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July 17, 2011
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On the bridge the Orks were still celebrating their victorious raid against the humie war fleet. Wounds were proudly shown off, skulls were banged together and the occasional shoota was fired into the ceiling. Yet in the midst of it all Kaptin Grimgob sat on his command throne in deep thought, his oversized hands holding the piece of paper that those humies were defending so dearly and tenaciously. His ship was filled with plenty of booty and scrap, a good haul in all and one that would earn him plenty of teef. Yet, that little piece of paper that seemed so insignificant to him at first was proving to be his biggest prize from the raid. He studied it closely, unable to decipher the scrawny and finicky language humies used, it was much like its former masters really: overly complicated and too weedy. Yet they were willing to fight and die over it so readily, swearing bloody vengeance and retribution with their dying words. It probably held great value to them, which was something Grimgob found an odd thought. His ship and weapons were of great value, his treasure horde of teef were, but a piece of paper?

'Orders Kaptin?'

He was pulled from his thoughts by a question rumbling forth from his first mate, Uzshak, a strong and loyal First Mate, or at least as long as he had something to bash, a massive axe eagerly clutched in both armoured claws. The other Nobs also quieted down, expectantly looking to their Kaptin to give them their next course of action.

'We's done 'ere, gather up da fleet and lets head back home, I's got a feeling dem 'umies will soon be swarming all over us.'

Uzshak looked at him for a moment, his brow knotting in deep thought while hefting his axe up. To him it sounded like cowardice, something alien to the Orkish mind, so what was his Kaptin thinking? His gaze lowered towards the piece of umie paper the kaptin was holding and studying for the last minutes. He looked up at his Kaptin and back down to the paper again, repeating the process several times. Slowly realisation dawned on the Nob, who shouted out his conclusion:

'Oi, dem umies are gonna scrap us over dat?'

Grimgob nodded sagely, grinning all the while. He knew he was onto something clever here.

'If dis is so important to dem umies let them come and get it. Umies, beakies, let them come.'

Beakies!

The prospect of squaring off against those was something that made the entire bridge whoop with almost childish joy. The idea of collecting a few different Beakie heads was always a welcome distraction and something worth boasting about.

Grimgob oversaw his bridge with a leering grin of satisfaction as his lads set to work on getting back home again, doing so without almost any of the usual fighting and squabbling.
A background blurb for one of the main foes found in a future Rogue Trader campaign: Kaptin Grimgob da Kunnin.

The piece of paper he's mulling over isn't just any piece of paper, but a the Warrant of Trade belonging to the PC Dynasty.
:iconasfollowsd:
Nice piece. I like the idea of a semi intelligent ork.
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:iconbrookm:
BrookM Sep 9, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
He could just be "kunning", which can be translated into something along the lines of "GM can do what he wants with this guy" ;)
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