Monday, 26 November 2012

Armies of the Badlands - The Maw-feeders

The raid began much as any other, Halal and forty or so other hulking brutes had approached the Greenskin camp and demanded payment under the usual terms, namely “Giz us everyfing you got or we smash in an’ tear off your ‘orrible little green cocks!”. The Ogres made a show of their might, uprooting trees and smashing huge rocks as the Orcs led boars out of the gates and towards the Ogre fire pit. That night they feasted, eating huge slabs of pork and drinking entire hogsheads of ale before collapsing into a drunken sleep. Come the morning they woke, red-eyed and sore of head; and there is only one way to cure an ogre hangover…

The gates of the Greenskin camp exploded inwards, the wood splintering into thousands of shards as the avalanche of Ogre flesh burst through it. The Orcs had expected the betrayal of course and had prepared accordingly, however nothing they could have done could have stood in the way of the brutes bearing down upon them. Halal observed his tribesmen begin the slaughter as he completed the ritual which would ensure they remained stubborn and completed their grisly work. Grasping the still dripping spinal column of a large boar, he raised it high before stuffing the greasy appendage into his mouth and grinding it with his rock-like teeth.

It wasn’t the first time Halal had attempted to bend the forces of magic to his bidding; numerous battles had turned in his tribes favour after he had wolfed down huge bleeding haunches of meat and implored the Great Maw to bestow ever greater toughness or strength upon his fellows. However this time was different – this time the Great Maw spoke back.

Time seemed to slow… Halal’s vision went grey before reducing to pinpoints of light and finally, to black. His body felt as if it would be rent asunder as his huge muscles contracted out of his control, bending him to the point of breaking. His nostrils were assailed by a foul miasma of rotted flesh, and accompanying the stench there was a vision: An enormous mouth, large enough to swallow a stonehorn as if it were gnoblar and ringed with mighty teeth of rock, bone and metal. And with the vision came a voice, a command… “Feed me!”

“Feed me, Butcher! Bring me all the flesh of the world, from the bitter Greenskins to the floral Elves. Bring me the cold hearts of the lizard creatures and the burned carcasses of the short, evil ones. Bring me the flesh of man, screaming inside his metal skin. Bring me legions of rats, and of beasts, I hunger for all! Bring me more of your own kind, for they shall feast also, and then present yourself to me Butcher, for should you please me in this task I will reward you. Now go, my hunger grows Butcher, and you would not want to incur my… displeasure. FEED ME!”

The magical force that had engulfed Halal now burst out from him, crackling and roaring it erupted from him in a storm of violence, burning, tearing and disintegrating all it touched in a massive sphere of uncontrollable power. 

Pushing one meaty hand into the blackened loam, Halal forced himself to his knees.  Wiping the soil and gore from his eyes he surveyed the Greenskin camp – or perhaps more accurately, what was left of it. A few crude palisades were still standing as was a small section of keep wall, otherwise the smell of boar shit and a few charred, twitching green limbs were all that was left to show the Orcs had ever been there. Not that his party had fared much better; while Halal could hear a few agonised groans, most gurgled into silence before long.

Not all however were lost and after some time searching Halal gathered his few remaining brothers together. Two mournfang riders had chased the first of the Orcs to flee and as such had been outside the worst of the conflagration. Three leadbelchers had wandered into the woods the night before, finding their way back only after the battle was done.  And three ironguts had simply been too tough to die. To these survivors Halal spoke of his vision and of his will to carry out the command he had received. And so, fuelled by the desire to hunt, to feast, and to gain the favour of the Great Maw, the Ogres marched on, into the Badlands…

The Maw-feeders
Halal                                                                                     112pts
Lvl 1 Butcher – Lore of the Great Maw
Additional hand weapon
Seed of Rebirth

The Iron Teeth                                                                  139pts
3 x Ironguts

The Lost Hunt                                                                    129pts
3 x Leadbelchers

The Stampede                                                                  120pts
2 x Mournfang Cavalry

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