killy mode activated _

scanning for gitz _


analysing gitz _

gitz analysed _ GEFF (4) _ KROG (1)

options _ DAKKA! _ BURNA! _ ROKKITS! _ CHOPPA!

option selected _ DAKKA!

calculating angles of DAKKA DEFF

engaging DAKKA!



Stealth entirely abandoned, Sheppurt and his kroo were advancing through the innards of Saren's base, and although he was loath to admit it Sheppurt knew his team was being pressed hard for every step they took. Even the unstoppable force of the Fisty Boomin' Gitpuncha was being forced to take cover occasionally to recharge its shields.

Sheppurt growled low in his throat as he rolled into cover, blazing away with his Shoota. Liara brandished her Weirdstikk with a savage grin on her face and moments later a biotic barrier snapped into existence, blocking the fire from the phalanx of Geth they were facing and earning them some breathing room. Snarling ferally, Sheppurt stepped out of cover, contributing to the storm of dakka as he started an ancient Orkish war chant.


The three members of his kroo were swift to reply even as Garrus scored a perfect headshot on a thoroughly disgruntled Krogan clone.




Tali waved her arm, blood red Omnitool glowing as she fired off a barrage of tech attacks. She added her voice to the kroo as they continued the chant.



Sheppurt lobbed an entire fistful of multicoloured grenades at the entrenched Geth team before them, the murderous deathbots being blown to shreds by the combined detonation. Then suddenly the way was clear.

"Wos dat it?"

Tali shrugged as she paused from picking chunks of Krogan flesh from her hair.

"Looks like it."

Sheppurt gestured at the looming anti air cannon.

"Les go den. We 'ate Sarrun, we 'ate Sarrun ..."


"Oy! Zog off!"

The main cannon of Snagrod's battlewagon boomed again, this time firing on a direct trajectory. The shell struck the ground in the middle of the unknown Geth squad, detonating with a thunderous boom and scattering the self-regenerating platforms like a cluster of snotlings being ploughed through by a rampaging Squiggoth. With a roar of delight, Snagrod conveyed that through some miracle of chance the cannon had landed a direct hit on one of the platforms, blowing it into a fine metallic gravel that was even still plinking off the heads of the other Geth in the firing line. Apart from that one, and the two either side that sported visible heat and shrapnel damage that didn't seem to be regenerating, the other platforms seemed unharmed, picking themselves up off the ground and resuming the steady fusillade of green death beams.

Wrex growled deep in his throat as another volley snapped through the smoke, punching through the disarrayed gaggle of Orks. He reached behind his back, selecting one of his bewildering array of weaponry. This particular example had been liberated from the Normandy's armoury, consisting of a canister of suspiciously labelled liquid (MELTY 'OT GUFF DED KILLY, as a point of interest) plugged into what looked like a despicably oversized shotgun. He pointed it at the nearest grey Geth just as it hauled its cumbersome death beam gun around to fire again.

He pulled the trigger.

There was very little visual clue that the weapon had fired, merely a slight wavering in the air roughly in front of the distressingly wide muzzle of the weapon, but Wrex felt the raw wave of heat like a Thresher Maw impact, making him stagger back a couple of steps. A patch of sand roughly twenty feet across centred on his target was instantly transformed into molten glass, a tuft of grass erupting into blinding white flame as if it were made of magnesium. Of the Geth itself, it struggled on momentarily as its outer skin turned briefly to slag, then locked into place like a macabre statue as the nanomaterials making up its regenerative shell were fused together at the molecular level.

Wrex noticed Snagrod staring avariciously at his weapon. The Ork Warlord growled, stamping a foot on the roof of his battlewagon and roaring an instruction to his mek underling as he dodged another deathbeam.

"Bring me da 'Otsukka."

The mek passed up a bizarre contraption that Snagrod strapped to his body in several places, soon entombing himself in a cat's cradle of wiring that connected the multitudinous compartments of his latest toy.

He aimed the barrel at the nearest target, pulling the trigger and initiating a highly distressing series of spinning whirring charge-up sounds. To Wrex's intense surprise a brilliant ice-blue beam leaped from the target to the barrel of the weapon, the monstrous thing's external tubing briefly bulging cartoonishly before expelling a minor blizzard of snow out the rear ejection port with a sound oddly reminiscent of a traditional Krogan post-coital belch.

He could only surmise the entire area around the target had been cooled to an absurd degree as the molecules of the upgraded Geth unit abruptly lost their resistance to the gentle Virmire breeze, disintegrating into an icy cloud that dissipated into the atmosphere. Snagrod frowned as he pounded the side of his weapon, bringing forth another icy belch.

"S'not supposed ta do dat."


Naz'zarrah the Sovereign was not a happy star god.

The C'Tan were the ultimate force in the galaxy, their technological and strategic superiority was unquestionable. The laws of physics that governed the tiny little creatures that scurried around the galaxy were beneath them, indeed they operated on a twenty-one dimensional model of the universe that allowed for such technological marvels as spontaneous transformation of matter on the subatomic level. But though their laws of physics were far more refined than the base models used by organics, they were still just that. Laws, unbending and immutable.

Before he had encountered Orks it had never occurred to Naz'zarrah that just like any other legal system, the laws of physics could be broken. And not even broken a little, oh no. This wasn't just a bit of physical jay-walking, this was full on scientific grand larceny.

Naz'zarrah had been quite pleased with his first line of upgraded Geth platforms. A regenerative carapace and a green Gauss weapon was nothing to boast about, but getting the two systems to run off the low tech power sources available to the synthetics had been a delicate business, the result perfectly balanced. The dominant organics of the cycle would call it a miracle of engineering.

And one of the poor little dears had just been cooled to an infinitesimal fraction of a degree below absolute zero.

Naz'zarrah's enraged bellow rang out across the landscape of Virmire as he launched into the air, his Necrodermis hull rippling deep black as the yellow sunlight was absorbed into it as if it were the event horizon of a black hole.

Virmire was lost, he needed to salvage what he could and leave. He wished he could take out his frustrations by rendering the planet into an asteroid field as he went, but he needed to hide his true capabilities until his puppets were ready to make the final move.

His sensors detected the crude, ramshackle Ork ships moving in response to his sudden appearance. One of them was actually larger than him although he outmassed it, requiring no crew space, another was impressively sized for the organics and seemed to possess a limited stealth system, the other four smaller and tucked close to the biggest ship as escorts.

For the moment, they were beneath his notice.


Big Mek Otto Orktaviuz da Multiply-Fistied slammed one of his four cybork fists down on a control panel, the opposite end of the panel flipping up and propelling a screeching Grot into the air. The eight limbed cybork was one of Snagrod's most capable and trusted lieutenants, and was that rarest of breeds, an Ork who preferred space warfare to ground melee. Not to say he was helpless in close range combat - the four cybork arms protruding from his back were each twelve feet long, articulated more like a spine than a traditional limb and terminated in three-phalanged graspers that could strike with the force of an overcharged biotic throw or crush a skull like a papier mâché model. The Big Boss had left Otto in charge on his vessel while he laid the krump on the Geth below, and the cybork was in no mood to let the Boss down.


The bridge responded like a kicked nest of gretchin (which it was, for the most part), underbosses and nobs bellowing orders as grots scurried around, pressing buttons, pulling levers and generally contributing to the palaver. Ignoring the commotion, Otto stared at the display on the targeting computer, which he had ripped out of a Salarian cruiser docked at the Citadel one day during a game of Troof or Darez that had gotten out of hand. The cuttlefish shaped ship was highlighted in pulsing green on the display, the Ork fleet marked in red despite Otto's best efforts to reverse the friend and foe colours (green is best, after all).


With a high pitched throbbing whine that ground on Otto's hearing, the whole ship shuddered as energy was diverted from less important systems (life support, collision detectors, communications and navigation) to the most vital element of the ship's construction (dakka). Within ten seconds a Grot informed him in an irritating piping voice that the Zzap Kannonz were fully charged. Backhanding the annoying gremlinesque being across the bridge, Otto bellowed what had to be his all time favourite order ever.


As if the guns themselves had heard his bellow, the three turrets that housed the vessel's primary long range lance cannons swivelled to point directly at the offending cuttlefish shaped vessel, just about to reach the peak of its parabolic arc. With a deep thrum that shook the entire ship the three colossal Zzap Kannonz fired, the ion beams they discharged behaving somewhat similarly to a blast from the Zappa of a certain Quarian on the planet below, crackling and snapping through the intervening space. Saren's vessel was bracketed by the three beams, two of them missing to either side and slashing into the ocean of the planet below, the central beam scoring a glancing blow to the ancient construct. The Reaper reeled to the side, quickly righting itself, and though it was difficult to see against the light absorbing blackness of the ship's hull, Naz'zarrah now bore a deep carbonised scar down his right flank, kinetic barriers having been no obstacle to the stream of highly charged particles.

The bridge filled with a metallic bellow that Otto just knew had originated from the ship below as it twisted round in mid air, trailing sparks from the gash in its side. Sheppurt's Kommando kroozer fired a moment later, its twin prow mounted Zzap Kannonz more accurate than the Bonegrinda's heavier armament thanks to the Turian targeting computers on the newer ship, but it seemed that the angry mecha-cuttlefish bearing down on the Ork squadron had recalibrated its barrier to repel the weapons as the ion beams somehow veered away from their target.


The Bonegrinda clanked and shuddered as across the vessel's hull, slabs of armour hinged back to reveal the fat maws of the vessel's many batteries of macrocannons. As the fleet turned to face their lone opponent, Otto smacked the transmitter of his talky-majik.

"Boss, we's distraktered Sarrun's kroozer an' now it be gunnin' fer us. We's gunna zog it up gud."

The incoming channel was filled with the sounds of brutal ground combat, most notably the rumbling treads and booming kannonz of a Battlewagon and the bizarre panoply of noises only really produced by multiple Mekguns.

"SHOOT DOZE WUNZ 'AFORE DEY 'IT DA TREADY BITZ! Okiez, Otto, but ramember it be a proppa tuff wun. I'z givin' ya permishun ta use da Button o' Temptashunz. PULL YER 'EAD OUT YER PISS'OLE AN' RELOAD DAT ROKKIT LAUNCHA! 'Ave fun, Otto."

The channel cut off, leaving Otto sitting there with a deliriously happy grin on his face as he regarded the Button o' Temptashunz. The bright red button was easily as large as a Warbike's wheel, covered in a crude armoured box locked with a padlock that looked like it could resist a nuclear strike and surrounded by a strip of black and yellow danger stripes at least three feet wide. Taking the key off the chain around his neck, Otto almost reverently opened the box, revealing the Button in all its tempting glory.

He reached out his organic hands, wanting to experience this with his own flesh as he caressed the surface of the Button, gently tracing his fingers over the words painted on the surface.



A single tear of long awaited cathartic joy trickled down Otto's cheek as he pressed his full body weight down on the Button.

The entire ship seemed to shift, gaining a couple hundred metres of length as panels and entire decks slid over one another, opening a cavernous maw at the front of the ship which glowed from within with an eerie green light. A booming alien voice filled the bridge, speaking in an incomprehensible language, but Otto's attention was fixed on the screen which was helpfully displaying an Orky translation.



Jokka gaped in awe as the Bonegrinda wheeled around, the green light from its new aperture intensifying.

"I want wun of dose!"

Standing behind his pilotin' chair, Prezzly growled in the back of his throat.

"Stay focuzzed, Jokka. Dis ain't gunna be an easy stompin', I kan feel it in ma bonez. Dakka to da max!"

When the Turians had collaborated with the Orks on creating the Normandee, they had told the Orks that the purpose of a fast stealth recon vessel was not to destroy enemies in space combat but to transport and support a small reaction force of infantry or infiltrate and extract special forces operatives, and therefore it required minimal firepower. The Orkish response could be summarised as 'Zog dat!'. In true Orky fashion, the Normandee was so heavily armed that it could probably outgun four Turian ships of similar weight, with six batteries of Gunz, two prow mounted Zzap Kannonz and eight Torpedo Launchas. The Turians had just enough say in the design process to convince the Orks of the merit of a spinal mass accelerator, although the initial clean lines of a Turian made Talon Strike mass driver cannon had quickly mutated into an oversized version of the Supa-Gatler commonly found on Ork Gargants.

"Wait fer it. Let da git get klozer, den let 'im 'ave it."

The green glare from Snagrod's flagship reached a peak, and moments later it fired.


Sheppurt briefly lowered his choppa and looked up as the sky suddenly lit up brilliant green. If he squinted, he could see a solid green column of light, almost blinding in its brilliance, connecting two specks in the sky.

Tali joined him as Garrus and Liara combined biotics and explosives to bodily rip one of the Geth artillery pieces from its mount, sending it tumbling down the side of the tower and crushing a couple of Krogan as it landed and broke into five pieces.

"Sheppurt, what is it?"

The Ork seemed not to register her presence and Tali was shocked to see a few tears trickling down the rapturous expression on her commander's face.

"All ma yearz ... I nevva fort I'd see da Button be prezzed ..."

He turned to look at her with such reverent awe in his eyes that for a moment Tali thought he was in the midst of a religious experience.

"Ezzent it bootiful?"

Tali looked up again, the afterglow of the beam illuminating the sky. So green, so glorious ...

She slowly nodded.

"The most beautiful thing I have ever seen."


The MPZ-190 'Apex' had been a relatively common weapon in the Prothean Empire, mass produced at the height of the Empire's naval power as the main weapon of the Glaive class battlecruiser, a ubitiquous light capital ship designed for speed and firepower at the expense of defences. The vessel this particular example had been installed in had been crippled by a shot from a Metakon phase cannon almost five hundred years before the arrival of the Reapers and fell to the surface of a no-name ice moon in orbit around a no-name gas giant, soon becoming encased in ice.

It would have lain there undetected for the rest of time if it were not for the accidental reactivation of its security droid complement by a team of gretchin prospectors almost fifty thousand years later. The survivors had fled to the nearest Ork colony, babbling about 'mega killy deffbots', which had of course attracted a huge number of Orks, including Snagrod himself. Hunting down and smashing up the Prothean war droids was fun, even though the cold temperatures of the moon meant all the Orks involved needed environmentally sealed armour, but it was only after the last ones had been hounded into the corridors of the ancient vessel had the true prize become apparent.

Snagrod had overseen the salvaging of the vessel's armaments and defensive systems himself, personally killing no less than twelve other Warbosses who tried to claim the wreckage for themselves. Once the Meks had looked over the weapons and provided him with a report, consisting of the words 'DED KILLY' painted on the back of a pissed off Squig, Snagrod had ordered his battallion of mekboyz to turn the ancient vessel into his new flagship.

The Apex Cannon had certainly been an impressive centrepiece to his new vessel, but then the Meks started kustomizin'. The newly dubbed 'Profean Deffbeam Kannon' had a power output approximately sixteen times the weapon's original specs, at the cost of range, rate of fire and radiation containment. Fortunately the thick skinned Boyz were tough enough to withstand the radiation, and for a Grot, radiation poisoning was only a problem if they managed to survive their irritable larger cousins long enough for it to take effect. The weapon had only been fired once before in anger, completely obliterating a Turian dreadnought in a single shot, spearing clean through the capital ship bow to stern and severely damaging another dreadnought behind it in a happy quirk of chance. Saren's flagship didn't stand a chance. At least, that's how it seemed at first.

"Boss, we's got a problum!"

Otto didn't need an overly helpful grot to point that out to him. The shattered wreck of Saren's ship was reforming before his disbelieving eyes. Hull flowed together, scars patched up and even a severed tentacle reattached itself to the vessel. Within ten seconds it was as if the vessel had never been hit.

Otto growled. That was cheating.

"Dakka dakka! 'Ow long till we get ta shoot da Deffbeam agen?"

"Forr minnits, Boss!"


The grot had the presence of mind to dodge the half empty bottle of Squig Beer Otto hurled at his head. Another Grot spoke up.

"Look Boss, dat kroozer ain't fixed from wen we 'it it wiv da Zzap Kannonz!"

Otto looked curiously at his display. The Grot was right, the ship still bore the scar from when it was hit with the ion weapons. Before Otto could further comment however, one of the Nobs shouted a warning.

"Boss, it be shootin!"

An ominous red glow lit up the maw of the enemy ship and a second later a brilliant red beam lanced out, splashing against the Bonegrinda's kinetic barrier. Alarms and grots wailed as the whole ship shuddered, the lights flickering briefly.

"Boss, dat shot dun in our sparky bitz!"

"Shoot bak! Zog dem up!"

The Bonegrinda shuddered as the batteries of macrocannon set into its sides barked, hurling a bewildering array of munitions at the enemy vessel. Solid shells, high explosive bombs, the bizarre glowing sparking hissing munitions of mekguns, even a few salvaged particle beams and an angrily bellowing Squiggoth. Space around the enemy vessel was filled with explosions, the escorts joining in with their smaller yet no less formidable broadsides. The Normandy swooped over, showing off the slender ship's greater agility even as it blasted away with its batteries, rolling to ensure each gun got equal time firing at the foe.

The Reaper seemed supremely unconcerned about the amount of firepower headed its direction, another of those lethal beams lashing out, but it just so happened that the Gitchoppa got in the way. The lighter escort vessel was torn apart by the blast, the beam continuing on but weakened by boring through the unfortunate kroozer. Nevertheless it left a deep slash in the Bonegrinda's flank, knocking an entire weapon battery offline.


Otto's rage was only slowed when the same grot who had pointed out the hostile's inability to regenerate from the Zzap Kannon strike spoke up again.

"Look Boss! Dat kroozer just got zapped agen!"

Saren's flagship was reeling away, twin craters punched into the hull either side of the firing chamber of the main gun. The Zzap Kannons of the Normandy seemed to be responsible, which raised the question of why the target didn't deflect those beams like it had the previous volley.

"Youse rite. Get da meks ta fixin' an' keep da dakka on!"

Clearly the grot was feeling bold since it continued speaking.

"I's 'ad a fort, Boss. I rekken dat kroozer kan't blok our Gunz an' our Zzap Kannonz at da same time."

"You'se a smart git, ay. Ya 'ear dat, ya gitz? Shoot da Gunz and da Zappas at da same time, bust up dat kroozer but gud!




"Ready Boss."

Sheppurt nodded in satisfaction.

"Boom 'um!"

The charges his infiltration team had put into place detonated, two gun towers and a swathe of curtain wall disintegrating into fragments. The blast wave rolled out, shrapnel and heat biting deep into the back ranks of the Geth defenders.


With a collective yell that had a physical force of its own, Snagrod's force came barrelling out of the smoke, smashing straight through the Geth lines and keeping coming. The bizarre combination of Ork boyz and trukks mixed with Salarian special forces came to a halt in the courtyard, now well and truly lodged deep inside the base.

"Ay Warboss."

Snagrod jumped down from his battlewagon, shoving a mekgun into the hands of a waiting Mekboy and retrieving his customary Snazzgun and chain-choppa.

"Ay Kommando. Dis 'ere will do, I fink."

Both Orks looked back to the Battlewagon, where four burly Nobs were carrying out the squat domed explosive device. Despite the relatively short amount of time it had been in the hands of the Meks, the Birthday Present had undergone a selection of kustomizazhunz, primarily an extra 'splodey yellow paint job and a little flag with BOMM written on it in big jagged Orkish glyphs. Apparently the Salarian demomen had been infected with that particular brand of Ork crazy as well, since organically looping Salarian symbols ran around the edge of the device's upper surface, providing a caption to a cartoonish rendition of a mushroom cloud with a few crudely drawn Krogan spiralling away from ground zero, either with little speech bubbles presumably detailing their reaction to getting nuked or in multiple pieces with unrealistically large geysers of blood erupting from them. Wrex had just enough grasp of Salarian primary cant to recognise both the speech bubbles and caption as gleefully obscene, interspersed with a few phonetic clusters that seemed to be the effort of a species with no native concept of onomatopoeia to depict explosion sounds in writing.

Kirrahe waved his Omnitool over the device, his Venom shotgun gripped loosely in his other hand with the muzzle propped on his shoulder.

"Alright, the critical charge is building. I don't know what your boys did to it but the yield seems to have near doubled."

Wrex nodded his head.

"That would be the yellow paint."

It was a testament to how much time the Salarian captain had spent around Orks that he accepted the notion that a coat of paint could double the yield of an improvised nuke with little more than a bemused scratch of a cranial horn.

"Right. Well, it's ready to go whenever. Timer set for five minutes, suggest we vacate the area as soon as device is set."

Snagrod looked up sharply as with a Dopplering cry of rage, a Krogan sailed through the air, coming to land almost at the Warlord's feet with a terminal sounding splat. Three sets of eyes, one Salarian, one Krogan and one Ork, tracked the path of Saren's airborne toady back to the opposite entrance to the landing pad, where a familiar quartet were emerging, although it did take a few moments to recognise them beneath the coating of gore. As they approached, Wrex caught some of the banter being passed between them.

"All 'ail Bounsy da Krog-chukka!"

"What? He was up in my gob."

The Asari, recognisable by her staff which seemed to have half a fitfully twitching Geth Hopper impaled on the end and her Power Klaw, shrugged, the cybork shoulder at least twice the size of her organic one and giving the shrug an oddly lopsided motion.

"Dat's troo. Mebbe we's organise a little kontest sum time. Bet you'd be dead gud at rolla-bolla."

The infiltration team came to a halt, grinning at one another and the assembled assault team. Kirrahe twitched slightly as he examined the figures, their original coloration only peeking through when something had presumably shielded a small patch of skin or armour from the mixture of white Geth coolant and orange Krogan blood that covered them so thoroughly. He noted that the bizarre Quarian/Ork hybrid seemed particularly pleased with herself, idly twirling what looked like a thick staff with a disturbingly large angle grinder at each end. A touch of a button saw the melee weapon collapse telescopically, stuffed into a wide leather holster slung behind the Quarian's right shoulder while she withdrew what looked like a portable Orkish ion beam projector from the small of her back. Had Kirrahe not given up on trying to comprehend the bizarreness of Orks, he would have certainly noted to mention it in his report. As it was, he mentally filed it under 'Orks doing Orky stuff' and moved on.

"Ay Kommando. Wozzen't ya just 'ere a minnit ago?"

"Eh, fink so. Must be a kontinuitee erra."

Wrex rolled his shoulders, making the small arsenal on his back clank as the weapons bumped against one another.

"What are we waiting for, Sheppurt?"

The Kommando shrugged.

"Ain't waitin' fer nuffink. Les set da bomm an' leg it."


Kommando Sheppurt leaned over Jokka's shoulder as the pilot brought the Normandy around to face the planet.

"Enny minnit now ... Enny minnit now ..."

Sheppurt glanced over his shoulder.

"Ya did set da tima, rite Bukkit?"

Tali started wringing her hands.

"Um, I think so ..."

Sheppurt groaned.

"Well is not like we kan go bak an' chekk now is it. Zoggin' 'eck ..."

A brief flash of light illuminated the formerly serene surface of Virmire, the mushroom cloud visible even from space. Everyone in the cockpit slumped in relief.

"Fank Gork fer dat. Dat wud 'ave bin embarrassin' ta 'splain ta da Council."

Jokka looked up at Sheppurt, intensely concerned.

"But it mite 'ave bin Mork, Boss."

Sheppurt's only response was to slap Jokka in the back of the head.

"Turn dis ship around, Jokka. 'Ead bak ta da Citadel."

Jokka had a giant grin on his face even as the back of his head stung from the Kommando's smack. The Normandee, with him at the helm (and some help from the Bonegrinda and her escorts) had sent a Reaper running out of the system with its tail between its legs. It was a good day to be Orky.


Troof or Darez: 1. An Ork game known to get out of hand very easily. (Eh? Dis shiny fing? Nikked it from a muzeum as a dare). 2. A mitigating circumstance in the Orkish legal system, such as it is. (Ushully I'd be sendin' ya off ta prizzon, but if it woz a dare, den fair play. Keep da shiny fing too, ya won it fair an' skware. Shaddup, ya bounsy muzeum boss, is Troof or Darez, see?). 3. Used colloquially to refer to the infamous Lusian Museum of Antiquities Heist of 2175, during which a group of drunk Ork Lootas somehow managed to bypass security and make off with almost four point two million credits worth of priceless antiques, including the Armali Coronet, a ten thousand year old part of the Asari Crown Jewels that was on loan to the museum at the time. (Ah, da gud ole Troof or Darez Job. Yeah, got dis shiny 'at dere too.).

Kontinuitee Erra: A strange religious belief among Orks, who believe that the Orkish Gods Gork and Mork dictate the actions of all mortal beings. Orks believe that Gork and Mork, being the ultimate embodiment of Ork-kind, sometimes forget what has happened recently and as they continue to tell the story the universe must snap back into position to match up with their narrative, creating a strange discontinuity in the normal flow of events. This belief is regarded with skepticism by the wider Citadel community.

Grumpy: 1. Bad-tempered. (Oy, kareful of dat Nob, 'e be rite grumpy). 2. Evil, malicious, cruel. (Da boss of Top Kereea be rite grumpy, wot wiv all dese meks 'e keeps killin' kos 'is nooklea bomms be broke). 3. Villainous. (An' so da big 'ero stukk da chopped off bluddy noggin of dat grumpy boss on a big spike on 'is trofy rak, an' dey all lived viluntly eva afta. Now go da zog ta sleep, dis babysittin' gig be gud teef but if I 'as ta tell wun more bedtime story ...)

CODEXY BITZ - Gorkamorka Creation Myth (recording in original Orkish)

Wunce upon a time dere wos a bunch of panzees wot lived on Urf. Dey was korled humies an' dey was all gross an' pink an' stuff. Wun day Gork an' Mork came across da plannit Urf an' dey looked at da humies, an' Gork looked at dem and sed "Dey's all pink an' panzee-loik, I rekken I kan make dem tuffer." So Gork took sum of his green an' 'e frew it at da humies, an' da humies got orl kuvvered in da green an' dey went a bit krazz. But dere was too much green on da humies, dey wos too krazz an' dey turned ta madboyz wot kudden't fite gud koz dere weren't no meks ta make dem proppa shootas, no doks ta stikk dem bak tagevver afturwardz an' no bosses wot ta shout at da uvver boyz wot ta do. So Mork looked at da humies orl kuvvered in green an' sed "Ya zoggin' squigbrain, ya got too much green on dose humies!" So Gork an' Mork 'ad a fite, not koz of da humies dey jus' liked fightin', and wunce dey woz finnished Mork took da rag wot 'e uses ta keep 'is shoota shiny an' wiped off sum of da green. Dat way da humies was still proppa tuff but dey wos smart enuff ta 'ave meks an' doks an' bosses an' wotnot. Den Gork an' Mork 'ad anuvver fite bekos Gork wanted ta korl da boyz Gorks but Mork wanted ta korl dem Morks. But bekos Gork an' Mork's fites always end up in a tie, dey dessided ta korl dem Orks. An' dat is 'ow da Orks wos made."


Speshes: Ork (Da Best)

Speshulisashun: Kommando, Kunnin' Boss

Lookz: Ded Killy an' Tuff

Klan: Blood Axes

Kit: Kustom Stelfy Killshoota, Kustom Snikky Slugga, Klobburin' Stikk, Stelfy Assasinatey Git Stabba, Stikkbommz, Kammofeluge Armour

Speshul Skillz: Snikkin', Finkin' Taktiklee, Genrul Bossin' an' Mukkin' About