Gromsnok briefly looked up as the biggest mek on the ship approached him. The kaptin only half-listened to the explanation. He wasn't a mek, so he didn't give a zog on how the various gubbins the meks built worked. All he cared about was how killy said gubbins made him and da krew.<br/><br/>He had listened enough to pick up that the roks were almost ready for deployment. The reason roks were on the ship at all were a prime example of Gromsnok's orky 'logic'. He had figured he might as well bring the things in case someplace he was going to raid good didn't have any space debris nearby. It hadn't ever occured to the warboss, or anyone else on the ship for that matter, to just use other things as landing craft.<br/><br/>And then the big mek uttered a small tidbit about the shells of the humie guns planetside. "Lad... Dere's prolly not gonna be many of dem shells left fer lootin. Da Flyboyz be droppin big boom 'fings on dem humie shootas! Almost as if on cue, the warboss's words were punctuated by a gang of grots carrying one of the eponymous weapons of mass destruction to the hangar.<br/><br/>'ere's gonna be enough other gubbins to loot prolly!' Gromsnok bellowed out. He was on his way to one of the launch bays for the roks. He, being the warboss, had his own dedicated transport. Accompanied by some of he other meganobs. He didn't quite know where vadug and his kommando lapdog would run off to, a consequence of giving the mek a degree of autonomy. But it didn't cross his mind for long. He was too excited to get personally involved with the planetbound fighting right now. The planetary defences would quite likely have been shattered enough at this point to allow relatively safe passage.<br/><br/>The large ork and a detachment of his personal guard boarded the archaic landing craft. The rok, like all others, was little more than basic life support tech mounted on a piece of debris, despite the crude red-colored scribbles that spelled out 'da boss's ride'.  The ignition that were supposed to drive the rok forward were already primed, and the bay doors were opening. There was tension in the rok. A sort of excitement for the fightin (and lootin) that was soon to come. But also an anxiety that was common whenever a group of nobs were all cooped up in a small rok with no way out. It was quite probably only Gromsnok's presence that prevented the meganobs from getting into some premilinary fighting right then and there.<br/><br/>And then, the bay door opened fully, and with a clumsy shock, the rok and its cargo of devestating fighting machines were sent hurtling to the already battered planet below. The craft's rather incautious way of propulsion made it quite hard to keep oneself standing perfectly upright, and so the tension inside rose quite higher, as orks involuntarily poked and bumped into another due to the irresistable forces of gravity and momentum. Yet still, they refrained from moving on to very much voluntary blows, for they all knew the kaptin would bash anyone that would try and do that now for 'mootiny'.<br/><br/>And then the primitive vehicle reached its destination. A hatch automatically opening to allow the occupants to spread out, and they did so in as organized a fashion as orks would ever do. The meganobs going in first to draw fire away from the boss. Not that there was anyone to meet the landing party. To their fortune (or annoyance, depending on perspective) they had crashed in an open field, seemingly devoid of anything proper to fight. Gromsnok looked around annoyedly, muttering a complaint about the lack of room in the rok to bring a trukk. Of course, it had been at his beckon that the rok had the dimensions it had, but none present had the guts to point this out.