Their scrawny limbs are too small to bear weapons larger or more complicated than shards of broken glass or chunks of scrap. Lacking the violent tendencies of their larger kin, they are predominantly kept as little more than pets for their Ork masters, although they make excellent ammunition for the strange weapon the greenskins call the shokk attack gun.
Grots are fast learners and quick to spot an opportunity, meaning that many wind up as assistants or servants to more important Orks like Mekboyz or Nobz. When the time comes to go to war, the grots are flushed out of these hidey-holes en masse by the gnashing squig hounds of the Runtherds, or a few enthusiastic Burna Boyz. On his own, a single Gretchin poses little threat to a human-sized adversary. However, if there is one quality the grots have in abundance, it is quantity.
On the field of battle, Gretchin advance in great mobs, firing volleys of scavenged ammunition from their poor-quality weapons before diving upon the fallen and tearing them apart in their scrabbling haste to loot the corpses. Even the most accomplished warriors have found their arrogance punctured when cornered by an entire mob of shrieking grots.
It is they who cultivate the great patches of fungi that spring up around Ork settlements. In this way, Snotlings provide food, drink and medicine for the rest of the greenskin race.
Their natural affinity with these life forms is far greater than that of other greenskins. Helpfully, this means that on any given day only a few dozen Snotling attendants will be devoured alive by their ravenous charges. The Snotling populations that spring up around Ork settlements are monitored and cultivated by the Runtherds.
These grizzled and merciless slavers use a variety of methods to bully their charges into a state of anxious obedience, not least of which are the much feared grot-prod and the ferocious squig hound. Much like their approach to everything else, Orks do not waste time pondering why they do things, or how they might do them better.
Instead they simply act, instinct and ability driving them on in a never-ending cycle of violence and conquest. Though likely a corruption of whatever may have come before, by and large it functions very well. Perhaps this is because the fundamental tenet of their society — might makes right — is a simple one that even the most pea-brained snot can understand. Though some Warbosses rise to prominence through shrewd scheming, most seize power through the application of brute force.
His decisions are enforced by a ruling caste of Orks known as Nobz, who are larger, richer and more aggressive than normal Orks, and never miss an opportunity to remind them of it. The rulers of the Ork tribes are known as Warbosses, and with the exception of the truly mighty inter-tribal leaders known as Warlords, are the most powerful Orks of all.
These monstrous killing machines tower over their lackeys, and their sheer muscular bulk makes them wider at the When the Orks of a tribe go to battle, they do so in anarchic groups known as mobs.
These in turn belong to larger hordes known as warbands, each of which is lead by a lesser Warboss and their Nob enforcers. Goff warbands in particular are famous for the sheer number of Boyz that they can field in a conflict, often outnumbering their foes several times over. Greenskin Kultur Orks tend to be lazy and forgetful, and only war and the preparations beforehand really bring out their innate talents.
Though the bigger, meaner Boyz will lord it over the smaller, ganglier ones, even a subservient Ork is of limited use when it comes to practical tasks that do not involve fighting.
Most of the day-to-day running of greenskin society is therefore left to the Gretchin, whose duties include preparing food, taking messages, hauling stuff about, general organisation and just being around the place when an Ork wants something to kick. This gives the Orks plenty of time to swagger about, getting into fights and coming up with new ways to kill things.
The Gretchin are happy enough in their role. They bear little resentment towards their superiors, for to them Orks are just a fact of life. Questioning this usually leads to a clip round the ear, and not much else. Weirdboyz, Mekboyz and Runtherds worked in concert to support the anarchic Ork assault, unleashing psychic blasts of force, searing beams of energy and hordes of manic grots to tear open ragged gaps in the Imperial defences and left the humans ripe for slaughter.
In fact, the Gretchin have created an entire enterprise culture of their own within greenskin society, with many operating their own black-market businesses on the side; these range from selling fungus beer or roasted squigs on sticks, to coordinating bets when a fight breaks out and then looting the resulting corpses. Conflict governs their entire society, their technological advances, and even their individual growth. Prolonged periods of fighting lead to a proportional increase in the size and strength of an Ork, and those who have fought in a war zone for a few years tower over those deprived of such stimulus; in short, longer wars produce ever-larger combatants.
When there are no enemies to fight, the Orks will test their mettle against any native predators they can find, and if that fails they will fight amongst themselves simply for the joy of it. Disputes between Orks become almost hourly occurrences if they are not engaged against a common foe.
Such power struggles are resolved through methods ranging from low cunning to high explosives, but ritual pit-fighting remains a firm favourite. Pit fights are popular, as they entertain the ladz and establish the victor as Warboss beyond dispute.
Either rivals are dispatched by the incumbent Warboss, or he is overthrown and usually killed into the bargain. Every Ork settlement has a fighting pit for this purpose, which is also used to settle other grudges and disputes. Pit fighting thus serves the Orks as a rough and ready judicial system.
It is generally disapproved of to open fire upon a challenger in such a race, or at least during the first lap. As an Ork matures into adulthood, he will become involved in larger and more violent conflicts, ranging from border skirmishes to all-out war. Orks fixate upon things they enjoy, and the heightened state of excitement they experience during battle can mean that over the course of a particularly epic conflict an Ork will become addicted to one facet of warfare above all others.
Like-minded tribe members who share the same obsessions will often seek each other out, forming loose groups of specialists. An Ork who has experienced the exultation of destroying an enemy tank or walker may join the ranks of the Tankbustas, whereas an Ork who just cannot stop setting things on fire will soon start hanging around with the local Burna Boyz.
However, the largest and most popular of all of these subcultures is the Kult of Speed. There is something about speed that fulfils some deep need in the Orkish temperament, just like the thunder of guns, the clank of tracks or the din of battle.
They like to feel the wind whipping into their faces and hear the throaty roar of supercharged engines. It is hardly surprising that bikes and buggies of all kinds are popular with the Orks. From Shokkjump Dragstas and Boomdakka Snazzwagons, to burly Rukkatrukk Squigbuggies and swarms of hurtling Warbikes, many greenskins will happily leap aboard any vehicle with the capacity to move fast and blow things to bits. These up-gunned vehicles may not be as sturdy as those used by the Imperium, but they can be built easily from readily available battlefield scrap, can pack a massive amount of firepower and, most importantly of all, they can achieve truly suicidal velocities.
These grinning loons roar into battle on exhaust-belching jalopies and crude but effective flying machines, intent on getting into the thick of the fighting before their ground-pounding comrades. Due to the large number of vehicles in each warband, they often have several of the Oddboyz known as Meks amongst their number to keep their contraptions running.
ODDBOYZ If Orks were just single-minded killing machines they would be dangerous enough, but they would be unable to sustain the level of technology required to ply the stars. Gretchin, though obedient if beaten with sufficient regularity, are not inventive enough to maintain the weaponry that the Orks possess, nor to patch up casualties when the going gets tough.
These highly technical demands are met by a caste of Orks known as Oddboyz. There are many types of Oddboy in greenskin society, but the most important are Mekboyz, Painboyz, Runtherds and Weirdboyz. Mekboyz are responsible for the creation and maintenance of Ork technology.
Painboyz are medics, though their penchant for bizarre and inappropriate surgery can make their ministrations more hazardous than helpful. Runtherds breed the lesser forms of greenskin, and marshal them on the field of battle. Weirdboyz are potent psykers who can discharge great blasts of Waaagh! Although it may seem strange to humans, these Oddboyz all possess an innate understanding of their fields of expertise without having to be taught.
If asked where this knowledge comes from, an Oddboy might reply that it was in his blood all along. It has been suggested that the abilities of Orks to build machines, practise medicine or even use psychic powers are passed down through the generations on a primordial, biological level, perhaps a legacy left to them by their legendary Brainboyz.
No studies of the greenskins have ever successfully determined how this process works, or indeed if it exists at all. Whatever the source of this latent knowledge, as an Ork matures it will start to make itself apparent, leading him to assume the role in greenskin society for which he is best suited.
Should he lack any specialist knowledge, the Ork will happily join the vast throng of Boyz at the heart of each tribe and content himself with a life of murder and mayhem. What others see as stupidity is in fact a simplicity of focus, an uncomplicated drive to fight and to win, time and time again. Theories abound that Orks harbour the genetic traits of both animal and fungal life forms, and that it is this unusual biology that gives an Ork his remarkable constitution. Yet for all the questions that hang over the greenskin race, what cannot be disputed is its relentlessly bloodthirsty nature.
Once a world or system has faced attack by the greenskins once, it will be ravaged by them time and again until it finally withers and dies. At the same time, Ork survivors carry word with them through the void, spreading the tale of how good a fight a particular world put up. Keen to have a go themselves, fresh hordes of Orks soon descend upon the locale, often before the damage from the previous incursion has been repaired. Each Ork slain makes way for two of its bellowing brethren, while every attack-wave bloodily repulsed just draws more enthusiastic greenskins.
In this way, some worlds become the unintentional focus of a Waaagh! Eventually the pressure from Ork invaders both within and without becomes unendurable, leaving the defenders only two choices: stand and fight, dying to the last in the process, or flee with whatever they can salvage, abandoning their stricken world to the greenskins.
The Nature of the Beast The advent of the Great Rift has taken even this stark choice from many of those planets invaded by the Orks. The defenders of worlds isolated in the darkness of the Imperium Nihilus have nowhere to run, and precious little chance of reinforcement.
Thus they can only stand their ground, trapped behind their own barricades and forced into a war of attrition that they cannot possibly win. With fierce battle raging across the entire galaxy between the servants of Chaos and the forces of the disparate stellar races, a number of hotly contested war zones have been thrown into absolute anarchy by the sudden arrival of an Ork Waaagh!. In these cases, both sides of the conflict — already stretched to capacity by their efforts to annihilate and resist annihilation — are fallen upon with reckless abandon by the belligerent greenskins.
The resultant civil war against the 68th Vostroyan Firstborn benefited only the Ork invaders, who gleefully attacked both of the bitterly divided human factions. The results are horrific. Grand strategies collapse in a matter of hours as the Orks smash everything in their path. Hard-won supply lines are severed and long-defiant worlds overrun. They do not have priests or raise grandiose temples, but instead honour their deities by hurling down the idols and shrines built by others.
What effigies the Orks build are towering walkers, around whose metal feet the greenskins surge into battle, offering praise only of the most instinctive and gestalt kind. The Orks are a powerful force in the galaxy, their character traits having a reflection in the warp just like the impulses and emotions of Humanity and the Aeldari.
These attributes are made manifest in the belligerent Ork gods known as Gork and Mork. Gork and Mork are divine powerhouses, deities so strong that they are never truly defeated. They simply shrug off the attacks of other gods with a raucous laugh. Mork, always the sneaky one, waits until his foe is not looking before clobbering him with a low blow. An idea of the appearance of the Ork gods can be gained from looking at Gargants and Stompas, towering machines constructed in the image of Gork or possibly Mork.
The Mekboyz create these titanic engines of war to capture the essence of Orkiness in mechanical form, and as such they serve as potent religious idols.
To the greenskins, these clanking behemoths behave very much like their gods, lumbering about and leaving a trail of devastation in their wake. They go where they please, and never shun a fight.
The aspects of Gork and Mork are likewise evoked by the Gorkanaut and Morkanaut. These huge armoured war-suits are intended as a tribute to, and imitation of, their chosen god, and their pilots are frequently gripped by visions of Gork or The Ork Gods possibly Mork urging them on during the heat of battle.
Visions of battle and carnage flash through the mind of every greenskin. Weirdboyz gibber and bellow with the voices of Gork and Mork, commanding their fellows to surge forth upon Waaagh!
In the warp, the Ork gods lumber ever onwards along their metaphysical warpath, sweeping away tides of Daemons with every gleeful blow. They know that soon the veil will split asunder altogether, and then at last they will burst forth from the immaterium to lead their entire race in an apocalyptic crusade known as the Great Waaagh!. Gork is a landslide of brutality, a ferocious storm of hammering fists, kicking feet and tusks bared in a bestial and everlasting bellow.
When a Mekboy feels the inspiration to build a new contraption, or a Blood Axe gets a sudden strategic inkling, or a Deathskull spots an opportunity to stab an enemy in the back, this is the work of Mork. Although no stranger to brutal violence, Mork is a wily deity. In truth, however, greenskin society is guided by a rugged set of tried and tested traditions.
Central to these tenets is the system of tribes and clans. Orks thrive on conflict. The strongest rise to the top while the weak become subservient and benefit from the superior leadership and head-kicking skills of their conquerors. To an Ork, this state of affairs is perfectly satisfactory; if a greenskin tribe is beaten by another, stronger tribe, the defeated Orks welcome the opportunity to be led into battle by a leader of even greater power.
A tribe is simply all of the greenskins in a given location, regardless of what clan they may belong to, because in the end an Ork is an Ork and they will always put aside their differences if there is an opportunity to attack a common foe. Each tribe is led by its biggest and most powerful Warboss, whose authority and power holds this loose confederation in check and prevents civil war between the rival elements of the tribe.
Tribes can vary hugely in size, depending on the influence of the war leader at the top of the pile. Each Warboss leads a warband that can comprise all manner of mobs, armoured war-engines, aircraft, artillery and the like, forming a rough and ready army.
Many warbands have a hard core of Ork infantry at their heart, but beyond this they vary enormously from one to the next; some may be entirely centred around skwadrons of ramshackle fighter jets, while others may consist solely of lumbering walkers and war effigies.
Like-minded Orks tend to cluster together, leading to warbands crammed with mechanised Speed Freeks or pyromaniac Burna Boyz. Although all Orks belong to a tribe, most also belong to a clan such as the Goffs or Evil Sunz. Tribes are constantly breaking apart and reforming in the crucible of battle, but the clans are constant and enduring. A large tribe usually contains Orks from many different clans, and as each clan has its own distinct character and identity, its members tend to form warbands together whenever possible.
This is not to say that they do not intermingle within a single army, but certainly Orks fight most effectively when not distracted by inter-clan rivalries. There are six clans in particular that have spread from one side of the galaxy to the other: the Goffs, the Snakebites, the Bad Moons, the Blood Axes, the Deathskulls and the Evil Sunz. FERAL ORKS Though the majority of Orks will never venture far from their tribe, there are those strange few who are driven to explore the remote locales of their world, compelled to do so even in preference to fighting.
Such pioneers will seek out the deepest jungles or most arid deserts, where the majority of creatures would struggle to survive at all, and become the founders of new tribes of greenskins. In time, it is common for these tribes to degenerate into savages, sometimes known as Wildboyz. Should they endure and multiply, some of these groups will come into contact with their parent warband. There they learn about Ork kultur and take their place in the warrior society, exchanging spear and axe for slugga and choppa.
However, should the new tribe emerge on a world where their Ork ancestors have been driven off or slain, the Wildboyz will instead develop into a tribe of Feral Orks. At other times, Ork armies that suffer a sufficiently crushing defeat may be all but eradicated, and their survivors scattered in small pockets to the wildest and most inhospitable parts of a world. Such hidden greenskin enclaves retain little in the way of technology, and rapidly devolve into Feral Orks through force of circumstance.
Greenskins have notoriously short memories, and before long the only record such tribes possess of their more technological origins lies within the oral traditions of the Runtherds. The Orks look with wondering eyes upon the crude glyph paintings of war engines that adorn their cave walls, but only until their attention wanders to catching a tasty squig or punching their mates in the face. What rusting wrecks remain of their Battlewagons and combat walkers are treated as sacred relics, squatted in as huts or smashed up and used to make clubs and arrowheads.
They are uncivilised, even by the low standards of their Ork brethren, and live by the old ways of hunting and exploring. As the tribe increases in size they breed ever-larger varieties of squig, riding around upon great tusked beasts that vary in size from that of a horse to that of a Baneblade. Exploring the stomping grounds of their predecessors, the Feral Orks soon learn to scavenge weapons and equipment, and rejoice in the noise and destruction their new tools allow them to cause.
Shortly after this discovery the tribe will mobilise for war, whooping and howling as they pour out of the mountains, jungles or deserts, charging into the cities and fortifications of the unsuspecting enemy and starting the whole cycle of warfare afresh. As the war drags on and the mighty Squiggoths are slain one by one, they will be replaced by crudely constructed Battlewagons covered in beast fetishes that hark back to the squigs that came before. Should the Feral Orks survive the fighting long enough, they will inevitably mature into a fully fledged and technologically capable society akin to a typical Ork tribe, only to spawn wandering Wildboyz of their own.
A Goff likes nothing more than hearing the hammering of guns and that satisfying wet crunch when his choppa finds its way deep into the throat or chest of an enemy. They seize upon any excuse to start a fight, even with each other. Often all it takes is a grunted insult or a misinterpreted glance in their general direction for the fists to begin flying, the Boyz quickly forgetting the reason for the bust-up and simply enjoying the resulting brawl.
With the Goffs preferring to fight their enemies up close and personal, this tendency towards nearconstant scrapping amongst themselves also serves a practical purpose by keeping their hand-to-hand skills honed between battles. Goff warbands are notorious for the sheer number of infantry they muster in times of war.
All it takes is the hint of a good conflict and the Goffs appear in droves, flocking to any Warboss who can promise them the chance of opening some skulls. Because of their preference for close combat, Goffs like to fight on foot, though they will happily hitch a lift on a passing Trukk so they can get stuck into the enemy as soon as possible. Enemies often interpret these massed infantry assaults as a deliberate tactic by the greenskins to overwhelm set defences. More likely, though, is that each individual Goff is just following the rest of their mob without giving a thought to wider strategy, rightly reasoning that if an Ork is charging across the battlefield then there will be something to attack at the other end.
Different Goff mobs may adapt their glyphs with blood-red tusk or horn designs, while chequerboard patterns are much in evidence. Boss Nob Dregbadd, a hulking fighter of the Goff Clan. The longest-lived and most battle-hardened Goffs are known as Skarboyz, and form their own mobs of veteran killers within a Goff warband. Meanwhile, Goff Warbosses and Nobz are amongst the most fearsome examples of their kind, and are natural leaders with a talent for keeping unruly mobs of Boyz in line. Goffs also have a fearsome reputation in the fighting pits, although consider making teef off of these contests only a by-product of the fights themselves.
As any self-respecting Goff will tell his Boyz, fighting for teef is all well and good, but a proper Goff should always be willing to break faces for free. If it goes fast, kills people violently, and is painted a bright and garish red, then an Evil Sunz Ork probably already has three of it, and undoubtedly wants another.
The Orks belonging to the Evil Sunz Clan are irresistibly attracted to every conceivable kind of fast vehicle. Be it low-riding buggies, monstrous Warbikes or supersonic aircraft, Evil Sunz will spend every toof they possess in order to own them.
The richest Evil Sunz can even afford to have a Mek kustomise their ride, bolting on more wheels, bigger engines and louder rockets. Anything that looks like it might make the vehicle go faster is fair game, so it is not unusual to see wings attached to Warbikes, jet engines mounted on the back of Trukks, or even more bizarre means of propulsion such as squig treadmills and massive propellers.
The Evil Sunz never stay in one place for long, always on the lookout for new victims to slaughter. Clan members have a tendency to leave a battle midway through if it looks like the main part of the fighting is over, or abandon a burning city or ruined world if there is nothing left worth killing.
They especially like a good chase, as it gives them a chance to really open up the throttle on their vehicles. Enemy forces who turn tail on the Evil Sunz often learn this to their misfortune, the Orks running them down with frenzied glee — even after being given a sporting head start by the speed-addicted greenskins. Should an Evil Sunz Ork live long enough, he will inevitably acquire his own vehicle, whether he buys it with carefully hoarded teef or takes the simpler route of just nicking it from another clan member.
If he cannot drive into battle then he will ride, and if he cannot ride, at least he can content himself with being close to the throaty, growling engines of his warband, his nostrils filled with a satisfying promethium stink. Evil Sunz who therefore have to fight on foot usually race into battle crammed into Trukks or Battlewagons, or at least run as fast as they can towards the enemy, bellowing a throaty battle roar. This tactic is devastating against more static armies, who struggle to redress their firing lines or turn to engage the Orks before the greenskins are surging back through their outflanked defensive positions, and then back around and through again until all cohesion is lost.
The totem of the Evil Sunz Clan is a blood-red Ork face grimacing from the heart of a jagged sunburst. Evil Sunz Warbosses will usually have their vehicles painted red from grille to exhaust. This Ork habit of painting vehicles red has its roots in the ritual covering of mounts with the blood of the foe, a tradition that is still observed with manic relish by some Evil Sunz to this day.
The clan glyph of the Evil Sunz is a stylised Ork face on a blazing red sun. Flames or spikes typically surround these snarling grotesques. This reputation comes from their tendency to use actual battlefield tactics, often to great effect; nothing surprises an enemy commander like Orks who actually think about how, where and when to fight.
True, they have made the most contact with the Imperium, occasionally even fighting for the humans as mercenaries, and making extensive use of Imperial war materiel. Then again, every Ork can see the funny side of extorting weapons from human planets only to use them against their former owners.
Heckled and laughed at by most other Orks, the Stormboyz spend hours each day marching about and chanting, saluting each other and generally carrying on in very un-Orky ways. For this reason the clan has a natural affinity for Kommando mobs, and makes extensive use of them in battle.
Unlike other kinds of Orks, Kommandos like to sneak up on their foes, using all the dirty, underhanded tricks they can think of to get the drop on them. The Blood Axe Clan glyph features crossed choppas, usually boasting a stylised skull either in front of or behind them. Blood Axe mob glyphs vary a great deal. Set upon a field of garish camo patterns, they can incorporate axes, fangs, scars, skulls and back-stabbing blades.
Of course, Blood Axe warbands are made up of far more than just these specialist mobs. Blood Axe Warbosses have a better understanding of grand strategy than their equivalents from the other clans, knowing when to combine a Dakkajet strike with a ground attack, or send a mob of Kommandos on a covert mission. This grasp of diverse tactics means the warbands they lead are likely to comprise a strategically versatile mixture of infantry — either foot-slogging or riding aboard mechanised transports — supported by heavy armour, batteries of field guns, and wings of daring Flyboyz.
That said, there are none more skilled when it comes to looting the battlefield and cobbling together weapons and tanks from the resultant junk. The Deathskulls are plunderers without equal.
They are tremendously adept at looting and scavenging on the battlefield, and are also especially talented at scrounging, stealing and borrowing things from their fellow Orks — and in the case of the latter, notoriously bad at giving the items back.
Given their ingenuity and the higher than average density of Meks in their warbands, most Deathskulls would make capable scientists and excellent engineers if their fascination for new things lasted longer than the time it took to acquire them.
The Deathskulls see battle as a two-stage process, often hurrying the killing part in an effort to hasten the arrival of the scavenging spree that follows. After the battle, the Boyz really go to work, feverishly stripping corpses of everything from ammunition to bootlaces.
Many Deathskulls will take grisly trophies from their victims in the bargain, such as scalps or skulls. Only when they return to their encampment with the loot does the inevitable infighting break out, as the Deathskulls trade their ill-gotten gains. Other Orks drawn to Deathskull camps in search of goods — perhaps looking for a specific bit of loot, or something of their own that was stolen during battle — usually leave with less than they came with, as the Deathskulls have the uncanny ability to knock another Ork around the head while going through his pockets at the same time.
Sell it to ya if you like. One careful owner. Wrecked vehicles are especially popular, the burnt-out hulls of battletanks, armoured transports and aircraft all seen as fair game. Dragged off the battlefield, they can either be broken down for bits or taken to a Mek, who will beat some life back into them. Many foes have been horrified to see one of their own vehicles turned against them in this way, Deathskulls yelling insults from the turrets of their new acquisition as it delivers death to its former owners.
This process can also involve painting the item blue, which Orks believe is a lucky colour, with blue handprints and smears on vehicles common methods of staking a claim. The Deathskulls even use blue warpaint, daubing themselves from head-to-toe in it the night before a battle. This, in turn, means that most Deathskulls warbands produce an unrivalled amount of dakka on the battlefield, the better to break down the vehicles and wargear of the enemy into more easily lootable pieces.
The Deathskulls glyph takes the form of a horned Ork skull picked out in white and lucky blue. Check designs and Mek spanners are also popular. They feature blue and white skulls, spanners, fangs and the like. That said, they also know to dive for cover when the yellow-daubed loons open fire, for the sheer amount of dakka that a Bad Moons warband kicks out is amazing to behold.
The Orks of the Bad Moons tend to be richer than other greenskins. In fact, many Warbosses like to keep a mob of Bad Moons around for just this purpose, their toothy gobs a ready supply of extra teef. It is often not a terrible deal for the Bad Moons either, as any Ork tough enough to beat their teeth out of them is usually one worth following into a fight.
The Bad Moons fulfil the role of what passes for a merchant class within Ork society, and if something can be bought or sold, odds are the Bad Moons will have it. Some Runtherds reckon that it must have been the Bad Moons who came up with the whole concept of teef being used to buy things, when the clan figured out how quickly their teeth grow.
Of course, many Runtherds say it is the other way around, and when teef became Ork currency, the Bad Moons made their teeth grow quicker so they would have the most.
The subject is seldom dwelt upon for long, however, as knocking out teeth is far more interesting than talking about them. All this wealth means that the Bad Moons have a reputation for ostentatiousness, and their vehicles are festooned with gaudy decorations and gold plating, as is the majority of their wargear. Bad Moons love gold more than any other metal, and will commonly have a couple of glinting teeth in their avaricious grins.
As most Orks consider gold to be practically worthless, being too soft to make good weapons or vehicles with, they are more than happy to trade it away to Bad Moons for the more valuable teef. Their Nobz sport flashy banners and massive kustomised shootas, and are followed by entourages of scurrying grot servants and batteries of powerful Mek artillery.
Bad Moons mob glyphs tend towards simple moon and fang designs. They are normally picked out in garish yellows and golds, to ensure they are nice and visible. The Bad Moons favour golden yellow and black for their wargear, taking a snarling moon on a field of flames as their clan emblem. Their armour and weapons are painted with gaudy patterns in the clan colours, and they have more jewellery and piercings than the greenskins of any other clan.
If something looks valuable, a Bad Moons Ork will find a way to wear it, stick it through his body or bolt it onto the side of his vehicle, preferably somewhere that every other Ork can clearly see it.
However, only a fool would underestimate the raw strength of the Ork beneath the ostentation. The shiny bosspole of a Bad Moons Warboss is just as much a tool to smash skulls in as it is a symbol of vast wealth.
This has never held Snakebite warbands back, however, for when they unleash their tribal fury upon the enemy, there are few who can long withstand it. Considered backward by the more technologically minded clans, Snakebites still follow the old ways. Scorning complicated technological gubbinz, they put their faith in things they can trust: a good bit of sharpened bone, a heavy stick or a nice keen-edged choppa. In battle they daub themselves with mud and warpaint, hanging the claws and teeth of beasts they have killed around their necks and wearing poorly cured skins.
As a result of their primitive lifestyle, the Snakebites appear weather-beaten and they are as tough as old boots. They are experts in the field of breeding stock, and their grots and squigs are the most genuinely vicious and dangerous in all of Orkdom.
When a warband of Snakebites joins a battle, it brings with it a menagerie of these creatures, their camp a chaos of snarling squigs and running, screaming runts.
When other Orks are looking for an aggressive attack squig or an unusually fierce or obedient grot, they come to the Snakebites. The most fearsome beasts bred by the Snakebites are the mighty Squiggoths: huge, towering creatures capable of knocking over war machines and trampling entire platoons.
A well-trained Squiggoth becomes almost completely loyal to its Snakebite master, recognising him by his distinct smell and serving him as both a living battle tank and an enormous beast of burden. A Snakebite will repeat this process throughout their life, building up an immunity to venoms, and they usually bring poisonous serpents to each new world they invade in case the local wildlife proves disappointingly inoffensive.
As far as a Snakebite is concerned, snakes make the best pets — obviously, the more aggressive the better. Ironically, the more sophisticated weapons that fall into the hands of the Snakebites usually find their way into the hands of their grots, as the runts of the tribe are left to figure out how they work. The Orks, meanwhile, gather into especially large and surly mobs who chant and bellow as they work themselves into a frenzy.
When the Snakebites launch an assault, it is with such shocking ferocity that the enemy is buried under an avalanche of battle-crazed Orks, snapping squigs, gun-wielding grots and rusty, ramshackle wagons. Though they may be rather low-tech, the Snakebites are a deadly foe. Go to find war. Kill wot comes close. The old ways are best. Agrog of the Snakebite Clan. Snakebite mob glyphs usually depict either a snake or its fangs, fringed by tribal dag patterns or leaping flames. They rampage around the galaxy in piratical mercenary warbands, fighting together even as they compete viciously with each other to accrue the most loot.
White Dwarf Exclusive Datasheets provided unique rules for units and formations omitted from a codex or for standalone models such as new fortifications for warhammer 40k ork codex 5th edition the models are usually included in the cosex. Within 2 miles 5 miles 10 miles 15 miles warhammer 40k ork codex 5th edition miles 50 miles 75 miles miles miles miles miles miles miles miles miles of. See photos for complete details. Works more efficiently with Grot Tanks on paper, but less reliably in practice.
A complete and comprehensive list detailing all the datasheets available for each faction is available on the Datasheet Warhammer 40, Wikipedia page. Delivery Options see all. See all condition definitions — opens in a new window or 5tj These are normally a concise page containing all the necessary rules for a model or unit. Ads by Project Wonderful! Skip to main content.
Expansions for Warhammer 40, provide alternative ways to play the game. Extensive and detailed information about coeex Orks, including their culture, their tibes, the genesis of the Ork race and the crusades of violence and aggression that the Orks call Waaaghs! Name specified in the first column ; Vol. I think the points cost of most things in your proposed list are off.
Even with the different stats for the Warboss I think that both the Warboss, Feral Nobz, and Boarboyz should be doubled in points cost. And in just about every unit which has an option to add a Nob is incredibly underpriced, such as the Huntas in which for the price of a Grot you can get a Nob. I think that is just a bit too extreme. But there is a lot of real good work here, such as Brute Boyz, which is a throwback to the old Skarz, and the Lucky Omen rule which, at least in my recollection, would overturn the old view that Orkz, even desperate Warbosses and Wyrdboyz would avoid getting too close too.
Overall I think its a good start, but it needs some work, some tweaks, and some serious playtesting. But I can see and envision some great konversion work, and the hope that if this gets perfected and enough people enjoy it that it just might pressure GW into either adapting it into cannon like yakface's FAQs or for them to bring out a mod list like they did for Ferals in late 3rd Edition along with Kroot Mercs.
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