin’, get yer weapons!”

Oric ran to the Mek Shop to pick up the wartrakk. He spotted Brudz welding something, yelling loudly, “Oi! Da Goffs iz commin’, get yer self ready. I’ll be takin’ da wartrakk now.” He mounted the large vehicle and started the engine. He noted that it rumbled slightly louder than last time he rode it. He rode away, knocking over a bundle of wooden posts which had been leaning up against a bench.

Cezzy was down at the cyboar pens inspecting the animals. They looked livelier now than two days ago. Although not one hundred percent healthy yet, the boars were capable of a good fight. The boarboyz were saddling their beasts and taking their animals to the front lines, where Uurgrin waited.

The Dok handed out syringes to the boarboyz as they left. “Inject da cyboar wiv dis if ya fink it needs a liddle perkin’ up in da fight.” Everybody accepted the little present willingly.

Outside of the walls, Orlen was standing with Ongrat and his Minders away from the swarm of eager Orks. “How many, Ongrat?” Orlen asked.

The psyker was visibly trembling; the power of the waagh was building up inside him as the Goffs got closer, and the Snakebites got more eager to fight. “At least fwree times our number,” Ongrat said with a sniff. He wiped his eyes where the glowing essence of waagh was beginning to leak. He let off a small glowing fart.

Orlen slapped the psyker on the back. “We’ll beat ‘em, Ongrat. Gork an’ Mork’s watchin’ us wiv much favour.”

Ongrat nodded, but he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Dey will be ‘ere by sun high.” He added. That gave the Snakebites only a couple of hours left to prepare.

“See yew at da afta party, eh?” Orlen grinned and walked off. There was always plenty of beer, teef, and pie to go around after a battle.

Uurgrin made sure the snake pits were sufficiently covered with nice thin wooden boards before resuming his place at front-and-centre with Oric and the wartrakk. The pits were scattered in front of the walls, and a few were placed inside; everyone knew to steer clear of the pits. The Waaghboss spotted Orlen, and yelled out to the Mek. “Oi, get back inside da walls. I don’t want anymore dead Meks.” Meks and Doks were crucial for the upkeep of the cyboars, and Uurgrin was determined that the Goffs would not kill the last of them.

“Yeah, I’m goin’.” Orlen grumbled. He knew better than to disobey direct orders from the Boss.

Itching to get his stumps on something killy, he headed for the Mek Shop. Orlen walked in, and the door fell of its rusted hinges; he picked it up and sat it against the wall and headed for the farthest corner where he could hear Brudz tinkering about.

He saw her sifting through a box of bolts, singing to herself. “…’ere come da drums, ‘ere come da drums – Baybeh baybeh baybeh, yew are me voodoo child, me voodoo child. Dun say maybe-maybeeeee – Ooooeeeeoooo – itz supa natral -”

“What, ain’t yew finished yet?” Orlen called out, startling Brudz.

She whipped her head around angrily, glaring at Orlen. “Does it look like I’m finished?”

“Da Goffs’ll be ‘ere any minute. Gimme whateva yew’ve got made.” Orlen replied urgently. “I wants ter kill stuff.”

Brudz grabbed the whole box of bolts and carted them over to her work bench. “Alright, git over ‘ere. I’ll ‘ave ‘em finished in a few minutes. Den yew can wear ‘em.”

The war cries and the thunder of the Goffs boots could be clearly heard by now; they ran towards the settlement in a wave of green and black – Goffs were notorious melee combatants who believed that anything besides black clothing was ridiculous. They also believed that using guns was for pussies; they believed a real Ork would get in the thick of things with an axe or a club. They also favoured stikkbomz; a “handy” addition to their melee tactics so to speak.

Uurgrin raised his axe; it had a long handle made from squiggoth bones, and the head was crafted from iron. The blade was spiked and stained with blood from previous battles, and although rusty, was still capable of decapitating anyone foolish enough to get within swinging range. Uurgrin bellowed at his Orks, “C’mon ladz, let’s rip into ‘em!”

With the zest of a crazed bull, the first wave of Orks charged towards their opponents.

Cyboars charged forward as their masters flayed their hides; the wartrakk was at the front, leaving a thick black cloud of exhaust in its wake. Oric had one hand on the steering, and the other on the turret. He pulled the trigger, shedding the first blood of the enemy. The brawl had begun.