A wolf's howl tore through the air. The heavily armored Ork Warboss guarding the doorway did not even have time to let out a proper battle cry before a tremendous force tore him to pieces.
Green blood splashed across the rust-stained steel deck with a sizzling hiss, then rose in a foul-smelling white mist that quickly dissipated in the scorching air.
Bonebreaka spread his tusk-filled maw in a grin, studying the uninvited guest before him with interest-this "Big Humie."
Even by Ork standards, this Big Humie was impressively tough and full of Waaagh. His unruly golden hair shone in the light of blood and fire, and the reek of alcohol, clearly detectable from hundreds of meters away, almost put even the booze-loving Orks to shame. And that was without mentioning his undisguised, savage thirst for combat. He was simply born for war.
Bonebreaka slowly rose from his steel throne, piled high with trophies. His heavy metal boots landed on the deck with a dull thud. He looked down at Russ, his voice like two boulders grinding together.
"I don't kill nobodies, humie. Tell me yer name, and I'll make yer skull into a drinking cup!"
Russ curled his lips into a contemptuous grin, picked up the enormous wineskin beside him, and tipped his head back for a long swig. Fiery liquor dripped down his beard. He casually wiped his mouth and pointed the Dionysian Spear at Bonebreaka's hulking body.
"Why bother worrying about all that when you're about to die? I've no interest in knowing your name."
The heavy flesh of Bonebreaka's face twitched, and fury burned in his lone eye.
He abruptly raised his fearsome right arm-a heavy cannon grossly out of proportion even to his body, its muzzle flickering with dangerous red light.
"WAAAGH!"
With a deafening roar,