Grot Coat appeared confident, back straight and eyes ahead, as he sat atop his command vehicle as it surged across the desert, watching as his regiment headed towards some glorious celebration with him at its center. Held within his massive fist was a small porcelain cup he liberated after raiding one of Warboss Kraka's depots. He sipped idly and held his head aloft as Lieutenant Clobber's APC rolled within yelling distance of the Captain's tank. Clobber was a vital part of the 212th due to him being the most diligent in his duties. Even the Captain would become distracted from time-to-time but the lieutenant would do perform his duties to his new Emperor and boss most admirably. He had clearly come to inform the Captain of something important, as he rarely spoke otherwise, but he found himself unable to remain on track as the visage of Grot Coat assaulted him.
"Wot are you doin'?" Clobber screamed after an extended pause through the billowing sand produced by their treads.
Grot looked over with his lips still resting on the lip of the cup which he promptly lowered as he spoke, "Oi' am putting on da' 'air o' leisure' required of a senior off-e-sir."
"Why?!" Clobber shouted once again, covering the side of his face to deflect incoming sand.
Grot pointed towards the Uplifting Primer he'd transformed into a necklace. "It says dat a good off-e-sir must reassure 'is boyz with acts o' regularity and decorum! Such as drinkin' tea!" he said with apparent wisdom and intelligence as he held the cup higher.
"Tea?" Clobber shouted out squinting in confusion. "Where'd you get tea!? We ain't got no tea!"
In response Captain Grot took a long sip of nothing while staring directly into Clobber's dust covered face.
"Err. Whatever!" Clobber spoke again as he rubbed his forehead. "Our scoutin' boyz radioed in! We got lotza' movin' in dat direction!" he pointed to the east, allowing a generous helping of dirt to slam into his eyes. "Argh!" he cried out and started rubbing his face furiously.
Grot Coat knocked on the side of the tank which promptly produced a gretchin who was immediately given the crucial task of guarding the Captain's teacup with his miserable life. Facing east the Captain brought up his fist-noculars to look through. Sure enough he could see a great trail of dust rising out of the desert and heading straight towards them. However one thing irked him. These weren't the regular armaments used by Warboss Kraka but clean, smart looking Leman Russ tanks.
"No need ta' worry Clobber! Dey're Imperial re-in-force-mints. Friendly as ya' can get!" As if on cue a strange whistling noise pierced the air. After a moment a huge explosion went off a few yards in front of the armor column, causing a few APCs to swerve wildly.
"Are ya sure, Boss?" Clobber said dryly.
"Hmm. Maybe not," Grot said genuinely, rubbing his massive chin. "We may be dealin' wiff the Hairy-ticks. But we 'ave to be sure. Gather up as many boyz as ya' can get, Clobber! Oi've got a plan…"
MEANWHILE…
Colonel Bell was far too grizzled in his appearance for such a young man. He'd gained quite the reputation for his ruthless efficiency in the suppression of revolts but even his enemies had to agree that he was fair. Bell had just demonstrated his fairness with a well-placed warning shot. He expected and prepared for an immediate counter-barrage but was caught off-guard as the opposing armor column turned west and vanished behind a dune.
"Hardly what I expected from the illustrious 212th," he commented to his nearby aide, "though it really isn't fair to hold imposters to the expectations of heroes."
His aide nodded in response and spoke up, "Shall we pursue them, Colonel?"
"Of course. Though we shan't walk into this like grox. We must be prepared for a ploy of some kind. These vigilantes have been fighting orks for some time. They must've acquired some tactical sense. Inform the 3rd to flank wide to the right as the main body pushes forward."
It didn't take long for the Colonel's men to mobilize as they were one of, if not the, most veteran PDF units on Phylum. Bell's men arrived at the top of the dune and were met by the sight of the fake 212th armor opposing them downhill in a position of strategic suicide.
Bell frowned. Was this really the crucial matter the Prime Magistrate himself ordered him to attend to? This wasn't even easy. It was downright embarrassing. "Get them on the vox. Let's see if we can get them to surrender." Bell was clearly dejected as he felt his career had hit a new low.
After a moment of searching through vox channels the aide was finally met with a guttural low-gothic voice, "Emprah?"
"Err… Is this the self-proclaimed 212th?" the aide asked.
"Oh, I remember this one!" Dreg exclaimed proudly, "Yep that's us!"
Bell reached over and was handed the speaking device. "This is Colonel Bell of the Phylum Planetary Defense Force. Surrender now and you will be spared."
"Err.. 'old on. Let me get my supervisor." Sounds of movement and clanking could be heard as Dreg got to Captain Grot. "It's for you."
"'Ello?" Grot Coat answered. Colonel Bell repeated his spiel about surrendering which he responded to with, "Who sent you?"
"The Prime Magistrate Amadeus of the Glori-"
"Is he a hairy-tick?" Grot interrupted.
"What?"
"Oi don't even know who dat' is. So I gotta assume he's a hairy-tick."
"Enough of this. Surrender now." Bell spoke plainly, growing tired of the low-gothic speaker's games.
"Eee… yeah. No thanks." Grot answered kindly.
"Very well, you've already received your warning shot. Prepare to fight." Bell responded solemnly.
"Foight! All-right! 'old on. Let me get my own warnin' shot ready!" Yelling ensued as Grot's gretchin crew prepared a warning shot. A moment later a round promptly smacked into one of Bell's APCs and exploded. "You miserable lout! Ya' missed! How do ya' miss not hittin' anything!"
Bell gave the order to open fire and his tanks began raining doom down upon the 212th. However Bell had failed to notice something rather strange about the hill his unit was situated upon. It was very bumpy. As the vehicles were firing he took notice of one such bump and squinted. But it was too late…
The hill exploded into orks.
Like an angry swarm of insects they appeared. There were few things that could compete with an ork in close-combat and this was made apparent by their rampant destruction of his unit Bell was speechless as his confused flanking force was fired upon by his own tanks, now captured by these strange orks… in uniform?
Snapping out of it, Bell was able to pull out his laspistol and fire upon a trio of charging orks. They were delayed but Bell was forced to retreat to the interior of his APC. The orks bashed on the hatch and would be in at any moment. Bell scrambled to the radio and sent a panicked message back to the capital just as the orks burst through the hatch.
"Argh! They're beast! Orks in Guardsman uniforms! Raaagh!"
