ORHOGS - THE PIG ORC WARBAND
Set Nº 85
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ORHOG WARRIORS
Commonly mocked as Pig Orcs by Men and Dwarves, the Orhogs are a grotesque and malicious breed of orcs, long cast aside by their own kind.
Broad, thick-skinned, and marked by their hog-like features, they lack the honor of their kin… yet make up for it with relentless ferocity and crude cunning.
Twisted by bestial magic and driven to war by fell sorcerers through the ages, they exist for one purpose alone: to overrun and conquer… and where the Orhogs tread, nothing grows.
Only mud, blood… and the echo of war.
SNUTGARR - ORHOG CHIEFTAIN
“Move, you filthy swine! This land won’t conquer itself! Such is the will of our Dark Master!” – Snutgarr, Orhog Chieftain
Among the Orhogs, it is easy to tell who leads.
Of those few capable of telling blade from hilt, the largest becomes chief.
Snutgarr does not question why his Dark Master arms them and drives them to war from the shadowed tower of Blackwood, nor does he care.
So long as his belly is filled and his greed for coin and trinkets is fed, he obeys.
With guttural squeals, harsh blows of his spiked mace, and crude threats, he keeps the warband in line, enforcing the will of the Dark Master as it is whispered through the Orhog shamans… whom even a Chieftain dares not defy.
GUZTHROG - ORHOG SHAMAN
“Step forward, Guzthrog. I have commands for your kind.” – The Dark Master of Blackwood
Among the Orhogs, only the shamans can understand the will of their master.
No dark lord would waste breath on brutes, nor trust the dull minds of chieftains.
Guzthrog alone is summoned beyond the warbands, into the twilight halls of the dark tower of Blackwood, where no fire burns and no light ever reaches.
There, he listens… and answers.
What passes between him and his master is not spoken as men would speak, but carried through cold whispers, long silences, and rites that leave the mind scarred.
He returns with orders, and the warband obeys. Snutgarr enforces them with brute force. Yet Guzthrog knows the truth better than any of them.
Should those orders fail, should the will of the Dark Master be denied… he will be the first to pay for it.
And when he stands before that throne again, he does not dare look up.
WILDORF - THE BROODMOTHER
“No Mother, no tribe.” – Orhog Saying
Orhogs are a twisted breed of orcs, born of magical torment and unholy rites, a people on the brink of extinction.
Within their tribes, females are not merely rare, but spoken of as omens, living idols of a brutal and ancient fertility.
Wildorf stands as one such being, vast and unyielding, her presence commanding the devotion of entire tribes.
She is adorned not as a queen, but as a crude and sacred effigy, a living echo of forgotten idols carved in stone and worshipped in mud and blood.
LUTGROG ONE-EYED, THE GREAT ORHOG
Though crude and witless, capable only of guttural sounds and bestial grunts, Lutgrog is a perfect instrument in the hands of the Dark Master who now rules Blackwood.
Driven by hunger, pain, and the will forced upon him, the beast follows the war without question, at times devouring a lesser Orhog or two, leaving only ruin in its wake.
Where Lutgrog walks, trees are torn from the earth, and the ground itself trembles beneath his steps.
Even the Orhogs keep their distance… for no chain can truly bind him.
THE BLACKWOOD DARK MASTER
In recent times, a growing number of Orhog warbands have been drawn toward the forests surrounding Rodburg, a city now fallen to a dark and unnatural fate.
Not long after its fall, a shadow rose within the Blackwood. From a looming black tower, a Dark Master now commands, his influence spreading like a stain across the land. Warbands that once roamed aimlessly now march with purpose, gathering in greater numbers than ever before.
His will is carried through the shamans, the only ones capable of understanding it. None among the Orhogs know his true nature, yet even the strongest bow to it… for to command such a horde, one must wield power beyond their reckoning.