The Orks call their ruling caste Nobz. Nobz are bigger and scarier than other Orks and revel in cruel or casual violence. Nobz lead by example, plunging into the thick of the fighting and breaking skulls left, right and centre. In this way each Nob acts as a sergeant-at-arms, champion, oppressor and role model for the Boyz they lead.
The Meganobz are the richest and most battle-hardened Nobz around. Clad in Mek-built mega armour (with enough protective plating to turn the wearer into a walking tank), these Nobz can shrug off the hail of bullets that would kill lesser Orks.
This multi-part plastic boxed set contains three Meganobz and a Grot Oiler. Each Meganob is armed with a power klaw and a twin-linked shoota (which can be upgraded to a kombi shoota-rokkit launcha or a kombi shoota-skorcha). In addition to the deadly dakka, this kit also has enough killsaws to give each of your Meganobz a pair.
One Meganob can be assembled as a Big Mek in mega armour armed with a kustom mega-blasta and power klaw (which also functions as Mek’s tool for battlefield repairs). You have the option to equip your Big Mek with a back mounted kustom forcefield or a tellyport blasta.
A favourite amongst Speed Freeks and grounded Flyboyz alike, Megatrakk Scrapjets provide rocket-propelled acceleration, impressive firepower and the hilarity of ramming into enemy lines at the helm of what is effectively a gigantic, thrust-driven drill. These vehicles allow former Ork pilots to revel in the dimly-remembered joy of mowing down enemies at point-blank range – a joy which, of course, often caused the Flyboy to crash in the first place
Amid constant, seething tides of war and bloodshed, burgeoning greenskin empires rise and fall. Numerous beyond belief and driven always to fight and conquer, the Orks threaten to overwhelm every single galactic empire, stronghold and race. While their thirst for battle has always proved their downfall, causing brutal infighting that keeps them from crushing all opposition, occasionally a great leader rises who is capable of unifying the squabbling tribes, and soon a Waaagh! is underway – partially a migration, partially a holy war. When the Orks are on the rampage, the galaxy trembles – and in these dark times, more Waaaghs! are rising than ever before.
The Shokkjump Dragsta combines two of the foremost triumphs of the Mekaniak’s art – recklessly fast speedsters and deranged weaponry. It is perhaps unsurprising that it has become one of the most popular forms of transport amongst the Mekboyz of the Kult of Speed.
All Mekboyz can perform battlefield repairs using no more than a weighty wrench-hammer, a sack of nails and a healthy dose of gumption, but most do their best work in the comfortably anarchic surrounds of their own workshop. Meks are more than capable of cobbling together a workspace from whatever is lying about, with rudimentary workshops springing up from battlefield wreckage even while the bullets are still flying. Greenskin vehicles roar toward such teetering structures, their crews throwing sacks of teef at the resident Mek – he and his crew get to work immediately, sending the Ork customers on their way with snazzier guns, souped-up engines and extra armour plates.
Fast-moving fighting platforms, Deffkilla Wartrikes make little concession to armoured protection for their riders. Scythe-wheeled, with an enormous rokkit engine afterburner on the back, these trikes not only move at a frankly vulgar pace but also pack enough firepower to make them extra killy.
Boyz are the rank and file of an Ork army. Orks are tough, determined fighters who fall upon the enemy in great tides of howling violence. Generally armed with the heavy, solid-shot, slugga and brutal, edged choppas, they blow great gouges from the enemy before hacking them apart.
Stormboyz, the shock troops of many successful warbands, dedicate their lives to the time honoured martial disciplines of drilling, marching and hurtling through the air. To this end they go to war strapped to rokkit packs that, when activated propel their wearers forward on great tongues of oily black flame.
Painboys are at home amongst the blood and horror of the battlefield, eagerly patching up lost limbs, doing a spot of welding on a broken face or furnishing the Warboss with a brand new flame-throwing arm. They learn their craft through a mixture of instinct, trial and error, and the time-honoured principles of ‘Orky know-wotz’.
A Warbiker treats his personal steed with real care, because a warbike is not only a thing of great prestige but also a direct conduit to the adrenaline-rich thrill of speed. Nothing short of dive-bombing the foe in a fighta-bomma can compare to the raw excitement of hurtling towards the enemy on a warbike with all guns blazing.