While Castellan Mother Theresa was raiding the Ork camp, the more mobile Orkish forces, lead by the new warboss Gitstompa, were speeding through the desolate landscape. He had no time to waste. Let the old boss consolidate the boyz. He had to offer a scrap, and a good one, with propa' loot and e'rything, or he won't stay boss for long.
And lo and behold, the boss craves and Gork and Mork provide. Standing up in his saddle, prodding Missiz Muncha to leap across a crevice, Gitstompa spied humie structures in the far distance. And was that... exhaust smoke? Gitstompa whooped, swinging his choppa wildly.
'Boyz, da humies are at it again!' he hollered, uncaring whether his boyz heard or understand. 'WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!' Well, at least they heard that. He swung his choppa a couple more times, trusting the boyz - his boyz! - to follow his meaning. The '32.5 Minuterz' steered their deffkoptas right, with the squighog boyz going left. He wanted it the other way around, but good enough.
Soon, the unsuspecting humies were just in sight, bustling around their blocky buildings - good and strong, but not spiky enough - and strange metallic structures half-buried in the sand. Well, they'll get to that later. Time to issue the order of:
'WAAAGH! DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!'
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