With Skarsnikk's planning coming into fruition over the manipulation of the Mega Nob, the Painboy couldn't help but turn away and chuckle under his breath. Now glancing over behind him at one of the Gubbinz shop, Skarsnikk was able to spot out a beautiful iron sight shoota with a triple barrel nose that contained a massive clip! Now offering his dried licks a lick, the Painboy quickly scurries off towards the counter while the large group of orks began to lay down a suppression fire against the orks on the roof. As the Painboy limps his way over towards the weapon while the large mob focused their attention against the Grindas, Skarsnikk would begin to speak to himself as he picks up the weapon. "Oi.. Daz a pretty lit'o kannun ain't ya? Ya.. Skarsnikk's gonna treet yu'z reel noice lyk. BA HA HA!" The Painboy places the weapon across his shoulder and proceeds to scramble up a single roll of bandoilers with a hardened outer case to strap across his chest. Like always, Skarsnikk had a maniacal grin upon his scarred visage and through the insane surgeon of a mind that he contains; the Painboy would step out of the shop and quickly ran over towards a large group of orks who began to light up the alley. "KILL `EM GUD! DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA!" Screaming out the traditional orkish term for firing a large piece of tek, the Painboy began to lower the shoota and proceeds to squeeze down on the trigger - raining down a volley of bullets up towards the roof as an attempt to shoot down the Grindas or their boss; perhaps even hitting his own allies in the process!
OOC: Might wanna chalk that down to hallucination from drugs, I handle things ya find and such sorry to dash any dreams there. Gladly toss ya an emote of things he might find if he decides to do a bit of looting aye aye. Can't just have folks randomly picking up things they make up being there! ~
OOC: My bad! The weapon isn't permanent, it's just a random loot for the mission. Painboys don't really use shootas at all but since running out there would get him killed, Skarsnikk decided it's safer to hang back.
OOC: Alrighty. Sorry for the mix up! The only real thing that Skar will be actually looting isn't gear. It's corpses.
"ZOOOOOOoooooooog!" The Kommando Nob thumped down onto the roof, rolling over his shoulder as his boot not so gracefully caught the lip of the roof. Skardrend sprang back up with his knife in one hand and a pair of Stikkbombs flying from the other, aiming to land in front of the fleeing Grinda's. Or at the very least, collapsing the building they were fleeing atop of. They had zogged his chances at payment. They had nearly gotten him mobbed by the dull masses of regular Orks. His chances to improve the Brigade's reputation had nearly been blown to smithereens alongside Butcher's stand and Butcher himself. Time to recover those chances in the eyes of the masses and more importantly, skewer that Tankhammer Nob for all the trouble. Chasing after the Grinda's with thunderous tread and waiting impatiently for his rocket boots to flare back into life, Skardrend shouted for the whole mob to hear, "I'Z GONNA FEED YA TO DA SQUIGS, GRINDA'S!"
Mogg guessed it was best to lay low for now, it seemed that it had indeed turned to their favour, thanks to the new doks political skills, but he hasent been with da boss, and normal boyz dident have the kunning to see da brigade from da grinders, so laying low was deffinetly the plan for now.
Skarsnikk squeezes the trigger tightly and continues to spray randomly into the alley but all fun things must come to an end! The shoota would jam up and the only sound the Painboy could hear was a few clicks. Now gritting his teeth and slapping the weapon across the floor, Skarsnikk would rush over towards the Mega Nob while pointing back down at the alley. "Boss! Boss! We'z cot wun o' dem Grinda' gitz `n `e woz sayin' dat yu'z tuu skared ta foight `im `n yu'z ain't even gud wivv da dakka! So da git we cot sayz `is boss kalled in `n now `e wantz ta skrap wif ya at da roof! Ah fink it'z a trap ya? May be a gud oi'deh ta send ya boyz up ta charge da git fuh distrakshun, den ya go up dere ta kill `em proppuh!"
<Brigade> Right now the only Grinda actually in few of anyone was the Tankhammer Nob whom slammed down into the stretched Squig Hide roof of a sales tent under Skardrend's weighted crash. Giving way to the bulk of two Ork nobles they slammed down into a sales rack of choppas seeing them cut and slashed for their troubles, Skardrend coming out better for it thanks to the looted stealth suit covering patches of his form. His power blades were currently lodged between eight different ribs, having slid in between them all with the expanse separating the two blades on each wrist. His foe met him eye to eye for a moment before clapping a gnarled paw against his hip, a sudden blast erupting into him and tossing him off with only a brief ribbon of blood from his blades exit wounds to connect the pair. "Yooz stoopid kunnin gitz...don't got da brutality fer bein proppa kommandos, just be a buncha cowardin gitz, all whispas no BOOM!" A new rokkit complete with iron holder was slotted into the top of the tank hammer. "FOIGHT, FOIGHT, FOIGHT, FOIGHT, FOIGHT! " Over sixty Orks were gathering outside the tent, ripping open it's walls and dragging out obstructions to make sure their view was unhindered, a brawl between Kommando nobs was an exciting prospect, especially when one was kitted out like a sneaky Mega-Nob and the other carrying all sorts of fun boom toys. Meanwhile back at the Mega-Nob! "'E WOT?! I KNEW IT! YOOZ GONNA BE GIBBLETS WHEN IZ DONE WIFF YOOZ!" Roaring out at no one in particular the enraged titan of heavy plates and heavy weaponry waddled, it would be several minutes before he realized that their Krooza, currently in orbit no less, didn't actually have an accessible roof top for him to find his challenger on. He had completely neglected the sound strategic advice running off on his own but frankly that mattered even less than his momentary stupidity. Tucked away in the various pipes and inner workings of the vessel like a smart git Mogg was able to pick out the echos rattling through the passage, two more voices from other Greenskins tucked away in the old ducts like himself. It was difficult to tell what they were saying from his current position, or even which direction they were exactly beyond being -somewhere- above him. Rot Teef on the other hand was finding all sorts of fun today, whilst about to break out from an alleyway he found his path crisscrossed by a pair of shots. The distinctive blue line of Krug's pulse snipa parting the air a few inches from his face while a thin slug skimmed just over the beam leaving a heat swirl in it's wake; less than six feet away crouched behind an overturned barrel of fungus beer was one of the Grinda's. An exciting sniper duel taking place before his eyes...that no one really cared about because it didn't involve any bludgeoning or stabbing at this range. "Oiy Rot Teef kill dat git so I can covah da boyz!" Krug's voice rang through every ear piece.
intrigued by the chance to eves drop on some other conversation, Mogg slung his Speshul shoota over his back, and slowly began sneeking closer, it was a slow movement, in due to his leg would need some time before it would be good again, but as a kommando, missing information from other duct cravlers just wasent okay.
