Gretchin mobs make up for their shocking lack of quality with sheer quantity. The natural cowardice and feeble-limbed incompetence of the Gretchin race does not predispose them to the arts of war, and a typical Grot would prefer to have his head buried in a sporehole than to actually participate in a proper battle.
This box set contains 10 multi-part plastic Gretchin and one multi-part plastic Ork Runtherd, including: 12 Gretchin head variants and two Runtherd head variants, allowing you to assemble a horde of differently posed Gretchin. Models supplied with 25mm round bases.
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
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’.
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.
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.
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.
Often seen muscling their way through their fellow Speed Freeks as they roar toward the front lines, Rukkatrukk Squigbuggies employ living close-range artillery to wreak havoc amongst the enemy ranks. They launch a variety of squiggly beasts at the hapless foe: bitey squigs, which latch on to the first thing they hit and don’t stop chewing until they are bludgeoned to death; bile squigs which squirt, spray or vomit a variety of hilariously harmful fluids in every direction; and boom squigs that explode violently at the first sign of provocation, ostensibly to ‘warn off predators’.
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.
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.
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.