INTRO - The Brutish Hordes
Far to the east of the Old World like the savage Ogre Kingdoms. Among the frozen and desolate mountains of this realm live the Ogres; ugly, violent monsters who kill and eat anything they can catch. A single Ogre has enough brute strength to destroy a farmstead or village, whereas the ramshackle armies that march west from the Ogre homelands are powerful enough to destroy empires.
An Ogre is easily recognized by his massive frame and boulder-like gut, but any that come across one would do well to stay out of its path, for an Ogre will, more often than not, club to death and messily devour any living thing it can. The Ogres travel the world fighting as mercenaries and picking on those weaker than themselves, which, to be frank, is nearly everybody. To the dismay of the civilized races, the Ogre populations in the mountains have grown so large that they have begun to foray into the outside world, no longer in groups of two or three, but in their hundreds.
An Ogre Kingdom's army is a massive blunt instrument that smashes into enemy lines with the force of a ton of bricks, scattering the enemy before a single iron-bound club is swung. Led by the fearsome Tyrants, the Ogres are supported by the bestial Yhetee packs and shark-toothed Gorgers, the diminutive and cruel slave-race of the Gnoblars, and the shamanic Butchers, who wield the mighty magic of the Great Maw, the Ogres' eternally hungry god.
Bloodgruel: The Butcher puts a disembodied limb to his mouth and sucks all the blood, fluid and marrow out of it with one titanic intake before casting the husk to one side. As he gulps down this vile cocktail of juices, his guts gurgle with magical energy, either healing him or, if the Maw is displeased, ravaging his insides. Five times out of six, this spell allows for minor healing of the Butcher/Slaughtermaster. However, there is that one in six chance that things will go wrong. In that case, the Butcher could suffer anything from minor indigestion to full on spontaneous combustion.
Spinemarrow: Tearing the spine from an enemy corpse, the Butcher greedily sucks the marrow from the bones before crumbling the bones in his hands. As he does so, he grants his comrades strength of will, and a stubbornness to resist all attempts at swaying them, mortal or magical. Has a range of 50 meters (this can be increased with greater effort).
Bonecruncher: Shoveling dry bones into his mouth, the Butcher painfully crunches his way through femurs, ribs and skulls. As he points at his foes and spits his bloody curse, the enemy find their own bones breaking within their bodies. Has a range of line-of-sight. Can be stopped by magical shields and armor. Without those, you'll soon find your bones shattering inside your body, with the only way to stop it being immediate magical healing or injuring the caster.
Bullgorger: The Butcher greedily devours the heart of a Bull Rhinox, no doubt enjoying the feast of healthy blood and muscle whilst he imbues himself and his fellows with the strength of a charging Rhinox. Has a radius of 50 meters, and a successful cast doubles the Ogres strength for a few minutes.
Toothcracker: The Butcher grinds his way through a lump of earth-encrusted bedrock taken from the peak of a mountain, imbuing himself and his charges with supernatural resilience. This often costs the Butcher more than just a couple of teeth. A selected unit up to 100 meters away gains greatly enhanced endurance, but the Butcher himself will take a small amount of damage.
Braingobbler: Selecting one of the enemy's severed heads from the stinking selection of dismembered body parts around his person, the Butcher scoops out and gobbles down a helping of fresh, delicious brains. As grey matter drips from his flabby jowls the Butcher projects the worst nightmares plucked from his victim's brain into the minds of his foes and those around him. Has a range of Line-of-Sight. Those effected will, at best, stare into space as the nightmares ravage their mind or at worst, flee from the projected horrors. The strong of will can shake it off.
Trollguts: The Ogre Butcher forces down the toxic guts of a Stone Troll, great quantities of acid and bile ravaging his much-abused gut as he transfers the supernatural abilities of the Troll onto himself and his companions. Has a radius of 10 meters, and grants all Ogres in that space potent regenerative powers for the next several minutes.
The Maw: Downing a concoction made from his enemies and fallen Ogres alike, the Butcher draws a portion of the Great Maw's majestic presence to the battlefield. A projection of the Great Maw, massive in scope but tiny compared to the real thing appears, consuming all into it's ravenous gaping mouth. After a few horrifying moments, the Maw retreats back from the material plane. The most powerful spell in the Butcher's arsenal, it has a potential range of 300 meters. The Maw that appears can have a radius between 50 and 75 meters, though it is possible, with several Butchers working in concert, to make it bigger. Of course, if the spell is miscast, the location of the Maw will likely be right under the Butcher.
RECON
Ogres, as a race, are not known for their subtly. They don't really do the sneaky thing, though you may get the occasional ambush. They have scouts, typically mounted on sabertusks or mournfangs. They may also be able to use some magic to ask the Great Maw or the Fire Maw for visions of where the next great feast aka the enemy is.
PRIMARY UNITS
Mobility: 4
Training: 4
Max Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
The term Bull is used for any adult male Ogre. Bulls make up the majority of any Ogre kingdom, an unwashed mass of muscle and fat that can flatten landscapes as well as settlements when they gather in sufficient numbers.
Offense: Clubs: Almost every Ogre, be he Bull or Tyrant, carries a club about his person somewhere. These clubs range from simple hardwood boughs to banded, studded, and spiked bludgeons as brutal-looking as their wielders.
Ironfist: Originating from the traditional Ogre sport of pit-fighting, Ogres often cover their off-hand with some kind of shield, spiked gauntlet or heavy glove. This can be used to bat aside even the strongest attacks in a similar way to a giant buckler, or merely to smash an enemy's face into an unrecognizable pulp.
Defense: Gut-Plate: To protect their precious stomachs, Ogres wear a large circular plate, usually made of metal, beaten into shape or even cast in a mold, and will commonly depict an icon important to the owner's parent tribe. Sometimes spikes or tusks will be added.
Additional Factors:
-Respect for the Fat: Big, brutish, and extremely violent, a Bull is far taller than a human whist retaining a massive girth and heavily set frame. Mature Bulls always have pot bellies, ranging from merely rotund to the prodigious. These heavily muscled paunches, unlike the human equivalent, contain little fat. An Ogre's gut has thick bands of muscle across it that ripple and grind when the Ogre is digesting something particularly solid. In Ogre society, a large gut is a sign of status and strength (after all, he's caught and eaten a lot of prey, or even other Ogres, to get that large).
-Perhaps the only sign of status in Ogre society unrelated to sheer physical strength is the amount of noise he can make - the quality of Ogre music is decided by pure volume, not melody or skill. The loudest Bulls of each tribe are called Bellowers, and are more than capable of relaying orders at deafening volume over the din of battle.
-Mercenaries: Ogres are more then willing to see their services to the highest bidder.
-The reason for the popularity of the club is, of course, culinary: Clubs and bludgeons are ideal for killing prospective meals without spilling tasty blood all over the place on the journey home. After all, Ogres appreciate succulent meat as much as the next ten foot killing machine.
Mobility: 4
Training: 5
Max Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Ironguts are the Ogres of any given tribe that have the most status and best weaponry after the Tyrant. They are afforded great respect, for they are usually his hand-picked champions. For this reason, a unit of Ironguts may include the Tyrant's immediate family, where another might be comprised of his drinking cronies.
Ironguts are typified by their unshakable belief in their own superiority. This stems from the extensive eating contests that Ironguts go through to prove themselves, both in a crude type of initiation ceremony and occasionally just to show off. The Ironguts will display their intestinal prowess by eating a range of unpalatable items ranging from rusty nails and hot gravel to iron-banded cartwheels and chain-mail armor (which is particularly hard to chew). It was one of these contests that gave rise to the myth of 'When Bolgut Fell Ill', a favorite among Ogre whelps due to its fanciful nature. After all, as everyone knows, there is very little an Irongut cannot digest.
Offense: Ironguts use large two-handed weapons, such as great swords, massive maces, or giant warhammers.
Defense: Large, ceremonial gut-plates, and are covered head to toe in heavy armor
Additional Factors:
-Ironguts can act as the Tyrant's bodyguards, or a unit that he's quite fond of.
-Ironguts are especially arrogant among Ogre kind, and are particularly unwilling to retreat, as they worry this may damage their image.
Mobility: 6
Training: 5 (A lifetime of battles combined with pure animal instincts)
Max Range: Lunging
Preferred Range: Melee
Gorgers are stinking, pale and degenerate Ogre-kin that have been condemned to the warpstone-laced labyrinths below each tribe's cave network. When an Ogre is born without a paunch, a thankfully rare occurrence, it is thrown down a gaping, jagged pit into the darkness below. The Ogres believe that in offering the infant to this maw-shape their god will pass judgement, and those that are sound will be granted their god's blessing.
The reality is somewhat different. Only pure strength and savagery will allow the aberrant infant to survive, eking out a troglodytic existence as it devolves into a mewling, tragic mockery of a proper Ogre. The whelps exist in near permanent darkness, scrabbling around for the scraps thrown to them by their Ogre brethren, or feeding on rats, leeches and crustworms. The few that manage to scrape a couple of years of life from the dark tunnels quickly become sinewy, filth-encrusted beasts, but it is only the largest, fastest, and most violent of their kind that reach full and terrible size. When food is scare (as it almost always is) Gorgers will feast on their weaker brethren without a moment's hesitation. So it is that if a Gorger emerges from its caves, it is a twisted abomination of muscle and teeth far larger than a Bull; a diet of cannibalism, constant fighting and desperation conspiring to create a true monster from Ogre stock.
When the Ogres go to war, they open the cavern networks to the outside world, allowing the Gorgers to spill out into the wilderness in search of blood. Some Tyrants prepare the Gorgers to hunt, bandaging the jet black orbs of their eyes against the rays of the sun. Little more than a loping set of jaws and filth-encrusted talons, Gorgers sometimes have their monstrous claws bound behind their backs by heavy chains to keep them from lashing out. Sniffing the air, these degenerate monsters bound and clatter after anything smaller than themselves. Needless to say, when a starved Gorger scents blood on the wind and catches up with its prey, things get very messy indeed.
Offense: Long powerful claws and a mouth full of teeth desperate for warm flesh and blood. They can easily tear a grown man apart in seconds. Sometimes Ogres will bind Gorgers claws behind its back to keep them from lashing out, but this is usually only on protracted campaigns where the Gorgers may need to be transported somewhere. Still, even when their hands are quite literally tied behind their back, their strength, speed, and teeth have spelled the bloody end for many enemies.
Defense: None save the will to live. They have endured a life of violence, their bodies covered with a million scars and deformities. The weak don't live long enough to see battle, so any you see on the battlefield can take quite a bit of punishment.
Special: Bloodscent: Gorgers can smell the scent of blood from several miles away, and Ogres in battle tend to spill rather a lot of it. As a result, Gorgers will often enter the field of battle where the fighting is thickest, intent on feeding at all costs.
Additional Factors:
-A life below ground has made the Gorgers almost completely blind. The rays of the sun are painful to their ruined eyes, so most Ogres cover them up with thick cloth or leather. Gorgers move and hunt entirely by smell, with hearing coming in as their second most powerful sense.
-Gorgers completely disregard pain and injury in their single-minded quest to devour any prey they can get their claws on.
-Gorgers always go for the head. They want to kill prey quick so they can eat, not stand around in protracted battles.
-When a Gorger latches onto the scent of fear, it becomes an unstoppable juggernaut intent on nothing other than feasting on a banquet of flesh and blood. That said, once they've got their prey, they tend to stop caring about anything else. Many times they've allowed some to escape because they were to busy wolfing down great chunks of the one they caught.
Mobility: 4
Training: 1-2
Max Range: Thrown Rocks
Preferred Range: Behind the Ogres
The larger members of Gnoblar society have a tendency towards independence. These Gnoblars forsake their baggage-carrying brethren and band together into loose but numerous groups that take to the battlefield in the hope of stealing some particularly choice shiny things before the corpse-harvest.
Gnoblar fighters arm themselves with an assortment of broken bottles, swords, spear tips, false legs, fangweasels, pointy sticks and rusted daggers - basically anything they can get their grubby, grasping hands upon. Most of the time the Gnoblars will loiter near the Ogres, making threatening yelps and menacingly shuffling forward. In extreme circumstances (i.e., actual conflict) Gnoblar fighters will frenziedly jab their enemies in the nether regions with their 'weapons' until either they or the enemy stops moving. Every now and then, their sheer numbers enable them to pull down their foes in a tide of snapping maws, stabbing blades and pure malice. When things do not go quite so well and they start to die in their droves, well, they are only Gnoblars.
Offense: See Description
Defense: They dress in rags or armor they've stolen, but it is often ill fitting and badly damaged.
Special: Variant: Gnoblar Trappers: These outgoing but vindictive Gnoblars are the largest and most intrepid of their kind, and delight in catching and torturing the small ferocious mammals that populate the foothills of the Ogre kingdoms. Once they have finished 'playing' with these animals (usually jabbing them with sharp sticks), they either devour them there and then or take them back as an offering to their Ogre masters as a light snack. They will attempt to capture and kill anything up to the size of a mountain goat. Gnoblar Trappers decorate themselves with the pelts of their prey, and are adept at laying mantraps, stake pits and barbed nooses of all sizes. On the battlefield, Trappers will crawl forward unnoticed into areas of brush and woodland, lying in wait for any that seek to use the cover to flank their Ogre masters. Occasionally, a small bunch of Trappers will form a self-appointed gaggle of followers for one of the hardy Ogre Hunters, pelting those that charge their role model with sticks, stones and mantraps, without actually ever putting themselves in harm's way.
Special: Variant: Lookout-Gnoblars: Gnoblars are often bullied into makeshift crow's nests at the top of Ogre Banners. If an enemy is targeting the Ogres below, the Gnoblar can either give advance warning, or fall to his death.
Special: Variant: Sword-Gnoblars: The most influential Ogres of each tribe often manage to secure themselves a Gnoblar or two worth more than that the dung on their oversized boots. These Gnoblars hide between the legs of their master, poking sharp implements into the flesh of whoever is occupying his attention during battle.
Additional Factors:
-Largely Insignificant: No matter how many Gnoblars meet the endless variety of violent death promised by the hostile lands of the Ogres, there always seems to be plenty more ready to take their place. As such, the general response to a fleeing Gnoblar is a hearty belly laugh (or high-pitched giggle - Gnoblars actually get a real kick out of watching other Gnoblars run away).
-Bickering: The constant bickering, bullying, biting and backstabbing inherent in Gnoblar culture is such that even on the battlefield a group of Gnoblars will often grind to a halt. Whether it is by finding a creature smaller than them that they can hurt, getting bogged down in an argument over a lucky boot or just idly watching the fight while picking their noses, when the heat is on Gnoblars have a tendency to do absolutely nothing.
-Gnoblar Trappers actually make almost adequate scouts.
-Gnoblars have an excellent sense of smell and hearing.
-The larger a Gnoblar is, the more they're independent and less reliant on their Ogre masters. The smaller they are, the more loyal they are, but also tend to be dumber.
-Ogres tend to develop a twisted affection for a prized Gnoblar servant, boasting to his tribe-mates that his Gnoblar is a good little runner with a healthy green hide and a particularly droopy nose. Unfortunately, the more often a pet Gnoblar is around his master, the higher the chance he will be eaten or simply crushed by accident.
-Gnoblars often echo the characteristics of their master - a Gnoblar belonging to a Tyrant will likely be a bullying little tyke with an ill-fitting helmet, whereas one belonging to a Leadbelcher might have soot-blackened features and a rag in each earhole. It is possible to tell a lot about an Ogre by the Gnoblars he keeps.
LINE-BREAKERS
Mobility: 4
Training: 4
Max Range: Several Hundred Feet
Preferred Range: A few dozen feet to melee
Leadbelchers are a comparatively recent addition to the armies of the Ogre Kingdoms. Few in number, these filthy and unhinged Ogres are equally obsessed with destruction and noise, and arm themselves with great portable black powder weapons called Leadbelcher cannons. These gigantic guns are either scavenged from the remains of enemy artillery or earned as a reward from the great forges of the Chaos Dwarfs. Although they are diverse in pattern and prone to deterioration in the coarse and clumsy hands of their owners, each Leadbelcher cannon makes as much noise as it causes damage - not all of which is confined to the Ogre's target. In any right-minded Leadbelcher's opinion, it's well worth sacrificing a couple fingers or an eye for the sheer destructive power these weapons afford.
Offense: The portable cannons of the Ogre Leadbelchers are one-shot weapons packed with black powder, sharp metal objects and even second-hand cannon balls. Lit by thick fuses as the Leadbelchers close in target, these weapons make one hell of a noise, and a volley can cut down entire ranks of troops. Anyone left standing won't have time to recover before the Ogres are on them, swinging their cannons the way lesser mortals might a morning star.
Defense: Gut-plate, some have hammered metal onto parts of their body.
Additional Factors:
-Leadbelchers are easy to spot due to the severe burns, eyepathces, metal plates hammered onto their faces, tattered ears and scorch marks all across one side of their bodies: the legacy of a series of point-blank detonations. These disfigurements are worn as a badge of pride.
-It's entirely possible for a Leadbelcher to misfire, and his cannon to blow up in his face (actually this is fairly common among Leadbelchers). While having a chunk blown out of you would be fatal to most races, to Ogres it's hardly an inconvenience.
Mobility: 4
Training: 7
Max Range: Varies
Preferred Range: Varies
Ogre Maneaters are veterans of many campaigns fought in far off lands. Traveling mercenaries beyond peer, they have spent decades accruing scars, tall tales, wealth, exotic wargear and new skills before heading back to the Ogre Kingdoms. Maneaters have fought throughout the Old World and beyond and many races attempt to recruit such fighters into their armies, promising food, gold or whatever else the Ogres want in return for their services. It is the pay that matters, not the foe, although with some contracts Maneaters are awarded fallen enemies to eat, so in those cases the enemy may matter. Ogres will eat anything, but they have preferences!
Maneaters inherit the cultures of the lands they visit rather than spread their own. These mercenaries learn the fighting skills and adopt the style of dress appropriate to the lands in which they fight. For example, a Maneater in the Empire might wear breeches and an ostentatious feather with a brace of huge pistols across his chest. A Maneater campaigning in the jungles of the Southlands might go into battle as the Savage Orcs do, that is, wearing an undersized loincloth, a gut-plate and nothing else but smeary warpaint, although more civilized folk might not want to visualize that...
Offense: It's rare for any two Maneaters to fight or be equipped in exactly the same manner, and opponents find themselves fighting against a dizzying array of different weapons and combat techniques. Really, they could have any weapon, depending on where they've been.
Defense: See above, though the Gut-Plate tends to be near universal. They may have chainmail, they may have leather, they may have nothing at all. Nothing at all. Nothing at all... (You finish gagging, I'll be over here laughing my head off)
Additional Factors:
-Maneaters are famously stubborn opponents and usually prefer to fight to their last breath rather than flee. After all, they have learned the hard way that if they run off in the course of a battle, they won't get paid!
-The only real factors uniting the individualistic Maneaters are their monumentally inflated sense of self-worth and their capacity to smash aside lesser creatures without breaking a sweat.
Mobility: 5
Training: 4
Max Range: Several Meters
Preferred Range: Melee
The Yhetee packs inhabit the highest slopes of the Mountains of Mourn, eking out a sub-tribal existence at the peaks of the mountains. These hairy, ferocious beasts are almost invisible in the snow, as their matted, blood-flecked pelt is generally very pale. They are possibly one of the few species that has more of a connection to the mountain itself than the common Ogre. Indeed, the Yhetee exude an aura of cold so powerful that those attacked by them will find their limbs stiffen and joints freeze, making them easy prey for these mountain predators. A Yhetee attack is inevitably heralded by an avalanche (also the collective noun for a group of Yhetee), which the Yhetee will trigger to deliberately trap their prey before stalking down the side of the mountains and digging out their half-frozen victims with long, iron-hard talons.
Yhetees are summoned to war by a blast on the Great Horn, a huge curling tusk taken from the latest snow mammoth killed by the tribe. The acoustic qualities of this horn, combined with the mighty lungs of the Ogre sounding it, send the blast echoing to the peaks of the mountain range. Riding great avalanches of snow, the Yhetee will enter the Ogre Kingdoms, ready for the great hunt that is open war!
Offense: Claws like iron, teeth that are razor sharp, and an Ogre's strength. It is very easy for a Yhetee to simply bite the head off his opponent.
Aura of Cold: The Yhetees of the Mountains of Mourn have evolved a specific affinity with the subzero temperatures of their mountain homes. The magical aura of cold that these beasts exhale is enough to freeze the blood of their foes, making them easy prey for the vicious snow-beasts.
Ice Weapons: Yhetee ice weapons are as crude as they are lethal, being nothing more than heavy branches that have been transformed into ice-encrusted clubs by the Yhetee's frozen breath.
Defense: The Aura of Cold keeps many from getting to close. They also have thick matted fur. In a snowy environment, they can blend in almost completely.
Additional Factors:
-Having specifically evolved the capacity to scale even the sheerest surface with their iron-hard claws and hooked talons, the Yhetee can cover even vertical walls with jaw-dropping speed. Twinned with the Yhetee's loping gait and sheer strength, their is very little that can stand before an avalanche of Yhetees and its prey.
-The unnatural cold given off by the Yhetees can get pretty intense, even for Ogres, so they tend to stick with their own kind, away from other units.
-Some scholars suspect that the Yhetee are a remote offshoot of the Ogre species dating back to the first Great Migration. Others theorize that the Yhetee owe the Ogres a great debt somewhere in their distant past, even before they became creatures of ice and snow, and hence their habitual reply to the Ogre summons to war is one of ancestral honor rather than any kind of learned response.
RAPID RELIEF
Mobility: 5
Training: 2
Max Range: Lunging
Preferred Range: Biting
Red in tooth and claw - an apt description for a Sabertusk, as this powerfully muscled hunting beast is a creature perfectly evolved for slaughter. A lone Sabertusk will bound into the midst of its prey, slashing and stabbing with its elongated tusks, seeking to sever arteries and disembowel its quarry. The snarling assault that follows is a fury of pounces, bites and ripping claws. Should an entire pack of Sabertusks attack at once, then even the largest beasts that haunt the Mountains of Mourn can be quickly brought down in a howling flurry, leaving a red mist hanging in the frosty air.
Sabertusks are opportunistic hunters that prowl the slopes and valley of the Mountains of Mourn. They are silent stalkers, preferring to stealthily work towards unguarded flanks or rear positions before springing their attack. However, a hungry pack is more than bold enough for a straight forward clash, and Ogres admit that even their most numerous hunting parties are not safe from the predations of Sabertusks. Although soundless while stalking its victim, upon slaying its mark a Sabertusk will proclaim its kill to the pack with an enormous roar - a frightful sound that echoes off the peaks. Despite their savagery, Sabertusks are fickle like all felines, and are not above turning tail and bolting should their initial assault go against them.
Ogres first encountered the Sabertusks during the Big Migration from the ruined plains. Although many stragglers were picked off and eaten by the predators, the Ogres have found much to admire in the Sabertusk and may have even learned how to take down large creatures by watching a pride work together to slay a beast many times their own size. It is said that the greatest of Ogre Hunters, Jhared the Red, was the first to keep Sabertusks in order to help him sniff out and hunt cave-beasts. In honor of Jhared the Red, many Hunters still tame their own Sabertusks. Large sets of claw-scars are common sights among such Hunters, for some beasts simply refuse to be domesticated. Once broken into service, a Hunter will send his Sabertusks to chase down vulnerable or wounded victims, or to soften up the foe ahead of his attack.
Offense: Teeth, Claws, and Tusks.
Defense: None
Additional Factors:
-Sabertusk are often accompanied in battle by a Hunter. Usually a ratio of one hunter to three Sabertusk.
Mobility: 5
Training: 5
Max Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
High up the slopes of the Mountains of Mourn lives a cave-dwelling beast that has always attracted the attention of the Ogres - the Mournfang. Ogres have tried to capture and break these beasts for mounts since they first encountered them and finally, after many centuries of failed attempts, they succeeded. Powered by thick haunches, Mournfangs surge towards the foe at a speed faster than their muscle-bulked frames would suggest, not slowed in the least by the large Ogre or saddle atop its hairy back. When they do smash into an enemy, the powerful Mournfangs chomp, slash and stamp the foe whilst the Ogres lay about them, swinging ponderous clubs to bludgeon them to death. The results are devastating, with the fallen not just slain, but utterly pulverized, pounded into the bloody ground by a profusion of heavy blows.
Offense: See Description
Defense: Ogres have gut-plates and scraps of metal tied to their bodies. The Mournfang have thick muscles but are sometimes given additional metal covering.
Additional Factors:
Mobility: 6
Training: 6
Max Range: Melee
Preferred Range: ^^
Huge, hairy and especially bad tempered, the Rhinox is a large and dangerous horned beast that will lower its head and ram anything in its way, even the most massive of creatures. Rhinoxen can almost always be found living in the mountainous regions of the world, where they roam the snowy slopes and thunder through the passes in small, but formidable, herds that are given a wide berth but the most ferocious or desperate of predators.
While most would think it a very good idea to stay away from these beasts, Ogres instead see potential and a challenge. Especially strong and brave (or especially foolish) Ogres often head into Rhinox territory with the intent of securing one as a mount. Those that survive can ride these thundering behemoths into battle, laughing as they send their enemies flying.
Offense: Powered by thick haunches of purest muscle, a ram from a charging Rhinox is devastating and those lucky enough to avoid being gored or skewered by its horns can still be flung airborne by the force of its impact. Ogres riding them have extra long clubs to swat enemies that try to side step the charge.
Defense: Thick skin and coarse shaggy hair protects the beast from the elements and all but the most horrendous of damage. The Ogre rider will have a gut plate.
Additional Factors:
-Rhinox are difficult to control, even in the best of situations. Sometimes the Ogre has to give them a smack on the head with the club to make them behave. If the Ogre dies or gets thrown off, the Rhinox will go into a murderous frenzy.
SHOCK & AWE
Mobility: 4
Training: 2
Max Range: Artillery
Preferred Range: Artillery
Pioneered by the infamous Ma, self-appointed King of the Gnoblar Scrappers, the Scraplauncher is a war machine 'inspired' by the stone throwers of the Dwarven realms. The design varies depending on the Scrappers that own the machine, although they are always prone to malfunction - a Scraplauncher has usually been constructed out of everything from enemy chariots to broom handles.
The principle of the Scraplauncher is essentially sound: the Gnoblars in charge of the ramshackle war machine, too slight to lift rocks of any size onto the cup of the launcher, bundle up any and all captured weapons that they have accrued since the last battle. These loose-knit bundles of nastiness are then hurled through the air toward the enemy, the collection of rusty blades bursting apart above the heads of the enemy. The resultant rain of spearheads, hatchets, morning stars and other sharp implements can do a lot of damage; although some of the broken or rusted weapons do no more then bruise the enemy, the odd axe or sword will land precisely as the Gnoblar crew intended, skewering or stabbing the foe from afar. After the battle it is a simple matter to gather back these weapons during the Corpse-Harvest: some axes and swords have seen more battles than the Gnoblar scrappers firing them!
Offense: See Description. It is crewed by Gnoblars, who may have various pointing sticks to poke the enemy with. More likely though, they'll use the Rhinox that pulls the Scraplauncher. If the enemy looks like they might be getting too close, they simply belt the creature across the haunches and let its foul temper do the rest.
Defense: The launcher is made from wood and scrap and spit. The Rhinox is a fairly tough beast made of thick fur and muscle. The Gnoblars have bits of metal they call armor, though its mostly just garbage they use to cover themselves.
Additional Factors:
-As with most Gnoblar creations, the Scraplauncher is prone to (sometimes catastrophic) failure. This may result in simply not firing, or it may result in the whole thing exploding.
-The Rhinox pulling the Scraplauncher is a very ill tempered creature, and if a creature gets into charging range, the Rhinox will almost certainly try, whether the Gnoblars want it to or not.
Mobility: 4
Training: 4
Max Range: Artillery
Preferred Range: Artillery
The Ironblaster is perhaps the largest black powder weapon in the Old World. These immense cannons were once used by the Sky-titans in their great wars and now, many years later, the Ogres have claimed them as their own.
Big Ogres require big weapons, and so the Ironblaster is a suitably large centerpiece for an Ogre Kingdoms collection. An enormous cannon is propped up on the back of a large Rhinox, a furred and horned creature. At the other end, an Ogre stands on a large wooden platform that also contains a barrel, a chest, and from which two gargantuan horns extend, connecting to the cannon via the jaw of a trap. The wheels are chained, and a third horn rises at the back of the contraption, holding aloft the trophies of war.
Offense: The weapon fires cannonballs bigger then any human ammunition. With a roar louder then thunder a massive sphere of death reduces everything in its path to a bloody stain.
Defense: It's made of iron and wood. The Ogre has a gut-plate, the Rhinox has thick muscles and fur
Additional Factors:
-It takes a long time to load and fire this weapon. Even ogres have difficulty lifting the heavy cannonballs.
-The weapon is also somewhat difficult to aim, and is best used against clusters of enemies or large targets.
Mobility: 3
Training: 3
Max Range: Artillery
Preferred Range: Melee
Unlike the Giants that accompany other races of the Old World into battle, those who look down on their smaller comrades and pick fights as and when they choose, the SlaveGiants of the Ogre Kingdoms live a life of forced servitude. It is seen as a great symbol for a Tyrant to own a SlaveGiant. It takes a truly powerful Tyrant to capture a giant, and many die trying. Occasionally though, one will succeed (how to topple a giant is a trick passed down from Tyrant to son), and drag back a badly beaten and chained SlaveGiant to be branded as his own. This event fills his tribe with ancestral pride, knowing as they do that their forefathers devoured an entire race of Skygiants during the first great migration.
A SlaveGiant is typically clad in extremely heavy chains, and goaded into battle with pikestaves. Usually it doesn't take much goading, as any opportunity to take out the humiliation of being enslaved and constantly shackled to cavern floors without the danger of being knocked down, beaten to death and eaten tends to be grabbed by the unfortunate SlaveGiant with both milestone-sized hands.
Offense: When faced with smaller opponents, SlaveGiants can stomp, pick up and hurl, eat, or flail their giant chains about. When faced with similar sized opponents, they can headbutt, jump on, or attempt to throttle it with their chain. As it battles, the SlaveGiant yells and bawls at the top of its lungs. This is very unpleasant, as they are deafeningly loud, and they have terrible oral hygiene.
Defense: Thick muscles, and their chains can provide a certain level of protection by deflecting attacks.
Additional Factors:
-Broken: Unlike other giants, SlaveGiants know for a fact that little beings can and will hurt them, a lesson often beaten into them by their masters. Thus, SlaveGiants are not stubborn like others of their race, and much more likely to give ground and flee if faced by a superior force.
-SlaveGiants are good at inciting terror.
-SlaveGiants, like all giants, are rather clumsy and prone to tripping over their own feet. This is unpleasant for all involved, especially if you're the guy the SlaveGiant falls on.
Mobility: 2 (4 when momentum is built up during a charge).
Training: 2 (6 for the rider)
Max Range: Melee (Crossbow for Rider)
Preferred Range: Melee
Stonehorns are massive beasts of muscle and violence, each several times the size of a Rhinox and - if it can be believed - several times as dense. Intelligence is of little import to these great beasts however, for each Stonehorn is quite literally a living fossil, its skeleton hardened by the same rock as the mountains where it makes its home. As legendary as their hardiness is their belligerence; in fact it is said that a Stonehorn will take any opportunity to headbutt something to death and trample its corpse into paste. Such is its colossal mass that the impact of its charge is like a boulder plummeting from a mountaintop, a deadly combination of weight, momentum and a bad temper.
Naturally, Ogres have the greatest respect for Stonehorns, for the mammoth creatures are everything an Ogre aspires to be: big, violent, strong and as durable as mountain stone. They never tire of telling and retelling their favorite accounts of a Stonehorn's prowess or of the gory aftermath they leave after one of their stone-cracking charges. Whether it is the wide trails of Dwarfs flattened and squished out of their armor, the wet crunching sounds a Stonehorn makes when plowing through Skaven hordes, or fond remembrances of Giants pile-driven deep into the ground, such blood-drenched tales are greedily called for and laughed about at any raucous Ogre feast.
An Ogre Hunter who has tamed a Stonehorn is a celebrated individual. Stonehorns are oblivious to the most grievous wounds and the only proven way to break one is to take one of its eyes, which is no mean feat given the beast's stone armored skull. To achieve this, a Hunter must stand in the path of a Stonehorn charge and, as the ground shakes, stick a spear or land a harpoon in its eye socket. Those who miss seldom live to tell the tale, but those lucky enough to make the shot will be confronted with a rare sight indeed - that of a Stonehorn halting mid-charge as it registers pain for perhaps the first time in its long life. The Hunter can then lead the Stonehorn back to his cave by yanking upon the embedded shaft. After a time, the wound heals, often the eye even grows back, but by then the Stonehorn has been persuaded to allow a rider. A Hunter might keep such a beast as his own mount, or, if he wishes to boost his reputation, he could gift the beast to a tribe, for Stonehorns are much-coveted by all right thinking Ogres.
Offense: Intolerant to an extreme, a Stonehorn's first inclination is to charge any creature that comes within view. This is no mere bluff or half-hearted measure to scare off any who draw near, but instead a full-tilt attempt to use its horns and bulk to pulverize anything in its way. Few can bear the brunt of such a collision; the Stonehorn can smash mountains asunder, so what hope does a creature of flesh and blood have to stand before such a beast? A Stonehorn's ferocity is not bound only in its charge. After impact, the great beast will rear up on it thick haunches to deliver crushing blows with its forelimbs - hammer blows that can crack a glacier or smash stone to powder. With growling fury, a Stonehorn will swing its horns in sweeping arcs, seeking to slice foes with the surprisingly sharp ridges that form on its stone prongs.
An Ogre riding a Stonehorn may have a spear or a crossbow.
Defense: A body like the mountain, a Stonehorn is hard as rock, inside and out. They can shrug off most attacks, save perhaps a perpetual bombardment. Their only weak-points are their eyes.
Additional Factors:
-It is common in Ogre camps to hear awed tales of Stonehorns shattering cliffsides or battering down mountain peaks and these are not exaggerations, but everyday occurrences. Stonehorns live by 'mining' rock, breaking off suitable chunks by smashing their impressively horned heads into the largest rock facings they can find. Deposits of precious stone and seams of rare metal are favored, but the creature will also use its iron hard molars to crunch up mundane rubble or any mammals caught out of their dens.
-In their constant quest to headbutt things, Stonehorns often scrape skin, tendon and meat from their faces, leaving bare patches or glimpses of a skull-like stone mask. Over their long lives, Stonehorns become more like the mountain upon which they graze, in a slow process of petrifaction. That's not the only effect of the Stonehorn's unnatural diet, for their bodies are dotted with mineral deposits the way freckles appear on humans, and the skull of an elder beast can house enough gems to make a merchant prince weep. Getting hold of those riches is difficult - only a fool comes within sniffing distance of a live Stonehorn, and those that die of natural causes are secretive, plodding off to hidden vales before fully transforming to stone. Those that stumble across such hidden grounds are struck by the eeriness of the silent statues.
Mobility: 3
Training: 3 (6 for Riders)
Max Range: Artillery
Preferred Range: Melee
Thundertusks are creatures of ice and doom, ancient monsters that strode the darkest ages long ago, when the world was frozen over. Retreating from the sudden warming of the sun, the forefathers of these mammoth beast headed to the northern plains where they became saturated in the magic that was unleashed in those strange lands. Imbued by those unnatural winds, the Thundertusks became the living embodiment of cruel and ever-enduring winter, primordial things from a long-forgotten past. Their hulking mass exudes an aura, a subzero blast of arctic air so cold it congeals blood and freeze their prey. Thundertusks advance as relentlessly as a winter storm, using their numbing airs to slow their victims down, allowing the beasts to bring their cumbersome but crushing mass to bear.
Captured Thundertusks are kept in chains and dragged about for a long time, but can eventually coexist alongside the Ogre tribes and can even be broken in to permit a few riders to sit upon their enormously broad shoulders. Thus a Thundertusk will join a tribe, becoming a living engine of frozen destruction. These massive mounts give the Ogres that ride them an extra twenty tons of brute force to smash things with, an excellent view of the battlefield, and also an ice-cold, walking larder with which to keep their meat fresh.
In battle, Thundertusks are used to blast the foe with ranged attacks and to lend support to the main Ogre battle line. Towering high above the heads of all but the tallest combatants, the Thundertusk and its crew unleash a hail of fire even as they advance upon the foe. A Thundertusk will often aim to crash into the enemy lines at the same time as the bulk of the Ogre attack, supporting their bone crunching charge with its own chilling aura of frozen doom.
Offense: A Thundertusk's horns attract the elemental power of magic like a Lightning conductor. The beast's icy breath mixes with this sorcerous flux, coalescing into swirling spheres of eldritch energy and jagged shards of ice. With a sound akin to the peal of a thunderclap, the Thundertusk can hurl these frozen orbs across the battlefield. Upon impact, the glowing sphere of frost shatters, sending lightning-wreathed icicles spinning through the air. The shards scythe into any exposed flesh, cutting bloody holes into anything within a wide radius.
They can also give off an aura of pure cold, powerful enough to freeze their prey solid, turning blood to ice and shattering weapons and armor.
Given their size, they can stomp their victims into paste, and their charges can smash through a giant or fortified wall. Their tusks can be used to smash troops aside, and Ogres sometimes affix these tusks with spikes or chains to make them even deadlier.
Ogres using the Thundertusk as a mount will have chains, crossbows, and javelins to throw down at those that get close enough.
Defense: Their frozen aura, thick musclebound hide, and relentless determination. Ogres sometimes cover up vulnerable bits with scraps of metal.
Additional Factors:
-If Ogres are using the Thundertusk as a mount, it cannot use it's frozen aura at full power, because it risks killing the Ogres on it. The Thundertusk doesn't really care about the Ogres, but if the cold gets to strong, they might whip it or stick it with a spear.
-Due to their massive size the Thundertusk needs to eat almost constantly.
-Thundertusks hate direct sunlight, and get irritable the longer they are exposed to it. They really aren't comfortable outside of the frozen north. Because Ogres don't care, they'll drag it down south, resulting in a very cranky mammoth.
SPECIALIST SUPPORT
Mobility: 4
Training: 7 (Gets higher as they get older)
Max Range: Varies (Usually melee)
Preferred Range: Melee
Tyrants are the dominate males of each Ogre Tribe. As with many of the less civilized races of the Old World, the Tyrant is generally the biggest, strongest, fiercest and most commanding of the Ogres in a given area. The largest Tyrants are quite capable of wrestling a Giant to the ground or smashing their way through a fortified gate with their bare fists - if a Tyrant wants you as his next meal, then the only thing that can come between you and his vast sprawling gut is a fast horse and an awful lot of luck.
Offense: Tyrants accrue all the best weapons in the tribe, and will generally be armed with at least one 'favorite' weapon. It is regarded as the height of folly for any Ogre to touch a Tyrant's prize possession - assuming he objects to the idea of being force-fed his own hands. Aside from that, they are incredibly strong, some wrestling giants and winning or smashing fortified gates with their bare hands.
Defense: The biggest and sturdiest gut-plates in the tribe. They also have a variety of armors they've collected over the years, along with thick scars, the bones of worthy opponents, or shiny objects or weapons the Tyrant fancies hammered into his flesh.
Special: Luck-Gnoblars: Ogres often come to the point where they believe certain long-lived pet Gnoblars are lucky charms. Occasionally, this proves to be true; after all, it can be considered lucky when a foe's blade opens up a pet Gnoblar's skull rather than the Ogre's throat.
Additional Factors:
-And the Strongest Among You Shall Lead: To become a Tyrant of a given tribe, an Ogre simply has to beat the existing Tyrant in single combat. If all goes well, the challenger beats the Ogre on his own turf through pure strength, literally consuming the broken Tyrant and taking his place at the head of the Kingdom. If the Tyrant proves stronger, the contender is messily devoured. Either way, someone is getting a good meal.
Mobility: 4
Training: 6-7
Max Range: Battlefield
Preferred Range: Battlefield
Butchers are immense, corpulent hulks covered in offal and dried blood. They have appalling personal hygiene and like nothing more than wallowing in meat, guts, and gore regardless of its source. Hideous and mean, Butchers are essentially the Ogre equivalent of a tribal shaman, although their role is more that of holy man than magic-user. They have a direct link to the Great Maw, and are able to channel a small portion of the Ogre deity's insatiable thirst for gluttony and violence in a practice known as 'Gut Magic'.
A Butcher is also directly responsible for preparing his tribe's Feasts, the closest the Ogres have to a religious festival. Finally, during their induction into the cult of the Great Maw, the Butcher's are taught how to tame fire. As a firemaster, shaman and head chef, Butchers wield an amount of influence within each Ogre Kingdom second only to the Tyrant himself. Twinned with their malign intellect, it is not uncommon for the hoarse whispers of a tribe's Butcher to dictate the bellowed commands of his Tyrant.
Offense: Butchers have access to the Lore of the Great Maw. They also carry into battle a wide array of meat hooks, cleavers, filleting knives, tenderizers and other culinary implements that find equal use on living and dead prey alike.
Defense: Unlike other Ogres, Butchers do not try to hide their sprawling, flabby bellies with gut-plates. Rather, they trust the blessings and magics of the Great Maw to protect them.
Special: Variant: Slaughtermaster: Large tribes tend to have more then one Butcher. The head of those Butchers, the most powerful and blessed of the Great Maw, is called the Slaughtermaster. He watches over the other Butcher's with a careful eye, his magics are even stronger, and his gut is even more powerful.
Special: Butcher's Teeth: It has been known for Butcher's to replace their tusks with flints that they literally hammer into their jaws, adding to their fearsome and unnatural appearance. Other Butcher's have several different sets of teeth for different types of food, invariably hung around their neck. These range from fine needle-sharp fangs to strip the delicate flesh from a well-filleted human merchant to massive bear-trap sets that can chew through a Dwarf Ironbreaker. Particularly dedicated Butchers may have a Tooth-Gnoblar or two in attendance to carry their spare sets, and always have the right teeth for the job.
Special: Tooth-Gnoblars: Ogre Butchers usually surround themselves with bloodstained menials that do the Butcher's bidding and, one way or another, provide ingredients for his shamanic magic. These Gnoblars tread a thin line between usefulness and palatability.
Additional Factors:
-Butchers spend every day of their lives ingesting all manner of grisly and foul items that would debilitate or even kill a normal Ogre Bull. A Butcher can withstand practically any bodily affliction and, with the favor of the Great Maw, can even shrug off arcane poisons that would rot a man from the inside within seconds.
-It is said that an Ogre whelp that draws blood instead of milk from its mother's teat is marked by the Great Maw. That infant will be immediately taken into custody of the tribe's Butcher, who will bite deep into the whelp's gut to claim it as his own. The Butcher will then allow the whelp to glut itself continually on blood and raw meat until his protege has grown fat and strong. During the whelp's upbringing, it will be initiated into the secrets of the Great Maw, and taught to gulp down and digest the most foul and poisonous substances, ranging from ragged hunks of rotten meat to ground-up bedrock and the slimy, toxic intestines of stone trolls.
-Butchers are so different from other Ogres that they are treated with equal parts reverence, awe and suspicion. As it is believed they speak for the Great Maw, it is believed to cross them is to cross the Great Maw itself, and therefore doom themselves to premature reincarnation as a hot and nourishing stew.
Mobility: 4
Training: 5
Max Range: Several Meters
Preferred Range: Melee
A Bruiser is second only to the Tyrant in terms of pure size and strength, and is often related to the kingdom's ruler. Bruisers usually act as enforcers or just bullies, and have many privileges as a result of their station. Not least of these is the license to smack seven shades of dung out of any Ogres not toeing the line, not eating messily enough, or spending to much time playing with his Gnoblars.
Bruisers are sometimes entrusted with the tribe's standard, a massive banner hung with the tribe's trophies, furs and skulls that rouse great feelings of pride and aggression in his fellow Ogres. These banners are so robust that they are often used as a weapon in themselves - having a metal-bound pole smashed into your head by a Bruiser will hurt no matter what's hanging from it. When an Ogre war party does not contain a Tyrant in its number, a Bruiser will often step to the fore purely by dint of his ability to pummel those who disagree with his plan of action (this usually involves the word 'charge' and little else).
Offense: Aside from the aforementioned standard, Bruisers have clubs and warhammers. They are also much stronger then a normal human.
Defense: Gut-Plates and extremely thick muscles.
Additional Factors:
-While a Bruiser may rarely challenge a Tyrant for leadership, they usually are content with the pure violence of their position without the hefty burden of non-gut related decision-making.
Mobility: 4
Training: 6
Max Range: Crossbow
Preferred Range: Melee
Hunters are among the most massive and independent of their kind, and think nothing of climbing to the peak of a mountain while tracking a wounded great mammoth or bull rhinox. An Ogre becomes a Hunter either by temporarily severing his ties to his tribe to sate his wanderlust, or by being exiled to the harsh white wilderness of the mountain for some slight to his fellow Ogres. Either way these ties are not completely severed, and a Hunter that excels at his solitary lifestyle will drag an impressive kill or two back to the caves on important feast days.
Offense: Harpoon Launcher: Originally invented by Crobat One-and-a-Halfwit, the harpoon launcher's crude appearance belies its potency in the hands of an Ogre Hunter. Based upon the heavy crossbow used by the lesser races but far too large and touch for a puny human to use, the launcher is capable of firing a barbed bolt as thick as a man's arm, to which coils of rope are attached. Ogre Hunters use these weapons to harpoon their cave-beast prey, digging their heels in and dragging the creature to the ground in a titanic tug-of-war before smashing their prey's cranium with a blow from their trusty club.
They will also use the traditional club, and may also have a knife made out of a former kill's bone.
Defense: Instead of a traditional Gut-Plate, a Hunter will affix a great beast's skull to his gut to illustrate his prowess. He will also be covered in the fur, tusks, claws, fangs, and skulls of the various creatures he has hunted, killed, and eaten. Beneath all that his skin will be rough and course, covered in a network of scars and tattoos.
Special: Sabertusk Pack: See Rapid Relief: In honor of the first Ogre Hunter (Jhared the Red) it is common for a Hunter to keep a Sabertusk or two to help sniff out his cave-beast prey.
Additional Factors:
-Loner: Hunters prefer to not join other units (with the exception of the Sabertusks).
-Sic 'em Boys: Hunters will often send their Sabertusks out to chase down vulnerable or wounded victims.
-Hunters tend to be very popular among the Bulls of the tribe, earning themselves a heroic reputation with their feats of strength and their fund of stories about life on the mountain.
-Hunters are expert trackers and can act as scouts to lay ambushes.
Mobility: 4
Training: 6
Max Range: Battlefield
Preferred Range: Melee
While the Great Maw might be the most important Ogre deity, it is not the only one. Another powerful deity is the so-called Fire Mouth, who is served by priests known as Firebellies. These individuals are as unstable as fire itself; at times they as lively and joyous as a welcome hearth, but they might just as well reflect the devastating nature of a bush-fire.
Their kinship with fire doesn't stop at their mood. Every one of them can easily manipulate the Winds of Magic into crisp fireballs or clouds of roaring flames, causing great damage to the enemies of the Ogre-kin (or enemies of their employers). While the Bright Wizards of the Empire might match their abilities, they certainly cannot rival the sheer combat ferocity of a Firebelly, who, like any Ogre, can bash up plenty of enemies while their blows merely scratch its tattooed body. While numbers generally mean safety and victory, this is certainly not the case with the Firebelly. True to its name, it is able to exhale a cloud of ferocious flame, turning entire formations into heaps of charred bones.
Offense: Firebellies can use spells from the Lore of Fire. They can naturally breath fire, though they can channel magic to affect the size and intensity of the flame. They also carry other weapons into battle, the most common being the club or the hammer.
LORE OF FIRE
Aqshy is the red wind of magic, and is associated with the Lore of Fire. Aqshy blows down from the north as a hot and searing wind. Temporal heat acts as a conduit for Aqshy, and so spells involving Aqshy almost always involve fire. It collects around open flames, volcanoes and dry deserts scorched by the sun. It is also attracted to wherever there is excitement and argument, courage and vehemence, since Aqshy is the Aethyric coalescence of passion in its widest possible sense.
-Fireball: Not surprisingly the basic attack of the Lore of Fire is the fireball. The power and range of the Fireball is variable, with more powerful wizards capable of increasing this magical abilities strength (with the draw off of being harder to cast and uses more magic). At the low-end it can have a range of 300 meters and strike up to 6 targets at once, while at highest it can have a range of a whole kilometer and kill up to 18 at once. It is a ‘signature’ spell.
-Cascading Fire Cloak: The Wizard surrounds himself and his closest allies with a cloak of fire, which scorches nearby foes attempting to attack in melee.
-Flaming Sword of Rhun: Upon targeting a friendly unit within 300 meters (or 1 kilometer if the wizard is very good) can get all their weapons magically augmented via this spell, which causes them to burn continuously. These weapons now count as magical and flaming attacks, so they can hit magical creatures otherwise immune (ghosts) and cause their targets to burn.
-The Burning Head: The wizard conjures up a cackling skull which then bounds towards the enemy like a bouncing cannonball. Any enemy caught up within its bounce, which can go on for up to a 100 meters, gets burned and may even cause some in said afflicted unit to panic! A skilled wizard can extend this range to 500 meters.
-Piercing Bolts of Burning: Focusing all of his mystical might, the Fire Mage conjures giant burning magical projectiles and unleashes them on any unit within 300 meters (1 kilometer if high end). Each rank of the target unit is then pounded by spear-sized burning bolts.
-Fulminating Flame Cage: With outstretched hands, searing flames shoot towards the enemy and seek to surround them in a fiery prison. Those caught in it are slowly burned to a crisp, while those trying to escape must leap through a ring of fire. Has a range of 300 meters and has to be channeled
-Flame Storm: A roar of flame bursts from the battlefield, the roar of its creation almost drowning out the screams of its victims. A typical fire storm has a radius of ten meters, though a better wizard can extend that to 20. In both cases once created the column then explodes outward, extending briefly the flame several meters at least, up to a max of 25 meters for the smaller storm and 50 m for the larger storm.
Defense: A Gut-Plate, Magical Barriers, and Natural Ogre Durability
Additional Factors:
-Not nearly as common as Butchers
HEROES & LEADERS
Mobility: 2
Training: 7
Max Range: Several Meters
Preferred Range: Melee
Greasus Goldtooth, or to give him his formal title: Tradelord Greasus Tribestealer Drakecrush Hoardmaster Goldtooth the Shockingly Obese, was one of many whelps sired by the infamous Gofg, Tyrant of the Vale of Titans. Like his brothers, Greasus grew up to become strong and fat. Unlike his brothers, he subsequently killed and ate his own father.
After assuming the Tyranthood of the tribe, and, feeling the need to prove himself, Greasus began demanding tithe from the neighboring kingdoms. When their Tyrants refused, baying for Greasus' blood, they had little idea who they were dealing with.
The first of the Ogre tribes single-handedly conquered by Greasus met their fate during the Great Feast of Midwinter. Scaling the mountain above the tribe's great halls, Greasus heaved boulder after boulder over the precipice, roaring oaths at the top of his voice until an avalanche of wet snow and rock buried the entire tribe alive. The second tribe, that of Gut Badmouth, was paid a vista by Greasus at the spring solstice, where the budding Overtyrant challenged their Tyrant to single combat. Badmouth, older and larger, eagerly clambered down into the pit below, cracking his knuckles. Greasus launched himself gut-first onto the defendant's skull, cracking his neck. When word spread of his deeds, the other neighboring Tyrants decided it probably was a good idea to join Greasus after all, and the kingdom of the Overtyrant was forged.
These days, older larger and louder then ever, the Overtyrant tithes all the kingdoms along the Silver Road, and due to his highly effective financial strategy (insatiable greed and brute force) his coffers fill faster than his army of Gnoblar attendants can count. Greasus still insists to this day that he earned every one of the thousands upon thousands of gold sovereigns in his possession, a fact that despite his years of exacting tithes remains founded in truth. As those who contradict the massive Overtyrant often find themselves his next meal, few challenge him on this, or indeed any other matter.
Offense: Scepter of the Titans: This great scepter, larger than a full-grown man, is bound in golden chain and studded with diamonds. Heavily ensorcelled with spells of command, Greasus merely needs to point this massive symbol of power at his minions to instill them with iron resolve. It also comes in useful for smashing enemies into a nourishing paste. It also greatly increases his strength, making Greasus stronger then even a giant.
Defense: A truly massive gut-plate, and his body is covered in muscles and fat. His durability is truly astounding. He is also protected by at least five Ironguts at all times.
Special: The Overtyrant's Crown: Specially created by the finest artisans of the Empire, this basin-size crown is encrusted with gems and nailed directly into Greasus's lumpy skull. It enhances his intellect to near human levels, and is the closest to a symbol of royalty the Ogre kingdoms can muster.
Additional Factors:
-To Rich to Walk: Greasus' preferred mode of travel is reclining on a living throne of Gnoblar bearers who are far more afraid of being flattened than of any nearby enemy.
-Hoardmaster: The Overtyrant is renowned for his largess to those who fight well and, after each battle, bestows great wealth upon those who have most impressed him, encouraging his followers to fight with renewed ferocity when his gaze is upon them.
-Everyone Has Their Price: A master of bribery and coercion, the Overtyrant is wont to use his wealth to inspire greed and confusion in the enemy - even the most disciplined of troops have their price when tempted by their hidden desires, be it wealth, ancient artifacts, or the safety of one's home and family.
-The Goldtooth Tribe: The Overtyrant's employ attracts the strongest and most experienced fighters, drawing them in with the promise of untold wealth and glory.
Mobility: 4
Training: 8
Max Range: Battlefield
Preferred Range: Melee
Skrag is the legendary Prophet of the Great Maw, also known as the Gore-Harvester and the Maw-that-Walks. Dragging his massive meat-pot behind him - attached to his back with a series of painful, tearing hooks and chains - Skrag hacks and rips at his enemies in a glorious blood-filled dedication to the Great Maw. In his wake, he leaves a trail of dismembered limbs and body parts, which it is the duty of his Gore-Gnoblars to retrieve and deposit into his cauldron.
Once the head Slaughtermaster of the Arch-Tyrant Bron Rockgrinder, Skrag had a dramatic fall in fortune when he accidentally cooked and served up the Tyrant's favored Gnoblar on a platter at a great feast. In a rage, the notoriously bad-tempered Tyrant hacked off the Slaughtermaster's hands and devoured them, cheered on by the drunken Bulls at the feast, and then banished Skrag to the cursed under-caves of the mountain. Skrag was lead from the feast in shame, beaten and bloody. As a final punishment, Rockgrinder ordered that Skrag's great cauldron be attached to his back by a series of chains and hooks anchored deep in the Slaughtermaster's flesh.
Skrag was hurled into the dreaded caverns beneath the mountain and the way out sealed by a giant boulder. Refusing to despair, Skrag rammed his butcher's implements into his wrist-stumps, forming makeshift weapons. Bleeding and bruised, Skrag stumbled ever deeper into the dank labyrinth, dragging his meat-pot behind him until, in the pitch darkness, he was set upon by a pack of ravenous Gorgers. Skrag hacked around him, ripping and cutting countless assailants before he came face to face with a grotesque, hulking creature that ruled over the other Gorgers. Skrag ripped the foul creature's throat out with his teeth. The other Gorgers backed away from Skrag, respecting him as one of their own.
Driven by visions of bloody revenge, Skrag led his Gorgers up into the mountain until they surfaced in the dead of night deep within the maw-pit of Rockgrinder. Emerging in a frenzy, he led his Gorgers in a grand feast in dedication to his god, ripping apart and consuming ever Ogre present. Rockgrinder himself was pulled apart and boiled in Skrag's meat-pot as an offering to the Great Maw. As he made this dedication, Skrag felt his wounds knit together as powerful energies surged through his body.
Having emerged from the maw-pit to devour his foes, Skrag is regarded with awe and fear by even the most terrible of Tyrants, who see him as the living embodiment of their god. His Gorgers remain his ever present guardians, shadowing him wherever he goes - for by following his familiar scent, they are guaranteed fresh kills to feed their insatiable appetites, and as such they revere him as their savior. When Skrag feeds his maw-cauldron with bloody meat, he is rewarded with tremendous powers, making him nearly unstoppable and able to withstand the most severe wounds. It is only once battle has ended and there are none left to slaughter that his power diminishes and the chains to his cauldron fall slack. Within days, however, visions drive him onwards to satiate his god's hunger, and so Skrag must once again seek battle.
Offense: Skrag's stump-blades count as two hand weapons. He is also a powerful magic user able to use any spell from the Lore of the Great Maw with ease. He can also strangle with his chains. He can use his cauldron to smash someone or drown them in the vat of blood.
Defense: Thick muscles and fat, Skrag also has regenerative properties by making a sacrifice in his cauldron. The cauldron, despite being only metal, is highly blessed by the Great Maw, and has never broken, despite taking numerous spells, cannonballs, and other attacks over the years. He is also protected by Gorgers.
Special: The Blessings of the Great Maw: These blessings take effect as the limbs of Skrag's butchered enemies are thrown in dedication into the pot. The more the maw-pot is fed, the more powerful Skrag becomes and the more power the Maw infuses his Gorgers. This can manifest as them becoming faster, stronger, more durable, or even gaining regenerative powers if enough sacrifices are made.
Additional Factors:
-Chosen of the Great Maw: Skrag is a crazed, gore-splattered killing machine driven by the will of his god. He is a terrifying sight to behold.
-Master of Butchery: Skrag is an expert at butchering and carving up his foes, using the various implements jammed into his bloody stumps where once his hands were. He knows just where to attack to do the most damage.
-Army of the Slaughterer: Skrag always comes to battle with a horde of Gorgers, and more will be drawn to him the longer combat goes on.
Mobility: 4
Training: 7
Max Range: Melee
Preferred Range: ^^
Possibly one of the most successful Ogre mercenaries of all time, Golfang Maneater forged a reputation for the Ogres as fearsome killers for hire long before they became a relatively common sight in the mercenary armies of the Old World. When he started out, Golfag found himself leading a bunch of almost equally brutal Ogre warriors as mercenaries, where he quickly developed a taste for man-flesh and joined forces with an Orc Warlord called Gnashrak Badtooth, where he was fighting against the Dwarfs of Karak Kadrin high up in the World's Edge Mountains. Although Golfag never tasted dwarf-flesh before, when he marched alongside the Orc he was certain as to try.
Gnashrak thought the Ogres would prove just the kind of troops he needed to sort out the Dwarfs. However, he soon grew tired of the Ogres’ appetite for Goblins, booze, and raucous singing. After one particularly loud drinking session Golgfag and Gnashrak got into a huge fight. Soon all the Ogres and Orcs were scrapping. Golgfag tore off the Orc’s arm and used it to bash his way out of the encampment before leading his lads to safety. Gnashrak was completely enraged and demanded the head of the Ogre. Golgfag promptly offered his service to the Dwarf King Ungrim Ironfist as a way of avoiding Gnashdraks retribution, where upon arrival he showed Gnashrak’s arm to Ungrim as proof of his sincerity. In the face of such a convincing offer, Ironfist was hardly able to refuse. Golgfag led his Ogres and a party of Dwarfs along a secret path towards the Orc’s encampment in Broken Leg Gully -- so called because of its impossibly steep and treacherous cliffs. With the aid of the Ogres, the Dwarf raiding party made sure that the Orcs were trapped and horribly slaughtered. Gnashrak was captured and subsequently bound in chains and delivered to Ungrim Ironfist.
Pausing only to secretly loot the Dwarf King's treasury during the ensuing celebrations, Golgfag headed west into the lands of the Empire. There he took employment in the ranks of the Imperial army, and it was here that he discovered Halflings were by far his favorite food. Shortly afterwards, he turned up in the lands of Tilea in the employ of one Lorenzo Lupo. Prince Lorenzo found the Ogres to be excellent troops on the battlefield, but have soon found that these Ogres became a considerable nuisance on his city. The citizens of Luccini were forever complaining of being beaten, robbed, or bullied by the rowdy Ogres. One night, Golgfag decided to take rather more than his fair share of wine, directly from Lorenzo’s warehouses. When the Ogres fell into a drunken stupor Lorenzo sent a company of pikemen to arrest them and threw them into his dungeons.
Fortunately for Lorenzo, an opportunity to be rid of the Ogres altogether arrived in the form of a messenger from one of the Border Princes. The messenger was hiring mercenaries on behalf of his master. Lorenzo cheerfully fitted him up with the Ogres, took his fee, and released Golgfag and his crew from captivity. Golgfag was understandably annoyed, but faced with a new offer of employment, a complimentary baggage train of food and a firing squad of Tilean crossbowmen, the Ogre decided to let matters lie for the moment.
Golgfag’s stay proved a successful and profitable one. The Ogres grew fat and wealthy. To ensure they won't cause trouble, the Ogre Mercenaries were kept in battle after battle, where they were allowed every chance to indulge their appetite for fresh meat. Golgfag’s only regret was the scarcity of Halflings to find and eat. When he heard that trouble was brewing between the Orcs and Dwarfs, Golfag and his Ogres headed northwards once more. He fell in with a bunch of Orcs and Goblins and was soon feasting upon Dwarf once again.
It was after a foray against the Dwarfs that Golgfag was ambushed by none other than Ungrim Ironfist, his former employer. The canny Dwarf Lord led the Orc army into a trap using a supply convoy as bait. The convoy consisted entirely of wagons full of cheap ale which the Greenskins duly captured and drained. Golgfag and the Ogres courageously drank themselves into oblivion along with the rest. When they awoke, the Ogres found themselves in a dungeon deep below Karak Kadrin, along with what remains of the Orc army. The Dwarfs no doubt expected Golgfag to die in this cramped and crowded dungeon, and probably thought this would be easier and safer than trying to kill the Ogre in some other fashion.
When the Dwarfs finally opened the dungeon some months later, they were startled to find Golgfag still alive. He had eaten every other inmate within the dungeon, including even his own brethren except one Ogre by the name of Skaff. Out of respect for his oldest drinking buddy, Golgfag had only eaten one of Skaff’s legs. A great pile of Orc, Goblin, and Ogre bones lay in one corner. When he heard of this, Ungrim Ironfist was so impressed that he ordered Golgfag to be taken a long ways away and released.
Golgfag soon gathered together some of his old lads and other keen young Ogres into his new Mercenary company. Skaff decided to stick with Golgfag despite everything, and gratefully accepted the position of standard bearer as this gave him something to lean on. Before the summer was out, Golgfag headed south over the Grey Mountains in company of an Orc raiding party. It was there that he fought his first battles against Bretonnians and where he would feast upon human flesh once more.
From that day to this, Golgfag has never looked back, with both his reputation and his girth continuously growing over the years. Although he could be mistaken for a mere Bruiser, Golgfag has been in active service for over sixty years, and has considerable tactical acumen to go with his lattice-like network of scar tissue. From now until the day he dies, Golfag has wandered the world alongside his small army of battle-hardened Ogre mercenaries.
Offense: A weapon in each hand. It might be an axe, a club, or a large knife.
Defense: Golgfag wears dirty, patched clothing made of skins, leather, and such items as he has pillaged or crudely stitched together from old cloaks, blankets, tents, canvas awnings, etc. His armor is a hodgepodge of pieces made from other races and strapped over strategically vulnerable bits of his body. Beneath, his skin is rough, gnarled, and warty. As a veteran of countless battles, Golgfag is covered in scars.
Additional Factors:
-Maneater: Golgfag in his long mercenary career has been given the nickname of Maneater, although as he insists, this is misleading, for he and his lads don't much care for who or what they eat.
-Golgfag does have a particular love for eating Halflings.
-Golgfag is highly stubborn.
Mobility: 4
Training: 7
Max Range: Several Meters
Preferred Range: Melee
Ogres are a battle-hardened and fearless race, but there walks one among their number who is held in dread. Even veterans of a thousand battles feel corpulent shivers at the very name of this killer among killers, this shadowy figure that deals out the most gruesome kind of death imaginable. He is the champion executioner of Ogrekind, a slayer of kings and heroes. To see him on the field of battle is to see death itself at work. He is Bragg the Gutsman and none he has marked for slaughter have ever survived. Many great leaders and countless promising heroes have died a truly gruesome death in front of their terrified troops, who, paradoxically, die from swift decapitation. Thus, where Bragg has fought, a fallen Knight Errant is likely to get a better burial then the powerful Duke, or what would be left of him.
Offense: Great Gutgouger: A massive poleaxe, Bragg has an affinity for striking just the right point on his foe to cause maximum damage. Most of the time this will result in a clean, well-aimed decapitation, though sometimes Bragg prefers a messy disembowelment or occasionally an extravagant dismembering. It all depends what mood he's in at the time.
Defense: Thick Muscles and scraps of iron hammered into his flesh.
Additional Factors:
Mobility: 6
Training: 6
Max Range: Several Meters
Preferred Range: Melee
Ghark Ironskin, the Tyrant of the Ironskin tribe, is very unusual. He was smashed over the head by his father for eating too slowly whilst still a whelp, and one of the nails of his father's iron-bound club broke off in Ghark's head where it rusts to this day. The longest serving of his Irongut bodyguard claim that this may be the reason for Ghark's obsession for metal, a passion that has spread throughout his tribe. It is a mark of status for an Ironskin Ogre to cover himself with iron rather than mere trinkets such as gold. After all, gold is soft and beautiful, a woman's metal, whereas iron is tough, strong and ugly, like a Bull. The Ironskin tribe believes that where an Ogre can gain much in trade from gold, a stout iron club can cut out all that confusing haggling and get straight to the good stuff.
Ghark is famous in the Ogre kingdoms for another good reason - his tribe boasts a great number of Rhinox riders. The very first Ogre to batter a bull Rhinox into submission, Ghark tamed his one-time steed, Bladehorn, with an iron stanchion. To this day, Ironskin Bulls take pride in repeating the coming-of-age feat of their Tyrant, though it is a closely guarded secret of the Ironskin clan that it is much easier to tame a wild Rhinox with iron than with wood.
Ghark's obsession with metal is undoubtedly the foundation of his longstanding alliance with his neighbors, the Chaos Dwarfs of Zharr Naggarond. Ghark has provided the Chaos Dwarfs with many hundreds of Gnoblar slaves over the years, and much of the gold that passes through his realm. This alliance proved invaluable when, after slaughtering his way through the majority of an army of Bretonnian Knights Errant, Ghark's Rhinox, Bladehorn, was spitted upon the lances of a unit of Grail Knights. Ghark never forgave them, even after he had them for dinner later that day, and fragments of their armor still adorn Ghark's own plate mail.
But it was the Chaos Dwarfs who are really responsible for Ghark's current infamy. They replaced their ally's Rhinox with a mechanical monstrosity of hissing pistons and rune-etched chains, a daemon-fueled engine of destruction that obeys Ghark's every command (though he still bashes it over the head now and again, for old time's sake). None can doubt that Ghark Ironskin is among the mightiest of Tyrants, riding his unstoppable steed at the head of an iron-clad army of Bulls and Rhinox riders, the ground shaking at their tread.
Offense: Typically a club of solid iron, or his own iron coated fists.
Defense: Ironskin Armor: The Ironskin Armor is a collection of thick plates of iron scavenged from the hundreds of foes that Ghark has killed over the years, and bears a potent protective rune bought at the cost of a small mountain of gold.
Special: The Iron Rhinox: Made by the Chaos Dwarves, this metal monster constantly snorts evil-smelling, sulfurous steam from its armored snout. Those struck by the steam are poisoned and left stumbling, making it easier for Ghark to smash their heads in.
Additional Factors:
-Ghark hates Bretonnians for what they did to his original mount.
-Ghark and his beast tend to cause tremors in the ground where they ride.
-Ghark is obsessed with iron and steel, and will do just about anything to get more of it.
Mobility: 4
Training: 6
Max Range: Several dozen meters
Preferred Range: Melee
Known to the Chaos Dwarfs as Ghrask Dragh, literally 'corpse-slaver', Braugh Slavelord is a legend even among his own merciless peers. Ogre slavers are a common enough sight in the far corners of the world, but only one among them can claim to enslave his prey in death as well as life.
Back when he was a Maneater traveling the forests of the Old World, Braugh was imprisoned by a powerful necromancer. But Braugh was strong even for an Ogre, and eventually broke free of the Necromancer's dungeons. He found his captor asleep in a coffin, and beat him to death with a chair, skinng the remains as a trophy. Braugh then ate half of the Necromancer's prisoners and dragged the rest away as slaves, tying them to his gut-plate with the enchanted chains he had ripped from the dungeon wall.
Were it not for the trophy Braugh took, his legend would end there. But the Necromancer's magic was strong - even when one of Braugh's slaves died of exhaustions, it remained bound to his servitude. So it is that Braugh Slavelord deals not only in flesh but in spirits, trading the services of the quick and the dead to whoever pays the right price, an army of unquiet ghosts and walking corpses shambling meekly in his wake.
Offense: A large warhammer, but he is far more feared because of his Soul-Binder Chains: These chains twist and writhe with terrible necromantic magic, flailing out and seeking out those who seek to harm Braugh whilst he throttles them to death. Those killed by Braugh's chains become enslaved to him. The chains bind them, body and soul, to the Slavelord. They now have no will of their own, and must do as Braugh pleases.
Defense: The Great Bullplate: Braugh Slavelord’ s gut-plate is chained directly into his flesh. Bearing the skull of a sacred cavebeast and enchanted by the Slaughtermaster of Braugh’s former tribe, this artifact bestows speed and ferocity to those around it. He can also pull a slave in front of him to take an oncoming hit for him.
Additional Factors:
-Slavelord: Braugh is surrounded by those he has enslaved, many still attached to him by the chains he took form the necromancer’s dungeon. On average he has 12 slaves with him at all times, though this fluctuates during battle as slaves die (or get eaten by Braugh if he's hungry) and get replaced by Braugh's enemies. They are typically humanoid (though they need not be) and wield any weapons they had in life, albeit in a more slow and methodical fashion.
Skrag, Champion of Malal
Mobility: 4
Training: 7
Max Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
From an early age, Skrag was recognized to be extremely bloodthirsty even for an Ogre. Driven from his clan after stealing a rare starmetal axe and using it to kill several priests, he wandered the fringes of the Chaos Wastes for some years. It was there that the renegade Chaos god Malal came to him and offered him a pact. Malal guided the ogre to a Chaos Dwarf hold, where he forced the smiths to forge a great suit of plate armor. Once it was fitted, Skrag put all the dwarves to the axe, offering their souls to Malal and using their blood to consecrate his Chaos wargear. He now stalks the battlefields of the world, leaving a trail of carnage dedicated to his master, gradually becoming symbiotic with his armor. He is shadowed by a Chaos Dwarf, the lone survivor of the massacre, who has sworn to deliver the ogre's death-blow.
Offense: An axe forged from a meteorite, and consecrated in the blood of several Chaos Dwarves, and blessed by the Chaos God Malal.
Defense: Skrag is covered head to toe in Chaos God-Blessed Daemon armor. It can take massive amounts of damage, and heals over time. It is incredibly hot to the touch, burning those that come into contact with it.
Additional Factors:
-Not to be confused with Skrag the Slaughterer, though to be fair Skrag the Champion came first.
-While Skrag is technically a Chaos Worshipper, Malal is one of the Renegade Chaos Gods and thus hated by those who worship the traditional Four.
-Skrag tends to be a loner. He looks for fights, kills, then leaves.
ARMY X-FACTORS
Morale: 87: Ogres really don't care for losses. They love fighting (probably not as much as Orcs, but still). The dead can be eaten (theirs and the enemy's) and it would take something truly, monumentally awful to make the Ogres break.
Logistics: 75: They've lived in harsh climates for most of their lives, they can cultivate animals as beasts of burden or food. They can eat just about anything (seriously, anything). The Mountains of Mourn are so inhospitable that nothing that makes its way into the Ogre kingdoms is wasted - if an object is not immediately edible it will invariably find another function within a few hours of discovery.
Espionage: 15: A handful of Tyrants may be convinced of the value of espionage, and hunters and scouts do exist for such a purpose, but overall they aren't that interested in it beyond finding out where the enemy is.
Discipline: 20: It exists, but just barely, and usually once battle starts it degenerates into Ogres doing what they want. They do it zealously, but there is only the barest semblance of tactics and formations.
Army Intimidation: 85: They are a race of giant eating machines that love nothing more then killing and eating that which they kill. They have monsters, they have giant mounts, they have a dark hungry god to call upon for magic. They can take way more damage then the average human, and every single one of them wants to eat you and for friends down to the bone. Then eat the bones. And your armor. If you aren't intimidated, you are made of sterner stuff then I… or you're a lunatic.
Reinforcement Rate: Very High: Ogre culture is built around war and eating, and often one leads to the other. There are always more Ogres to draw on, willing to test their might and eat their fill on the field of battle.
ADDITIONAL INFO:
-Ogre Tribes: The Ogre Kingdoms is a place with the reputations and renown of many an Ogre tribe, the tales of which can serve as a territorial boundary, or as a dire warning to those foolish enough to wander the mountain passes and foothills unprepared. Below are just a few of the tribes that inhabit that dangerous place:
- The Tribe of Shrewd Fulg: Shrewd Fulg is a hunchbacked and grizzled Tyrant who, although far from the strongest of his peers, is as cunning and evil as a serpent. He rules the lands to the north-west of the Mountains of Mourn with an iron fist, ensuring those who annoy him eat poisoned meat or fall foul of the monstrosities he keeps in his menagerie. The Ogres under his rule dare not even break wind in his presence, for Shrewd Fulg cannot abide any kind of challenge to his authority and will have anyone who crosses him turned into a Rat Ogre at the first opportunity. As he has strong ties to the beastmasters of Clan Moulder, even his Irongut bodyguards live in fear of waking to find themselves transformed into something horrible by the Skaven masters mutators.
- The Feastmaster Tribe: The well-fed lowlanders of the Feastmaster tribe are famous for two things: the quality of their food and the Halflings that live among them. Their heavily jowled Tyrant, Blaut Feastmaster captured an entire string of the small folk on his travels and, in a display of supreme foresight and self-control, brought them home for the lads instead of eating them then and there. The Halflings, in perpetual fear of ending up 'in the trough', fulfill much the same role as Gnoblars in other kingdoms; huffing and puffing as they fetch and carry for their contented masters. But as long as the food they prepare tastes good, they are in little danger. For who knows the way around a larder better than a Halfling?
- The Eyebiter Tribe: The Eyebiters have been monitoring the safe passage of the Empire Great Caravans for over sixty years. The tightest-knit of all Ogre Kingdoms, the Eyebiters are ruled over by the infamous Grandfather Malron Eyebiter, rumored to have sired more offspring than any other Ogre. The close family ties of the Eyebiters are a tremendous advantage in their long-standing deals with the Empire traders, and they rule the Badlands waypost of the Sentinels with uncompromising force. It is said that to ask a favor of the Eyebiter clan is to put yourself in very deep debt indeed, and tales abound of double-crossing Caravan Masters who have been found decapitated, the errant head found in their own horse's feed bag the following morning.
- The Ironskin Tribe: In the north of the Mountains of Mourn is the Ironskin tribe, a kingdom of Ogres with unparalleled ties to the citadel of Zharr Naggrund. This tribe valued iron more than gold long before they even began to trade with the Chaos Dwarfs, and typically wear black iron gut plates, have metal teeth and mix iron filings into their warpaint. With scores of Leadbelchers in their ranks, even the Ironskin Bulls adorn themselves with as much metal as they can, but it is Ghark Ironskin himself who is responsible for the tribe's fearsome reputation. Having traded slaves for decades with his Chaos Dwarf allies, Ghark rides to war in a massive fitted suit of plate mail with great curving horns, seated atop a hissing mechanical rhinox that some whisper is possessed of a daemonic sentience.
- The Mountaineater Tribe: Bauldig Mountaineater rules his kingdom up in the peaks with irresistible will and complete authority. He is a living legend, and the tale of the Mountaineater has spread far and wide theoughout the kingdoms. In his quest to scale the indomitable Mount Thug, Bauldig found a yawning fissure and followed it into the gloomy depths. What he found at its end is not certain, though Bauldig insists it was the Heart of the Mountain - a great stone-skinned warrior that he wrestled to the ground and finally devoured. The evidence of this feast is upon Bauldig himself, for his skin has taken the consistency and appearance of the lichen-speckled crag. Bauldig's Ogres wear heavy stone gut-plates and eat rocks at every meal so that they can all grow as tough and stubborn as their master.
- The Great Tribe of Ghuth Spawnchomper: In the far northern wastes of the world, under the watchful eyes of the Chaos gods, the Great Tribe of Ghuth Spawnchomper attack and devour anything that they can find. Many of the Great Tribes have come to bear the mark of Chaos in some way, but this is not a stigma in Ogre society - an extra arm is regarded as extremely useful, whereas an extra head is a distinct advantage in an eating contest. Ghuth himself long ago developed a preference for fried Spawn tentacles, and his unusual diet has begun to take its toll; not only has he sprouted a crown-like frill of gesticulating fingers across his forehead, but he has also begun to bring the legendary Dragon Ogres, much maligned by Ogrekind in general, into the ranks of his tribe.
- The Angry Fist Tribe: When two Empire explorers stumbled across the Angry Fist tribe, they made history. Having displayed a hitherto unseen mastery of fire, considerable culinary prowess and strange flat stones that showed perfect reflection - all before dinnertime - they managed to convince their captors that they were of more use alive than spitted and eaten (although the Ogres reasoned they only needed one, and roasted the other). The survivor, Ruben Kyte, went on to make highly valuable tinderboxes for the Ogres of the Angry Fist and eventually become their Firemaster - the closest a human could ever get to a Tyrant. Kyte's memoirs make for illuminating reading, and the once-barbaric Angry Fist tribe is now one of the most culturally and technologically advanced of the Ogre kingdoms, with everything from working kilns to modern toilet facilities (and the appropriate Gnoblars) at their disposal.
- The Lazarghs Tribe: The Lazarghs are one of the oldest Ogre tribes. They are descended from Groth Onefinger himself, the first prophet of the Great Maw. Living on the outskirts of the desolate wastes that used to be the Ogre homelands, the Lazarghs are twisted and malformed creatures, permanently wrapped in filthy sackcloth, with chains and piercings studding their flesh. They are extremely devout, regarding the Great Maw as their Tyrant, and the sound of their bells haunt the passes that lead to the Maw itself. Having lost their hair and teeth to the debilitating energies of that ravaged land, the Lazarghs hammer black rock directly into their gums, lending them a horrifying appearance.
While the number of Big Names is limited only by the imagination of the Ogre or those he surrounds himself with, below are some of the most common Big Names, and the traits they are typically associated with:
- Kineater: Having achieved Tyranthood by killing and eating a member of their own family in a pit fight, Kineaters are considered ruthless even in their own tribe. These vicious killers are always the first to issue a challenge to the death in any dispute. When fighting alongside a Kineater, it is unwise to flee.
- Mountaineater: Mountaineaters are invariably strong in tendon and tusk. After their trial, they ritually consume part of the mountain they have scaled to mark their conquest. They are more durable then others of their kind, their flesh as hard as the mountain.
- Longstrider: An Ogre with the big name Longstrider has hunted on the slopes of the mountains for decades, and is even capable of running down a sprinting ice elk. The first Hunter, Jhared the Red, was known as Jhared Longstrider until he slaughtered his own tribe.
- Giantbreaker: An Ogre that has led a Giant Hunt and successfully brought in and broken a SlaveGiant is hailed as a great warrior. A Giantbreaker is invariably extremely strong and supremely confident in his own abilities. He will never refuse a challenge, nor will he flee in the face of an enemy charge.
- Deathcheater: Sometimes an Ogre will suffer a horrible mishap during his rite of passage, but succeed nonetheless. These heavily scarred individuals are rightly seen as blessed by the Great Maw. Once per battle, the Great Maw will show this blessing by saving the Deathcheater from some form of wound. This includes wounds directed at their mount or chariot.
- Beastkiller (This Name can be taken by Hunters and Tyrants only): A Beastkiller has slaughtered an entire pack of cave-beasts as his rite of passage and will invariable wear their tusks and fangs about his person. Those with this name are immune to mental manipulation (magical or otherwise). They specialize in CQC against larger enemies, they know just where to strike for maximum effect. They are less likely to take magical weapons.
- Wallcrusher: Some Tyrants perform their rites of passages in a very literal way by smashing their way through a skycastle wall using only a series of gut charges and headbutts. A Wallcrusher's gut bears many similarities to a boulder, as does his intellect. When charging, Wallcrushers can cause even more damage, often smashing their way through obstacles to get to the enemy on the other side.
- Mawseeker: The devout Mawseekers have not only completed the pilgrimage to the Great Maw but also managed to find their way back. None who have seen the Maw come back unscathed, though even those tough enough to survive retune with part of them eaten away. They are tougher then normal Ogres, but are also stupider.
-Ogres have been described by scholars as "thick as two short planks". They have also been described as having enough intelligence to nail the planks together and beat the observer to a bloody pulp. There is some truth to this, for although the race is unable to create anything of lasting worth, they do have a knack for cobbling together crude weaponry out of whatever is to hand, and even using machineries of war they take, trade or earn from other races. That said, the Mountains of Mourn are so inhospitable that nothing that makes its way into the Ogre kingdoms is wasted - if an object is not immediately edible it will invariably find another function within a few hours of discovery.
-The Gnoblar Race: Gnoblars stand little taller than a man's waist, and are relatives of the common goblin that plague the Old World. These highly unpleasant creatures are possessed of a malicious but limited cunning that entirely fails to make up for their lack of physical strength. Despite the fact that there is very little meat on a Gnoblar, they are preyed upon by all and sundry. The most important step in Gnoblar evolution was the realization that the Ogres dwelling in the mountains found them more useful as slaves than sustenance. Before long, a mass exodus of Gnoblars leaving their homelands in the foothills saw the Ogre Kingdoms infested, with shanty towns springing up in every available nook and cranny. Since that day, Gnoblars have performed the menial tasks demanded of them by their Ogre masters, and in return, the Ogres ensure that only a comparatively small percentage of Gnoblars meet a grisly and unfortunate death.
-The Great Maw: The Ogres worship an all-devouring god they call the Great Maw. Their relationship with this entity is not just one of devotion, but also one of fear, for the Great Maw was once responsible for the near-destruction of the entire Ogre race.
Many thousands of years ago, the Ogres lived far to the east of the Mountains of Mourn, in the great sweeping steppes on the borders of far Cathay. Their homelands were fertile and rolling grasslands spread from horizon to horizon, with grazing gnubeast and lumbering yak providing an ever-replenishing supply of fresh meat.
With no natural barriers to divide their kingdoms, the majority of the Ogre tribes lived as nomads, trading almost as often as fighting. The great secret of fire was passed to them by their Cathayan neighbors, who in return began to recruit the more intelligent Ogres into the Grand Imperial Army. Tribe upon tribe prowled the rolling steppes as their numbers grew. However, the barbarian Ogre civilization prospered to such an extent that Ogre raids soon begun to stray into Cathay itself, preying on the simple peasant children working in rice fields. Before long many Ogres had acquired a taste for Cathayan flesh. This was something which His Most Excellent Majesty Xen Huong, Celestial Dragon Emperor of the Imperial Palace of Grand Cathay, took a very dim view of indeed.
Whether Xen Huong's coven of ancient astromancers had anything to do with the catastrophe that befell the ogres remains speculation, but not too long after the children of the land began to go missing and bloodied bones littered the paddy fields, a great burning light appeared in the sky. It increased in brightness and size with every passing day until it eclipsed even the great spheres of Morrslieb and Mannsleib. Over the weeks, it grew to be a baleful, glowering orb that crackled and spat above the plains, turning night into day and driving the wildlife of the steppes mad with fear. A corona of sickly green light came into focus around the comet as it grew closer, and fanciful observers even claimed that this new celestial body had a face, or more accurately, a mouth.
One sweltering night, the comet slammed into the Ogre homelands with such force that it was felt on the other side of the world. All life around around it boiled away in an instant; two-thirds of the Ogre population were annihilated as the steppes liquified under the hammer-blow of an angry god. The raging, blinding firestorms that followed the comet's fall incinerated everything for miles around. Had there been any survivors left to peer into the massive crater left by the comet's descent, they would have seen that the comet had not stopped on contact but instead burrowed deep into the heart of the world.
For the devastated tribes of the ogres the worst was yet to come. Their verdant homelands had been reduced to a searing desert of howling sandstorms and baleful energies that stripped the skin from their bones. Other than the remnants of the Ogre population, only a few species of insect had the resilience to survive the disaster, and starvation quickly set in. The surviving tribes degenerated into cannibalism, falling upon each other in fear and hunger as the drought and lack of food gnawed away at their once-full bellies. To the Ogres it seemed that vengeful deity had fallen upon them, consuming all before it; a great and terrible maw that existed purely to feed. Thus the insatiable and merciless god of the Ogres was born.
The strongest and hardiest Ogres, even after having eaten their weaker brethren, found that the gnawing hunger visited upon them at the time of the Great Maw's landing would not leave. No longer able to cross into Cathay due to the poisonous desolation left in the comet's wake, the majority of the survivors migrated into the mountain ranges to the west in search of new homelands and respite from the great drought. However, one of the oldest Ogre legends tells of Groth Onefinger, who led his tribe further into the deadly desert with the intention of offering sacrifice to this new and powerful god. What he found has since been depicted on a thousand gut-plates and banners, and is forever etched into the legends of the Ogre race. Before Groth stretched a gigantic, gaping crater the size of an inland sea, filled with ridge upon ridge of jagged teeth and rippling, convulsing muscle that stretched down and down into nothingness; a gullet so huge it could swallow a race like the Ogres and still hunger for more. It exists there even now, a vile, pulsing god visited upon the face of the world by the vengeful heavens.
To this day, many Ogres follow in the footsteps of Groth, first prophet of the Maw, in a pilgrimage to their deity. Few return for the Great Maw still hungers. Its presence writhes like a malevolent worm in the mind of all Ogres, beckoning them onward one by one. So it is that the Ogres travel the world, subconsciously obeying the restlessness planted within them by their gluttonous god at the time of its birth. Those that have crossed the oceans sometimes claim that there is another Maw on the opposite side of the world, a vast, fanged whirlpool that devours any ship that strays too close, but these claims are usually dismissed by the civilized races as superstition, for how could a comet have gnawed its way through the core of the planet?
Such is the reverence and awe in which the Great Maw is held that the Ogres dig stake-lined pits wherever they travel, throwing in bloody hunks of red meat as offerings to their god before they begin each feast. They regularly fight to the death in the stinking, meat-filled maw-pits dug into the heart of their feast halls, hoping the blood spilled in their cannibal rites will appease their deity. But the eternal appetite of the Great Maw can never truly be sated, and while it hungers still, its barbarous sons will feed and feed and feed until they have consumed the world…
VICTORY GAINS
Ogres don't hire mercenaries. Usually, they ARE the mercenaries. They aren't against working for people that can provide them with lots of food and a good opponent to fight. Animals may be taken as potential war-beasts, assuming they're big enough to be mounts and not eaten by the Ogres. That's gonna be a major victory gain for them: Food. Everything that can qualify as food (and quite a few things that shouldn't, like people and corpses) will be taken to restock the larders. Money and Treasures will also be taken, as Ogres enjoy shiny things to.
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