I’m consistently amazed by how creatively inspiring wee plastic toys can be. Inspired Modulorka’s latest release, I wanted to see what it would be like to have Ironjawz on flying mounts. This little story is the result

Far to the north, in the most mountainous lands of Rondhol, are da Sky Stompaz. They are an Ironjawz warband of da Choppas clan who keep a very peculiar habit: they breed and ride the largest bat-squigs in the Realms. 

To the average Ironjaw Orruk, such husbandry would be seen as a “waste of a good snack” at best and “muckin’ about” at worst, because of course only a Morruk or grot would take for a mount any animal less respectable (and more tasty) than a Gore-grunta. But da Sky Stompaz did not take to wing on anything less than concrete evidence and, maybe, divine inspiration.

It was on raid in the Krondspine Range that the idea took flight, as it were. The mob was in the final stage of sacking a mountain town of Sigmar’s folk. All had gone according to plan: buildings were smashed, huts set ablaze, humies kicked into paste, the local temple desecrated with plenty of humorous markings. But Tarkrip, the then-boss now-skyboss of the crew, saw that some details had fallen through the cracks. Lifting his gaze he saw, high on an unscalable ledge, a perfectly maintained statue of…some lightning git or other. It was crushing; a statue just begging to be smashed but just out of reach. 

Before a solution could plainly present itself, there was a rustling from the warband’s baggage train. Shouts went up as a large bat-squig, set aside for the night’s celebratory feast, escaped its cage and pumped its wings. It flapped wildly, moving in a number of circles and rotating before finally righting itself and setting a trajectory for the statue. As Tarkrip and a few other boyz watched, the squig released its payload and the statue was covered in a ripe, green turd. Seeming pleased with itself, the bat-squig alighted onto Tarkrip’s shoulder and settled in.

Then Tarkrip did what few other Ironjawz bosses had ever done: he saw the merit in cunning. Maybe those swamp boyz and savage Orruks were on to something. Maybe Mork did have his bright points. The boss had a plan. 

They returned to Rondhol and, using a combination of snatcha-boy ingenuity (accredited to some Kruleboyz that Tarkrip “encouraged” to help them out), a little grot know-how (compensated with the very handsome reward of not being killed), and good old fashioned Ironjawz tenacity, the warband set to creating the nastiest, flyingest squigs around. Taking on a new name, da Sky Stompas were born on the wings of flight, introducing a new terror to the civilized people of Ghur.

It took more than a few successful battles for the warband to lose the enmity (if not win the respect) of their fellow Choppas. One stunt in particular earned a grudging acceptance from the other Orruks. The Ironjawz were in the thick of a pitched battle versus some red-clad humans. Normally this is cause for celebration, as humies go down easy and in large numbers, but these were the kind of humans that carried guns and used all manner of nonsense to scheme their way to victory. It was a fusil-major in particular, comfortably sat in a perch atop her Ogor mercenary, that proved a true thorn in the side. Her dead-eyed shots picked off brute after brute and the rest of da boyz could not break the shield wall her lackeys had created. Then from the skies came a whoop and a holler. Tarkrip, atop his favorite flying squig, in full nose-dive, lopped the head from the fusilier with his mighty choppa. Her Ogor mount lost its sword arm to the squig and the rest, as they say, was a wrap. Without the support and guidance of their leader the humans were quickly routed and da Sky Stompaz lifted out of ignominy and into cautious recognition.

Now the small warband is earning a name for itself as it blazes a trail of irreverence across Ghur and into the Realms beyond.