Skarfang bared his teeth at the winged ‘un and bellowed, brandishing his choppa. He would have attacked but he smelt the stench of promethium, his tanks must be leaking, but there were gunshots.
“Datz not goo-" He didn’t get much farther as the tank exploded into flame, the Ork showed a surprising amount of intelligence by shrugging off the cumbersome tank, however that was after he ran around in a circle screaming “Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!” for about thirty seconds.
He dove for cover as the promethium...burnt itself out instead of exploding, for which the Ork was thankful as it was his favourite pack. His flama may be useless for a bit but his choppa worked real good.
He patted out a small fire that was on his shoulder and snarled. “DAT WAZ MAH BEZT TANK!!”
His small red eyes searched for a target, as he knew that the winged Git had been in front of him and couldn’t have shot his tanks.
Skarfang couldn’t find a target and his angry gaze settled on Zoshonel.
His eyes narrowed behind his visor “Yoo ruined mah tank!”
The Burna Boy had been a Slugga boy before he had found his true calling with setting things alight, and his choppa was roughly the size of a dwarf (Almost as ‘eavy too!) and made of hull plating bolted and taped to a spiked handle.
He was in a real bad mood now, that had been his best tank and now it had ‘oles in it and stuff. He snarled ferally and was getting ready to fight.
He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs and let it all out in the common Ork War-cry.
“WAAAAGGHH!!”
(Thodol)
The Chaos Marine watched, hidden from sight, he felt the bloodlust rising within him but forced it down, now was not the time, but soon he would join the skirmish and kill the Orks.
Not if this one has anything to say about that, Puppet
Thodol stiffened, feeling as if a molten spike had been driven into his mind, such was what happened when a Daemon spoke to Mortals.
He replied to Khazrak in his mind. ‘Master, the Mortals may need help, and I must destroy the filthy Xen-’
YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING The voice subsided for a moment, letting Thodol regain some ground. ‘My Lord I-‘
Do not interfere, let the Mortals dance how they shall. Or the very flesh shall be stripped from your bones and YOU shall dance.
‘Yes Lord, I do your bidding’
We shall see With that the Daemon was gone from Thodols mind, leaving him with a horrendous headache as he blinked a few times to clear his vision, he knew that he would not be able to kill the Orks, he would now have to content himself with watching.
With a silent curse to the Daemon, he backed away, leaving the others to their ‘Dance’ as Khazrak had called it. He would have to see how these Mortals dealt with the most war-like and brutish race in his universe.
His mind preoccupied, he failed to notice a flicker in the Warp.
((Thodol will not be helping, else Khazrak will flay his Soul in the Warp for Eternity, I’m sure you’ll be fine tho, be glad none of the Orks is a WeirdBoy))
((And him missing that there flicker probably aint good, depending on my mood))