Gareth reacted to Mitzy for a tribe, The Meatmen of Mitzmanheim
The name “The Meatmen of Mitzmanheim” is a name that harks back through centuries. It is a name passed down from one generation to the next. It is a name that is feared by all who speak of it, and for good reason. For the Meatmen of Mitzmanheim are a purely destructive force descended from an ancient ogre tribe.
The legend tells the tale of an Ogre Tyrant the mighty Marg Magrog and his wife Mo who ran the Colossal Collie Inn. The Inn was deep in the heart of Mitzmanheim and was world renowned for its fabulous meat pies. Mo Magrog was a fantastic cook and her meat pies (known as “Big Dogs”) were celebrated the world over.
The people of Mitzmanheim had a special bond with both the Ogres having formed an unusual alliance with Marg Magrog. Unlike other Ogre chieftains Marg had found an unusual way to build his wealth. He was waging war throughout the old world and clearing the battlefields of the corpses, these were transported back to Mitzmanheim where Mo Magrog butchered them and turned the meat into pies.
The pies were being sold far and wide and such were the quality of the goods that they fetched a hefty price. Little did the rich aristocracy of the mighty empire know that their table centrepieces were in fact full to the brim with the meat from their own kin!
Today the Meatmen of Mitzmanheim is made up of many units from across the Destructive factions. Lead by the toughest Orruk in the realm of Ghur, Margrog Meatzniffa.
Margrog has roamed the realm of Ghur for decades, in search of a of a fabled artefact. He longs to appease Gorkamorka and present his deity with a Big Dog pie, for in his mind the only way other than through war that his name will be passed down through generations is if he can find the long lost recipes of Mo Magrog!
Margrog insists that all units in his army fly the original Meatmen of Mitzmanheim flag, and the flamboyant colours of Marg and Mo Magrog (a vivid Turquoise and golden Yellow) can be seen for miles around as the Meatmen march to war. As they march the ground quakes, horns and drums sound and the cry “For Da Big Dog” is enough to drain the blood from the faces of all who are near!
Gareth reacted to Gorks Pokin' Finger for a tribe, Da Bloodbreaka Clan
Breaking the Chains
Long ago, in Age of Chaos, the Skullthumpas were a prominent Orruk tribe that terrorized the mortal realms. Led by their brutal but cunning Warboss, Gorfang, the clan claimed victories against all they came across. They sacked the impenetrable Dwarf Hold of Karaz Zulfin, brought down Warlord Korkid Da Mighty and his IronSkullz boyz, defeated the Unending Tide of Skaven and Lord Zheed in the burrows of the Forgotten City, put the horse nation of Parravin to the torch, and slayed Daemonlord Thzadrith, a champion of Khorne. While Archaon’s forces spread their presence across the realm, the Skullthumpas continued to persevere against the legions of the Dark Gods. There were so many dead enemies that the Orruks would not have to resort to eating their Grot companions. Although, this did not completely stop the Ogre chefs from whooping up Grot Stew for da boyz.
Alas, the Skullthumpas would eventually meet a grisly end at the hands of Chaos. A combined host of Khorne and the Legion of Azgorh ambushed the clan in the Valley of Hargth. The weavers claimed the valley was created when a massive stone-gargant fell from the skies to his death on this spot, littering the ground with large rocks and crags, perfect for taking an enemy by surprise. Despite their fury, Gorfang’s troops were torn apart by daemon blade and fell firepower. The warboss himself was wounded but survived. Much of the army was either sacrificed to the Blood God, while the rest were taken as prisoners by the Chaos Dwarfs, including Gorfang. Very few escaped into the wilderness, including Gorfang's second in command, Urgkash da Stompa.
Gorfang and his surviving boyz were marched into the Realm of Fire to the cursed hold of the Chaos Dwarfs, Zharr Haraz. For years, the former warboss slaved away in the quarries of the slave pits beneath the hold alongside his fellow Orruks, as well as slave duardin and humans. All the grots had perished, but Gorfang and most of his orcs endured, plotting and planning for a rebellion. Eventually, they rose against their taskmasters, but it ended in failure. Despite being impaled by an Ironsworn halberd, Gorfang survived. As punishment, the Dawi Zharr began using the slaves as cannon fodder for their armies as they marched across the mortal realms. More orruks perished in battle or grinded to death in the slave pits, but once more, Gorfang endured. Throughout the years, his size and strength grew with each minor victory. He continued to plot for his next rebellion, but he received aid from an unexpected host.
After seizing duardin slaves from the Ankor Volghar of the continent of Zarcosia, a mighty throng of the Stormbolt Clan marched into Aqshy and laid siege on Zharr Haraz. While the Chaos Dwarfs attempted to defend their hold, a regiment of Stormbolt Rangers infiltrated the slave pits to free their kin. They attempted to escape using a long-forgotten realmgate concealed during the seizure by the Chaos Dwarfs. However, the portal was too badly damaged as Dawi Zharr reinforcements began flooding the pits. Left with no choice, the Ranger captain freed Gorfang and his Orruks in order to fight off their slavers. Swearing an oath to free the Greenskinz, the orruks were more than eager to seek revenge after decades of enslavement. Using crude tools and smuggled weapons, the orruks turned the tide and slaughtered the fallen duardin. Gorfang himself slew the Castellan of the hold, Rhagrakki Burnfist. With his demise, so too did Zharr Haraz. While the majority of the Stormbolt Clan wished to do away with the Orruks as well, the Ranger captain's oath was fufilled, though with a compromise. Gorfang and his clan would be allowed to sack the hold, but had to leave into the realm of shadows. Zharr Haraz was then raised to the ground, for the taint of chaos had tainted its once proud halls and had to be purged in order to erase the grudge from the clan's Book of Grudges.
As for the orruks, they soon banded together to create a new clan. They entered slavery as Greenskinz, but earned their freedom as Ironjawz. They would be known as the Bloodbreaka's, led by the orruk who kept them alive, fought and survived the worst thrown at him at the hands of chaos, Megaboss Gorfang da Immortal. Their quest for vengeance, conquest, and liberation of the mortal realms has begun.
long-time Warhammer player here since 6th Edition fantasy but I have loved how the game and community has grown since Age of Sigmar began. This is going to be my army blog for my mixed Destruction forces. It will mostly focus on my Ironjawz and Greenskinz, but it will also include Moonclan Grots and hopefully Ogors in the future. In this thread, I will update the progress and construction of my armies, write lore stories surrounding my characters/armies, and battle reports from my matches. Hopefully you all enjoy it and we can share our love for the hobby.
GORFANG DA IMMORTAL
From his time as a warboss, to the grueling years of slavery under the Dawi Zharr, Gorfang has emerged from the ashes of those pits a free Orruk, bigger, stronger, and more cunnin' from his trials. He has survived many close calls and grievous wounds in his life: avoiding slaughter at the hands of Khone's worshipers, withstanding the vicious environment of the slave quarries, persisting in the front lines of the Chaos Dwarf armies, as well as the final rebellion that won him his freedom. This has led his followers to refer to him as Da Immortal. Yet, Gorfang is not satisfied. During his years as a slave, the megaboss claims Gorkamorka spoke to him in a dream, telling him to start gathering the downtrodden clans and uniting them into a WAAAGH! to drive out the forces of chaos from the mortal realms. Recalling his time as warboss of the Skullthumpas, Gorfang has revived his practice of adorning his armour with the heads of his fallen foes. Each one tells the story of Gorfang's trials as an Ironjaw. The taskmaster Rhagrakki Burnfist's head sits next to the ogor Turokk The Hairy, whose raiding party was stomped into the ground after they betrayed the Bloodbreaka's while escaping the Realm of Ulgu. The scalp of the Aspiring Deathbringer Kalrak Bloodmarked hangs from the belt of Gorfang after his bloodbound were broken in a vicious battle with the Bloodbreaka's, retribution for their massacre ages ago. And the monster's skull that sits on Gorfang's right shoulder? No one knows what it was, only that Gorfang went on a raid into the Realm of Ghur and returned a week later with the skull intact, along with Urgknash and an army of Skullthumpas.
Gareth reacted to The Door Master for a tribe, The Purple Crown
In the great Sea of the Colossi of Ghur, no pirate kingdom is as respected or feared as The Purple Crown. Plundering, raiding, and enslaving the coastal cities in their hulking War-Barges, seeking out vast treasurers and foods for the Crown; war-songs and cannon fire are the only warning of an attack by the covetous pirates. Draped in purple and red apparel, and brandishing weapons and armour varying from pig-iron to sigmarite; all who serve The Purple Crown value pride in their colours, iconography, and style. With swagger and glee, they are symbols of avarice too the extreme, even for Ogors. Many of The Purple Crown are made up former Maneaters, many joining the diabolical of their own accord, but those who don't are usually shown why they should by force.
The grand leader of The Purple Crown is the Tyrant Ganetous, a powerful and dark pig-like daemon of an Ogor. She wields a Great Gutgouger, and is adorned in resplendent armour, silken robes, and the Purple Crown its self. Ruling over her strongholds and cities with an iron-fist, Ganetous seeks to claim all in the great Sea of the Colossi as her own and uses the most powerful War-Barge, The Crown Jewel, to accomplish this endeavor. A dark rumor surround this most greed fueled of Tyrants; some speak that Ganetous is not a true Ogre, but a daemon long forgotten and bound in the Purple Crown, now made manifest to lead her new found following of Ogors to glory through avarice. Such thing could only be a rumor though, right?
The Brewer of Leviathan Grog, Butcher of Shantoth Port, Baron of Mad Rum, and Cook of the Godbeasts. Blubbazz Groggut; a name that is met with cheers and song, absolute dread, or all three. A Butcher and Brew-master of renown and infamy like no other; depending the amount he has been drinking and what brew it was, he could meat you with food and drink, or turn you into his next recipe. When met on a good day, Blubbazz Groggut will often share his merciless tales of his bizarre adventures. Stories such as the time he made a brew so strong it knocked a Gargant out after one gulp, how he's cooked for Godbeasts, fed a crew of Kharadron Overlords so much their ship became land bound, or that he drank with Gorkamorka. But stories from a mad Ogor should most likely not be believed. Blubbazz Groggut has great respect for Ganetous, and is honored to be the High Butcher of The Purple Crown.
Gareth reacted to Skumtoof da Archgit for a tribe, Blackfang Wolfboyz
FLUFF: The Blackfang Wolfboyz are a band of opportunistic raiders, living between all along the caves and forest paths of the Rockbrow Mountains. In times of idleness, they stalk travellers who divert from the paths, silently creeping on the unsuspecting upon their wolf mounts; but when they march to war they ravage the lands around in great packs, hungry for food and loot. The tribe worship Gorkamorka as The Great Big Wolf, a form both cunning (as it circles its prey and isolates them from their allies) and brutal (as it savages its prey with its sharp teeth and claws).
Using whatever means at their disposal, every Grot in the tribe must tame a wolf to ride upon when embarking on raids. Whether this is by coercion or force is no matter, but those who fail are invariably watched with amusement by the rest of their brethren as their green flesh is stripped from their bones by the outraged canine.
The Blackfang tribe are led by a strangely militaristic Grot by the name of Skumtoof da Archgit. Supposedly, his courage and strength-of-arms are legendary (at least among his Gitmob). This is likely less of some kind of cultural shift and more due to the sheer size and hunger of his gigantic wolf mount Big Bitey, who towers above the rest of her kin and bows her head to nobody, save from Skumtoof himself.
Never far from his side is his trusty (a term used loosely) Shaman, Griksnab. While a shifty git with more than a few tricks up his sleeve, Griksnab is smart enough to know that even if he did kill his boss and become the next Archgit, he'd be quickly isolated and gutted by the rest of the tribe without something like Skumtoof's wolf as a trump card. When not aiding Skumtoof in his rule or on the battlefield, he spends his time sneakily trying to sway Big Bitey into becoming his own mount with gifts and simpering tones. Griksnab quickly lost three fingers and switched to bullying Snotlings into doing it for him, with limited success.
ALLEGIANCE - GITMOB
ALLEGIANCE ABILITY - BIG AND BRUTISH
- (GENERAL) - Goblin Warboss on Giant Wolf w/ Git-cutta and Git Shield (BATTLE BREW) - 60pts
- Grot Shaman on Giant Wolf - 80pts
- 10 x Grot Wolf Riders w/ Pokin' Spears and Raidin' Shields - 200pts
- 10 x Grot Wolf Riders w/ Pokin' Spears and Raidin' Shields - 200pts
- 10 x Grot Wolf Riders w/ Wolf Bows and Raidin' Shields - 200pts
- 5 x Grot Wolf Riders w/ Wolf Bows and Raidin' Shields - 100pts
- 2 x Grot Wolf Chariots - 80pts
- 2 x Grot Wolf Chariots - 80pts
Gareth reacted to Trollemperor for a tribe, Waaaaggghh!! Grongut
In the wild lands of Ghur there is a great steppe known as the Howling Steppe. Here tribes of Gitmob grots vie for territory and hunting rights. One of the most powerful tribes is known as the Blackjaw tribe. But alas, the tribe was enslaved by the orruk tyrant Bok'gor the Brutal. Bok'gor ruled the tribe with an iron fist and led them into dozens of battles against the forces of chaos, ogors, skaven, other greenskins and more. The most famous of these battles was against the chaos horde of Kravoth the Crowbringer. As the chaotic host marched on the regions largest shrine to Gorkamorka, the Howling Rock, the battered tribes gathered for one final defense, with Bok'gor as the supreme commander.
The battle was fierce with many casualties on both sides as the battle swung back and forth. Orruk choppas sliced open chaos warriors as chaos knights ran down fleeing grots. The giant Mad Loupe fought alongside the greenskins and helped crush a group of chaos chariots, meanwhile a mighty slaughterbrute smashed apart a howling mob of Orruks. The battle came to a dramatic climax as Kravoth the Crowbringer fought against Bok'gor the Brutal. The two great warriors fought back and forth as the battle raged, each giving as good as he got. Gradually Bok'gor wore down the chaos champion as he hacked against Kravoth's shield while parrying and blocking most of Kravoth's blows. After several minutes of back and forth fighting Bok'gor sliced through the champion's shield and cut into his heart. With Kravoth's death the chaos aQhorde was shattered and the greenskins were victorious.
During the battle a minor chaos champion known as Zaldrak the Hungering was slain by the greenskins, in the aftermath of the battle a grot known as Grongut looted the axe from his corpse. He took the chaos corrupted weapon to the shamans of the howling rock and they reforged it and imbued it with the power of Gorkamorka. From that day onwards the axe was known as The Flesheater. Soon Grongut was rising through the ranks of the Blackjaw tribe as his axe chopped apart rivals and enemies alike. He despised Bok'gor and was always looking for a way to kill him.
One day Grongut's most loyal ally, the shaman Onefang, discovered the recipe for a powerful potion that could give it's bearer troggish strength and regeneration. The effects could be made permanent if the drinker also ate raw troggoth flesh. Grongut, upon hearing of this opportunity immediately began collecting the items on the long list of ingredients. He gradually stole, swindled and murdered his way to the acquisition of all the ingredients, save one, the troggoth flesh.
Grongut learned of a few troggoths that worked for the Bloodspear tribe of moonclan grots. After visiting the Bloodspear outpost he spiked the fungus brew he had acquired. Grongut used the vile swill to convince Bok'gor that he (Grongut) should lead an attack on the Bloodspear outpost.
Grongut's forces included 2 small mobs of grot spider riders, some boarboyz, some snotlings, and some gitmob grots. The Bloodspear defenders included a grot shaman, 2 small mobs of moonclan grots, and some rockgut troggoths. The battle was hard fought and most of Grongut's raiding party were slain or scattered by the end of the battle, but the troggoths were all dead and Grongut was victorious. With the troggoth flesh acquired Grongut returned to his tribe's camp.
Using the troggoth flesh Onefang made the potion for Grongut and also had him eat the raw troggoth flesh. Alas for poor Grongut his stomach grew to vast size and the indigestion and flatulence nearly killed him. But some weeks later he emerged from the shaman's tent, bloated and huge. Grongut took up his axe and marched through the camp to Bok'gor's throne. He then challenged him for leadership. Bok'gor mocked him and said he was too fat to be able to fight him, Grongut retorted that Bok'gor was nearly as fat as himself. Bok'gor, enraged at the insult took up his choppas and prepared to strike down the impudent grot.
The fight was short and brutal, Bok'gor sliced open Grongut's belly in two places but the wounds healed before his very eyes. Bok'gor was then unceremoniously beheaded. With his defeat Grongut was now leader of the Blackjaw tribe. He soon set about gathering the other tribes to his banner. The first tribe to join were the Scarback grots who had been enslaved by the Bloodspear until Grongut overran the Bloodspear outpost. Then Grongut took over the Skullface and Mammoth Hunter tribes with a show of force. Soon even savage orruks flocked to his banner, drawn by the power of the Waaaaaaaggh!!
A few weeks after the defeat of Bok'gor, a warpstone shower could be seen in the sky. Grongut rushed to gather the precious material as tribute to Gorkamorka. Thus began the first of many battles against the skaven.
When Grongut arrived where the warpstone was crashing down a skaven horde was already swarming about, gathering up the warpstone. Grongut and his minions immediately attacked the ratmen. It was a long and bloody affair but in the end the skaven were all but wiped out and Grongut had secured the warpstone for himself.
As Grongut's horde celebrated the victory the skaven attacked his camp, desperate to claim their prize at all costs. The two armies were drawn up and the battle began....
The battle was a brutal back and forth affair eventually ending with the skaven being slaughtered. The highlights of the battle included a plague claw catapult that killed 2 mobs of orruks singlehandedly, as well as a mob of grot archers imbued with the power of the waaagh!! and "inspired" by a grot boss. These grots killed a dozen clarets as well as the skaven warlord and gray seer.
Gareth reacted to Zogekk Gobsmasher the Savage for a tribe, Gobsmasher-Startooth Tribe
The Stareater tribe was an old if perhaps disrespected tribe... filled with the wastrels, wanderers and the insane who would walk the world not for combat or destruction but for religious fervor alone.
The last Tyrant was Nagrot Tripeslicer the Mad, who claimed he had found enlightenment and that The Maw would return to the Mortal Realms physically... He was no butcher himself, but he kept many around him, far more than most tribes would allow. He always sought their council, but also worked them against one another to ensure his own superiority. If his physical presence alone would not have been imposing, his force of will was frightening in and of itself.
This strange religious mission drew many to his banner, but he quickly became known for his crusades in search of The Maw which were fruitless... Destroying anything and anyone who would get in his way, yet never finding success again and again. Only his brute strength, influence over the butchers and bullied control of the Tribe kept his rag-tag followers from falling apart over the years. His followers were mostly made up of religious fanatics, rejects and members of tribes he had cowed into submission over the years or those who were not accepted elsewhere. He would pay handsomely for information about incoming comets and other celestial activity, and trained his followers in "listening to the stars" to hear the call of the Maw. Rumors even said he parlayed with followers of Sigmar to attempt to purchase astronomical information from them, yet if anything came of this is not known.
The Startooth Tribe, which Nagrot had become Tyrant of so long ago went from being a relatively unknown if at least respectable Ogor tribe to becoming a laughingstock of the realm of Ghur and beyond, all with Nagrot at the helm.
His journey finally came to an end however when upon arriving at a designated "landing site" for a supposed comet, fate decided it would for once provide for the beleageured Tyrant... Sigmarite Comets rained down around his tribe and as they rushed to procure what they thought was pieces of their god The Maw, the Seraphon fell upon them (my first tabletop battle)!
Vicious fighting ensued between the Startooth Tribe and the Seraphon raiders who sought to obtain the Sigmarite for their own machinations. Although Nagrot and his followers fought hard, in the end they were routed and failed in their objective. Nagrot desired to regather his tribe and strike immediately once more, but there was one among his ranks who would not hear this foolishness. One Zogekk Gobsmasher decided the Stareater Tribe had been dragged through the mud long enough, it was time to become a TRUE tribe once more. He challenged Nagrot to a traditional Ogor gut-wrestling competition... The fighting was fierce, but in the end the old and weary Nagrot collapsed and was soon devoured by the young and upcoming Zogekk.
As Zogekk consumed the flesh of his once Tyrant, what remained of the Tribe cheered him on.
Zogekk Gobsmasher, now Tyrant of the Startooth-Gobsmasher Tribe had a new plan... a cunning and vicious plan...
He and his tribe trailed the Seraphon... remaining far off the beaten path... only to find they had been ambushed by a horde of death led by Arkhan himself! Unfortunately the Deathkin caught sight of the Ogors movements towards the Seraphon cache of Sigmarite (which they had been hoping to procure while the Seraphon were unawares and then strike at them at their weakest) and quickly swooped in to destroy them. Zogekk cemented his control of the Tribe making them truly into the Gobsmasher Startooth Tribe once and for all by not only holding the line against the Deathkin, but also crushing the remaining Seraphon forces and taking the "Maw-Metal" as booty. Now the greatest of the Tribe have mouths full of Sigmarite teeth, believing they adorn their mouths with part of their god, better to devour their enemies with!
The new tribe is still attempting to finds its place in the world, many died fighting the Seraphon, altering the political landscape of the Tribe. Many of the old religious zealots still remain, but they are more equally matched with the younger blooded followers of Gobsmasher now. Will the Tribe continue its religious journies, or will it turn to other goals... or perhaps just doing what Ogors do best, devouring everything in their path?
The Tribe prides itself on the strength of their jaws, which are the doorway to the gut... and their ability to destroy the jaws of the unworthy. Their new name, Startooth comes from the use of Sigmarite in place of teeth. They adorn themselves with markings of a shooting star/meteorite with great teeth and bruises which are marks of being struck with the jaws of their kin in ceremonial combat.
Gareth reacted to Valdur for a tribe, Crimson Fists
First and foremost, thanks for passing through this tribe! As you can guess by the name the army has certain jokes that might, or might not, be appreciated by the community. Oddly enough this tribe was born out of a narrative campaign, including the origins of the Tyrant; overall I am really pleased with it even if it meant the death of my Ice Hides.
But enough of that, here are my Fists. Do note that the troops (Bulls, Guts and Belchers) are currently taking a dip inside the purifying pools of "Simpol Grin" per order of the Tyrant, hoping that they would at least look better when they come out of it. The special maneater unit (more on that later) is almost done, only the captain is to be done. The mournfangs are still running through the land, perhaps one of these days they will arrive to equip them properly. The second ironblaster is broken, but the gnoblars should fix it soonish.
Rhinox Riders x3
Thundertusk (Chilly) x1
The Crimson Fists
Alone amidst the coldest regions of the Mountains of Mourn lies the domain of Skorg Ironskull, Tyrant of the Crimson Fists.
The Spire is his fortress, one of the mightiest peaks of that frozen wasteland and it is ruled with a merciless iron fist; it is a fortified bastion of cold rock and brutal iron that stands out as a lone white needle over a valley of snow and ice.
The reign of the Tyrant is a prosperous one, gold and meat flow in equal measure as Skorg Ironskull demonstrates that he is a major power on the North.
But the Crimson Fists not always enjoyed such prosperity, for even before Skorg had to worry about Greasus looking past his overextended empire or the battles against any foe be it ogre kin, demon spawn, sentient race or beast of any sort he had to fight for his own life.
Seventy years ago Tyrant Bog ruled over the Ice Hides tribe, his Bruiser Ghark had a litter of just three but the first one of the offspring was a whelp; of pale hide and lacking a paunch it was diminutive in comparison to his brother and sister.
Ogrekind knows that weaklings as such are not suffered to live, they had to be sacrificed in order to avoid the wrath of the Great Maw for weakness brings misery to the tribe; thus the runt was handed over to the Slaughtermaster without a second thought.
The priest of the tribe took the newborn to the Maw Pit and following the ancient tradition tossed it as a sacrifice, after doing so the Slaughtermaster returned to the cave entry and barred the hole with an enormous boulder.
Such a grim fate is common across the Ogre Kingdoms, thousands of newborns are sacrificed this way to the Great Maw every year; in utter darkness they are left to fend for themselves or die.
Those few that survive the darkness become gorgers, pale monstrosities of ravenous hunger; and that would have been the fate of this ogre calf had a dwarven mining expedition hadn't run across it.
Two weeks after being abandoned in the hole the calf was found by a dwarven mining team in search of rare metals, the beards found the infant ogre eating solid chunks of wyrdstone and vermin as sustenance. At first the miners thought on killing the brute, after all it would mean getting rid of a future problem; however the Foreman thought differently.
Yes, this ogre baby was way different than his own son; but the death of the beardling had left a hole in the heart of him and his wife, perhaps if it was raised as his own the pain would go away.
Many criticized the old miner's judgement, if the pain was too great to bear the Slayer path was a better way to go than to raise the unlucky spawn of an ogre; in the end however Magni had it his way and adopted the ogre giving it a name: Skorg.
The expedition returned to the fortress of Karak-Baraz and the reaction of dwarfkind was just as expected, Magni was even called to see King Grom and had a hard time convincing the ruler that having an ogre would be beneficial for the hold.
Eventually, perhaps due to being of young age, Grom relented and Skorg was allowed to live in the fortress under the condition of constant surveillance and a lingering death threat.
Young Skorg grew at a quick rate, his voracious hunger a rival to his height; yet he did not turned out to become a dim brute as everyone expected, perhaps due to the "small" ingestion of wyrdstone he had as a newborn his intellect proved sharp and fierce.
Granted, he was not a genius compared to a smart dwarf, but he was no stupid creature either; albeit it required no small amount of persuasion Skorg was schooled by dwarven teachers like any other child and proved his worth.
Years came by and the ogre grew larger and larger, the skin always pale as snow and the veins showing a distinctive greenish/black glow as blood coursed through them; despite harming no one the majority of the Hold still treated Skorg as a menace until the accident of the mines.
A collapse of the lower levels meant an early grave for nearly a hundred miners, most of the equipment in Karak-Baraz still in repairs meant that at best a week would have to pass before a rescue operation could take place.
But Skorg intervened.
Guided by his father and using strength alone the ogre cleared the way to the miners preventing tragedy, after that day the dwarves trusted Skorg as one of them.
Three years later the Hold would be raided by an ogre party, here Skorg stood firm against the blubbery invaders and held no mercy to those that sought to destroy his home and killed his friends of the guard. Albeit the dwarves praised him something had stirred inside his heart and the next day left the Hold with nothing sans a good stack of food.
Following the path that the venturing ogres had left behind was easy, they weren't keen on being stealthy and so Skorg eventually found himself at the temporary camp of the Ice Hides.
Immediately every ogre around looked suspiciously at the arrival and there were some that tried their strength with sucker punches at Skorg; he replied in kind with brutal poundings of his fists that flat-out knocked the opposition.
This caused great stir as an ogre with no gut was beating senseless anyone that dared to go against him; naturally Tyrant Bog felt threatened and ordered Skorg brought to him to which the newcomer complied.
Once at the Tyrant's flea-ridden tent few words were exchanged, the Tyrant knew the threat posed by the hulking pale giant in front of him and Skorg sought to claim the throne for himself; that way the ogres would never threaten the Hold for as long as he breathed.
The duel was fought at the Maw Pit, however it was short lived. Albeit Bog was of prodigious size and girth the wyrdstone had given Skorg unnatural strength and resilience, so much in fact that the hamfisted Tyrant broke his entire hand delivering a punch against Skorg's temple without so much as a wince of the challenger.
Skorg brutally crushed Bog's skull with his immense fists, a shower of blood and gore splattering the crude walls of the pit in the blink of an eye.
When the challenger finally reacted the Tyrant laid dead over the floor and the tribe looked silently at the ruby-red fists of the new ruler.
Only one defied the right of rule of Skorg that day, the Slaughtermaster Nom claimed that as long as a thin ogre ruled the Ice Hides would incur the wrath of the Great Maw.
Skorg quickly showed him that despite lacking a paunch his torso was by far thicker than that of the priest who soon ended as the meal of his predecessor Gofg.
That day Skorg became the Tyrant of the Ice Hides who were renamed into the Crimson Fists, the remains of the old rulers served as a feast for everyone but Skorg who refused to partake in the cannibalism. The tribe adopted the bloodied fist of Skorg as the new symbol and from then on they would ritually dip their fists inside cauldrons full of blood prior to battle.
The upcoming months meant a mass migration for the tribe towards colder and harsher regions on the Mountains of Mourn, closer to the Hold, settling over the dreadful mountain that would be known as the Spire.
Thanks to his good relationship with the dwarves the mountain was quickly hollowed and turned into an actual fortress, a permanent settlement for the Fists as a staunch defy to the old ways that Skorg despised.
The Tyrant has, in no small way, tried to civilize his brutish peers with relative success. Although most of the ogres are too dim to learn proper table manners they have at least stopped belching and causing a mess in the cold halls of the Spire.
His closest counselors though are far more civilized than the rest, being smart enough to advance through the ranks meant Skorg could teach them properly more delicate matters and thoughts.
Nowadays the Fang is a powerful bastion, always trading with the nearby Karak-Baraz as the mountain is a rich deposit of meteoric iron that the Ironguts employ for their heavy armor.
There is also magical ice at the top that is converted into crude and brutal weapons that the ogres use to crush any who opposes the Frost Lord.
Living in a fortress such as the Fang has its perks as the hollowed caverns can hold beasts of war; Thundertusks, Rhinoxen and Stonehorns are common sights inside the stony walls with their lumbering masses cared carefully by the ogre guards.
The friendship with the dwarves paid off as well, cannons produced for the tribe allows the Fists to field far more artillery than most tribes. From leadbelchers to ironblasters, all cannons are treasured by Skorg for their destructive potential.
Over the years Skorg has obtained a few artifacts of great power, such as Ruthanar the World-Splitter; a blade dark as midnight that blazes with blue lightnings over its surface crafted by the Sky-Giants. Mormegil, the Bulwark. A set of golden armor of dwarven origin gifted to the Tyrant in thanks for helping the Hold during a Chaos Incursion. This set of gleaming golden armor with ruby fists is always accompanied by a cloak made out of the hide of a Frost Dragon, the blue scaly mantle still pulsating with magical energies of ice and gloom that shroud Skorg.
But even though the troops of the Spire are fearsome thanks to their ice and meteoric iron weapons there are times when they cannot overcome an enemy. In those times is when Skorg deploys his deadliest warriors: the Ogrewatch.
Formed out of wandering Man eaters the warriors of the Ogrewatch sport weaponry not found anywhere in the old world; their ranks jealously selective of recruits.
The only way to join the Ogrewatch is to find a Star Warrior and kill it and then dip the left arm inside the well of Eversilver; only then is any Maneater deemed fit to join the ranks, oddly enough the ogres seem to develop unique quirks after devouring a Star Warrior.
The first of the Ogrewatch members, the captain and founder, was a lone Maneater who one day witnessed two Star Warriors fighting in deadly combat. The first was a hulk of silver with lines of yellow and black topped with spikes, the second a mass of pure black with an arm of silver and a shoulder of blue.
The silver warrior was defeated with a gun that shot lightning and fire, but the dark warrior was left fatigued and as such an easy prey for the Maneater who crashed over him like an avalanche and claimed the glory and bodies for himself.
Fate would have it that the Maneater would eat first his opponent and follow up with the silver warrior; by the time the meat was no more a strange idea formed in the mind of the ogre as he thought that the black and silver look would be nice for him. Although most of the black armor could be flattened to work up a gut plate there was no way the silver arm could fit his; however the gleaming surface of the silver warrior's fist caught the attention of the Maneater.
A lone whisper crept through the thoughts of the ogre who stared longly at the silver armor before lopping off his own left arm at the height of his shoulder, then lodged the massive metallic arm over the socket and magic worked by mingling flesh with metal. There was no pain, and the ogre felt that mechanical monstrosity as his own flesh; his steps took him to the Fang where an armor was crafted and he swore his allegiance to Skorg, and so the Ogrewatch begun.
Each member of the Ogrewatch is a foe that should not be taken lightly, and each one specializes in a specific type of fighting; Typhon Brokkly is a fierce CQC warrior that beats the enemies with the unit banner or cleaves them in twain with his scythe.
Botch Flamers is another hero, his massive weapon of destruction capable of reducing any wall to molten slag or a pile of rubble. Despite his fearsome weaponry he is the friendliest of the Ogrewatch members.
Wotts Ironguts is the team expert in "gubbinz and wonky bitz" who tots around a really unique backpack full of technological stuff.
Agrun Painhammer is an Ogrewatch who not only killed his Star Warrior but also managed to nab its left arm and it was attached by Skryre engineers. Although the hand that comes with the mechanical arm is by far smaller than his original one this means he can perform his medic duty with more precision than ever.
Endrick Boreal is the unit bellower, his voice resonating across valleys and mountains with thunderous might that bedazzles enemies with his funny accent.
Gareth reacted to Centurio for a tribe, The Fimorai
The Fimir of the great mist-shrouded Saltmarsh, the estuary of the River of the Unremembered in the Ulgulands, have long ruled from their black fortress of piled cyclopean stone known as the Dark Spire. Throughout the Ages, their raiding parties terrorized settlements, appearing from the mist in their great black longships to burn, destroy, and take captives. In the Age of Chaos, their fortress was never broken, and each of the invading Chaos warbands was destroyed in turn, ambushed while lost in the mist and illusions. The Fimir of the Saltmarsh, however, were greatly diminished in numbers, and withdrew to their Spire. In order to continue the raiding upon which their people and their reproduction relied, they turned to their allies... Monsters of the Sea, Marsh, and Forests of the Ulgulands. They became the overlords of a horde of sea raiders. Through deception, bribery, and threat, they brought Ogor Pirates, River Troggoth tribes, Gargants of the Uplands, and other fell monsters to their heel. When adventuring Fimm Nobles discovered the existence of realmgates, entirely new possibilities for raiding were opened. Now the mighty black longships carry these monstrous pirates to strike from the mists throughout the mortal realms! The typical Fimorai raiding party consists of a core of ogor pirates, assisted by gargants and occasionally troggoths. Only on the most important raids will Fimir leave the longships and accompany the raiding party. Krog's Raiders
Destruction - 2000 points Krog Yellowbeard, Ace Picaroon - Tyrant [Leader] The Boss' Muscle - Ironguts(3)
The Freebooters - Ogors (6) [Battleline]
The Reavers - Ogors (3) [Battleline] The Buccaneers - Leadbelchers(3)
The Marauders - Ogors (3) [Battleline]
Cruthor "Longshanks" - Aleguzzler Gargant [Behemoth]
Aglakwi the Bog Queen - Troll Hag [Leader, Behemoth]
Aglakwi's children - Troggoths(6)
Gareth reacted to TeddyMadeMeDoIt for a tribe, The Beasteater Tribe
(Krag Firebelcher, Krag Poisonbelly, Krag Flamecuttaz, The Collector)
Long ago, when Krag roamed the old world, he was known by many different names.
To his fellow ogors he was known as Krag Firebelcher. When he was barely older than a pup his raiding party of ogors was set upon by the most fierce dragon. The young Krag watched from under a rhinox carcass as the dragon killed and burned every living thing, or so it thought. To read this you may think the tracking down and killing of this beast was in revenge, a tale of tragedy to be redeemed, however it was for a different reason that Krags infamous slaughter of the dragon took place. In the aftermath of the attack, skewered atop a mournfang tusk, dripping with blood and freshly scorched was a hunk of dragon meat! A finer meal he had not had, and even by then he had gorged on more than his fair share of meals to compare to. And so it was some short years later that the mighty Dragon was not only hunted and killed but cooked to perfection and devoured, his bones still worn as trophies and the name ‘Firebelcher’ truly earned.
After the feast Krags only goal was to continue consuming not just dragons but any monster that could make a meal to indulge himself on. He travelled the old world as a man-eater, repeating these incredible feats for the sole purpose of the next big meal. His travels took him into the world of Men, where he gained the moniker of ‘The Collector’ on account of the trophies he still paraded from the various beasts. Though the men that travelled with and paid for protection from Krag often regretted the decision later as they learned of his quest and his devotion to it over any inferior goal of theirs.
With his stories retold many times over Krag amassed himself a sizable horde of ogors on his return to the mountains, following the now Tyrant on the chance of a such a legendary meal to be had. It was on an expedition to hunt and kill a mythical Bull Taurus in the south of the dark lands that Krag and his horde found a forest, shrouded in a mysterious magic that made even the Ogors skin itch. It was in this forest the they were attacked by a ferocious Spider, as big as even the dragons that Krag had fought before. It took a huge toll on his horde and on the Tyrant himself to bring it down, but bring it down they did. A meal like no other was had that night not only from devouring the beast but also the appearance of the Moonclan Grots that worshipped the Spider as a God, led by their shaman Wimpyrot Backstabba. A somewhat shaky alliance was agreed between the two as Wimpyrot preached his intent to follow and fight for such a being so great as to defeat and consume one of their Spider Gods but Krag was inclined not to trust ‘Backstabba' though he couldn't quite work out why. Thus the name ‘Poisonbelly‘ was gifted and a whole new type of chaos and magic joined the ranks.
Though Krag amassed many more names, trophies and meals in the Old World it wasn't until the ending of the world that he found his true calling. As his quest was waning and he thought he had eaten all he could he now had new worlds to hunt in, new beasts to track down and new trophies to adorn his back!
As they follow him to battle and the great feasts that come after his hordes of muscle and magic scream…
“THE BIGGER THEY ARE... THE MORE WE EAT!!!!”
One of my favorite Ogor models is Golfang (now down as maneater), I love the trophies he has and Krag the leader of this tribe will be based on him. I wanted a way of combining the Night Goblin army I have with the ogors and the plans I had for them. I mainly know fluff from the Old World which is why it's covering that time period but as I learn more I'll hopefully add more to the story - demonslayer!!
The Ogors will be covered in things like Dragon hide cloaks and dragon bones as well as the normal beasts you see them with but also some Spider limbs and skulls to make them stand out from other Ogors and fit in with the goblins
Krag in particular will have the spider trophies and dragon regalia, I like the ideas of the Ogors having tattoos of the beasts they've eaten too
Their symbol will be the great maw with a crude spider/Goblin symbol inside, that and an official army list to follow soon hopefully
Gareth reacted to @aosbatrep for a tribe, Reynaud's Roughguts
Reynaud - Tyrant
Trollkikka - Grot Shaman on Sabretusk
Volcan Timanfaya - Firebelly
Legsplitta - Bruiser BsB
Spleen Guzzla - Butcher
The Spikey Grots (3 Warbosses)
Ogors with Fists x 24
Mournfang x 6 (fists)
Sabretusks x 2
Maneaters x 3
Orruk Great Shaman
Grots with bows x 50
Orruks with 2 weapons x 25
Boar Boyz x5
Spider Riders x5
Spear Chukkas x5
Above are Painted (unpainted too many to list )
First Images before the big re-base!
Gareth reacted to I R GMAN for a tribe, Da Followers of Graw
Doom tolls like a thunderous bell, with each of his footsteps. The earth rolls beneath his bulk and forests quiver and mountains shake. In the Age of Myth he charged from across the horizon as he set upon the realm with bestial rage, devouring forests, draining rivers and crushing kingdoms beneath his might. He is Graw the God-Beast, the deity of the Followers lf Graw.
Some say he is the will of Gork (no wait maybe Mork) given hunger and rage. All that most know is he is the force of the wilds encarnate, a raging beast that shattered the chains of civilisation while the wild hordes of orruks, ogors and grots that follow in his wake raid the straggling remnants that he leaves behind.
It is said the first Bonesplitters let loose upon Graw when he was young but their 'big teef' did little as he ate one tribe after another. Zigrak, a powerful shaman asked his bones how to fell the beast, casting forth his ur-drake knucklebones and do you know what the green spirits had to say?
KATHWUMP! Zigrak was engulfed in a thunderclap of green energy and flying shards of bone that charred his skin and left his face black, but his eyes crackled with unruly energy and a dawning realisation spread across his scarred face.
Graw was sent to lead them to biggest of fights and the best of hunts. He would smash down mountains and the weakling races. He was chosen by Gorkamorka and he would lead the charge to the greatest wars the orruk and ogors would ever see.
To this day a Prophet of Graw rides atop the great beasts colossal form, as his mountainous back is home to countless greenskins and ogors alike, riding into the days to come. On the ground far below the hordes follow, many an ironjaw megaboss riding squiggoth, the spawn of Graw, in there own attempt to mirror the carnage that is Graw.
So now The Followers of Graw have arrived, orruks, ogors, grots and all, waiting to get stuck into the next feast, the bigger hunt and the bestest of fights and with them the ground quakes with a coming cataclysm by the name of...Graaagh!
Gareth got a reaction from Gnoblar_Herder for a tribe, The Stronghold Thunderhorde
The Stronghold Thunderhorde is a marauding mix of brutal Ogors and savage Orruks, all mounted on a variety of monstrous creatures.
With a thunderous roar they ride forth from their vast mountain home, looting and pillaging across the Realms. This highly mobile stampede of destruction tramples all who would dare stand against it.
Stronghold Ogors and Orruks alike adorn themselves with the remains of their foes, having eaten the meat from the bones first of course. Rather than using drums or horns, they instead prefer to bellow their war cry as they charge into battle.
If you can hear the thundering of the Stronghold, it's too late to run!
The Thunderhorde is currently under construction, when complete it will be made up of the following units:
Orruk Warboss on Wyvern (Thunderlord Tuffgit Fugkrusha on White Manticore) Frostlord on Stonehorn (Morgut the Mighty) Huskard on Thundertusk (Gizard Thunderbelly) Grimhorn Rhinox Riders (lead the Mournfang Pack) - 2 models Mournfang Pack - 10 models Frost Sabres (Fenrisian Wolves) - 10 models Orruk Gore-gruntas (led by Grimfang 'Eadsmasha) - 6 models Savage Boarboy Maniaks - 20 models Icefall Yhetees (Thunderwolves) - 3 models
Gareth reacted to Kessler for a tribe, Sarvikuhord
THE STORY OF SARVIK SIXEYES, THE SMART, THE HORNED ONE
I was the runt of an ogre tribe. Not weak enough to suffer gorger's fate, I somehow survived to adulthood, usually feasting on leftovers - which are understandably rare among ogres. Starving, I finally left to brave new world, and was - to my great surprise - immediately hired by different warring races. Turns out, even a runt ogre is formidable warrior among the lesser races!
I found the biggest meals among the demons of Khorne, and served there the longest. I grew bigger and stronger. I believed it was because of food. But then I discovered small horns growing from my back, and I understood that something else was changing me. The corrupting aura of demons was affecting me and some sinister power was growing inside me!
I welcomed my new self. Or more like "selves" - after especially large feast I found a small nubbin on my neck. It grew in days and soon I had another hungry head growling beside me.
One day, I cut my favourite gnoblar in half and ate him. But instead of sweet pleasure of ingestion I felt searing pain in my stomach! The blasted gnoblar somehow survived in his half-form and gnaw his way out out from my precious gut and was now dangling out, screeching. That was a turning point. The ring was full. I left the army of chaos to gather my own tribe.
Naturally the two-headed ogre was beckoning to others of my kind. After all, how can you not respect an ogre, who has two mouths to eat twice as fast, a watch-out gnoblar living in his belly and think with two brains?
I ńamed myself Sarvik the Smart and soon met a butcher "Vats", an apprentice of Skrag, who had cut off his left arm to resemble his ex-mentor. We teamed up and our weird triumvirate soon obtained fame and new members arrived.
First we recruited a roving band of young ogre bulls. Then some companions from my "maneatering" days joined - one Bretonnian mercenary and one from Khorne army. Remnants of slaughtered ogre tribe arrived to back us up with cannons. After I met two mournfang riders, I promoted my favourite bulls into ironguts and sometimes we team up with a band of orruks or grot wolf riders and currently we roam the land as a swarm of locusts, eating anything on our way.
Now I have set my eyes on neighbouring Bretonnian lands for a new source of food and power. I have sent wolf riders to scout the area and all of us are mustering forces for the upcoming invasion.
-1 Tyrant Sarvik (converted)
-1 Butcher Vats (converted)
-9 ogre bulls
-3 maneaters (converted)
-8 mournfang pack
-1 frostlord on stonehorn
-1 huskard on thundertusk
-1 hunter (converted)
-4 frostsabres (Fenrisian Wolves models)
-6 gore gruntas (with Braggoth)
Gareth reacted to Tyberous Khan for a tribe, Teeth of the Hungry Mountain
Occupying a ruined Duardin City, Tyberous Khans horde consists of mainly ogres, tribes or Gutbusters and wandering Maneaters have flocked to his banner to follow his beastclaws in the unending feast. Aswell as ogres, Khan counts an impressive collection of Slave Gargants amongst his ranks, and the slopes of the mountains that surround his home are stalked by Yhetis, Troggoths, and even more sinister creatures. Khan is an oddity in Beastclaws culture, as he's stopped running from the great chill that pursues he and his kin. Instead he's found refuge in the belly of the hungry mountain, it's liquid iron guts banishing the cold.
Gareth reacted to Charlemagne for a tribe, Skull Biters
From the journal of Herr Otto in a chapter titled "know thy enemy"
Rok'gar the brain gobbler gained his title for his belief that the power of the maw allowed him to gain knowledge from the brains of his opponents. Many ogres did not believe in his claim but none could deny he was the biggest, meanest son of a gun around. Rok'gars current campaign of conquest started during a conflict with a band of the slaves to the dark powers. A powerful Mage had been giving Rok'gars forces a run for their money. Fed up with the Mage turning his ogres into ash he lead a charge straight through the bulk of the war bands forces, hacking and slashing as he went. Rok'gar finally made his way through the mass of bodies, the Mage summoned all the magical energy he could manage to blast the tyrant with, eyes glowing with barley restrained power the Mage chanted his spell. The last words the Mage heard before his death was Rok'gar chuckling "heads up" before chomping off the top of his head, leaving the lower half of a jaw and a flapping tongue. The mages tortured body exploded from the pent up energy blasting all around his corpse in a golden flash. When the smoke settled Rok'gar was found sitting in a crater surrounded by gore with a flicker in his eye and one word on his lips "Ghyran". At least that's how the locals tell the tale, Rok'gar has been gaining numbers he has to be stopped before things get out of hand.
the fluff is from a AoS campaign I never got to finish but I thought it worked here. A fun thing about it though is we got custom command traits, mine was Ability: Braingobble – Rok’gar has an appetite for brainfood, and he’s all out of Bran Flakes! When Rok’gar kills a HERO or MONSTER, he takes a healthy bite out of their cranium, healing a wound previously lost.
1 fire belly
7 iron guts
1 thunder tusk
1 stone horn
5 wolves(saber cats)
1 iron blaster
1 scrap launcher
i don't have the handbook handy but I remember it all being around four thousand points.
Gareth reacted to Lord Hogwash for a tribe, Da Deff Jawz
Prologue- The Chasm of Carnage
This beast had made a fool of me, Khoraz the Heart-Render had thought to himself as he walked to the front of his battle line. His Bloodbound warband, "The Bloodied Huntsmen", were no foolish idol worshipers of some feeble and quite god; no they were devoted followers to the god of blood and slaughter Khornarth. Those of his mighty warband had no fear of death, they embraced it. His fellow hunters understood that the only way to truly show your devotion is not just in the slaughter of others but of your own inevitable death; only then have you truly given everything over to Khornarth. It was with the arrival of other devoted followers of his deity, The Slaughterhelms- Chaos warriors whose perfection of warfare has blessed them with warpforged armor and an unnaturally long life, that he knew he was truly on the path his master wished him to be.
Then the beast arrived.
After a successful raid on a Stormcast patrol, Khoraz and his men were enjoying the spoils of war when they were set upon by a band of Orruks. Khoraz had no fear of these feral creatures, their skulls accompanied those of champions of other races upon the chains that dangled around his waist. It wasn't until the first group of these Orruks bulled over his first line of men that he realized there was something different about these creatures.
The Bloodreavers crashed upon hardened steel and bulky muscles like a frenzied hound might battle a stonehorn.
These beasts did not fight as a typical Orruk would, there was no wild abandon, no infighting, no haphazard defense. They fought in lock step of one another, like some great mechanism. Where one would catch a Reaver axe with it's shield, the one just behind it would bring down its great weapon in a single precise strike. Those wielding twin blades stationed on the outskirts of the mob, cutting their way to the center of his men; as if knowing how to cut them off from the rest of his force. Even their gutteral war cries were in unison- "Deff Jawz!" Their unit leader would call out to the answer of "Chomp!"; this answer was accompanied by a sudden upheaval of screams of pain from his men and sprays of blood from their ranks. On top of being regimented these creatures were also larger than the typical orruk, which they used to their advantage against his men.
To the outer left flank more Orruks came, and these made directly for his center line of his Bloodwarriors, and it was with the arrival of these greenskinned warriors that Khoraz realized that there was no winning this engagement. These Orruks were of an entirely other breed, each one looked as though it could best the average warboss in one-on-one combat. These towering beasts, sporting jagged armor and wielding weapons in each hand clashed man to beast in combat. Though his warriors were used to facing mighty combatants in the form of the Stormcast, they were wholly unready for the sheer brutality that these Orruks embodied. Before to long even these devotees of the blood god were sent fleeing.
As Khoraz tried to rally his men, it was then that he saw what could only be described as the largest Orruk he had ever seen.
A bellowing, striding monument to the barbaric two-headed god GorkaMorka. It's jagged armor covered with the trophies, the skulls of men and beast alike; the skull of a khorne daemon was latched to it's shoulder intrigued Khoraz the most. With a swing of it's axe it cut through men as if they were nothing more than wine-skins filled with blood. Khoraz wanted nothing more than to test his mettle and prove that he was the true wearer of skulls, but with his force dismantled he knew it was doubtful he would even be to reach the opposing general let alone have the strength and energy to face it in combat after carving his way through the enemy ranks. So with that he retreated, knowing that he would one day face this creature in true one-on-one combat.
Today I have my vengeance. Khoraz was now the one waiting and ready for combat. After rounding up a new warband Khoraz went on a new crusade of blood, one to bring back his glory, one to attract more followers of the Skulltaker god, one that would culminate in a final battle with his fist true adversary; the Megaboss Kolgar. He could hear the stomping of an army of iron shod boots marching toward him, the ground shook as though the very earth was an agitated beast hungry for blood. War-cries of both sides filled the air like thunder from a great tempest; praises to each side's deity were hurled at their opponents, along with the obvious insults that only naturally accompanied them. True he had tasted defeat at these beast's hands in the past but now it was not just mortals he had at his side, but he has attracted the attention of the denizens of the Warp. Vorhakk the Wrathful, a Bloodthirster of true anguish and hatred now accompanied his army; it's whip crackled as if made from lighting; it's ax screaming for blood. Vorhakk was followed by its ever present companion The Claws of Rage, a skullgrinder that would accompany Vorhakk like a Bloodhound would follow its own master. Surely with these two chosen beings of his god nothing could stand in his path.
It was then that he saw his old enemy not on foot as he was when they first met, but upon a great mound of mottled, horned flesh. And with a bellow that shattered the surrounding rock formations and broke open the ground with the effects of an earthquake it was then that the Megaboss and its mount signaled that the battle was long overdo, and so the orruks charged.
Da Deff Jawz- Led by the self titled "Megaboss Kolgar Da Great 'Eadtaker Blood-killah Thundah-Smasha 'Umimie chewer Da Big". After every victory Kolgar took it upon itself to continually add names to its title so all will know who is the one in charge. He wields a pair of choppas, Gutta and Smasha, and rides into battle on the back of his Mawkrusher Chompjaw.
- An Ironjaw tribe of great renown and enmity, the Deff Jawz have carved out a large section of Ghur of which a Realmgate is located in the center, knowing that only the hardest most determined warriors would dare come through; they will especially allow the worshippers of the Ruinous powers to come through unmolested knowing that the more that come through the better the fight will be.
- They allow fellow greenskins to occupy their area under two conditions 1. That when the Deff Jawz march off to war they stay stay on the outskirts of their WAAAGH!!!. (No weedy boyz are gonna steal their good fights.)
2. They fight the Deff Jawz whenever they say so.
Gareth reacted to damianlz for a tribe, Cult of the Red Maw
Squigs are often a staple in the armies of destruction they are dangerous, predatory, delicious and down right unpredictable. But any thinking creature from great the slann to simple orruks fail to comprehend how an enormous red squig could come to lead its own army.
In recent time, the cult of the Red Maw has stretched across the lands as Shifgig (a pathetic little greenskin even by halfling opinion) proclaims the will of the Red Maw as the emobidiment of Gorkamorka, the teeth and mouth that have adorned greeskin and ogre flesh and armor for until millennia. He proclaims this dangling mere feet in front of the great red maw, strapped to a board so as to not be eaten himself. Followers are indoctrinated by having the flesh chewed from their lips by the giant squig so that they too may have an eternal red maw. This has resulted in some having their upper halves consumed, but the remaining furious, pain driven & hungry horde are too preoccupied in their conviction to notice the removal of their arm or guts in battle as they are victorious time and time again.
Some doubt has been raised at Shifgig's ability to actually translate the will of the red maw, in addition to a few slightly more intelligent grotz have questioned whether 'leading an army' constituted the correct term for the mindless unpredictable nature of a Squig. The purveyor of these questions are quite often called out for having the ability to speak as their lips mustn't have been removed in faith and they are subsequently thrown into the great beast whole.
Uncertainty aside there must be some form of magic in play as in addition to greenskins, the beasts of destruction including the mighty mawcrushers submit their will and their lips to the mighty squig. As the numbers swell and the cult remains defeated it may come down to Shifgig's accidental demise before the red maw is ever stopped.
Gareth reacted to NinthMusketeer for a tribe, Sunbyte Clan
To encounter the Sunbyte Clan is to witness a belligerent horde of marauding Ogors and Grots seemingly the same as many others, perhaps noted as unusual by somewhat odd garb and bearing. An alert observer would spot the flickering of torch and flame as the barbaric force began its lumbering charge, one of keen senses would even pick out a strong smell of soot and sulfur mixed in with the stench of unwashed flesh as they neared. Such a foe could perhaps deduce enough to prepare themselves, but most do not begin to realize the extent of their misfortune until the first gouts of flame erupt from the Ogor lines. Tattooed mystics spit forth bolts of arcane fire, soon joined by dozens more belched from their followers. Inane cackling echoes through the smoke as screaming masses of Ogor, Grot, and whirling metal break away from their fellows to gouge great furrows of crushed armor and pulped bones through enemy lines. Great blazes coalesce into massive grinning orbs that let loose bellowing laughter as they bite down upon the foe. Bu when the horde hits home such attacks are revealed to be merely a prelude. It is then that the Sunbyte’s foes are ensnared, pummeled, stabbed, and cooked alive in a tide of burning violence that leaves a carpet of the charred and trampled in its wake. Once the appetizer is concluded the horde doubles back, gorging themselves on the flesh of the fallen before stripping the battlefield of useful scrap and hauling off any meat left uneaten. It is not uncommon for a few enemy soldiers to survive, having fled or hidden in time to escape notice then emerging only to lay sight upon a field of gnawed bone and soot-stained splinters.
The Sunbyte Clan is, at its core, a firebelly tribe. Following Gorkamorka as the Sun-Eater these Ogors continually seek a sun their mystics may pull from the sky so that the tribe can consume it and in so doing follow in Gork’s footsteps. Along the way these Ogors consume a wide variety of seemingly unpalatable substances such as sulfurous crystal, tar-gum, and wyldwood charcoal. Even more favored is the meat and organs of fiery creatures like magmadroths. This diet is what allows the tribe’s bulls to belch forth globs of flame, a talent that forms the basis of magic harnessed by true firebellies that lead them. But while Sunbyte Ogors may be the clan’s base they would have died out long ago were it not for their Grot counterparts. The black-robed Grots of the Sunbyte possess a Moonclan lineage, but abandoned the nocturnal ways of their kin centuries ago. These so-called ‘Sunclan’ Grots prefer to fight under cover of smoke and ash rather than moonlit darkness, and have substituted Ogors in place of Squigs as brutish assistance. They have also forsaken the Bad Moon as an icon of worship, instead offering praise to the Bad Sun that still burns in the belly of Gorkamorka. These two parts of the Sunbyte Clan form a greater whole that functions somewhere between fire-worshipping pilgrims and a horde of howling arsonists, though where they fall in that spectrum is irrelevant to those unfortunates caught in their path.
[There is much more to be learned of the Sunbyte clan, information that shall be revealed in time as it is written out by some being from beyond the unknowable fourth wall.]
*Tyrant Skrapbelch has a large number of titles as appropriate for such a long-standing leader, enough that he keeps several Grots about with the explicit task of remembering them all. Such a grandiose name would naturally be rather tedious to list and accordingly these are merely three of his favorites
Gareth reacted to Karchev23 for a tribe, Migvard Alfrostun
Njorg, Frostlord and leader of the Migvard has long wished for glory, roaming from hunt to hunt waiting for the chance to prove to Gorkamorka that he is worthy. However no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many a foe he may slay, he remains hungry for more. His most recent hunt resulted in a crushing defeat. The Alfrostun was tracking an elusive herd of Fenrik Wolves when suddenly amongst the ethereal snow flurries of the everwinter a reds haze began to swirl around the Mounted Warband. Out of this haze came Khornes infernal legion, howling mortals and baying Daemons marched forth from the blood red mists that swirled in unatural rage. Leading this Army of hate were 2 great winged daemons, Njorg had never seen such a foe appear, instead of waiting, and forumulating a plan he ordered the Jorlbad to charge. So they did, and so did the battle of the Blood mists rage for 2 days and 2 nights both sides smashing eachother to pieces. By the beginning of the third day the Alfrostun was all but spent, and the Khornate horde stood victorious ( though the mortals bones now served better as tooth picks for Mournfang riders ). Njorg had slain a many Daemon and chaotic human but he was defeated. The retreat was long as arduous. Soon after the Frostlord was able to gather more Ogors too his Army, from these warriors he did hear of the Beast, the herald of destruction Gordrakk the fist of Gork. The Migvard Alfrostun now marches in the WAAAGH!'s Wake. Seeking to join with him, and to redeem their honour. A meal wouldn't be too bad either
Gareth reacted to Sazel for a tribe, The Everbruise Tribe
What defines a tribe?
For many Ogres, it is kinship, a blood-relation of a collection of essentially cousins and 2nd-cousins, who have rallied together to fend off the vicious winter landscapes of the Mountains of Mourn. To some, it is simply the bond of gold, whoever pays the most gets the muscle. But, to the Guteater clan, theirs is a tribe of a kinship stronger than that of blood.
Many Ogres are cast out of their tribes for various reasons: not carrying their weight (both figuratively and metaphorically), disagreeing with the Tyrant or one of his Bruiser supporters, or out of wanderlust. When they are left to fend for themselves, if a member of the Guteater clan discovers them, they present an opportunity for a new community: The Everbruise Tribe. To join this tribe, they need to only complete one task: The Initiation.
The Initiation is very simple. When the Ogre initiates are brought before the "council" (or, simply, the row of Bruiser lieutenants), the initiate must lay flat on the ground, and each Bruiser, in turn, swings his massive club and slams it into the chest of the initiate. If the Ogre is broken and killed, then their bloody corpse becomes a part of the next feast (and is already pre-tenderized). If the Ogre withstands the assault, however, he is considered a member of the tribe. The "Everbruise" part comes from the horrid permanent bruising and internal bleeding that comes from the attack, often leaving the chest region purple and blighted. Besides screening out weaker Ogres, this ritual has a underlying belief in it: the strongest part of an Ogre is his gut, and by pounding the chest region, it is believed that more of the muscle will move further down into the gut and outwards into the arms, thereby making him a stronger fighter and sturdier warrior.
The leader of this fraternity of outcasts is currently Khorag Guteater. The first outcasted Bruiser of his tribe in generations, he swore bloody revenge against his uncle (the Tyrant of his former tribe) that he would be back for vengeance. After a small journey as a Maneater, picking up valuable wealth and resources, he hired a few mercenary ogres and brought a bloody coup against the tribe, slaying them all and sacrificing them to the Maw, taking meaty bites out of each Ogre's gut to gain their former strength, hence his surname. He eventually gained the title "The Unbroken" during the events leading to the End Times. His tribal lands were assaulted by the rampaging forces of Chaos as the world began to fall, and although his warriors were cut down and defeated, he himself remained alive, and broke the chains of the slavers who tried to capture him for sacrificial purposes. Now, with some chains still permanently trapped to his gutplate, he leads what few remaining free Ogres can be found in a near-futile attempt for that which they crave most: food and survival.
The Army List: (Here's the full model count for the army that I have prepared ATM)
1 Tyrant: Khorag
1 BSB Bruiser: Ghort Polebearer, the lazy elder cousin of Khorag who happily holds the mast-like banner and uses it as a battering ram as well as a morale marker.
1 Slaughtermaster: Gharrar the Grisslemeiser, a large Butcher who favors the particularly unsavory bits of animals, including the grissle and the giblets.
1 Butcher: Hawgrag the Bloody, who is always wrapped in the entrails of his latest victims for easy access for gut magic.
1 Firebelly: Hikar Mountainheart, first arrived in the tribe coming out of a mountain cave, followed by an underground lava flow; many believe he was born from the mountain itself.
50 Gnoblars (assembled, over 100 in bits still lol)
4 Mournfang Cavalry
1 Scraplauncher (the ol' metal one)
about 4 more Ogre bodies not dedicated to any particular purpose yet
Total points comes in just shy of 6k (including all the filler upgrade points etc.)
...I don't have an updated picture for the full army, but I'll post one... eventually...
Hope you enjoyed!
Gareth reacted to BrAiKo for a tribe, Eyez of da Fen
The fimir of the 'Eyez of da Fen' call the extensive marshland of Ulgu home. Here the mists that shroud their settlements occur naturally with little encouragement from their dirach lore-masters. Ever-shrouded are the huuge tracks of land through which they can prowl safely. Their raiding parties can reach mortal settlements many days travel away, and have been known to raid even the enigmatic aelfs of Ulgu, of which precious little is known.
For all the protection the mists of the Ulgu fen-lands provide, they also bring incredibly unpredictable and unstable ground. Many would-be 'castles' of the fimir have sank into the swamp over the years. The neighbouring bonesplitter orruk tribes have, on a number of occasions, declared that the fimir were daft to build a castle in the swamp. But they built one all the same, just to show 'em. In the penultimate attempt at securing a marsh stronghold, an errant fire raged through the grounds before the structure burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp. The construction of the latest offering was closely scrutinized by the ever-watchful eye of their Meargh hag-queen, Felar the Great Eye. The Eyez of da Fen did not disappoint their mother - this castle stayed up.
Now secure in their new residence, the Meargh tells stories to the fimir clan of a world-that-was, aeons ago. There the fimir favoured venturing into dungeons where their martial prowess was tested against countless heroes questing in the darkness; aelf, duardin and mortal alike.
In recent times,despite the favourable enviroment for survival, the numbers of the Eyes of da Fen are few. Even worse, the dirach lore-master and the fimirach noble caste have long been absent after an optimistic month-long raid was targeted for the aelven city of Ur-Ganeth. As such the fimir warriors must train for combat without their war leaders. When mustered for war, the fimir have been known to wrangle savage bonesplitter orruks and moonclan grots to their cause, which the greenskinz oblige for fear of future raiding parties appearing on their own doorsteps.
Soon will be the day when the dirach and nobles return, and then the Eyez of da Fen will be ready.
Gareth reacted to Soulsmith for a tribe, Da Bloody Fang
Prologue: Dust and Water
As a scholar of the Freeguild's of Azyr, the opportunity presented to me was unlike any other. This could land me in the history books, my published work in libraries among the Mortal Realms. Alternatively, this could lead to a swift return to Sigmar's embrace. I, Gerber Lichter, have been charged by my betters in the colleges with research of a most peculiar and unknown facet of one of the most terrifying races known to man. In short, I am to discover the intricacies of Greenskin society, their economic systems and those of hierarchy. An astronomically reckless task, all told. Despite what you might think, the college had, through contacts in Sigmar's cities of Ghur, actually discovered a large tribe of the creatures who maintain trade with other species of the Realm of Beasts. So it came to be that I am here, travelling towards the city of the Bloody Fang. Even the name compounds the enormity of this task.
After travelling through the gate to the realm of Ghur, me and my apprentice scribe, Nicolai, were introduced to our guides to the city. They were hulking men, of dark skin and piercing eyes. They wore skins, though I saw they also carried talismans of the twin-tailed comet of Sigmar. Despite my protests, they would allow no guards from the freeguilds to join us. I reluctantly agreed after they stated simply that the presence of any more outsiders may cause a stir in the Greenskins, and if that were to happen they would leave us to our fate as fast as they could. We mounted our steeds and joined them, making our way out into the wilds of the plane of Beasts.
What struck me first and foremost was the emptiness. Azyr is a golden wonder, with spires and bastions everywhere, thoroughfares and places of learning. Ghur, or at least this part of the realm, was dusty and empty. The land was of sand and stone, all a dusty yellow. Bushes pocked the landscape alongside pitiful trees and boulders. Our guides stated simply that we follow the wide, fast river that flowed near the city of Sigmar, and it would take us to their city – apparently named “The Bonefall Ruins”. I would tell you all the varied creatures we saw, but that is not the purpose of this account and much better scholars than eye have covered the animals of the realm than I.
The first sign of the settlement was on the horizon, when a colossal mountain rose out of the plains. It was of similar dusty stone, with veins of darker oranges, browns, and greys. The plateau had more green than I had seen so far, though it was only with squinting it was visible. When I could hear the roar did I realise that the “fall” part of the name was quite literal – something common among greenskins. The river must have fallen from the top of this wide mountaintop, which explained why it was so much more vibrant up there. It was at this point I saw my first true orruk. One of our guides grunted, and gestured to a figure partially obscured by bushes a mile or so away. It was a humanoid figure atop a large, tough, vicious looking boar. I couldn't make out much else, for it soon dug in it's heels and the boar darted away.
Approaching the city, I could feel eyes watching us from the brush at all times since our encounter with the orruk. The closer we got, the more I could make out. The mountain's cliffs stretched to both sides of the horizon, a huge natural wall, a rift in the land. This jutted inwards where the river had clearly carved it's way into the stone over time. The waterfall was spectacular. All manner of colours darted in the constant spray. It landed atop a shelf some forty feet above the city. Now the city's name made even more sense. The bones of a gigantic creature laid splayed atop this shelf. It lay as if it had fallen, the skull upside down, with ribs stabbing into the sky. I made out pieces of vertebrae in the falls themselves, creating the spray. One claw curled into the cliff's, as if meekly attempting to climb back to where it fell. It was only nearer that I spotted a second river, which fell also from atop the mountain to the left of the city. I surmised it must disappear into the ground close to the city, as it did not make an appearance whilst we travelled. The city itself was hard to describe. It was of stone and wood, all dusty and unkempt. The stone buildings were often low, or otherwise had been built up further in wood. The stonework was seemingly too uniform, too precise for such creatures to construct. It did not seem like anything I had seen created by the artificers and masons of Sigmar. The woodwork was chaotic. Planks and panels were everywhere, often shaped into fangs or other brutal shapes. Spikes were common. There were tents, flags, and other more grisly trophies. These spread away from the ruins, and as we drew closer and closer I saw so many things I thought I would only read of. There were other men, camped further from other beings, some nodding at our guides. We saw darting, small figures in long, dusty, sand-coloured robes. I caught sight of one's face, and saw a long, hooked nose, and a vicious fanged mouth. It had cunning, mean eyes that seemed to glow red. I knew from my studies that this creature was known as a grot – one of the smaller, diminutive greenskin species. We also saw more orruks. Closer, I could see that they seemed to have different groups. Some wore even less than our guides, more paint than clothing. They carried rough stone tools and weapons. There were orruks in leather and metal. These ranged in size greatly, from the same as their unclothed cousins, to huge beasts as large as the next group of creatures we saw. Like the grot, these had skin coloured green, a rich deep colour, like that of grass. All orruks were impossibly muscular, and the implications of strength were terrifying. There was one group of large humanoid figures, all gathered around one massive horned beast. They were Ogors. Their skin matched our guides, though seemed to have tinges of grey, reminding us of their differences with us. As if their size wasn't enough.
We made our way into the streets of the city. I say streets, but truly it was madness. Brutish figures walked all around us, carrying anything from lumps of metal to raw flesh. A common motif I spotted was two red fangs, no doubt the tribe's sigil. The smell, oh the smell. It assaulted you constantly, worse than any sewer. We drew some attention, and before long our guides stopped us inside an ancient square surrounded by ruined stone buildings, crowded in greenskin woodwork. A figure approached us.
Chapter 1: The Beast in the Skull
Our guides had bid us farewell with little more than a nod and a shove at the grot who approached us. He also wore a sand coloured robe, but it's hood was red. It had a few bags and a vicious knife at it's belt, and carried a staff of gnarled wood, topped with a skull. An evidently human skull. It was not the first we saw in the city, or the last. It seemed that our visit had been somehow arranged, that somehow the greenskins wanted us here. It was impossible to comprehend.
The creature looked us over, snorted, and beckoned with one clawed finger that we should follow. It led us through a building, which was full of all manner of scraps of a real society. Through a broken wall, we came into a tunnel which led uphill. The air was stuffy and torches sputtered from the walls. Before I could work out where we were, we came out into the open. The sun blinded me for a moment before I spotted it. The upside down skull of the great creature which had crashed from above. The roar of the waterfall was so much louder than it had been in the streets below, and made the air cooler. We walked a little, the grot giving us no time to observe the city from this vantage. Bridges of rough-hewn wood carried us over the many rivulets that ran from the waterfalls and continued to flow to the side of the city. There were skulls of all creatures mounted on poles as we approached, stacks of ruined, rusty weapons. Offerings. The grot stopped, and cleared it's throat, before pointing his staff at the red cloth covered the opening of the rough wooden structure created in the giant monster's skull. We stepped between the front fangs of this great beast into the darkness of the tent.
Inside, there were so many things. Dried herbs and meats hung from the ceiling. Braziers burned everywhere. Cloths covered the floors and walls, a riot of colours dulled with dust and sand. There was rough furniture of wood and bone, and what could be called a bed – furs and straw atop a frame of wood. There was a step, and we were led by the grot onto a platform further up. We faced an orruk. For it sat on something like a throne, low to the floor, with many bones and tusks jutting from behind. To the left a staff balanced against it. It seemed to be made of wood and bone, with a large, heavy-browed skull topping it. Light poured in through a hole in the wall, and I realised the throne sat in front of the orbit of the giant skull the tent was made inside.
For the first time, the grot spoke. “Dis is Grukk, da Dominata, da link to Gorkamorka!” The grot's voice was high-pitched and gravely, like it had spent it's life screaming and shouting. The orruk shifted as it's title was listed to us, and my eyes adjusted to the room. It seemed to be wearing a large hooded robe of black fabric, and a brown skirt. The black robe had red flames painted upon it, and many human skull and shards of metal and stone were attached to it's edges. Two long curved horns were tied next to the creature's face.
It looked at us with beady red eyes that seemed to glow with some fell magic, and finally said something. It had felt like we were waiting staring at each other for minutes.
“Welcum to da city, humies.” I felt it only proper that we show respect and I bowed. It grunted something of a laugh and continued. “It's da will of Gorkamorka dat you stinkin' weaklings know da troof of the strength of our boyz. I shall show you da tribe, and what strength we 'ave. I iz da great shaman of da god, and I tell dem what he finks. Der are two uvas: Wugnot tells da wild boyz wot gorkamorka finks, and Gitta” he pointed at the grot “tells dem grots what sneaky stuff dey should do. My boyz are the toughest, strongest, and meanest.”
I knew that these are recorded as referring to themselves as “Ironjawz”, due to the tendency for their armour to have jaw-like plates. This meant Grukk was not only possessing strange greenskin magic, but he also had the natural strength that came with his size.
“Follow me humie, I'll show you da city and da boyz. Den you can run back to ya stinking shiney city and tell 'em 'ow tuff we are!” He roared the last bit and laughed as we quivered. He grabbed the staff, and stomped to the tent entrance.
My Tribe of gits occupy a large, ruined city set against a dramatic waterfall. The city acts as a hive for different parts of greenskin society: Ironjawz rule the top spots and act as the tuff nuts and armourers. They are led by Grukk himself, who whilst not the megaboss, has greater power given by Gorkamorka. The next major part of the cities inhabitants are moonclan grots. They carve constant expansions into the cliffs, as well as adding more and more ramshackle structures to the ruins, with assistance from the odd gargant. They also act as the go between with the minor group of spider worshipping gits, who live in the jungles atop the waterfall and provide creatures such as troggoths and spiders. Gitta is the lead shaman of these grots, Finally, a significant number of Bonesplitterz operate around the city. hunting and tracking in their own, smaller communities and bringing in the spoils to the city. They are proficient hunters, often mounted or using bows. Their link to Gorkamorka is Wugnot. Together, the three shamans form a triumvirate, expressing the forms and will of Gorkamorka and leading the boyz unquestionably (usually after a head pops from a disgruntled upstart).
The current army list stands at 1000 points in AoS, though I haven't got the handbook to check artefacts etc:
Orruk Warboss with Banner (Leader) [He is more like the totem bearer of the tribe, but leads for competitiveness) Ironjawz Weirdnob 10 Ardboyz/5 brutes 20 Moonclan Grots 5 Boar Boyz (Count as Ironjawz scouts/runty boyz) 1 Gargant The main thing about the list is that I wanted to stick mixed destruction, but also to limit costs use a lot of miniatures I already own. At some point I will expand it, likely with a Kunnin' Ruk, and an Ironfist/Weirdfist/Ardfist. I also have spider riders I could add, as well as more moonclan grots, and savage boar boyz.
Gareth reacted to Da Great Red for a tribe, Da Iron-Hide Ard Boyz
At the Dawn of the Mortal Realms Da Godz Gork and Mork (or possibly Mork and Gork) found themselves fused. Enraged GorkaMorka beat at it's divine breast attempting to separate themselves and a single drop of green blood fell to the Realm of Ghur. From this drop sprung a single humongous Orruk in the manner of all Orruks when they spring from the earth. This Orruk so disorientated by its violent birth that it forgot almost all of what it was in the World that was (The mighty warrior Grimgor Ironhide) and so gave himself a new name Korruk, Da Great Red. And as Korruk fought across the realm of Ghur he shed his spores and where they took root the First Ironjawz sprang. Titanic, apelike Orruks with skin so dark it seemed Black. These first formed a Guard around there violent progenitor becoming Da Immortulz. Soon diluted versions of the Ironjawz race began to apear and move away from where Da Great Red landed a place now known as the sea of bones. Soon Da Great Red Waaagh! was in full charge and seemed unstoppable. Many of Korruk's victories are lost to legend but at the peak of his power Da Great Red war Clan returned across the plains making war on all from the Ogors to the Beasts of Cartha and attempting to re cross the greatest monument to there destruction the now grown Sea of Bones. In an event that went down in the annals of Azyr Orruk and Stormcast fought the Bone Horde of Mannfred and its Flesh eater allies. Defeating them and the reinforcing Lich Guard of Arkhan supported by Astral Templars Da Great Red was left with a decimated force. Rounding up the shattered Waaagh! and forging it into a new Warclan Da Iron-Hide Ard Boyz! Though weakened Da Great Red Has won many major victories against all comers, from the shattering of the Hammers of Sigmar at the Greensand Beir, to the Defeating of the beast caller Seraphon at the Life-Beast Nexus. As Da Iron-Hide Ard Boyz gain in strength Korruk hears tell of Gordrakk the so called "Fist of Gork" who claims the title of Boss of Bosses. Korruk will hunt this pretender and When he finds him there challenge will shake the realms to there core and show the Gods they to can know fear. For an Orruk gains only strength from victory and whome ever wins will have no rival in uniting all of Destruction's forces in one final Waaagh! and what army could Order, Chaos or even Death itself bring to beat that would stop such a Apocalyptic event.
Da Clash of Da Waaagh's! Part 1: "Zog Da Sea of Bones!" Roaring with insensate rage the great red struck out with his twin axes, cleaving whistling paths through the air were moments before Lord Castellant Hamilcar Bear-Eater had stood. Hamilcar seeing the devastation wrought by those axes danced away from the Gigantic Orruks, his warplate rent in a dozen places and his barbaric finery in tattered by this Ironjaw and it's minions. Lying where it had fallen was one of Hamilcars Gryth hounds and 10 feet away at the base of a pile of shattered Skeleton warriors was the rest of that same Gryth Hound. Korruk had bisected the beast with Red-Axe before ever it reached him. 'Ha, good for fighting my hounds beast. Not so effective against the Bear eater aye!' 'Your speakin big, brave words Hammer-Boss, after I killed yer dead boyz and and yer hammer boyz and crumped up your nice Shiny armour' As the Mega Boss monologued Hamilcar swooped in under his guard and drove his halberd with all his Sigmar give strength right across the left side of Korruks face. God forged Sigmarite glanced from the beasts Ironhard Skull but caught on something, pulling it from his head with a creaking groan of metal and a bellow of anger from the Great Red. Once more Hamilcar attempted to jink out of the Orruks reach but this time he was too slow. The Great Red flung a fist out before him striking Hamilcar in the facplate like the kick from a gargant. Rolling through the dust Hamilcar came to one knee spitting blood that leaked in a rivulet down the chin of his maroon war mask. As the Great Red clasped hands to face in pain Hamilcar's Gaze darted, assessing the situation. knots of liberators and what remained of Arkhans Lich-Guard faught with Mobs of Ironjawz. Both had wiped out what remained of Manfreds forces long ago and had quickly turned upon one-another, such has always been the way of Orruks when a good fight is afoot. Nearby his two remaining Gryth Hounds worried at a mountainous armored Maw-Krusha that had already pulverized a retinue of Liberators. Even as he watch the vastly larger beast caught the leaping hound in a snapping maw, the bulldog like wyvern-kin shook the animal like a rat before swallowing the Lepard sized beast whole, though it's companion held on wreaking a red mauling on the Maw-Krusher as though it had a chance at winning. It always brought Hamilcar great sadness to see the Gryth houds pass for unlike there Stormcast Masters, Drakoths and Star Drakes, Gryth hounds are only mortal. There would be no re-forging for them. The Great Red bellowed, regaining his composure. The metal patch over its left eye had been ripped away, revealing a knot of scar tissue and a fresh, red, wrent over a vacant socket. 'Right, you've ad it now!' With that he began a landslide charge forward. Peeling away from the melee, Librator-Prime Hrothgarus tried to intercept the avalanche of muscle. He didn't even slow. Sweeping his axes before him he took Hrothgarus apart without breaking stride, picking up speed as the Prime ascended in lightning around him and crackling over his armored bulk. Hamilcar grasped his halberd two handed and muttered a prayer to Sigmar. Roaring as he rushed to meet the beast. The last thing he saw before ascending to Sigmaron and reforging was that single, glowing red eye. *** Da Iron-Hide Ard Boyz consists of:
Da Great Red (represented by Gordrakks rules and a miniature that is Gordrak with more spikes and Grimgor Ironhide's head)
1 Brute Fist 5 units of Brutes (Da Immortulz, Da Wurld Masha Brawl, Da Rokk Nobz, Da Blak Hand and Da Skull Gitz)
1 Iron Fist: 1 Brutes (Da Blud Tusks) 1 Gore Gruntas (Da Knuckle Bones) 1 Ard Boyz (Da Skarr Boy)
Various support characters
Gob Da Gore Mouth Boss of Da Blud Tusks (Mega Boss) He has been a continual disapointment to Da Great Red as he has not once failed to die in a battle even when surrounded by his Blud Tusks. He was responsible for the Loss at the hands of Da Khaos Boyz in shatter-dust gulch
Drill (Black Orruk Big Boss)
Zog'fer'branez (Weird Knob)
Drumm da Travela (War Chanter)
*A note: Da Great Red Himself is as of yet unpainted and I haven't even begun work on the Brute fist, they just sit there on the shelf as I struggle through work and study. But in various combinations this army has won all but on battle where I fairly lost against a better player. Most of the battles I describe are drama-tised versions of actual games some of which I poorly recreated from the knights of vengeance audio series. I hope you all enjoy.