<Rot Teef> "Blinky fing no idea, maybe let me Squig chew on it ifin 'imz be'ave. " Shrugging both Orkoid arm and Cybork limb the Mek carried on, slapping a heat shield over his face as he fired up his kuttin torch. Sparks flew into his mask and over his shoulder as he worked, the odd explosive zapp lashing out but it didn't seem much a concern. "So far I can see yooz got me somin fun ta work wiff. Iz can install a few choppy stabby bits fer ya wiff that there arm. As fer makin it shocky I can ovahcharge da zappy bits in here wiff some uv me own, it'll risk burnin up since it's weak lil blue berry tek but I'd bet it would stun one uv da Warbosses ifin yooz got a good jab in. If ya don't want it gittin all dull doh, Iz can give it a regular charge that's just naw as strong but will still bring down most fings. Da fancy shoulders doh? Just make 'em inta some armor fer ya, got some spare squig hide and scrap layin around if yooz got da teef. " OOC: Either can get the choppy arm with a reliable weak charge that will stun smaller/grunt class foes and won't short out in most circumstances, or get the overcharged zzapp that will stun larger/elite foes, but requires you declare it's activation with the strike and has a chance of burning out for the rest of the mission each time it's used.
OOC: going with the weaker charge. Are the three grots including my pocket grot? <Rot Teef> Reliable wuz best. "Mak it standad shocky. Datz fine by me." Pickin at da stump dat wuz iz hand. "Watz youz kno bout dem otha Meks gettin attacked? Sum boyz be talkin bout fighting ova sum chain choppa stuf." He chewed off a piece of his nail and spit it across da room. "Dos chain choppas too loud fur me, not sneaky nuff." Hopefully da Mek wud bite and give up sum infomashun.
Clinkity clank. Clinkity clank. The heavy sounds of an ork sloppily running down the lower section of the Krooza could be heard - especially since the bloody greenskin seems to be struggling to keep himself held up. But the moment a random boy makes it to ground level, he'd drop heavily against the floor while trying his best to get up. But try after try, the poor greenskin would only manage to pick his up head before dropping it back down against the metal flooring. This would cause the ork's skull to crack open - causing the contents from within to spill out. Through the grisley sight, one would be able to make out the small little organic matter that seems to be clawing and gnawing away from within. A squig! Once the squig squirmed his way out from being shoved into the ork's empty skull, the creature would quickly hop away. Now striding down the scrappy stairs of the krooza from where the poor ork ran down from, a scrawny runt of an Ork would emerge from the flickering shadows - revealing a hunchback greenskin with welder's mask upon his face and human finger with a notepad in the other. Once Skarsnikk glances over at his experiment, the Painboy would release a loud grunt while cursing under his breath before scribbling down some notes; all in the while of speaking to a grot that seems to be sitting on his right shoulder. "Tayk a nut, Zukk. Payshun seven `undred `n.. `n.. Zog! Wot wos `is numba'?!" The Painboy quickly flips over his pages while pressing the bleeding human finger down onto the brown-stained notes. Upon finding the correct page, Skarsnikk nods to himself before flipping back to his original page. "Roight den! Payshun seven `undred `n twenny-fuh ain't much o' a propuh success wiv a squig brain transplant. But! `e `ad a gud fiery rush ta keep `im goin' fuh a few `owahs fanks ta da foightin' joose. Ya gettin' dis all down, Zukk?" The Grot sitting on Skarsnikk's frame could be seen drooling all over the hunchback painboy, but the lesser green creature would eventually start nodding at his master before pulling out a small device to record it's own strange mumbling words. "Roight den! Ah fink we deserve a noice lit'o celebrayshun frum a job well dun, ya?" Now heading down the stairs and moving towards the dead ork, Skarsnikk would finally look up - staring blankly at the orks gathered below. No sudden movements came from the Painboy, nor any type of sounds escaping his maw. Now speaking in a hush tone, Skarsnikk would glance up at the grot while he raises a hand up to cover a part of his mouth. "If we dun moov, dey ain't gunna see us, Zukk." With that, the painboy remains still while staring down the gathered orks with a blank expression across his hidden face.
<Rot Teef> "Don't deal too much wiff weaponz ya see? But from wot I've 'eard a few uv da Spannerboyz an Mekz go missin, tend ta git on Sparkgobs bad side, one uv Zurk's own prod--prada, smart Spannerboyz that went full on Mek after a time. I don't talk ta 'im, naw time fer da Nobz ramblin an prattlin bout 'im bein Zurk's student. " Shuffling over to another nearby work bench he picked up what appeared to be the engine unit for a chain choppa, sticking it into the arm along with a good bundling of wires coiled about it and being jabbed into anything that made a spark on contact. "Sit tight dere...." Taking off out into the main workshop he re-appeared a minute later with a number of blades collected in his arms, some rusty and spattered with blood, others relatively new and even somewhat pristine. Going to weld a number of them on he hummed and instead set aside his torch to begin pouring liberal amounts of Grot Glue into the burst cannon barrels, driving stabby bits of varying lengths in afterwards giving it the impression of an extra stabby meat tenderizer. One such spike fell apart, revealed instead as a crusty stick of Squig dung, smacking his face the Cybork rammed a rusty spike that somehow looked even less sturdy into the emptied barrel. After that it was a simple matter of crimping a few more wires together with the rest of the limb and applying liberal amounts of blue paint to the inner workings. "Finished, datz gonna be twelve Teef. " Holding out his green hand with open palm his right mechanical arm reared back making a less than subtle hiss as the shoulder mounted pistons helped with the movement, prepared for the Sneaker git to do something funny.
<Rot Teef> "Putz ya arm down. 'Eres ya teef." He dropped da 12 teef in da Meks open hand. (Did that include the squig hide for the armor?)"Youz dus gud wurk Mek. Tanks fur da snazzy arm." He headed outta da Mek shop to tell da boss da new infomashun. Even wif da cost he still had a few nob teef left fur sum drinks and ta get fixed up. Gettin back ta da base he sent da still unnamed grot to his hidey hole and told him ta get betta kunnin Kamo on if he wuz gonna be a proppa sneaka grot. "Boss got mor infomashun bout da job! Seems dey be knockin off sum of da otha Meks." He turned to da new git surprised dat da boss didn't kill em yet fur takin da sneaky talkin stuf. "Imz Rot Teef you said you wuz Mogg roight? Datz a nice speshul shoota youz got der." He didn't much like dakka but up in ya face dakka wuz different.
<Rot Teef> Cybork fist closed around something else behind the Mek and in a moment he found a squig hide vest tossed over his face, the stolen Tau shoulder guards had been cut down a bit and used to reinforce his other non-stabby arm. "An therez ya armor, fank yooz come again. " A swift boot to the arse saw him out even quicker, his Grot friend squealing with terror thinking he would be crushed by other the boot or his boss. Once back at the HQ the Grot gave everyone a wide birth, both the new Kommando and the Painboy standing there thinking himself a sneaky git. Ducking into Rot Teef's quarters he wouldn't be coming out for a while.
The Kommando Nob placed a rippy glove on the smaller Ork's shoulder, the very image of Orky friendliness. "Well den, Mogg'n Boomstick, yooz part ov da brigade now. If ya'z can proov yaself a sneaky an' smart type, ya might even last a mishun or so. Pick ya corna an' set up shop, we'z got a new oppuhtunity comin' up." Skardrend then turned towards the entrance as if expecting Rot Teef to be there, despite having just left. The sooner the Kommando returned, the sooner they could crump these so called "Gork's Gretchin" or whatever they were.. called? His eyes narrowed as he thought he spied a figure in the darkened stairwell. Reaching up to grab his goggles and only to remember they had been ruined on the defense platform, the Nob snarled before stomping towards the stairwell. "'OOEVA YA IZ, BEST SHOW YASELF 'AFORE I SHOWZ YA WAT REAL SNEAKA BOYS CAN DO!"
As the Nob starts to advance towards the stairs while screaming at the top of his lungs, Skarsnikk would simply glance around - trying to figure out who the Kommando was talking to. But failing to see much orks around, the painboy would quickly straighten up his posture the best he can through the strange deformity of his back. Now speaking in a nervous tone while offering his head a scratch with the `Urty Syringe, the painboy would also tilt his head to the side. "Oi.. Uh.. Ya tawkin' ta me?" Skarsnikk tries his best to not flinch or flee in the sight of the massive Nob heading his way. However, the painboy would close one eye while looking up at the larger ork!
"Ya zoggin' right I'z talkin' ta yooz, ya buggy Syringe sportin' loon. Unless yooz from da Warlord, ya'z best 'ave a good reason fer bein' down 'ere." The Kommando Nob wisely stopped short, just outside of range for Skarsnikk. He'd already made one trip to the Dok today and had gotten his fill of giant needles. If the smaller Ork wanted to make a scene, he'd find himself on a new set of power blades.
Skarsnikk stares blankly at the Kommando Nob as he speaks, but the painboy would also remain silent; as he knows what happens to those that interrupts a larger ork's sentence. After the Nob was finished, the painboy simply nods while raising his `Urty Syringe while pointing the poison dripping weapon over to the dead ork that had escaped his table. "Oi! Oi! Warlord Bladeteef sent out a big rekrootin' shouts across da galaxy, aye? Said `e needed sum tuff boyz ta fill `is ranks dat be in it fuh a propa' skrap, ya? Dat `n `e needed anuvva Dok ta `elp `is boyz durin' a foight, `n daz w'ere Ah come in! Gots plenty o' fixin' `spuree-nsh unda' me belt. Gots a `appy ratin' o' four outta six boyz wot made it out o' me operatin' table wivv plenty o' new upgrades `n such. Ah ain't bad fer cuttin' `n keepin' da boyz alive on da feeyold eittah, ya?"
