Deep within the bowels of the rok, Vurbukk Wrenchsmacka was busy toiling away on his latest project. He was busy hammering sheets of steel alongside corrugated iron into a loosely shield-shaped construction, though he had painted the whole thing a bright shade of blue alongside checks and dags of white. on a black background. The idea had come to him recently, the idea that sometimes a shield just wasn't enough to stop the enemy's dakka entirely. "Oi! Grot! Go off and fetch me da drill!" He commanded his grot orderly, Obud, who was soaked in oil and mechanical grease. The grot scampered off in the rough direction of the device, only to have a rivet barely skim his head, and the shouted anger of "Not dat way ya git!" Follow soon after.

Vurbrukk had personally nicked...looted, the drill from a rather boorish nob after a particularly fierce battle with a techmarine from the Imperial Fists. The drill itself was a old breeching auger, ripped from the still twitching corpse of the slain techmarine. Vurbrukk held the item akin to that of his most prized of possessions that a life of looting and stealing brings, with care he used the tool to further the ramshackle device he was building. "And dat should do it...I fink." He mused to himself, setting aside the drill and hefting the shield. His design had accounted for the innate durability of the shield, as a small personal shield generator was concealed next to the shield's handle.

With a prideful yank, Vurbrukk pulled the chain that would start up the hastily constructed shield generator, and it worked rather well...for a time. With a minor explosion caused by massive internal failure, the shield generator fizzled out of life leaving the Mekboy blackened with soot and sporting a rather toothy smile. "Bah, needz more calibrashunz anyway...could just give it to dat zoggin' loo-"

His words were cut short by the shrieking tone of a messenger grot, as it exclaimed its message. "Da kaptain wontz ta see ya!" The grot was soon knocked unconscious, however, as a spanner was lobbed at his head by the mekboy for his transgression. 
"Git should learn not ta shout at 'iz bettaz." Verbrukk muttered before gesturing for his grot orderly to follow him to the kaptain's lair. Obud deftly managed to scramble up the mek's armour to loosely sit on one of the ork's immense pauldrons.

Both of them walked with haste to the Kaptain's room, though Verbrukk expected the worst from it all - if nothing else, he hadn't nicked anything, yet...

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With a decidedly hushed walk he entered the Kaptain's lair with his grot, though he shirked somewhat at the sight of all the Nobz before him. Verbrukk loved and hated them, most were morons yet forever the domineering sorts. The mekboy loosely looked over the room with passive interest in what was mounted on the walls and all the trophies that were strewn about the place. There was a gun that took his fancy, but stealing that would take a rather elaborate plan and best left for later...

Verbrukk was not most pleased by those arrayed around him, he wasn't even the big mek on the ship...yet, but he knew too well that this would probably turn violent at a moments notice. He kept to himself, giving praise only the current kaptain.