Inspired by this pic I found here;
Just a quick story I threw together as a possible origin story to the conversion in the picture above. I might even try to build my own version of it someday.
Hope you enjoy reading it.
Zagwazza stood staring at the wrecked trukk, wondering where he should weld on the jaggedly cut metal plate he had just finished liberating from an old shipping container.
"Bout der wud do." he though to himself while looking through the gaping hole in the armor around the box.
The Leman Russ that had punched that hole flipped the truck onto its side, crushing any boyz that might have survived the explosion. Once he'd settled on the final placement of the plate, he turned to pick up his burna and yelled "Oi! Get ya runty hides in 'ere, an bring da jakk, we'z got work ta do!"
Before his bellowing voice could finish echoing off the rusty corrugated walls of his ramshackle Mekshop, a half dozen gretchin came scurrying out the scrap piles; scrambling for their tools. Two of the grots pushed the “jakk”; which was a hydraulic lifting arm on wheels, up to the metal plate and quickly began rigging the chains to start hefting it into position.
“Wer’z dat git Skargob?!” the Big Mek bellowed, which startled the grot at the controls of the jakk and caused him to flip the wrong lever. The plate, which was now standing vertically, toppled over onto one of the grots and squashed him flat. There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by raucous laughter from the remaining grots. “Shut it, da lot of ya! Get dat cleaned up an inta place, or ya’re all gettin a thumpin!” Irritated, Zagwazza went out into the scrap yard looking for his idiot of an assistant.
Unlike humans, orks either choose their own name, or earn one by one means or another. Skargob earned his name from the deep gash along his lower jaw which he earned horsing around with a rivet gun. Knowing Skargob, he was either cutting up scrap or hiding somewhere drinking fungus beer when he should be working.
Somewhere nearby, the sound of an engine starting up broke the relative silence of the yard. If Zagwazza was to guess, it was the sound of a deffcopta starting up, he did have one in the yard, but it wasn’t a project he was particularly interested in. Sure, it was fast, and what Speed Freak didn’t like that? The problem Zagwazza had is that it was too runty for his liking; he liked working on big trukks and battlewagons.
Just as he came around a junk pile between him and where the engine noise was coming from, Zagwazza saw his assistant strapped into the seat of the deffcopta with a grin on his face as the contraption slowly lifted off the ground. “Dat git got it flyin again, huh?” he though, “Lez see if ‘e crashes it, dat fing’s been takin up space long enuff.” Sadly, he didn’t get to see the machine shake itself apart and plummeting to the dirt with Skargob aboard. Instead, his assistant took it up higher, and began to circle the junkyard.
After a few laps, Skargob landed the deffcopta in the same spot he’d taken off from, hooting and hollering with delight at the rush he’d just experienced. The mekboy got him self unstrapped and saw the boss standing by the scrap pile, looking annoyed. “If ya done faffin about wiff dat fing; we’z need ya in da shop.” Zagwazza looked annoyed, but he was actually quite impressed with Skargob’s new toy, though he wasn’t going to admit it any time soon.
“Sure fing boss, but I seen somefing ‘eadin dis way wile flyin round up dere. Looked like wun’ve our trukks, an deys wuz towin sumfing.” Skargob pointed towards the dust plume in the distance, just southeast of the settlement.
“Dem grotz had betta not wrecked anuva one a my trukkz, I ‘aven’t even fixed da otha one yet.” He growled, kicking a piece of scrap clear over the junk pile. “I’ll feed’em to da squigs if dey ’ave!”
“Nah, looked like sum humie fing, culd be a wagon.” Skargob shrugged.
“You still ‘ere? Get ta work!” he shouted. Skargob was in no way interested in testing his boss’s patience, and ran off towards the shop. Zagwazza smiled at the idea of the looted wagon they boyz were towing, he’d always wanted something with thick armor and big gunz.
Soon enough, the trukk rolled into camp with it’s loot in tow, and to Zagwazza’s surprise it wasn’t a wagon at all, but one of the human’s flyers. He was upset about the fact that one of the two trukks that went out did, in fact, get wrecked and was currently being used as a trailer to haul the downed Valkyrie. As the boyz piled out of the trukk, some of them were still talking about how the other trukk blew up in a spectacular fashion, which just made Zagwazza angry that he was down another trukk.
“You grotz cost me anuva trukk! Dem’z not easy ta build, ya know!” He shouted. “So wot? We’z got ya somefing else ta fix up.” one of the nobz said mockingly. Grumbling to himself, Zagwazza looked over the wreckage and turned back to the smart mouth nob. “Dis ‘ere be one a dem humie flyas, Valka-wotzit, or somfing like dat, but ‘ere’s da trouble, dis one ain’t got no wings!” he pointed at the wreck where the wings were supposed to be. “Iz dat wot ya shot wiff da rokkit, Zog?” the nob asked the boyz. Zog lifted his rokkit launcha with pride, which brought cheers from the group of them. “Fink da auva one fell off when it crashed.” Zog was now just trying to get more attention.
“Wot am I gonna do wiff dis skrap?” Zagwazza thought. The boyz began hooting and hollering again, which caused Zagwazza to lose his train of thought. Apparently, the boyz were rather impressed with Skargob’s deffcopta, and cheered as he flew overhead, hamming it up for the mob.
“Dat’z it! I got it” Zagwazza shouted, and quickly ran to the shop to get some tools. “Get dat fing to da shop, we’z got work da do!”