In the distance, atop a taller, far larger mountain of scrap, a huge figure rose to his feet. He was a Big Mek whose bulk far exceeded that of an ordinary Ork, with countless sparking mechanical arms attached to his body. His enormous telescope was trained on the direction the singing came from.
He saw that orderly, unbelievable formation of Gretchin.
He saw their crude yet uniform equipment.
He heard that song brimming with defiance and rebellion.
"Me grots..." A low, dangerous mutter escaped the Big Mek's mouth. "Me workshop... me Gorkanaut..."
His scarlet eyes narrowed, glinting with savage fury.
"Looks like some little runts need me to stomp 'em flat meself."
He turned and let out an earth-shaking roar at the Ork tribe behind him.
"WAAAGH!!!"
A war to crush the "Gretchin rebellion" was about to begin. With it came the Ember Company's first true test in battle. They would face fully armed Orks who outnumbered them ten to one.
The few thousand Gretchin in the workshop were only a starting point. A spark. To survive on this Ork-infested planet, let alone conquer it, that strength was nowhere near enough. He needed more people, more resources, and more powerful weapons.
Ork society gave him an opening. It was a pyramid, with powerful Warbosses at the top, ordinary Ork Boyz in the middle, and vast numbers of oppressed Gretchin and Squigs at the bottom. All he had to do was keep undermining that pyramid's foundations.
A plan had already taken shape in his mind. He needed to spread the legend of the "Gretchin savior," to let Gretchin in every corner of this planet know there was a place where their kind had risen up, where they had food and weapons, where they were slaves no longer.
But before that,