Rockeata's day to shine

Today was Rockeata's day to shine. The Boyz had been hired to take out a small unit of them grey gits and some fancy truk they had. The scraplootas however, were preoccupied with all of the bits from another job - in particular a couple of massive shootas they had gotten from tha humies, which were being attached to Boris' right arm with gusto by the grots and mekboyz. Considering this, Rockeata Brugg and a squad of a few boyz and a heap of grots were dispatched to handle the job since the unit was so small (only about 9 of them). Rockeata had hatched quite a brilliant plan for this mission. His stealth was the cause of the trust the others put in him, and he was going to prove he was the sneakiest ork boy in the tribe this time.

It was night, and the boyz crouched on a craggy ridge overlooking the grey gits that were camping below. Two of them stood guard, and the rest were sleeping aboard the tank. Rockeata sank his metallic jaws into a particularly juicy rock, squinting at the camp, deciding from which direction to make the strike. The rock, much to his pleasure, tasted like fine squig. Most rocks do. He had overheard someone say that once when he was young, and ever since he was pleased to find that rocks really do taste quite fine, though few of the other boyz agree - and even then it is probably just for the sake of not arguing with him. One of the guards turned to the other and they began walking in the same direction to the other side of the tank. This was his window, he gave the signal and pulled out his pack. From it, he drew an enormous purple tarp, instructing everyone to get under it, and follow him as they marched silently towards the tank.

They crept up, more quietly than the vacuum of space it seemed, and settled right up along the tank. Rockeata almost giggled at what was about to come. He pulled out a special piece of gear he had Zizzbitz fix up for him, made of some super springy and glowy gubbins, he was told that with a good hundred of these he could lift Boris' leg - but one would be enough to flip the tank. He nestled it in the dirt under one of the treads, snickering a bit, and then pressed the button, jolting the tank up a few feet on one side - then he threw off the tarp and him along with a couple of other boyz put their hands under the tread and pushed extra hard, flipping it over onto its back, crushing the grey gits on the other side. Then came the important part. He leaped up top, onto the metal underbelly, and cut out a hole with his choppa and dropping in a couple of explodin bitz. He jumped down and walked off a bit, then heard a resounding and pleasant couple of explosions, oily black smoke creeping out of the punctured hull.

Rockeata cheerfully chomped into another succulent stone, beaming at his victory, and telling the grots to head into the ship through the top of the hull and make sure that everyone was proppa ded. Rockeata congratulated himself on another success. He had the boyz get to work tearing off the armor and gubbins from the outside of the tank. It sure was a fine one, nicer than any he'd ever seen. In particular he was eying a few of the side plates that looked particularly tough. He decided he would take some for himself and so he got to work trying to chop off a few pieces. Much to his surprise, his choppas could hardly scratch the side plates. Rockeata looked skeptically at the plates now, determined to have them. He did the orky thing, and ripped them off with his hands, which was still rather difficult, but he had plans for these as well. Soon their work was done, and the camp was destroyed, and all the bitz of the tank loaded up to be taken back to the camp.

Upon returning to the camp it took quite a lot of work from Zizzbitz on the plates, eventually resorting to one of the super hot choppas that the blue grot had put together to cut it them into proppa orky shapes. Most shootas were fairly ineffective against the plates too, Zizzbitz found, and he was audibly aghast at their resilience. He continued working with them of course, making Rockeata a right proppa suit of armor that covered alot of his body, and was painted a dark purple to help him stay sneaky. The scrap bitz were filed and worked together to make a ded killy set of new jaws for Rockeata, they cut right through rocks like a choppa through a humie. Rockeata was right pleased with his new protection, and his orky new eatin bitz.