<span style="font-style: italic">Our story begins in an unnamed asteroid field somewhere in the parts of space too remote and desolate to really be claimed by anyone. It is in this asteroid field that the great Ork pirate ship 'Ramma 'O gork' lies moored and waiting for prey. We now join the ship's Kaptin, Gromsnok shipchoppa, in his throne room.</span><br/><br/>The titanic ork sat on his throne, seemingly thinking about something. In actuality, he was bored out of his mind. Da boyz down in the radar room hadn't found anything for quite some time now. The tension in the air was palpable. Orks that had no enemies to fight became bored. And bored orcs often tried to entertain themselves with infighting. Already, boyz beating each other's teef out for no reason at all was becoming a common occurence on the lower decks. Though it wasn't yet to the point that one could call it a rebellion brewing.<br/><br/>Then, one of the tubes connecting to the lower deck began spewing forth noise. It was a communications tube, manned by orks with particularly powerful vocal chords to shout towards one another through. The shouta boy, as they were called, had wandered off for some triviality, perhaps a cask of squig ale. The other orks in the throne room, mostly members of Gromsnok's personal guard, were quite unsure what to do about it. WIth a deep, rumbling sigh, Gromsnok gestured one of the orks at random over to answer the call. The large ork obviously did this rather trivial task with a displeasure of sorts. He was a nob after all, and supposed to be above such menial things.<br/><br/>The nob started shouting down the tube. 'yeah? what is it ya grots!" The nob's question was quickly answered with a mumbling that was  nigh-impossible to comprehend from a distance. The nob's face however, said more than enough. His bored scowl had turned into a toothy grin. Gromsnok already knew the news by the time the ork turned towards him. "Boss, Da radar boyz found us somehing ta fight! Looks like Humiez coming through any minute now.<br/><br/>Gromsnok shifted his massive frame upright from the slouch in which he had been sitting on his throne. "Alright ya git, you know what to do. Gather da boyz and tell em we're doing a raid. And go look for dat shouta boy. I ain't wasting time doin that grot's job for him!<br/><br/>Quickly. the ship bustled with activity. As word spread that a target had been acquired, orks started sharpening the blades of their choppas, dusting off their shootas, and getting ready for glorious combat. The hanger in particular had become a bustling font of activity. Mekboys running all over to check whether all the gubbins were in da right spot on da fighta-Bommers. Gretchin running around to fetch all sorts of odds and ends for their masters. And the nobs gearing themselves up for a fight. All activity came to a momentary standstill however, when the signature sound of the Kaptin's personal elevator resounded through the hangar. It would appear Gromsnok would be giving a speech. And he was the kind of ork that didn't take kindly to being interrupted, as several vaguely reddish stains on the wall and floor attested.