Alright, here's part two of the raid. ((Thanks for reminding of the 5+ = lots, morfangdakka. I changed the last sentence of the first paragraph to more accurately represent this
“Ow big is a thousand?”, Garrgork murmured as he slithered through the brushland, “Ow dumb kan ya git? I swears I met squigs in da cess-dump brainier dan that lad. Every ork knows it’s a 'ell of a lot.”
Garggork grinned, quite pleased at his mathematical prowess. His jubilation halted abruptly as the spotlight passed directly over him. He froze, suppressing the orkoid instincts which screamed at him to charge forward. But the guardsmen didn’t notice him, they, half asleep from a chronic shortage of recaff in the camp, continued to scan up and down the rugged hills and brush country.
Garggork too was surprised. He was sure he would be spotted, given the rather unusual nature of his “camouflage” trousers. He had purchased them from a Bad Moon merchant back on Kertome, and while quite stylish, he discovered from experience that the pink and white pattern they sported was less than ideal for stealth purposes. Undaunted, Garggork pressed onward, his hands reaching out into the darkness, his ears acute for any sign of danger.
As he neared the sandbags of the imperial ramparts, Garggork could hear human voices echoing in the chilled night air. He paused as the sounds drew nearer, and the marching of feeble human feet became audible to Garggork’s ears. But the patrol turned back just as it was about to round the corner of the outer earthworks, and the murmur of voices grew dim and stillness returned to the gorge.
The ork pressed forward into the encampment. He slipped through a line of razorwire and over a defensive line of sandbags and trenches. He looked over his shoulder to see how the other four kommandos were progressing. He could only pick out Nagthull, whose stealth expertise were lacking in all areas. Nagthull was trying to hide behind a shrub that wouldn’t have concealed a gretchin, much less an ork who took more gear that a Flash Git on parade. He must have seen Garggork looking back at him, because he gave a wave towards Garrgork’s position, grinning like an idiot.
Garrgork turned his head back around to face the center of the Imperial camp, trying not to think how it was by the grace of Mork that Nagthull did not reveal their presence. The wind suddenly shifted directions, bringing to Garrgork’s nose the first scent of their objective. Sensing that his target was near, he eagerly pulled his kustom night-vision goggles down over his eyes, and peered into darkness. It took a few moments for the goggles to adjust to the exact light level, and even then the vision they provided was granulated and slightly distorted; but as the world came into focus, even the generally austere Garrgork couldn’t suppress the grin that now stretched across his face. He saw off to his left, the objective of their raid.