Orc Boyz are the green tide in its purest form: mobs of slab-muscled brutes packed shoulder to shoulder, each carrying whatever jagged mass of iron he has decided to call a choppa. They do not drill, they do not march in step, and they do not stop. A mob of boyz advances like a rockslide with opinions, and what it hits, it buries.
Fighting is not merely what orcs do; it is what they are. An orc that wins battles literally grows — taller, broader, greener — until he is big enough to take his own mob, then his own tribe. Every legendary warboss in greenskin history started as a boy in a mob like this one, which is why no orc ever hangs back from a scrap. Ambition, for a greenskin, is measured in scars.
Order of battle
