The Ork Rok is a mountain of rock and rivets flung across the void, a captured asteroid that the Orks have festooned with looted engines, ramshackle gun-batteries, and enough crude armour plating to shrug off a battleship's broadside. It should not work by any sane reckoning of physics, yet through the strange collective belief of the greenskins it flies regardless, wreathed in exhaust-smoke and the deafening roar of ten thousand bellowing boyz.
The Rok is less a ship than a weapon in its own right. Ork warbosses aim them like colossal cannonballs, plunging them through void shields and atmosphere alike to slam into a planet's surface with world-cracking force. Those aboard care nothing for the fall; to a greenskin, a crash-landing that leaves you alive to fight is the finest journey imaginable, and the resulting crater becomes an instant fortress bristling with dug-in artillery.
Within its tunnelled warrens seethe the endless mobs of a Waaagh!, alongside grinding scrap-forges and the mad contraptions of the Mekboyz who keep the whole absurd edifice roaring along. When a Rok appears in a system, it heralds an invasion measured not in soldiers but in green tides. There is no reasoning with it, no bargaining, only the promise of a good scrap and the ruin that follows.
The fleet continues
