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Formerly C/-Rt3r
833 Posts
Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Posting this up for a little review and CC. It is essentially a small bit of back ground material on a team tournament army that is composed of 2 1k forces. Our army involves alot of boyz in trukks, lootas, burnas in a wagon, and a bunch of bikes. For HQ we have a big mek with a shokk attack gun and Wazdakka. The idea is that the Mek is the leader of all the boyz and lootas, and just meets up with wazdakka.

A Meeting of Forces

The Big Mek paced across the city street, periodically stomping his steel toed boots into the ground. Gretchen clamored at his heels, rabidly reaching into his pockets, scrounging for morsels of food. Little did they know that the massive contraption slung about his shoulder spelled an all too sinister fate for their short lived existences.
The mobs of Trukk Boyz fidgeted expectantly. The assembled Lootas couldn’t resist making as much noise as was orkily possible with their guns. Ammo belts were strapped, bolts were cocked, wires were connected to any hole they looked like they would fit in. The spinny bits were spinned. The trukk drivers revved their engines repeatedly. The massive gurgle of the battle wagons engines rumbled above the din.

Big Mek Shootsit, looked out across his assembled mass of green flesh and rusted steel. The mad glimmer of every beady red eye, concentrated on his every movement, let him know, ‘Wez ready for krumpen an’ shooten.’

“Lissen you’z gits. Wez gunna take dem trucks over der and dat wagon, and wez gunna drive over to dem pinkies and bash der ‘eads in good.” With that, he let out a mighty Waaagh that was quickly taken up by all around them. Caught up in the all to orky emotions of a lust for blood and speed, the orks clinged to every available hand hold and space that could be found on the assembled trukks. Shootsit grabbed on to the side of the nearest vehicle and bullied his way to the middle. The entire motorcade speed down the street. Dust, parts, and Gretchen flying every where.

The rag tag band of road warriors had reached an intersection in the city when a mass of steel, and green flesh came flying down the side road. The dust kicked up from the surrounding rubble was blinding. The whole procession came to a screeching halt. Shootsit was enraged.

“Get outta da way of my boyz youz louts!” He was in a mood to shoot first and ask questions later.

When the dust had settled, the Ork that stood before Shootsit stunned him. He rode the largest bike he had ever seen, and even more impressive was the rack of guns slung on either side of it. It sent shivers down his spine to see such an impressive bike, his Mek instincts were kicking in. The size of the ork, and more importantly the size of his guns prompted Shootsit to be a little more tactful.

“Whoz you? An’ what are ya doin ‘ere?”

“Shaddup Mek! Iz Wazdakka Gutsmek. Da bestest biker boy eva’. Me an da Ladz ‘ere”, Wazdakka gestured to the assembly of particularly tough looking bikers, “Is gunna go krump some humies.” With that, the Ork kicked his bike around and sped off, down the street, his band of leering faces, screeching engines, and squelching tires quickly followed.

Shootsit only paused for a moment, he peered around, and then with a wave of his hand, “Lez go get em!”

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