Don't forget every psyker also automatically knows Smite. If you're using the Warphead strat, you want Da Jump and Warpath so you can cast Warpath and then Da Jump on something on your first Warphead, and Da Jump and Fists on the second same deal, but this time it's for targeting a character , and any more than that should be redundant backups.
Bonus points for freebooters and hitting on 3's using this. Ork Army List made from 7th edition codex. Complete with Detachments and Formations available in 7th edition. Download as Xlsx to view all content. Miniatures come unpainted and unassembled in their original packaging. Warhammer 40k ork codex pdf 5th edition Books made in 4th edition before the change to 5th.
Hi, all these books are for 8th and 9th ed, there were never any 7th ed version, though remaking them in your group for that need shouldn't be too much of an issue, the rules are pretty similar after all :. Please tell me your going to do the new Kharadron Overlords with 8th edition rules, I m in love with minis but not the AoS rules. Half of the link are broken so, I use the "Army Books" tab on the top of the page and when I clicked them it says the site is phishing.
I hope you can fix this. Thanks btw, for all these army books. Very grateful :. Thank you for this amazing up. I'm just starting Warhammer and these books Hey there, great idea, really looking forward to reading through these - Also looking for a complete list of the main Army Books from 1st-8th edition with a view to collecting them. Do you know of a list that compiles them, or a way to do that myself, maybe through an ISBN database for instance?
Much appreciated. I think wikipedia would be your best bet, I've seen the army books listed there. Wednesday, 31 July All books now available on Google Drive! Update: Since the links below are no longer valid, I recommend using this link to download all books instead.
A truly joyous occasion! Google drive is now finally usable as a valid hosting service, allowing me to sync up all new documents directly from my computer! Orks need battle just as humans need food and drink. Due to their warlike nature, they constantly fight amongst themselves, or launch piratical raids upon nearby enemies. Such conflicts tend to be small-scale or localised. However, when a greenskin population reaches a critical mass, is displaced by a catastrophic event, or is galvanised by a prophetic or particularly powerful leader, a full-scale planetary migration will occur.
This is known as a Waaagh! An Ork Boy visited by dreams of carnage may rise up to lead his tribe, hammering his ambitions of conquest into his subordinates and leading them in attacks against the other tribes of his world. As he fights to retain command of his ever-growing horde against a constant stream of challengers, news of his prowess spreads ever further, and the trickle of reinforcements becomes a green flood.
Gorkanauts and Morkanauts appear in growing numbers, their pilots seeking out the emergent Waaagh! Whole mobs of Mekboyz raise towering scaffolds within which Stompas and even Gargants start to take shape, these mighty effigies igniting some primitive drive within the minds of the Orks who see them, causing the flow of Waaagh!
Even though they are unified by a single leader, there is still much rivalry between the various clans and tribes participating in the Waaagh! Those Meks without the resources to construct Stompas and Gargants will instead create mobs of clanking Killa Kans and Deff Dreads, or Battlewagons from which the Warbosses can lead their armies to war.
When the lure of bloodshed on a grand scale can be resisted no more, the deadly fervour washing through the horde overflows. As the Orks gather for battle, smoke from thousands of oily engines fills the sky. The ground trembles beneath great wheels, tracks and the thunderous strides of towering Gargants. Armies of greenskins stretch across the horizon, raising their banners high, their war cries audible for miles around. Looming Gorkanauts and Morkanauts, bizarre artillery pieces and force-field generators chug, clank and buzz.
Armadas of rusty vehicles raise roiling thunderheads of dust into the atmosphere, while Dakkajets roar overhead. Speed Freeks rev their engines, and the Boyz fire their guns into the air as a carpet of Gretchin spreads out in front of the army.
Gathering the Waaagh! Smoke-belching mobile fortresses and titanic engines of battle are cobbled together out of nothing more than scrap Soon the Waaagh!
By this point, the ruling Warboss, the Ork who started it all, will have been recognised by his subordinates as a Warlord, and is feared and respected accordingly. Crude factory-ships and war hulks are bashed into shape, the better to transport his armies into battle. Eventually, the battlefield is barely visible beneath the endless sea of green, each Ork warrior certain that the ground will soon be stained red.
Here the power of the Waaagh! Then as one, with an almighty bellow, the Orks surge forwards, and another world is plunged into unending war. Yet the Orks have spread across it with unparalleled success, lurching from one world to the next and trampling everything in their path. The ways in which they achieve this are as varied and hazardous as one might expect, but no less effective because of it.
Orks live on innumerable worlds. On some they dominate completely, on others they live in a state of perpetual war, and on others still they act as slave-masters, bullying the local populations into doing their bidding. Hordes of greenskins roam the stars upon gigantic space hulks, establishing Ork empires across the galaxy.
It has been tens of thousands of years since Humanity first encountered the Orks, and in that time Mankind has fought countless bloody wars against these savage creatures. There is no likelihood that this state of affairs will change. Millennia ago, a probe was sent out from Terra, its mission to explore beyond the limits of the galaxy. The probe still sends back faint signals after fourteen thousand years adrift, and to the consternation of the Imperial Tech-Priests who monitor these signals, many are identified as Orkish.
The depressing conclusion for Mankind can only be that wherever they travel in space, there is a good chance that the Orks will either have been there first or will not be long in arriving. Space hulks are gigantic conglomerations of ancient wrecks, asteroids, ice and interstellar flotsam and jetsam, cast together after millennia of drifting in and out of warp space. Some are infested with alien life forms, Chaos renegades or even worse horrors, but most are simply ghost ships, plying the void for eternity.
Tales of greedy scavengers meeting horrible fates aboard space hulks are told throughout the Imperium, but there are just as many tales of vast fortunes made from the ancient or xenos technologies they carry. The Savage Stars The Orks spread across the galaxy like a green stain. No system is entirely devoid of their touch. Some theorise that the Orks spread via fungal spores drifting through the void on cosmic winds, but the truth is that the greenskins have invented their own, typically crude and hazardous, methods of travelling through the blackness of space.
Although these When a space hulk appears in an Ork-held system it is seized by any possible means, including colossal tractor beam arrays, and converted into a huge invasion craft. Cavernous launch bays are adapted for innumerable assault ships, and millions of Ork warriors and war machines honeycomb its irregular cavities.
Once completed, the space hulk is sent back out into the stars with an attendant fleet of attack craft and kroozers as escorts. The space hulk is then guided into a warp storm or rift through the efforts of its Weirdboyz and Meks, where it is drawn into the immaterium and, if all goes well, spat out at a world ripe for conquest.
Being incredibly random in their trajectory, space hulks could appear in any place, at any time. This suits the Orks just fine, as their spirit of adventure and aggression owes nothing to organisation or direction.
In this manner the Orks travel to the corners of the galaxy, spreading a plague of warfare across space and time. Though roks are incapable of travelling through the warp, any system containing greenskins will quickly accumulate a growing number of roks.
Orks can use Roks as a means of drifting from one world to another within a system, pulling them in and out of orbit with simple but powerful tractor beams. It has come as a fatal surprise to many an Imperial captain skirting an asteroid belt to find that some of the asteroids are drifting in his direction, guns blazing.
Needless to say this is extremely entertaining for the Orks involved, quite making up for the lack of speed or manoeuvrability afforded by such a solid chunk of space detritus. Even accepting potential inaccuracies due to warp dilation, bureaucratic error and a paucity of data from beyond the Cicatrix Maledictum, I think you will agree that the picture painted is a grim one. Let me say again, my lady, how wrong I was to doubt the scale of this threat Unconfirmed reports suggest this ruler in turn has either joined forces with, or fallen to, Warlord Krooldakka, whose Speedwaaagh!
Repeated rumours place Wazdakka Gutsmek at the head of a Waaagh! The Custodians of the Dread Host have been despatched to interdict this greenskin advance, which tells us much in and of itself. The unbridled expansion of the Maelstrom will prove either the salvation or damnation of the forge world of Ryza. It has forced Waaagh! Bad Moons Warlord Nazdreg has been driven towards the galactic north by the opening of the Great Rift. Note the danger now posed to Valhalla, Goth and Alaric. His warbands maraud from Nocturne to Schindelgheist and beyond.
Vague tidings suggest that a self-proclaimed Grand Warlord has placed his greenskin hordes on a collision course with Waaagh!
Perhaps this will give neighbouring Imperial worlds time to bolster their defences. At least four separate Warlords now claim to be the Great Tyrant of Jagga. All are leading their Waaaghs! Whatever the truth, it seems certain that some terrible catastrophe during this period deprives the greenskins of their leading caste and forces them into a crude and endlessly warlike cycle of existence. Certainly, those scattered records that survive from the Dark Age of Technology cite Orks as a tribal and rampaging xenos race, whose behaviours would be depressingly familiar to the Imperial commanders of the 41st Millennium.
Planetoid-sized battle stations, these monstrous engines of void warfare wreak untold havoc amongst the human defenders, until at last one of them is seen hanging in the skies above Terra itself.
When a crusade of faith is sent against it, the Imperial death toll is horrific, leaving the Orks in orbit above the cradle of Humanity. Return to Ullanor With Mankind on the verge of extinction, it seems that the Orks will surely claim dominion over the galaxy.
They meet the Great Beast and his monstrous lieutenants in a string of fierce battles that ultimately result in Imperial victory. The Orks are defeated again, their most formidable leaders in thousands of years slain and their strength scattered. Yet as always, they will return to bedevil the Imperium once more. The Green Tide Defeat on Ullanor At the height of the Great Crusade, the Emperor of Mankind leads a vast army against the sector-spanning Ork empire of Ullanor, the largest concentration of greenskins yet encountered by Humanity.
During the fighting, Primarch Horus Lupercal engages the fearsome Warlord Urlak Urruk, and successfully slays the enormous greenskin. Humanity is slow to react to this new threat, for they have enjoyed centuries of peace since the end of the Horus Heresy, and so the xenos press forwards on every front. Tuska proceeds to rampage across Daemon worlds beyond counting, before finally the eye of Khorne, the Blood God, turns upon them. Green Tide over Ultima The Ultima Segmentum is punished by wave after wave of greenskin uprisings and invasions.
Numerous outlying worlds are overrun, and only the tireless efforts of Marneus Calgar and his Ultramarines prevent far greater destruction from occurring. Gazbag Gazbag, a Speed Freek Warlord noted for his dogged determination if not his navigational skills, guides his Waaagh! The vengeful Asuryani of Craftworld Biel-Tan descend upon the invaders with destructive fury, yet find the Orks a numerous and deadly foe.
However, a strike force under Lord Inquisitor Shael appears in orbit, demanding Trusk surrender the proscribed archeotech. When the Rogue Trader — who by now is fighting off near constant attacks from an increasing number of Orks — refuses, Inquisitorial troops deploy to seize the weapons by force. Yet both human factions continue more or less to ignore the greenskins, more interested in pursuing their own vendetta.
From every direction, a tide of greenskins floods the compound, led by a vast Stompa that smashes its way through the defensive perimeter and charges headlong into the fight. Both Imperial forces are utterly annihilated, and the weapons over which they fought so hard are cannibalised for scrap. Hruk The noted Snakebite boss Hruk Teefsplinta enslaves the entire population of his old stomping grounds, the binary system Corva.
He conquers the nine shrine worlds of Marlisanct and uses the Basilica Imperator Majoris as a breeding pen for his famously incontinent Squiggoths. The Lost Waaagh! Whilst using warp travel in an attempt to reach the system, Grizgutz and his horde unwittingly move through time and emerge from the shifting chaos of the empyrean shortly before they set off. Grizgutz hunts down and kills his doppelganger, reasoning that this way he can have a spare of his favourite gun.
The resultant confusion stops the Waaagh! The nearby Imperial colony of Badlanding is destroyed despite a valiant defence at Krugerport. The Orks are eventually driven off-world, but it is a hollow victory, for the once-proud Crimson Fists are reduced to a fragment of their former glory. Rise of the Weirdwaaagh! Upon the backwater planet of Zurk, a Snakebite Weirdboy named Zogwort rises to prominence. Only the vast military experience and leadership of Commissar Yarrick prevents the world from falling to the greenskins within the first month of conflict.
Space Marine reinforcements gradually turn the tide of the war, and Ghazghkull retreats to the Golgotha Sector to lick his wounds. A clanking horde of several hundred Gorkanauts sets out from the empire of Bork, beginning a destructive rampage that will become known as the March of Gork.
From one world to the next, the lumbering machines smash everything in their path, the Meks building more Gorkanauts from every vehicle they destroy, until they are a nigh-unstoppable tide of rusting metal.
The Warlord barters his new technology with Ghazghkull in exchange for an alliance. The forces of the Adeptus Astartes and Imperial Guard, already under incredible pressure from a multitude of threats, find themselves stretched thinner still as they are forced to respond to one Ork invasion after another. Many cannot be stopped, and countless worlds are overrun by the swarming masses of belligerent greenskins.
After five decades of planning and preparation, Ghazghkull returns to Armageddon at the head of an even greater Waaagh! Yet after months of grinding conflict, the world has not fallen.
As the Imperium commits reinforcements to War Zone Armageddon, countless waves of Orks flood to meet them and the war becomes a contest of grinding attrition with no end in sight. Leaving his generals to direct the war, Ghazghkull retreats to his command ship, Kill Wrecka, to brood. The Warlord surrounds himself with a mob of Warpheads, hoping the deranged Ork mystics can help to interpret his visions.
Yet it is Ghazghkull himself who is finally struck by inspiration. He realises that no other Ork has his ambition. For the rest of the greenskin race, a good fight like Armageddon is enough to satisfy their bloodlust, but Ghazghkull can see beyond this to something greater. Possessed by a sudden, manic energy, the Warlord orders Kill Wrecka to break orbit. Scraping together a ragtag flotilla from whatever Ork warships are nearby, Ghazghkull makes for the edge of the system. He has no idea what he is searching for, only that it is not on Armageddon.
Deep space auger-stations identify Kill Wrecka moving out of the Armageddon System. These heroes of the Imperium depart Armageddon some days later, leading every warship that can be spared. The Imperium allowed Ghazghkull to escape once and it cost them dearly. Yarrick vows the same mistake will not be made again. The Beast at Bay Despite a sizeable head start, Ghazghkull is tracked unerringly by his pursuers.
The faster, more efficient Imperial Navy warships catch the Ork fleet several weeks after leaving Armageddon. The void comes alight with lance beams and blazing broadsides as the Ork ships thunder into the midst of their foes, yet they stand little chance. Though they cripple several Imperial cruisers, the greenskin vessels are torn apart one by one.
Yet even as they ready their assault, the ship is engulfed in a blaze of green energy and disappears without a trace. The Grand Warlord is incandescent with fury, possessed of a vision so powerful that green lightning arcs around him. Their brains overwhelmed by this sudden surge of energy, his entourage of Warpheads convulse as one and begin to howl and gibber madly. With ectoplasmic power gushing from their maws, the Warpheads speak as one, their combined voice the mighty roar of Gork and Mork that Ghazghkull has heard all these months.
Every Ork within earshot falls to their knees in awe as the gods tell Ghazghkull that this is not his time to die. They tell him that the whole galaxy must echo to the battle cry of the Ork. They charge Ghazghkull with gathering a Waaagh!
To do this, he must defeat every other Warlord, bring every last greenskin under his sway, and unite them all in a crusade that will drown the stars in war.
Ghazghkull must bring about this Great Waaagh! Kill Wrecka is immediately hurled into warp space, emerging somewhere and somewhen else entirely. Within days it swells into a raging warp storm, which in turn joins with other cascading anomalies as the Great Rift tears its way across the galaxy.
Urgok looks on in horror as Ghazghkull tears through his bodyguards as though they were rowdy grots. With a whole new Waaagh!
Renegade fleets, traitor warbands and ravening daemonic invasions bedevil worlds from one end of the galaxy to the other. War abounds like never before, and the greenskins are right in the thick of it. Weirdboyz are gripped by visions of the Ork gods. Da Great Waaagh!
Kill Wrecka drops out of the warp into the sprawling territory controlled by the Warlord Urgok Da Slayer. Ghazghkull is revitalised, red eyes blazing with new purpose. Weeks later, Imperial Astropaths in the Morrowgrym System experience a foul vision of the Ork god Mork letting fly with a mucosally eruptive sneeze all over their capital world of Morrowgrym Prime. This is rapidly followed by the arrival of Weirdwaaagh! Zogwort, whose warships burst from the empyrean coated in glowing green ectoplasm.
So begins a frantic and madcap conflict upon a world that is being slowly crushed into rubble and ruin. He seizes a number of Primaris Space Marines alive, though what the deranged Ork intends to do with his captives is best not imagined. The Grand Warlord is documented to be within the empire of Octarius, leading vast greenskin armies against Tyranid and Imperial forces in that region, and yet he is simultaneously sighted at the sacking of Cantissa, upon the killing fields of Aurochtha in the Imperium Nihilus, and joining the fighting around the forge world of Ryza.
False Sanctuary After seven years of brutal warfare, and thanks partly to the arrival of several companies of the Rift Stalkers Chapter, the forces of the Imperium finally defeat their Chaos foes in the Bargheist Stars. A grand triumph is held, with parades and martial celebrations spreading glory across a dozen loyalist worlds. His greenskins flood the planets of Tremendix and Aposia before the horrified Imperial defenders can rally their forces, and plunge the beleaguered Bargheist Stars back into bloody war.
The Antonis Crusade gathers amidst the darkness of the Imperium Nihilus. However, the arrival of several warbands of the Night Lords Traitor Legion sees the fighting go against the crusade. Caught between the Heretic Astartes and Squiggoth-riding greenskin hordes, the Imperial forces are annihilated. Da Green Fist Rude Awakening A warp anomaly resembling an immense green fist closes around the traitor world of Eisenfel.
Freebooter warbands gather in the void aboard their kill kroozers, While attempting to loot the ancient treasures of a Necron tomb world, the Deathskulls of Waaagh! Canoptek Triumphant Return constructs by the thousand surround the greenskin invaders, but far from being intimidated, the Deathskulls are delighted.
Scavenging and stealing at will, the Orks cobble together hordes of Cyborks and Morkanauts, and ever-more improbable super-weapons, while using a hijacked Necron dolmen gate to ferry in wave upon wave of reinforcements.
By the time Overlord Thanptek the Magnificent awakens to take command of his legions, he does so to the sight of a mob of leering Mekboyz standing over his sarcophagus, evil gleams in their eyes and revving power tools in their hands.
Rejuvenated by a great influx of Primaris battle-brothers, the Crimson Fists declare a crusade of vengeance against the entire Ork race.
Several Waaaghs! The Orks then pull back to the fringes of the system. Desperate missives are fired out into the warp in the hopes of turning the reinforcement fleet aside, but with the empyrean churned to madness, they are lost. Just days later, a force of Space Wolves and Vostroyans arrive, and the Orks surge into battle once again. Word spreads of a world where Orks can find the best races, and fresh hordes flock to Vigilus by the week.
What followed was a war of rising bloodshed and horror, in which the Goff hordes of Warboss Nurgbok overran one pacification contingent after another until the Fire caste were finally driven from the planet in disarray.
Bloodthirsty and battle-hardened warriors, they are equipped with the best wargear that Meks can provide, and tower above the majority of greenskins. A Warboss achieves and maintains his position of power purely because of his size and prowess in the savage arts of war. Though some Warbosses are cunning enough to plan a battle before the bullets start flying, it is on the front line that they truly excel. When the conflict is raging, these monstrous Orks give full rein to their battle-lust, charging into the ranks of the enemy and slaughtering everything in their path.
The Warboss becomes a living embodiment of Orkdom, and commands respect and fear from all who behold him. Particularly dominant Warbosses rise up to become Warlords. Army upon army will flock to the banner of a prominent Warbosses Warlord, until he commands a horde of terrifying size. An Ork can rise to such exalted heights by showing no mercy in battle, as well as by brutally oppressing his lessers.
Above all, greenskin leaders rise to the position of Warlord through a combination of bestial cunning, violence and deafeningly loud shouting, with intellect far from being a prerequisite for great power amongst the Ork race. In fact, many a Warboss is as thick as a bull grox, and will find subordinates to attend to the mundane tasks of battlefield organisation — such as knowing the whereabouts of the enemy and remembering to bring spare ammunition.
A Warboss is always intimidating in his war panoply, as a fierce appearance is essential when ruling with an iron fist. Greenskin leaders often ride at the head of their armies, transported within clanking great battlewagons covered in personal glyphs and banners.
It is from this lofty perch that the Warboss rules, glowering and yelling at his lackeys as he makes his grand plans of conquest and slaughter. Warbosses often adorn their thrones and trophy racks with the skulls of rival Orks, but as their reach extends beyond their original territories and into the stars, the Warboss has a far wider range of enemies to conquer. Furthermore, Space Marine helmets come in a variety of bright colours that are irresistible to the more ostentatious of Warbosses.
Whether riding to war in a smog-trailing Battlewagon, barrelling headlong into the enemy lines with choppas swinging, or clanking forwards in massive suits of mega armour, they are ferocious and resilient fighters whose assault can turn the tide of an entire battle. Ork nobility is determined not by birth or a sparkly heirloom, but by sheer size and belligerence.
Nobz delight in using their scarred fists and iron-shod boots to remind lesser greenskins of this fact. Nobz often form a bodyguard for their Warboss, and should the Warboss fall, the largest of this entourage will take his place after kicking in some heads to restore order, of course. Other Nobz prefer to lead mobs of Orks who they can boss around with impunity.
Arrogant in the extreme, Nobz revel in cruel and casual violence, delivering onthe-spot punishment to any lesser Ork, Gretchin or Snotling who annoys them. This punishment normally takes the form of a hefty whack on the head from a blunt instrument. Mega armour is the ultimate status symbol. Meganobz see themselves as the elite warriors of the Ork tribe. Though other Ork Nobs sometimes mock their betterarmoured brethren for going into battle with so much protective wargear, they do not do it within earshot, for a rampaging Meganob is an unstoppable opponent, and having an arm or two scissored or sawed off is a setback even for the toughest Nob.
Nobz and Meganobz Alongside sheer body mass, decent weapons and armour are signs of high status amongst greenskins. As such, Nobz are usually equipped with a bewildering variety of killy stuff. All Nobz love to flaunt truly powerful guns, for example, and the richest can afford the much-feared kombi-weapons and kustom shootas: weapons capable of reducing everyone in their vicinity to bullet-riddled corpses or steaming piles of gore. Their tastes in melee weapons are equally as extravagant, with chain-bladed choppas and hydraulic power klaws being most popular of all.
They are characterised by their clanking suits of mega armour, and by a dogged belief in their own invulnerability. On the field of battle, Meganobz form clanking mobs of heavily armed killing machines. Each Meganob weighs at least a ton, for unlike the armourers of the Imperium, the Ork Meks prefer quantity of material over quality. Such is the resilience of greenskin engineering and physiology that the Ork in question will quickly be back in the fray, ready to wreak his bloody revenge.
Whilst the patient is safely strapped down, mouth wedged open and internal organs exposed, he is not really in a position to argue. Indeed, in many ways Painboyz are the Meks of the greenskin physique, in that they repair, maintain — and even improve upon — the Ork body itself.
This can be distressing for the owner of, for instance, a Rutgot Mk II Exploding Leg, especially if it was his arm that needed the attention. Indeed, Painboyz truly relish the implantation of the bioniks produced by Meks, and the professions occasionally work together to create Cyborks. These are unstable fusions of greenskin and machine, and range from Orks who have had damaged limbs Painboyz replaced with whirring blades or tracks, to fully bionik Boyz who are more mechanism than Ork.
When his tribe is caught up in a Waaagh! This is a truly happy time for Doks. Never do they have a better opportunity to hone their skills, patching up the Orks in their care and giving them a quick shot from a rusty syringe to get them back into the fray.
Needless to say, times of war are extremely lucrative for Painboyz; many only follow the richest Orks in battle, hoping their charges become grievously wounded enough to require their services. There they apply their anatomical knowledge, along with an array of surgical saws and blood-encrusted scalpels, to the task of vigorously dismembering the foe.
Fungal serums surge through the veins of luckless enemies until their blood congeals with spores. Clanking, syringe-festooned power klaws creak open and shut as the Painboyz fix their beady eyes upon hapless foes, kowing that soon enough their pneumatic blades will be slicing through flesh, bone and tendon. Grot orderlies descend upon the wounded, beady eyes and skinning tools glinting as they set to work. Anyone who has seen a Painboy wade through the enemy ranks and leave red ruin in his wake knows that Ork surgeons have little understanding of — and even less interest in — the notion of the sanctity of life.
These practitioners of indiscriminate surgery are never quite right in the head. They do not use anaesthetic, preferring to know that their patient is still alive and kicking.
Painboyz burrow enthusiastically into their customers using oversized surgical implements; the sadistic glee with which they do so is particularly off-putting, especially for the patient. Still, such is the usefulness of the Painboy that such eccentricities are often overlooked, especially if the Warboss is the proud owner of a shiny new bionik limb. These Orks are outcasts from their tribes, and are most often found practising their dubious arts within Freebooter warbands.
Besides, Freebooterz are just mean and desperate enough to accept the surgical aid of any Oddboy who offers it, even if the risks are considerable. Bad Doks practise deranged and disturbing surgeries upon their prey. Their patients can find themselves in possession of a set of mechanical lungs, sporting an extra head or limb, or even victims of the dreaded squig-brain transplant.
Though Bad Doks never ask for payment, the price of seeking them out is high. It is they who invent, build and maintain the machinery and weaponry of the greenskins, and for them, creating ever larger and more devastating engines of war to unleash upon the foe is an all-consuming obsession. MEKS Mekboyz are jovially imprecise craftsmen, content to weld, rivet and hammer away at chunks of scrap until they have patched together a chassis, gun barrel or bionik leg.
As a result of this individualistic and unplanned approach, Ork technology develops in a ramshackle and exploratory way. Mekboyz are an essential part of every warband. Without Meks to keep the vehicles and spacecraft running, the greenskins would never be able mount a proper Waaagh!. Warbosses and Nobz who want a new wagon or weapon will go directly to a Mek and commission him to build it there and then.
The result is never quite what the customer wanted, but is usually dead good anyway. Mekaniaks Meks like to take to the battlefield armed with their favourite invention. This is often an improbably complicated gun that crackles with barely harnessed power, such as a kustom megaslugga, or else a howling killsaw more than capable of cutting the arm off a Space Marine in full armour. These visionary Mekaniaks are known as Big Meks, and their mastery of Ork technology is second to none.
Many wear hulking mega-armour of their own manufacture and wield weird wonder-weapons, and some even utilise force-field technology, protecting their creations with humming generators, or fashion teleport blastas that beam their victims — or at least their constituent parts — all over the battlefield and beyond. The most infamous of all Mekboy weapons is the shokk attack gun, a bizarre device capable of opening holes in the very fabric of the material universe.
This awesome power is used by Big Meks not to advance science or revolutionise travel, but to fire warp-crazed Snotlings into the enemy.
Whirring up to speed, the gun carves out a short-lived shielded passage through the hellish dimension of the immaterium. By the time they realise their mistake, the snots are scampering through a nightmarish passage lined with leering Daemons that drive them quite mad with terror. As the Big Mek does his best to place the exit hole in the exact location of the enemy forces, the resultant avalanche of screaming, clawing, defecating greenskins emerges not so much into the ranks of the foe as inside the foe themselves.
There they obstruct vehicle workings, shred flesh and organs, trigger catastrophic meltdowns in plasma reactors, and create countless other hideous — and to the Big Mek, hilarious — consequences. Being industrious sorts, however, Meks are more than capable of cobbling together a small workspace from whatever is lying about, with rudimentary workshops often springing up from battlefield wreckage even while the bullets are still flying. Greenskin vehicles roar towards such teetering structures, their crews throwing sacks of teef at the resident Mek shortly before hollering impatiently.
He and his grots get to work at once, hammering, welding and rewiring so that when the customers depart, they do so fully kustomised with snazzier guns, souped-up engines and extra armour plates. WEIRDBOYZ Weirdboyz are psychically powerful Orks who act as focal points for the energy subconsciously generated by their greenskin comrades, energy that binds them together with a common purpose.
These Oddboyz resonate with the power of sheer Orkiness, and the more Orks there are nearby, the higher the charge held within their bodies. Unfortunately, Weirdboyz struggle to control this build-up of psychic power. Even a close-run squig-eating contest between two rowdy Orks will cause waves of energy to pulse powerfully through any Weirdboy who strays near.
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