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’.
Trukks are designed to transport mobs of choppa-wielding Boyz into combat as quickly as possible. Each warband and clan will 'kustomise' its trukks to reflect their own predilictions. For example, a Goff vehicle will be functional with a large crew compartment, while the Evil Sunz almost always have turbo-charged engines and a red paint job.
This box set contains one multi-part plastic Ork Trukk, and includes a bolt-on big shoota, boarding plank, wrecker ball and reinforced ram.
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 roar of overcharged engines and the crackle of flames herald the arrival of the Boomdakka Snazzwagons. Lightly built speedsters based around looted vehicle frames, Snazzwagons are clad in hastily welded scrap armour. Their drivers go hell for leather, as they know that a single artillery shell is likely to blow their ride to smithereens. Of course, the enemy has to hit them first, and as the Snazzwagons fishtail and skid madly through hails of incoming fire, it quickly becomes apparent that this is no mean feat
The Orks are not only brutal and barbaric, but also possess a lethal talent for engineering lumbering war engines that are as deadly as they are menacing. Led to war by a Big Mek with a crackling shokk attack gun and a wily Mekboy, the Orks' Deff Dreads and Killa Kanz fire one ragged salvo after another into the enemy lines. Foes are blasted, burned and shredded by gunfire, yet this is only a prelude to the true slaughter. Revving massive saws and clacking ironclad pincers, the Ork walkers bellow mighty howls of 'Waaagh!' before charging with ground-shaking ferocity into the foe.
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.
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.
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.
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.