[b]Arragoz Plizgin - Ridley's Krooza[/b]

Not only were they going to fight some Spess Muhrines, but they were also headed for Earth. If Arragoz was remembering his Low Gothic right, that was another word for dirt. The greenskin thought that this was an immensely stupid name for a planet, which could only mean the humies had named it. Naturally, a humie-named world usually meant an extensive human presence, and by extension, all sorts of flash to nick. Arragoz was so giddy at the prospect that he hardly noticed the sudden change in speed, later followed by the dimensional jump, despite it sending him directly into the ceiling. When the ship finally settled, the Kommando plopped back into his seat, completely nonplussed by the experience. He was quite used to this, having travelled on Ork spacecraft that were far less safe than this one.

However, the announcement that he was remaining aboard the ship disappointed him somewhat, whilst the other Boyz got to muck about planetside. Upon hearing that he'd be fightin' the 'Galactik Federashun,' as well as those Ummy gitz he'd 'eard so much about, Arragoz quickly cheered up. As he had plenty of time to kill before he had to get stuck in, the greenskin went about concocting a most ingenious plan for the forthcoming battle. Humie ships weren't the best environment for Kamo, and the presence of vents to sneak around in wasn't guaranteed, leaving only one option: craft a kunnin' disguise.

Based on the information he'd been given, Spess Muhrines were involved, so dressin' up as one of them seemed like the best choice. To help achieve this, Arragoz needed a few fings. Reaching behind his shoulders, the Ork undid the clasp on his backpack, and began to blindly rummage through the contents. After a bit of searching, he retrieved the items he needed: the helmet and pauldrons from a suit of MK VI Corvus power armour, looted off an Ultramarine's corpse; a spool of string, a brush, and a can of blue paint. Originally, the armour had been almost intact, sans the left leg, which had been blown apart by one of Arragoz' mines. However, most of the parts had been gutted and sold off for a few bags of teef, as the Kommando cared little for a suit of armour that didn't make him sneakier. He'd kept the helmet as a trophy, and the pauldrons to serve as soup bowls or drinking cups. Now it seemed he'd be getting a bit more use out of the gubbinz.

A few minutes of assembly later, and Arragoz' disguise was complete. The pauldrons were tied to his shoulders by several lengths of string criss-crossing his torso in a jumble of knots, while the helmet was attached to his forehead by a single length. As for the blue paint, it had been thoroughly slathered over every inch of his skin and clothing. To all but the most keen-eyed of individuals, the Kommando was now indistinguishable from one of the Emprah's Angels uv' Deff. To complete the illusion, Arragoz decided to brush up on his Spess Muhrine impression.

"Da Codecks Ass-Fartes dusn't support dis ackshun."
"Curage 'n' 'Onur!"

This would continue for some time.