Ork Warboss Krotchrippa and Beastboss Thundertooth Da Squig-Boss were always at each other's throats, arguin' 'bout who was da sneakiest - the Warboss with his mean, roarin' bike, or the Beastboss on his stompy Squigosaur. Their endless squabbles often sparked a propa ruckus and a lot of hollerin', but this time around, they figured they'd settle it in a more... let's say, 'hands-on' way.
A fresh scrappin' opportunity cropped up: them Chaos Space Marines of the Black Legion were up to some dark and spooky mumbo-jumbo. The Umbral Host, some sneaky gitz inside the Black Legion, had set up a well-guarded ritual spot deep in their turf. Orks, bein' Orks, loved a good rumble, and the notion of messin' up the party of the "humie spiky boyz" sounded like a proper good time.
The Mission & Battleground
Under the rule of the Imperium, the planet was designated as "Primus-Industria IV," a testament to its once paramount role as an industrial hub within its sector. However, after falling to the forces of Chaos and becoming a stronghold for the Umbral Host, the world was ominously renamed to "Cthonia's Desolation," in honor of the ancient forces they revere.
A once-thriving industrial hive world had been conquered by the Black Legion and transformed into a breeding ground for Chaos. The world was now a haunting tapestry of gothic architecture swallowed by shadows, iron and rust merging with cruel, chaos-infused designs. The Umbral Host, a menacing presence within the Black Legion, ruled this world. They used its labyrinthine factories and foundries to gather cultist mobs, zealots eager to demonstrate their dedication to the ancient cosmic entities they revered. The sounds of industry had been replaced by the echoing chants of worship and the deafening silence of dread.
In the heart of the biggest foundry, a complex ritual was underway. The purpose was grand - to reincarnate a legendary dreadblade and once again awaken its untold destructive powers. To achieve this, they needed to keep several arcane furnaces burning across the foundry. Each furnace, a terrible monument to the might of Chaos, was patrolled by renegade guardsmen, their loyalty bought or coerced. These mortal soldiers were mere pawns, their lives willingly offered for the greater glory of the Host. The Umbral Host, situated at the central ritual site, was prepared to intervene at any hint of trouble, their dark forms a stark contrast to the roaring fires that surrounded them. The sense of dread was palpable as they waited, ever-watchful, for the inevitable conflict to unfold.
Part One - Da Sneaky Krumpin' Rumble!
As da squabble between Ork Warboss Krotchrippa and Beastboss Thundertooth Da Squig-Boss was brewin', both big bosses got their teams ready to snoop around the Chaos Marine's ritual spot. Each boss was dead sure in their own sneaky cleverness, eager to prove who was the right sneaky git.
Da Kommando Squads, Sneaky Choppafootz and Gritgrin Shadowclaw, were sharpenin' their senses and gettin' all limber-like for the sneak-in. Da Beastboss Hunter Pack, stuffed full of da savage Snagga Boys mob, Da Fangsnatcha Boyz, and da trippy Weirdboy, Warpstrum da Madcap, were gearin' up for da big rumble. Da quick Storm Boy mobs, Rokkit Rumblez and Zapwingz Skwadron, were lurking in da shadows, ready to swoop in just when da time was propa. Da real trick wasn't about if they'd be spotted, but more like when and which git would be clocked first.
For the proper zogfest that'd kick off if the alarm got wind, a right bunch of mean Ork back-up was ready and waitin'. The Grot Artillery, Boomstick Skragglitz and Blasta Snazzfinga, was hidin' out, itchin' to sprinkle a bit of 'splosive surprise on the enemy heads. The massive Kill Rig with Snagga Boys, Skraggath's Skrap-Grinda, was just lurkin' there, ready to blitz through enemy lines all killy-like. The Wazbom Blastajet, Boomkrakka Whirlybird, with Blazkaboom Burnakka at the controls, was all fuelled up and prepped to dive in from the skies, spillin' a right load of mayhem.
Warboss Krotchrippa and Beastboss Thundertooth, both on their growlin' rides, eyeballed the glowin' chaos-kettle in the distance, their noggins fillin' up with the exciting idea of this sneak-off.
The rumbly Wartrukks - Da Porkanator and the Boomwagon - sat all quiet and patient, ready to zoom in with all guns blazin' if stuff went south. Warpstrum da Madcap, that Weirdboy, was doin' his usual wibbly-wobbly stuff, throwin' green zaps of Waaagh! energy all over and gettin' everyone's squig hairs standin' on end.
Right there on the edgy bits of the foundry, near the noisy southern power generator, that's where the real zoggin' sneakiness was happenin'. The Boomwagon Wartruk, all classic like, roared - quiet-like, mind you, for a change - into the shadows. It was a sight, I tell ya, seeing such a beast trying to be all hush-hush, like a squig tryin' to tiptoe.
Da Iron Krumpas, those big hulks of Mekanobs, all shiny armour and grizzled faces, poured out of the Wartruk like they was born for sneaky stuff. Wasn't no easy job, though. You try sneakin' around in a suit of armor that's louder than a groaning Squiggoth. As they skulked up on the humie guards, a bunch of Renegade Guardsmen lookin' all important, you could feel the tension in the air, like a Gretchin holdin' a live Stikkbomb. Yeah, they was trying to be sneaky, but with the clinking and clanking of their armor, it was more like a comedy show - an Orky sneaky comedy, all set to explode.
In the middlin' heart of the foundry, right at the grand door, it were like some zoggin' sneak race was kickin' off. There they were, the big bosses, tryin' to out-sneak each other, all while leggin' it straight into the teef of chaos. On one side, you had Warboss Krotchrippa, our unstoppable Waaagh! on that fancy, spiky bike of his, all shooty but hushed up real quiet with exhaust suppressors - like a squig whisperin' a deadly secret. On the other, it was Thundertooth Da Squig-Boss, the mighty beast tamer ridin' atop that Squigosaur, movin' sly and silent, not makin' a peep, a thunderous fury all bottled up and ready to explode. It was a right giggle, seein' these tough-as-nails bosses tryin' to be all sneaky-quiet, playin' at bein' Kommandos, while their hearts pounded loud enough to scare a Grot. And right behind 'em, Da Porkanator, that silly old Wartruk, rollin' full of those bulky Meganobs, tryin' its best not to spoil the fun.
The air was thick with tension, the kind that could make a Mekboy's spanner twitch, each boss with one eye on the goal, and one eye on the other, sneak-racin' to be the first to crash the humies' little ritual party.
Just as Warboss Krotchrippa was feelin' all smug 'bout bein' ahead, that's when Thundertooth's sneaky brainz kicked in. His lil' oiler Grots, all nimble-like, slipped out from Da Porkanator, the Meganobs onboard barely noticing. With a wicked grin, they scuttled toward Krotchrippa's bike, tinkering and fiddling until, suddenly, the bike's engine spluttered and went silent. Krotchrippa looked back, his gob dropped open in surprise as he saw his faithful bike, now just a useless pile of junk. Thundertooth, atop his squig, gave a throaty laugh, nodding approval at his Grots' handywork. Now it was his turn to take the lead, his Squigosaur pitter-pattering ahead all stealth-like, with Da Porkanator and the Meganobs lumbering close behind.
The Squig-Boss and his crew moved through the entrance, reachin' the ritual plaza. Ahead, they spotted the arcane furnace, a huge monstrous thing belching out purple smoke. Guarding it were four puny renegade guardsmen, unaware of the incoming storm. Thundertooth snarled, his fang-filled grin wide. He turned to the Meganobs, giving them a firm nod. It was time for a good ol' sneaky charge, the likes of which the Chaos humies had never seen. The tension was as thick as a Mek's welding smoke. The sneaky race might've been lost for Krotchrippa, but the real fight, the one that mattered, was just getting started, and Thundertooth and his lads were ready to bring da pain. All in the name of the Waaagh!, of course.
As da screeching of da refinery filled da air, da Zapwingz Skwadron made da most of it. Them sneaksters used da boomin' noise to syncronize da fire of their rokkit packs. Up they zoomed, right up da gantries like sneaky squigs, da flames of their rokkits hardly a flicker 'gainst da burnin' refinery. Zog me, they was quick an' quiet!
Before them poor gits on guard knew what was what, a blade was flashin' across their throats. Da Zapwingz was cacklin' to themselves, their dirty work done, ready to join da scrap proper!
Down south by da generator, da Meganobs was revvin' up. Their humungous armoured forms lumberin' up to da clueless sentries, who didn't know what was 'bout to hit 'em. Da 'um of da generator hid their approach, da noise just another part of da machine’s drone. Suddenly, there was a flurry of movin' metal an' flashin' choppas as da Meganobs swung into action. Da guards never stood a chance, their puny shootas doin' nothin' 'gainst da rock-solid armour of da Meganobs. Quick as a squiggle in a snotling pile, da Meganobs were done, leavin' their unlucky victims sprawled in a mess of blood an' scrap.
Back a bit, da Kommandos was gettin' ready. Gritgrin's mob was sneakin' into a silo, quieter than a squig on the prowl. They moved like shadows, all soft-footed and sneaky-like.
Back by da Weirdboy, though, Choppafootz's boys were stayin' put. Da Weirdboy, Warpstrum da Madcap, had a plan for them. He was mutterin' under his breath, his eyes glowin' with green energy. They knew what was comin', 'cause da Weirdboy'd said he'd use dajump to toss 'em deep into da enemy lines when da alarm sounded. They was waitin', grinnin' in anticipation. It was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose. The tension was thicker than squig stew, and da orks was ready to dig in.
Roight, the race was won, yeah? Thundertooth, the sneakiest, cunnin'est Beastboss, ended up muckin' up the plan proper. His attack didn't crump all the sentries, so they got spotted. Zoggin' disaster, right? But, despite the muck up, he made it to the furnace pit smack dab in the center. That pit, gurgling with foul-smellin' warp-green soup that'd make any Ork's stomach churn, not that they’d ever admit it, of course.
Part Two - Da Boys arrive!
Thundertooth chucked in the dead cultist bodies he’d just smashed, a big old sneering grin spreading 'cross his ugly mug. That filthy soup didn't look half as appetizing now, did it? In the back of his noggin, he could almost feel the burning gaze of Krotchrippa, the Warboss, boiling his green hide. The warboss was well and truly riled up, he was! A good ol' Orky scrap was definitely in the offing once all this was over.
Suddenly, alarms wailed across the battlefield. The jig was up! The sneaky plan had gone right down the squig-hole and all 'cause of Thundertooth's blunderin'. The Black Legion knew they was there now, and you betcha, they'd be bringin' in the big guns. A proper Waaagh was about to kick off, and every Ork felt the tension right in their bones, even if they was grinnin' about it. After all, what's a good scrap without a bit of unexpected fun, eh?
Just as Thundertooth had made his mess with the cultists in the ritual pit, the real fun started. From the warpy energies of the pit, a real light show sparked up, lickin' at the renegade humies guardin' the place. It weren't no ordinary light though, oh no, it was zoggin' warp stuff, all colorful and twisty.
The first humie got hit and started sproutin' sharp, jaggedy blades outta his limbs, and right through his mug. It was a real gork-damned horror show, but quite the spectacle for the Orks! Another 'un had a real bug-like makeover, insectoid limbs burstin' right from his face and arms. Another became a writhin' mess of squiggle tentacles, writin' around like some giant angry Squig! The last one, zog me, he turned into some weird mix of a blue bird-thing and twisty, gnarly limbs.
If that wasn't enough to rile up the Waaagh, then what happened next surely did. The warp light show shot up into the sky, a big bright signal callin' for backup. And, backup did answer. From the distance, the Orks could see the twisted forms of the Heretic Astartes, the real heavy-hitters of the Black Legion, marchin' towards 'em. This was it, no more sneaky stuff, no more tip-toein' around. The proper fight was about to start, and every Ork, from the humblest Grot to the biggest Nob, was ready for the proper stompin' that was sure to come!
Suddenly, from the south flank near the rickety ol' generator, where Da Iron Krumpas had just finished krumpin' the chaos sentries, a proper sea of humies erupted. Blimey, there were swarms of 'em! These weren't proper warriors, nah, just ragtag, squishy cultists, barely more threatening than a mob of squiggly beasts, yet runnin' onto the battlefield like they'd been injected with squig juice.
The Orks could barely contain their laughter. "Look at 'em, rushin' to their doom!" a Meganob chuckled, his massive armored frame shuddering with mirth. Those puny humies were so clueless, thinkin' they could face the Waaagh! with their measly choppas and shootas.
But just as the Orks were ready to dive into this new wave of target practice, their attention was caught by something stirrin' on the north flank. It wasn't more cultists, nah, this was different. This was bad news. This was... Heretic Astartes.
"Oi, boyz," grunted a grizzled Stormboy, squinting at the northern horizon, "Looks like we've got some real fightin' comin' our way!" The Orks roared in anticipation, ready to show these Chaos Space Marines the real power of the Waaagh!
Just as the dust from the horde of squishy humies on the south flank began to settle, the green tide got a nasty surprise on the northern side, right at the base of the towering refinery. What had been a vantage point for the Storm Boy mobs just a moment ago, now swarmed with a proper nightmare. The Twisted Ascendants, a grotesque squad of Chaos Space Marine Possessed, had clawed their way up the refinery gantries in a blink.
"Oi, dat ain't fair!" squawked a Rokkit Rumblez, barely dodging a gnashing maw of twisted, heretical flesh. But his protest fell on deaf ears as his comrades were set upon by the mutating marines. The Zapwingz Skwadron, ready to take to the sky, barely had a chance to rev their rokkit packs before they were brutally torn apart.
The Possessed were pure brutality, leaping and slashing with an unnatural speed that made even the hardiest of the Orks blanch. But even as the Storm Boyz fell, the greenskin tide just got madder.
Caught in a right proper scrap in the generator district down south, Da Iron Krumpas Meganobs found themselves stuck in wiv a couple of real nasty Chaos Spawns. One of da gits, all covered in blades it was, sprouted armor-piercing spikes as fast as a squig on fungus brew! Two of our boyz got skewered before they could even shout a proper "Waaagh!" The other Spawn, bug-like and hard as a Mork-forsaken Battlewagon, gave the lads a tough time. But ya don't become a Meganob without knowing how to krump proper-like. Roaring with orky defiance, they swung their power klaws, shredding through the beasties with brutal gusto. They'd thought this would be an easy scrap, but even faced with these odds, the lads turned the fight on its head, standing victorious amidst the mess of the fallen Spawns. Dented and scarred, sure, but still ready for another round of krumpin'!
Out in the generator junkyard, south of the main ruckus, the Wartruk Boomwagon, revvin' with a might that would scare a squiggoth, roared into action. "Time to show these gits some real orky cunning!" cackled the driver, a maniacal gleam in his beady eyes. With a sudden lurch, the roaring beast of metal shot forward, leaving a trail of black smoke and laughter behind. The Zealot Horde of cultists was just making their sneaky way to the center of the fight when the Boomwagon, a proper embodiment of orkiness, blocked their path. The orks erupted in guttural laughter, their rough voices echoing amidst the deafening roars of engines and gunfire. "Where ya think yer goin', ya puny 'umies?" jeered the gunner, letting loose a hailstorm of dakka from the mounted big shoota, cackling as the cultists scattered in panic. Ork cunning had struck, blockin' off the path and opening up a real good opportunity for some serious krumpin'. Now that was a move that would make even Gork (or possibly Mork) proud!
Both Warboss Krotchrippa and Thundertooth Da Squig-Boss had long understood the notion of orky "sneakiness" was as reliable as a grot with a shoota. Each warboss, gnarled and battle-hardened, held no trust for the other's plan to tiptoe into the chaos-infested territory. "Sneakin'? Hah! Sounds like grot-talk to me," grumbled Krotchrippa, a knowing grin plastered across his scarred mug. Thundertooth, perched atop his thundering Squigosaur, echoed his sentiment, "Oi! Ain't no need fer sneakin' when ya got the muscle!" As the black ritual began to falter under the initial Ork onslaught, both bosses chortled, ready with a far less subtle and far more orky contingency.
The edge of the battlefield, just outside the foundry, roared to life as the real orky party kicked off. Through billowing clouds of smoke and fire, the monstrous silhouette of the Kill Rig emerged. Skraggath's Skrap-Grinda, teeming with eager Snagga Boyz, ripped through the landscape, its booming presence a rallying call to all greenskins in the vicinity. As the lumbering contraption carved its way towards the fray, the earth beneath trembled, signaling the arrival of further, much-anticipated reinforcements.
With the cacophonous bellow of klaxon horns, the two grot artillery pieces, Boomstick Skragglitz and Blasta Snazzfinga, stormed onto the battlefield. Riding on their clanking, makeshift artillery platforms, the grot crews howled with frenzied excitement. Every shell launched was punctuated with a triumphant "Waaagh!", the night sky soon aglow with their explosive handiwork. As the artillery barrage continued to rain down, an erratic roar echoed above.
Boomkrakka Whirlybird, the madly ingenious Blastajet piloted by Blazkaboom Burnakka, dove into the scene, bringing with it a reign of haphazard firepower from the skies. As both warbosses watched the spectacle unfold, they shared a cackle, their distrust dissolving into the thunderous joy of orky warfare.
As da noizy hum of Waaagh! build-up echoed across da battlefield, it wuz clear dat da sneaky stuff wuz done and dusted. Bosses Krotchrippa and Thundertooth locked gazes, each one dead set on bein' da first to let loose da Waaagh! cry. Da smirk on Krotchrippa's mug wuz wide enough to drive a trukk through, even as he was wipin' da last rebellious grot off his bike. Thundertooth, on his big beast of a squigosaur, just snorted, his yellow eyes flashin' in anticipation. But, ain't no trust amongst da Orks, especially when it comes to a good ol' Waaagh-off. They wuz both ready to break da tension and let da real fightin' start!
Da air got heavy, it wuz like da calm before a rokkit-storm. Krotchrippa revved his shooty bike, da engines roar mixin' with da growin' Waaagh! energy, and both warbosses drew a deep breath. But then, as they wuz 'bout to scream their lungs out, Thundertooth choked! All da warp energy 'round 'em played a sneaky one on da beastboss. Krotchrippa let loose a thunderin' Waaagh! cry, his voice boomin' across da battlefield, even over da bike's roarin' engine. He kicked his ride into full throttle, chargin' forward into da fray.
Krotchrippa couldn't 'elp but chuckle, den burst into full-on guffaws, as he saw his rival gaspin' and sputterin'. The beastboss could only growl, fury in his eyes as he tried to shake off da warp energy's effects. Krotchrippa's laugh echoed across da battlefield, drownin' out even da din of da incoming charge. And just like dat, da Waaagh! wuz on, a thunderous, rampagin' storm of green that would make any Mork (or maybe Gork?) proud!
Warpstrum da Madcap, da sneaky Weirdboy, harnessed da raw power of da Waaagh! to launch da Kommandos of Sneaky Choppafootz and Gritgrin Shadowclaw straight into da thick of it, right alongside da Rokkit Rumblez.
They landed in da rear of da battlefield, closer to da squishy, unsuspectin' cultists, ready to bring da fight to 'em! With a mighty "Waaagh!" still ringin' in their ears, they roared their war cries, revved their engines, and charged with all their might.
But in true orky fashion, things didn't go exactly as planned. Da charge was a bit too eager, a bit too wild, and they all botched it, tripping over their own feet, or rokkits, or each other! It was a sight, a right laugh if you're into da slapstick stuff. A big green wave of Orks, tumbling and fumbling over themselves, while da confounded cultists just gawked. Da Waaagh! might've been called, but it looked like it needed a bit more practice to get da execution right!
Part Three - Da Roar of da Warp!!
After da squabbles of da failed charge, da Meganobs of Da Iron Krumpas, alongside da big, mean Beastboss Thundertooth Da Squig-Boss, got up to some proper Orky fun. They started to mess up da Chaos Boyz's fancy schmancy foundry, chuckin' in all sorts of scrap and junk. Da chaos 'umies didn't like that, no sir! Their weird gubbinz and ritual stuff started sparkin' and fizzin', then boom! Everything went all purple and swirly, as if da whole sky ripped open. Da orks were havin' a right good laugh, not realising that they were about to meet some new playmates.
From da swirling vortex of energy, a right big host of Tzeentch daemons appeared all over da place. It was like a Mork-sent gift of new things to krump, but it also made things a lot more komplicated for da Orks. Da biggest, flashiest daemon of 'em all, a great big Lord of Change named Abutre, materialized smack dab in da middle of da battlefield, along with a bunch of burny daemon things called Flamers. Da air went all hot and sparkly, as if da very atmosphere was on fire. This wasn't da normal Waaagh! - it was like a Weirdboy had gone off in da middle of da fight.
With da arrival of their warp-spawned allies, da Possessed, all full of tentacles and eyes and stuff, surged forward towards da center of da ruckus, roaring their own kind of war cry. Da monstrous Hellbrute, Malumsanctus, and da Chaos Space Marine squads also joined da advance, eager to get stuck in with these new arrivals. Things had gotten from fun to propa fun! The Waaagh! was definitely on now, and even though da situation was right tricksy, you could see da gleam in da Ork's eyes. They had more things to fight, and that's all an Ork really wants, innit?
Da battle got proper spicy when dem Flamers of Tzeentch started gettin' their taste of da fight. Da sky was all aflame, spittin' out lickin' tongues of warpfire like a shower of rokkits. Da Kommandos, Sneaky Choppafootz and Gritgrin Shadowclaw, didn't even have time to shout a proper Waaagh! before they was nothing but cinders. Da Meganobs, Da Iron Krumpas, found themselves krumped by da fire. Even da Storm Boyz, Rokkit Rumblez and Zapwingz Skwadron, didn't stand much of a chance, their jet trails snuffed out like candles, replaced by da searing glow of da warpfire. Da battlefield was lit up all nice and bright, full of da sounds of sizzling flesh and poppin' armour.
But da Orks didn't go quietly, no, they made sure to take a good chunk of da 'umies with them. As da heat of da warpfire ate away at 'em, they lobbed their bombs and shot off their rokkits, turning a good number of da puny human cultists into smoky bits. In da midst of da blazing chaos, da last survivin' Storm Nob was standing tall, his rokkit pack still burnin'.
And then, da stupid human cultists, thinking they could take on a proper Ork nob, charged 'em. Da Storm Nob, even with da heat lickin' at his back and his boyz all roasted, let out a bellowing Waaagh! that echoed across da field.
He was ready to take on da whole of da 'umie horde, and by Gork and Mork, he was going to make sure they remembered it!
Da Ork response to da daemons was as you'd expect - full of roarin' fury and cacklin' madness. As da daemons flooded in, da Warbosses got to havin' a big ol' bet. "Oi, I betcha I can krump dat big birdie proper before you can," Krotchrippa barked. Thundertooth, ever da competitive sort, let out a feral growl in agreement. They charged ahead, their roars of "Waaagh!" echoin' loud enough to shake da very ground beneath 'em. Da rest of da boys, their spirits lifted by da bosses' bravado, surged forward with newfound vigor.
As da bosses charged da Lord of Change, da Weirdboy Warpstrum da Madcap got a zoggin' crazy idea in his noggin. With a wild cackle, he unleashed da power of da Waaagh! and Da Jumped a swarm of grots right into da midst of a unit of Flamers of Tzeentch.
Da little green gits screamed and flailed, but managed to tangle up da daemons in a proper ruckus, buying da other boyz some precious time.
Then, outta da smoky skies came da Boomkrakka Whirlybird, piloted by none other than Blazkaboom Burnakka himself. The Wazbom Blastajet streaked across da sky, its guns blazin', wrecking a storm of havoc amongst da Possessed on da ground.
Back on da ground, da Kill Rig, Skraggath's Skrap-Grinda, and da Beast Snaggas, Da Fangsnatcha Boyz, made their move, pushing towards da centre of da battle. With da Warbosses engagin' da giant bird in a fight for da ages, it was up to these hardened boyz to put a stop to da Chaos Marines' ritual. The air filled with roars of defiance, da sound of crunching metal, and da sweet, sweet song of Ork Waaagh! as they clashed headlong with da Umbral Host. It was proper Orky chaos, just the way they liked it.
Part Four - A proppa Legend!!
In da roarin' heart of da scuffle, Warboss Krotchrippa, his killsaw whirling, charged straight at da giant bird-thing, da Exalted Lord of Change, Abutre. Da Warboss, on his trusty spiky bike, shot towards Abutre, his Waaagh! echoin' off da landscape. Swinging his killsaw, he left wicked scratches on da bird-thing, but Abutre fought back, da end of its staff crashing down and crushin' da boss's bike under its weight. Krotchrippa was thrown off, lying still amidst da clamour. But dis opened da way for Thundertooth Da Squig-Boss to make his move, charging his Squigosaur right into da fray, his beastchoppa slicin' at da bird-thing's flank.
Yet, da mighty bird wasn't about to fall that easy. Da thing retaliated, da air around it crackling with warpfire as it unleashed a storm of spells. Thundertooth watched as da flames engulfed his rival, burnin' bright and fierce before flickering out, leaving only scorched earth behind. A roar of defiance and sorrow echoed across da battlefield as Thundertooth saw Krotchrippa burnt to a crisp. "Yer not gonna be forgotten, ya git," he growled, vowing to make Krotchrippa a proper legend.
With a roar full of anger and frustration, Thundertooth tore through the bird-thing, ripping its head clean off. His victory felt hollow though, as he knew the daemon would just skulk back into the warp. But it didn't matter, cause now there were those puny Chaos Legionaries to krump. He'd vent his frustration on them for sure. Krotchrippa was the best rival an ork could have, and those Chaos gits were gonna pay for ruinin' such a good fight.
In da deafenin' clash of choppas an' flesh, da belly of da scrap got all bloody an' rowdy. Da Hellbrute an' da Bladeborn gitz, rattled by da muck-up of their loony ritual, charged in like a squig caught in a zap-gun's sights. They met a right proper Ork welcome - Snagga boyz ridin' their growly beasts, da last of da Iron Krumpas an' sneaky Kommandos got stuck in, an' da hulkin' Kill Rig was stompin' da ground 'arder than a Gargant.
Da Cultists an' any left-over Possessed gitz tumbled in, their desperation was like a Snotling at feeding time. But for all their ruckus, da ritual was as good as a grot's lunch, all chewed up an' spit out. Then, quicker than a grot gets krumped, da ritual did a real fizzer, sucked up all da warp stuff, and made all da daemons scarper. Only da heretic Astartes was left to face da might of da Orks.
Da Orks had smashed it! Sneaky Kommandos outwitted da enemy an' Thundertooth, ridin' high on his big Squigosaur, squashed da birdy good. But victory tasted a bit bitter, 'cos Krotchrippa, Thundertooth's rival an' mate, wasn't there to enjoy da carnage. He wouldn't be part of da tales they'd tell, his name wouldn't join da roars of victory. This gave Thundertooth the gloomies, a worthy rival was 'arder to find than a grot in a squig pen. But at least he'd be remembered as a proper legend, dat much Thundertooth swore.
But as he watched da Chaos Boyz scuttle away in their huff, Thundertooth's own huff faded, replaced by da sizzle of a new Waaagh! Their squawks of failure were sweeter than a Squig pie, more invigorating than a zap to the noggin. He'd lost a rival, but in da retreating backs of da Chaos Marines, he saw a fresh enemy, a new scrap. His Squigosaur roared, feeling its boss's itch for a fight. An' Thundertooth roared back, "Waaagh! Dey may've nicked me rival, but dey just handed me a whole new bunch of fights!" With dat, da victorious Orks roared as one, their cries of Waaagh! echoing off da silent ritual site, a loud memory of a mate lost an' a scrap won.
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