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[@Ollumhammersong][@BCTheEntity][@Skwint][@Sophrus][@Torack][@Jarl Coolgruuf][/centre]


It had all began so well for the Greenskins of Waaagh! 'Artrippa, the aforementioned giant of an Ork gathering a substantial following about him and taking off toward the Imperial-held planet of Zamovis while using the splitting of the universe to fire up his warriors with what counts for Orks as religious zeal - 'Gork's Grin' (the Orkoid name for the Great Rift) clearly being a sign from their brutal and kunnin' deity, whoever said otherwise was quickly banished or dispatched by his more fanatical brethren, Gutsnaga being one of these doubters... but also clever enough to keep it to himself.

Zamovis was both the capital planet of the Zamovis Sub-Sector and now, much to the dismay of the Imperium, was the target of an Orkish [i]jihad[/i] that threatened to consume the surrounding areas of space as well. Was there any real need for the Greenskins to attack this planet in particular? Not really, it was simply [b]there[/b] and ripe for some fightin'.

It was slightly different for the Imperials, the Zamovis sub-sector being both a fertile recruiting ground for the Astra Militarum - especially the odd quantity of jungle planets present - and, more importantly, two or three minor Mechanicus Forge Worlds.

A large response force was dispatched under the command of some Imperial or other (they all look mostly the same to an Ork), which included a number of Catachan Jungle Fighters; it was however only once Astartes contingents from the Silver Templars, Storm Reapers, Sons of Medusa and the Helion Legion to name but a few began to appear that the fight intensified, inadvertently drawing in more Orks but... after many lives had been taken and much human blood had been spilt... the Waaagh not only was stalled, but began to be pushed back and out of the system.

At the forefront of this invasion had been the Orks of the Blood Axes for obvious reasons (they're the sneaky and kunnin' boyz), one particular band known as Da Devilz Brigade being encircled by an Imperial scratch force in the sweltering Jungle of Navamias (named after some Rogue Trader or other, probably) and seemingly cut off from the rest of their kind. 

This band were known to Imperial Command, and so priority was given to wipe them off the face of the planet with impunity.


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"Well," grunted Gutsnaga as another las-round hissed past his green hide, leaving him with a nasty burn but little else, "this is anuvver fine mess 'uve gotten us into Shiv!" He could barely hear himself speak over the [i]clack-bang[/i] of shoota and slugga rounds, mingled with the crackling of las-weapons and the [i]thwump[/i] of bolter technology, but he said it anyway - it had become something of a tradition to blame any such situation on the Ork named Zagruk grotkicka, mostly because he was a Snakebite and therefore considered stupider than the other boyz (even if there was no actual proof of it...).

For several hours now Da Devilz had been holding back waves of Imperial forces - pink skinned 'umies wth their flickering light weapons, and not even the ones that looked like miniature Orks! - with no sign of 'da tin can 'umies' or vehicle support... as of yet.

Using old kunnin' initiative, Gutsnaga had taken the boyz back to what looked like an abandoned jungle outpost, the low wall they sheltered behind made definitely of some kind of black stone (which seemed to hold up very well to the amount of munitions already thrown at them), the Imperial forces moving through the sweltering jungle heat to form somewhat of a cordon about the Greenskins to make sure they couldn't escape a swift death.

Honestly Gutsnaga had had enough about an hour ago, but also not wishing to throw his life away by simply charging the gun-lines, he began to formulate some sort of plan within his sub-par sized brain at the same time as snapping off solid shot rounds at any bush that quivered or spoke. 

Everything was beginning to annoy him, from the heat to the noise, how could he think with all this racket?!

He only had to wait for an hour or so he estimated, then night would fall and there would be a chance to make a taktikal retreat... right through the 'umies. Yeah, that was a good idea! Of course it was, he'd thought of it.

"I'z got a plan ladz, we just gotta keep 'em busy."


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"Captain, do you care to explain how it is taking so long to dispatch a handful of brutish Greenskins?"

Captain Ezequiel Eliseo of the Zaragoza Peleadores turned his tanned face to peer into the pallid visage of Commissar Goran Krunoslav, an offworlder given to his regiment for some Emperor-forsaken reason - the 'man' was too strict with his discipline, too high-handed, and in this environment the worst thing was that, beneath his black stormcoat and cap, he did not seem to be sweating at all.

"Commissar, we are doing everything we can, but they have dug in and refuse to be removed. We were told to give these Orks priority in terms of extermination, but they are crafty."

"Crafty Orks?!" The black-clad man laughed openly at the suggestion, "my dear Captain, the Ork is brutish, stupid, and as below humanity as a flea. Like a flea we shall dig them out."

"Yes sir, but it will be night soon, and we have already come from fig-," he saw the look on the political officers face and ceased to speak, swallowing hard.

"Very well. Keep up a sustained fire, I want that position to be rubble by the time night falls. Then, when the Orkish scum are napping, we shall close in and dispatch them. Does that meet you approval, [i]Captain[/i] Eliseo?"

The company commander could only nod, hoping deep inside that reinforcements showed up soon, waiting for the Commissar to find someone else to torment before getting back to his own.

"You there, that mortar needs to be at least several feet back, come on now... let me help you..."