It had been days since the Ork Landa unloaded Warboss Snaggfang Bug Bugga and its cargo of battle ready Orks on the deteriorating planet of Mehta and the grizzled Warboss was getting restless without fighting anything more than the unfortunate Grot who got in his way. The weird boys had all promised Warboss Bug Bugga a good Imperial krumpin, but so far the planet was quiet despite the ruined cities, scorched earth and boiling crags that marred the planet illustrating a recent history of war born devastation. Today would change that!
Amongst the sound of whirring ratchets, slabs of metal banging, engines being tested in the mek shop and food squigs being prodded three deffkoptas cut through the night and roared back into camp with a sense of alarm about them.
“Boss! Boss! Da koptas is back! Dey spotted da marines. We’s gunna have a fight!”
Warboss Bug Bugga pulled his sleeping head off of the wad of squig furs and drool, his bionic eye lit up to see the ork messenger standing in the door way of his hut.
“Git me a Trukk!” Bug Bugga said as he pulled on his fur cape and Tyranid warrior head chitlin helmet.
The morning sky was only starting to glow as the Ork patrol arrived in the ruined Imperial town, the air fouled with the odor of sulfur bubbling up around the wreck of an Ultramarines Rhino and the smell of molten plasti-crete. The Ork trukk, once a proud Rhino belonging to a now deceased Space Wolf clan was over flowing with 10 Boyz, their Nob and the mighty Warboss, each clad in chunks of metal ripped from looted tanks, manhole covers, marine armor and squig hides. To the right, in the trees Runt Herder Fuzlung and his cowardly band of Gretchen were slowly snaking through the thick tufts of fur trees, they had been patrolling the area since they arrived on Mehta.
“Keep it slow, boyz!” Warboss Bug Bugga belched out to the driver, a rare and battle proven Grot who was entrusted with driving the beloved war trukk. Through the night Bug Bugga could barely make out the disembodied glowing white head crests and glinting gold trim of a Space Marine detachment slowly marching through the artifacts of buildings still smoldering. The marines stopped, the white crests on black armor straightened and Bug Bugga could now see the faint gleam of red lenses looking right at his rumbling trukk. There was no sneaking up on the marines now.
Warboss Bug Bugga kicked the driver’s seat and yelled “Gun it, Boy!” The Grot smiled his wicked smile and mashed his foot against the accelerator launching the trukk forward. The three deffkoptas raced forward to add suppressive fire.
“We got da fly boyz boss!” DredRokkit bellowed as he and his Stormboyz roared to the left from around the rear of the Trukk. Bug Bugga was caught off guard by this as he specifically told DredRokkit to stay back at camp, his incompetence in battle and overt eagerness to see Bug Bugga offed was going to lead him to a early grave empty of any glory either at the hand of the enemy or at Warboss Bug Bugga. A quick glare and Warboss Bug Bugga aimed his baleful eye back to the prize: a 5-man tac squad rattling bolted and heavy bolted shots off at their trukk.
The humans, now aware of the Ork contestants, moved in to fortify the broken Imperial crates, hopefully full of intact surveillance gear. “Ready your flamers, men. Let the xenon flesh fuel the emperor’s wrath!” one of the sergeants roared over the sound of the screeching engine.
“Brace yourselves and ready your swords, my brothers” the Space Marine commander ordered as he switched on his blessed power maul. The marines took position behind a depleted bastion as the Stormboyz barreled in like discordant bottle rockets clanking and bumping into each other on their way in to combat. The commander quickly engaged his jump pack to meet the upstart nob, grabbing him by his horned helmet and thrust him to the ground. DredRokkit barely got to his feet by the time the crackling power maul came crushing down on the Ork sending concussive shockwaves of electricity through the undulating body. With a high pitched scream DredRokkit was no more and it was time for the commander and his men to take on the remaining nine Orks.
Warboss Bug Bugga smiled as he heard the slaughter of the traitorous DredRokkit and his men. “Real Orks don’t scream like weedy Grots” Bug Bugga commented to his boyz.
Rokkits from the three deffkoptas were picking off marines while taking heavy bolter rounds from an advancing tactical squad. For every three marines dropped a deffkopta fell. Now alert to the fallen storm boyz the koptas reared back to get some shots off on the remaining assault marines with the blood encrusted commander and his two remaining flamer bearing assault troops bee-lining it toward them. Ork rokkits cleared the two assault marines before both koptas were pulled from the sky and crushed under the force of the power maul. Wounded and battered, blood leaking from rips in his artificer armor the Commander set his sights on the meagerly guarded crate several yards ahead, Fuzlung felt nervous as the commander eyeballed him and his gretchen herd.
Warboss Bug Bugga had always had a keen ability to ignore the worst of bad situation and get his boyz motivated and into the thick of things no matter the losses, and considering the heavy losses so far this ability to ignore reality was going to help him more than ever. Well, with the exception of that time he killed a hive tyrant with his own scything talon after his whole war band had been annihilated, but that was a long time ago. Ever since then he has carried that scything talon into battle and used it to cull his enemies. “Stop da trukk!” Bug Bugga barked. Quickly the grot slammed on the breaks as the trukk was awash in bolter fire and flames. “Get in dere, boyz!” The Orks hit the ground running and the 5 tactical marines barely had a chance to squeeze off a few rounds before the Orks had cleaved them to pieces.
Seeing how quickly his brother had been torn down the third tactical squad clinched their bolters and high tailed it across the street to put some distance between them and the green skins. The remaining tactical marine from the second squad knew that his service to the emperor was coming to an end, bowed his head “may the flame of the emperor stay mankind’s reign,” lifted his head and opened his flamer to the advancing horde.
The grot and his ork gunner swept behind the marine, blocking the boyz from heavy bolter fire and rattled off as many big shoota shots at the commander. Black clouds of smoke rose as the grots and trukk blasted the commander relentlessly, but nothing could hold him back from his focus. With a fury of swings most of the gretchen were reduced to bloody mist. The Runt Herder tossed a grot at the commander and tried to make his escape, but as he turn to run the commander crushed his skull with the holy relic leaving the crate to his charge.
Now, the last Tactical squad was to be delt with. The fervor Bug Bugga had worked up was mounting like a volcano, the energy in the boyz was swelling, the blood lust, the carnage, the froth of battle could no longer be contained. The mighty warboss tossed his head back, holding up his tyranid trophy and reached deep down into the belly of his being for the great and awe inspiring WAAGH! The battlefield quacked with the reverberating power of Gork and Mork, and out of the tremor the Orks raced forward at the speed of an Eldar jetbike at the remaining tactical squad. The boyz barreled in to the marines, slicing, crunching and mashing every piece they could get their choppas, power klaw or scything talon in to. Seconds later the marines were no more.
With the end of combat Bug Bugga surveyed the streets for any remaining marines and Orks. This was it, one bleeding a crippled commander, the Warboss’ dutiful trukk and a stiff handful of his most trustworthy boyz at his side. One puny human, one bleeding, battered human remained on the battlefield. One lousy stinkin’ human stood between him and a complete victory.
“Git ova dere and and kill me a beaky!” Bug Bugga hollered as he hopped aboard his trukk. The boyz raced toward their victim as the Warboss sped around the sulfur pits to see what all the fuss of the crates was about.
The commander steadied his Power Maul for the onslaught, over a hundred years of countless wars, this was not going to be his last fight. He calculated his moves, assessed the xenos threat, targeted the Nob with its menacing power klaw and struck! A few swiped and the bruiting Nob lay waste along with several of his underlings. The remaining boyz clambered about but were steadfast ready to strike again.
The game stopped here after turn 5. Adam was able to score 2 pts for killing off my two fast attack choices and another point for first blood for a total 3 points. The Orks scored 1 pt for killing a fast attack choice and 3 pts for one of the scourge objectives. What I failed to remember after the game was that battle forged troops trump HQ, Elite, Fast and Heavy for contested objectives so I missed out on 4 points when we tallied it up. Oops! Oh well. Either way it was a super fun game and Adam was great guy to play against. I look forward to follow up games for sure!