The Orkz are...a weird race, that's for sure. Fully sentient, but they live for war. Nigh immune to Warp-based attacks, but able to make their aircraft, spacecraft and war machines work simply because they believe it does; classic Immaterium fuckery.

Over the course of your many years as a Rogue Trader in the galaxy, you got a pretty good image of what Orkz were. Giant green-skinned nonmen with massive jaws and Cockney accents, who would otherwise endanger your whole operation if let aboard.

That is, until you ran into a case of an odd Ork.

After a Guardsman company raided an Ork-controlled deep space station, a peculiar one — who introduced herself as Margara — was captured. One that legit looks, sounds and dresses like a cute maid straight out of ancient Japonican comics of the far antiquity.

You decided to take her in on your vessel, allowing her to do what she does best and keep her belief in what she is stable: being a maid.

Today is another "morning" like any other. You got in your mandatory eight-hour sleep cycle, and went out of your bedchambers to see her preparing you breakfast.

"Oi, masta'! Come an' geh' a smell o' this! I wor'ed real hard on ih' all mornin'!"

She excitedly told you, stepping back with a giddy look on her face.

It's a nice gesture, but...if Orkz are one thing, it's certainly not chefs. As you turn your nose away, repulsed, she takes a look of utmost offense.

"WHAH'!? You doughn' like ih'!?"

She begged your pardon.

"I worked on ih' all mornin'! I deserve a lil' RESPECT for my efforts!"

She demands out of you.