A Strange Legion

The scouts at the head of the column cautiously swept the ridgeline, weapons clutched in their hands, alert after the White Dove Team's earlier attack.

Moroz shifted, then crouched and looked back toward the mountaintop.

The Ork infantry column seemed to be entirely in view now—fewer than a thousand of them. Unless he stayed here and waited for them, they would never know someone was watching them.

After crouching there for another dozen meters, the rumble of engines began echoing from the southern ridge.

The sound came from deeper, larger engines. As Moroz slid back from his observation post, he glanced to his right.

A larger vehicle rumbled over the hill. A rotating machine-gun platform was mounted on its front, with half a dozen Greenskins standing atop it in brightly colored jackets, heavy armor plates strapped over their shoulders.

"Huh?"

Just as Moroz lowered his binoculars to leave, he suddenly noticed that one armored Greenskin was clearly much larger than the others.

It was a massive beast, its black-and-white armor decorated with blue moon patterns. A long banner bearing Ork symbols hung from the pole on its back, topped with a blade emblem set against waves.

All scouts learned at least some Ork lore. Orks flaunted their identities in the most conspicuous ways possible, and this was the most boastful one Moroz had ever seen.

If he was not mistaken, that had to be another warboss!

Through the other lens, Moroz saw that the nearest Greenskins were only two hundred meters away.

It was time to leave.

As he moved through the rough brush, Moroz was still stunned by what he had seen.

There was no doubt about it. Another warboss could mean only one thing—two separate Ork forces were advancing on Tyre.

Though it was impossible to determine how