On the surface Grottrogg did not seem particularly special. He was kunnin, sure, but not any more kunnin than your typical Blood Axe nob. He was as tough, strong, and brutal as his fellow nobs but still nothing out of the ordinary. What set Grottrogg apart was luck. He had always been lucky and he had learned to recognize when to take advantage of any unexpected turn of events but he had also learned not to push his luck too far. It was this luck, and his ability to seize upon any opportunity, that would set Grottrogg apart time and time again.
One day Warboss Tinskull found himself in a particularly foul mood and decided to make an example of one of his nobs. Grottrogg happened to be the first one he came across and Tinskull called him out. Word spread like a virus through the warband that someone had challenged the boss and a stinking throng of orks descended upon the fightin’ pit.
“I seen da way youze been lookin at me, ya stinkin’ runt!” growled Tinskull. “I ain’t gonna put up wif no squirrelly little Blood Axe tinkin ‘e’s ‘ard enough ta take me down!”
This was certainly not the way Grottrogg had expected his day to turn out. Tinskull was a towering mass of muscle and smoking cybernetics almost twice the height of any other ork in the warband. Slabs of muscle and scar tissue were interwoven with cables, hydraulics, and armored plates built and maintained by the best meks he could find. He wore a helmet with massive horns and a mask that completely obscured his face. Grottrogg glanced at his trusty choppa, reliable but seemingly inadequate for this situation, and resigned himself to his fate. He was going to die but he might as well put on a good show for the lads. “Is you gonna prattle at me all day, skrap heap, or is we gonna fight?”
Tinskull charged, roaring as he closed in. With a sudden ‘pop!’ a hose on his power klaw let go and sprayed hot hydraulic fluid into Tinskull’s eyes. Startled and half blinded by the spray Tinskull faltered. In that moment Grottrogg lunched forward and swung his choppa upward in a neat arc aimed at Tinskull’s throat. It connected just below the jaw line and cut straight through. Tinskull’s body collapsed upon Grottrogg, flattening him to the ground beneath its tremendous weight. As Grottrogg clawed his way out from beneath it he was greeted by the deafening roar of approval from his new followers.
Ro-twang looked on with a grin. Unlike Grottrogg, Ro-twang was quite remarkable for an ork. He was a gifted mek with a tactical cunning that matched his technical expertise. He could easily lead his own warband if he wanted. But that was not his style. It was too risky to be at the top, and too distracting to have to spend all that time keeping the boyz in line. What he wanted was a good puppet to take care of that so that Ro-twang could count on having the time and resources to focus on his creations. The Goffish Tinskull was too narrow-minded and bullish for Ro-twang’s taste. But he had been watching Grottrogg. “Now dat one,” he thought, “has potential. ‘E’s kleva enough ta respect a good bit of taktiks and da value of some new kit. I’m glad I tweaked da bosses klaw fer ‘im before I wound ‘im up for dat fight!”
From that day on Ro-twang and Grottrogg made a powerful team. Grottrogg was quick to catch on to Ro-twang’s strategic guidance and the new suit of mega-armor Ro-twang built him helped ensure he stayed at the top of the heap. As more orks flocked to Grottrogg’s banner they engaged in more and more ambitious military campaigns. This guaranteed a steady supply of materials for Ro-twang’s creations and ample opportunity to test them out. As their warband grew preparations began to launch them into the stars for greater glory. By the time a suitable space hulk drifted into range Grottrogg’s force had absorbed the entire population of their backwater planet. Hundreds of ramshackle spacecraft were launched to escort the hulk as hundreds of thousands of orks were tellyported on board. Waaagh Grottrogg was on!
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