A great mass of Orks eagerly chatter about as the stories of the Rug Raider has captured their green hearts. The tales of fighting exotic enemies, making huge profits, fighting with the best war gear, exploring new systems, fighting hordes of people, enlightening primitives to the modern age and most importantly, fighting a lot of people from all over the place with a lot of fancy weapons was too exciting for the Orks to simply not think of.

Several of the more "traditionalist" Nobs bellowed for their boyz to get back in line and continue whatever they were doing that wasn't all of this fancy thinking stuff stuff. However, there are enough boyz that are still interest that brings up the question of if they should really take on the life of a Roof Trainer. Several of the more enterprising individuals quickly claim that they should be, either due to their own belief of superiority or that they just wanted a reason to fight someone.

Small scuffles quickly break out and while they aren't massive mosh pits of chaotic melee, they seem to be growing and the shouting and chanting of the boys quickly grow louder as more and more pile in to lay claim to the title of Hulk Baiter.

In the middle of this, a trio of Orks named Gutzwakka, Adurk and Krunkelfukk have formed an unlikely alliance like many others to attempt and secure their own position in what could be a new hierarchy. As they ponder what to do next, a Gretchin runs towards them, carrying the hat of the former Rogue Trader.

>be Krunkelfukk.

You have the sudden and overwhelming desire to run over a dog with a grey SUV.

>have goals.

You heard there was opportunity here for some fuckin' sport, namely ramming an Imperial vessel into an orbital station and stealing their rugs. That's what rug trading is, right? Something like that. Well, all dreams gotta start somewhere.

Of course, it's not like you haven't dipped your toes into the occasional orky start-up somewhere or other...

>roll proceeds from running a Gretchin brothel.
Roll: 2
Counter: 3

Yeah, that didn't go too well. It's not that the Gretchin weren't willing and able, or that the Orks weren't curious enough (or gay enough) to try. It's just that, in order to be a savvy matron, your customers have to, y'know, actually have dicks.

Curse you and your implied lack of genitalia, Games Workshop! Where am I supposed to get my crack shipping fix now?

In any case, you are DEAD BROKE. If you're gonna get back into venture capitalism, you're going to have to acquire some capital.

Here's a Gork-given opportunity now.

>take potshot at the Gretchin.

This'll slow 'em down.

Of course, when it comes to Orks, a potshot is never singular.

DAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKA

DAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKA

You spray that wily shit with everything you got, but your aim is of the Orkish persuasion. Which is to say, very bad.

Target: 6
Roll: 1

The Gretchin scurries away and hides under an ornamental skull. With the noticeable exception of its vital organs, you've obliterated everything in its general direction, including the hat.

Mother fucker.

...

>Improvise.

You construct an origami hat out of the nearest Imperial Writ. Look at me. I am the captain now.

---

Do Anything (1)
Fight (1)

Failures: 2

The sound of right good orkiness was going around the air; the sound of shootas doing what they were doing, nobs tryin' to keep their gits under control. It was all the good Ork life, and Adurk was by far happy to be in it, especially when the Gretchin was running right towards him with the old capitan's hat. Then it was gone, along with his hopes and dreams of being the big boss of his alliance when Krunkelfukk did the rather Orky thing of shooting it into pieces!

The boy looked over at the cross-dresser with a look that was mixed with both anger and disappoint at the obliteration of the hat. Then Krunkelfukk just went and made another hat which made him even angrier. "Oi! Ya shot up ma hat, ya git!"

He wanted to be da boss!

Dat was his title! Not some strange, weirdly dressed Ork!

It was the heat of the moment and he would show that he was the orkies ork that could ever ork. Firing his shoota haphazardly into the air and went to let out the biggest and most powerful "WAAAGH!!!" that any other ork could manage to show he was in charge!

>Roll for "WAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!" 4

Sparks fly out of the ceiling and rain down like small bright stars on to the mass of orks. Although the hat would have no doubt helped Adruk's claim to fame, it would seem that simply shouting a war cry was enough to motivate some nearby orks. One of many cries, it managed to rally 18 boys none the less who have stopped fighting each other and have begun to fight orks currently around the trio in a manner that could be called a "protective circle" in the loosest of sense.

Most of these boys also seem to be having mixed emotions about the Ork Gurl in the origami captain's hat.