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For much of his early life, Angskarr was little more than a Freebooter with an ugly disposition and a penchant for hitting things. The young Ork showed few signs of challenging his immediate Warboss, a brutal berserker known as Skegran, nor of even establishing himself as a low-ranking Nob. He seemed likely to remain as part of the sea of green, throwing himself into battles until his inevitable and messy death.
When Warlord Snagrod declared his Waaaagh! into the Loki sector, Skegran brought his ladz along in the sure knowledge that a great deal of violence was about to take place. The Warboss was not disappointed, as Snagrod stormed the Crimson Fists' fortress-monastery on Rynn's World. Skegran made sure that his boyz were at the heart of the fighting, hacking and slashing his way through the lines of desperately-defending Marines.
Unfortunately for Skegran, the ultimate fate of the Crimson Fists' fortress-monastery was decided not by Orkish might but by terrible misfortune. The errant plasma bolt which annihilated the surrounding area vaporised the Ork warboss and much of his tribe. Only Angskarr and a few others, bogged down in fighting some miles away and cut off from the rest of Skegran's warband, survived.
As unfortunate as the explosion was for Skegran, it opened a door for Angskarr which he had never before considered. In the chaos of the retreat from Rynn's World the previously-insignificant greenskin found himself bellowing orders, breaking heads, and generally asserting himself in a way that he never had before. As the remnants of the tribe crowded onto a rickety assembly of wires and metal which could only be called a spaceship in the most charitable of circumstances, Angskarr began to pile on muscle almost visibly. The violence of the fighting, the mass deaths of both Orks and humans and the sudden onset of authority had clearly affected him.
The space-trash the tribe was riding in soon proved to be as ill-suited for interstellar travel as ten seconds of actual inspection would have told them. Almost as soon as they had left Rynn's gravitational field the ship's controls (identified by the sole surviving Mek as 'dat big stikk wif da glowy buttonz dat does stuff... oops') broke down, leaving them travelling at full speed in no particularly useful direction. Unable to actually affect their course, the Orks found themselves drifting into the orbit of Karma II, another planet in the Loki sector.
Some distance away from Rynn's World, it had nevertheless been affected by Waaaagh! Snagrod. Fringe elements from the original Waaaagh! had landed on Karma II, and the local Planetary Defence Force were busily fighting against the scattered Ork landings.
When Angskarr arrived, the Orks were in something of a bad way. The PDF was brilliantly led by an old Imperial Guard officer named Rotan who had exploited the disparate and piecemeal nature of the Orkish attacks. Utilising the planet's excellent transport systems, he was able to bring the full might of his forces to bear against each individual invasion and devastate each one in turn.
Flush with his new-found authority, and remembering the one piece of useful advice Skegran had ever imparted to him ('Da more of us dere are, da betta'), Angskarr set to rectifying the situation. Ignoring the PDF, he set to gathering up as many Orks as he could. His plan was simple yet effective; find some Orks, krump the biggest one, and tell the rest to follow him or get krumped in turn.
Gradually, Rotan noticed less and less Ork attacks against Karma II's cities. Instinctively he guessed that the Orks were gathering for a big attack, and his experience as a soldier told him that his best option was to go out and find whoever was leading them before they returned. Had he done so, he might well have been able to delay the Orkish invasion for even longer or even end the threat altogether, but in his one mistake of the campaign he went against his instincts and his training and decided to retreat to the security of Reverie, the planetary capital.
Whilst Rotan set to fortifying Reverie, Angskarr continued his campaign of assimilation. Months passed, and the minor tribal leader rose to become a Warboss commanding a huge force of Orks. As the greenskin horde reached critical mass, the attacks began again; this time, though, rather than being piecemeal and desperate the Orks attacked as one, overwhelming the outlying garrisons. Rotan refused to come out of Reverie, instead sending his junior officers with pitifully under-strength platoons to reinforce the garrisons.
Within weeks the Orks had rampaged their way towards the capital. The stream of human reinforcements had died away as they came closer and closer, all PDF units being recalled to Reverie. The horde that finally came face to face with the walls of Reverie was nothing like the scattered warbands which Rotan had so successfully divided and conquered a year before; instead, a sea of green stretched out as far as the eye could see.
The Orks fell upon Reverie with great and bloody abandon. Battlewagons cobbled together from little more than the scrap from the grav-trains which had formerly served as the great transport network of Karma II rammed the gates, and rokkits thudded into the walls like the fists of an angry god. As the Orks' psychic aggression built up into a mighty cry of 'Waaaagh!', the fists of a real angry god began to rain down on the defenders, Weirdboyz channelling Gork (or maybe Mork) with devastating force.
Angskarr himself led the charge into the city, when the wagon he was riding in, known as Da Destructa, burst through the gate and into the streets. Leaping down into the fray, the Warboss set about himself with his choppa, cleaving skulls and cutting limbs from bodies. The green tide swept away the few remaining defenders in an orgy of violence. Angskarr, leading from the front, found himself face-to-face with Rotan. With a bellowing roar, the Ork cut the officer's head from his shoulders in one mighty sweep of his axe.
The moment of his victory was bittersweet, however. A stray krak missile, meant for Da Destructa, thudded into the Warboss with an explosion which sent him flying through the air. Having survived the near-total destruction of his tribe on Rynn's World, Angskarr found his legs blown clean off his body.
As he lay bloody and broken, Angskarr heard something above him. A Painboy was yammering something about fixing him up, but only for a price of teef several times higher than Angskarr had ever seen in one place. Ignoring the confusing talking and numbers, the Warboss simply muttered, 'Do whateva ya like, just fix me!'
When he awoke, the Warboss found himself changed. His legs had been replaced by mechanical ones which had surely been intended for a Killa Kan, and the stump of his left arm now ended in a spinning buzz-saw blade. Rising from his sick-bed, Angskarr came face to face with the Painboy who grinned and demanded he be paid for such fine work. Angskarr split his grin down the middle with the whirring saw, declaring, 'Just testin'. Always gotta know it works before ya pay.'
Now more machine than Ork, Angskarr finished off the conquest of Karma II in a matter of weeks. Rotan's death and the annihilation of the PDF, over 90% of which had been recalled to the capital, made the rest of the planet easy pickings for the jubilant Orks. Declaring the planet to be 'Orkified', Angskarr blasted off with the rest of his cobbled-together tribe, newly re-named as 'Da Axes of Karma', this time in a ship more suited to the rigours of space. Only time will tell where he goes next...
For the curious, the model inspired the fluff - I converted an Ork Warboss right before I quit 40k a few years back, utilising a few bits I had lying around, and having gotten back into the game I decided I might as well write up some fluff for him.
Pictures (yes, the camera sucks, and yes the putty job over the legs is awful and only serves to cover up the crappy joins):
Image of Angskarr Front - Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
Image of Angskarr Back - Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
Thats pretty cool. I like it.
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