Grand Alliance Destruction

Morga the Mighty is the Overtyrant of the Meatfist and the most fearsome ogor warlord alive. Though named the champion of the Gulping God by the Butchers, the truth is she has little interest in spiritual matters.

Redd the Maw is a prophet to the ogors – one who has been favoured to glimpse their monstrous god. To outsiders, he is a blood-caked avatar of primeval terror.

Grell Firefist has killed just about everything that anyone could need killing – and probably taken a bite out of it too.

Cleavers are the most numerous of the Mawseekers – ogor zealots who have entirely given themselves to the Gulping God and his demand for mindless, cosmic consumption.

Hunters form the bulk of the Beastclaw alfrostuns. Each of these hardy ogors is well versed in facing down the elemental wilds and the monsters that lurk therein.

Okar of the Fraya believes he hears the voice of his god in the crack of ice, following wherever it leads.

Butchers channel the will of the Gulping God – these blood-smeared shamans speak for him. Harnessing the gastromantic magic of their deity, these swollen brutes can cause the very earth to come alive and munch upon their foes.

Maulbeast Raiders can be found wherever icy winds howl – and often on the hunt. These Beastclaw cavalry ride brutish quadrupeds, but they choose their specific mounts for signs of low cunning as much as ferocity.

Ironguts are the meanest ogors around, the elite warriors of their warglutt. Protected by thick metal armour plates and carrying immense two-handed weapons, they wade into the thick of the fighting, hacking and bashing their foes to bloody chunks.

Ogor Gluttons are hulking, muscle-bound brutes driven entirely by an unending desire for food. They thunder into battle like a landslide of sweaty flesh, taking great bites out of their foes even as they bash and hack with crude clubs and cleavers.

The Ogor Mawtribes are on the march. The ground shakes. The sound of snorting beasts and brutal chanting rings out.

The Ogor Mawtribes worship the Gulping God, who has given them the dubious blessing of an eternal need to hunt and devour. Their hunger can never be satiated, but not for lack of trying.

Ogors are monstrous, marauding creatures – ravenous raiders entirely in thrall to their greed and convinced that all the world is theirs for the taking (and usually the eating, too).

When claiming new lands for their pack, a Snarlboss will ride out ahead alongside a handpicked scouting party known as Snarlpack Huntaz.

Scrapglutts trawl the deserted battlefields and rusty junkyards of the lands, driven by an ogor hunter’s obsession with fashioning mantraps. Any piece of useful wreckage is gathered by eager gnoblars and repurposed as armour and weapons for the warband.

Snarlbosses lead the Gitmobs from the backs of ravenous Snarlfangs. Those lucky grots of a Snarlboss’s retinue are often hand-picked from the least cowardly of the pack.