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TeddyMadeMeDoIt

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  1. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt got a reaction from Gareth for a tribe, The Beasteater Tribe   
     
     
    Krag Beasteater
    (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 
     
     
     
  2. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt 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.
    Current list:
    -Heroes-
    Tyrant x1
    Bruiser x1
    Slaughtermaster x2
    Firebelly x1
    Butcher x1
    -Troops-
    Bulls x12
    Ironguts x12
    Leadbelchers x8
    -Special-
    Rhinox Riders x3
    Mournfangs x4
    -Rare-
    Ironblaster x2
    Maneaters x8
    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.




  3. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt 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)  
  4. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt got a reaction from Gareth for a tribe, The Beasteater Tribe   
     
     
    Krag Beasteater
    (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 
     
     
     
  5. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt got a reaction from Gareth for a tribe, The Beasteater Tribe   
     
     
    Krag Beasteater
    (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 
     
     
     
  6. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt 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.
     


  7. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt 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.
  8. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt 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.
    Sarvikuhord:
    -1 Tyrant Sarvik (converted)
    -1 Butcher Vats (converted)
    -6 ironguts
    -9 leadbelchers
    -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) 
  9. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt 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!
     
     

     

  10. Like
    TeddyMadeMeDoIt reacted to Ademo for a tribe, The Madcap Moonbrew Co.   
    When the grots of the Raggedy Moon Clan descended from their foothill caves to raid a duardin caravan heading to Greywater Fastness, Zeller Bullfungo and his fellow greenskins were expecting to find precious gemstones and metals. Instead, when all the stunty guards were slaughtered or chased off and the canvases thrown off the carts, to their dismay, all they found were wooden barrels. Barrels upon barrels upon barrels. Most of the clan turned back in disappointment: there were no shiny trinkets here to trade with the other clans and no greenskin was interested in the disgusting brew of the more 'civilised' races. Zeller Bullfungo, the clan's shaman, however, had an idea - quite possibly his first and to this date his best...
    Whilst the other grots returned to their caves, Zeller returned to the caravan with a pack of squigs and some willing (or intimidated) herders. Together they dragged the barrels (most of them) and returned (most of them) back to the clan's stronghold. Upon returning, Zeller sealed himself in his shamanic chamber, feverishly setting to work; cracking open the kegs and manically throwing in all sorts of strange, colourful fungi. For days, strange chants and magical crackles (and booms) could be heard from outside the cave and just when a small mob of grots were ready to break in and batter Zeller's brains out, he emerged; wide eyed and cackling. What he had created would come to be known as 'moonbrew' and it would forever change the fortunes of the Raggedy Moon Clan. 
    Now addicted to moonbrew, the grots of the Raggedy Moon Clan launched ever daring raids on both human and duardin caravans - throwing away the useless gems and arcane books, seeking only the discusting ales that Zeller could use as a base for his moonbrew. Within months, word of the moonbrew had spread across the hills and surrounding areas, attracting more and more grots to the cause, swelling the clan's numbers. But news of the raids had also drawn the attention of a greedy tribe of ogors - the Tightfists. 
    One fateful night, the Tightfist clan strode in to the moonclan camp, kicking grots aside, raiding the larders and proceeding to guzzle barrels of the famous moonbrew. Tensions rose and a standoff ensued between the huge ogors and the swarms of grots as well as packs of squigs (who were ready to eat anyone from either side). A parlay however, between the Tightfist tyrant, Ugrok Man-masher and Zeller resulted in the formation of 'The Madcap Moonbrew Co.' The terms of the partnership were simple: Zeller would step up production of moonbrew, in order to satisfy both the grots and ogors and the Tightfists would, in exchange, give 'protection' to the grots and enable bigger and bolder raids. 
    The Madcap Moonbrew Co. has continued to grow as a loose coalition of moonclan grots, ogors and even an aleguzzler gargant who together, through their mutual love (or addiction) of moonbrew, launch raids upon the caravans and breweries of the free peoples of Ghyran. Zeller now has has aspirations to go 'international' - setting up moonbrew breweries throughout the mortal realms, adding new exotic flavours of fungi to his recipe. 
    So, in the words of Zeller, 'We'z commin' fer yoo an' we'z takin' yer brew!'
    Currently painted are:
    Zeller Bullfungo - Grot Shaman
    40 Moonclan Grots
    10 Squig Hoppers
    6 Ogors
    6 Ironguts
    2 Mournfangs
    Butcher
    Ugrok Man-Masher - Tyrant
     
    In the pipeline:
    Alieguzzler Gargant
    More Squig Hoppers
    Squig Herders
     
    Gallery can be viewed here:
     
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