Gorkanaut stomped down the broad street with heavy steps. The streets, pressed from iron plates and all manner of scrap, were exceptionally sturdy and stable.
Countless Orks moved through the camp, making it resemble a chaotic, noisy market district.
Ork vendors selling roasted mushrooms and meat skewers lined the streets and alleys, alongside Gretchin lugging around all sorts of metal fragments and spare parts. The Orks argued until they were red in the face, bargaining with the teeth in their hands. If they truly could not reach an agreement, they raised their fists and had a vicious brawl.
The nearby Orks did not stop such behavior. Instead, they egged them on enthusiastically, roaring at the top of their lungs.
Joseph and the others, led along by ropes, had to endure the first wave of scent from the Ork district. The thick stench of millions of Orks mixed together could even penetrate their crude gas masks.
Many could not bear the smell at all and forcibly swallowed back the vomit that had risen into their mouths, leaving their throats stinging from the burn of stomach acid.
More and more Orks noticed Gorkanaut advancing. They cheered at the metal giant and banged the ground with the axes and guns in their hands. It seemed to be some sort of welcoming ceremony.
"What should we do?" Delia asked nervously, gripping the control lever for the Gatling gun.
"Don't fire. Let me handle them." Lin Fan cleared his throat, making his voice sound like an Ork's, then spoke through the loudspeaker. "You lot of stinkin' gits! Don't block me way! And you! Don't touch me humie slaves!"
At Lin Fan's signal, Delia pointed a crusher-like iron fist at a sneaky Gretchin. It had been trying to use a battered dagger to cut the cables