Post by Dave, Master of Muppets on Feb 24, 2012 9:43:32 GMT -5
Grol was a Black Orc warboss.... And was a bloodthirsty and ruthless individual even by his own races standards. Often beheading any prisoners taken after conflict for the ecstasy of feeling the warm spray of blood flood over him. Such practise caught the eye of an unlikley admirer.... Khorne. No less than 50 Empire officers skulls had been given to the Blood God from Grol, and the Blood God was more than impressed with the Orc. Horn's started to sprout from the skull of the Orc, and his Tribes shaman started to warn other as Grol became increasingly more violent. To save themselves from his wrath..... The Orcs exiled him into the northern wastes. A bounty on his head from the Empire and his own peoples, Grol headed North, and soon found himself in Troll Country.
That night, in the encampment of Bleak Fjord, Khorne visited The cheiftain of the clan in his dreams. He told him of Grol, a great warrior who's talents were un-pararlell. Waking up, The cheiftain gathered his most battle hardened marauders and set off into Troll Country to seek this Orc. In the perillous blizzards, the marauders trecked onwards, seeking this Orc. After severl days of searching.... They found ther prize. The greenskin sat feasting upon the corpse of a freshly slewn Ogre.... Its head cleaved from its body. The Cheiftain strode over.... His red hair swept behind him in the wind. The Orc heard the crunch of snow behind him. He turned around slowly to see a brute of a man, covered in slabs of muscle, wearing fur rags for armour staring at him intensley....
The Cheiftain uttered words in a calm, yet sinister voice. Grol didnt know the language of men.... But could see that in the man's face that he wanted to fight him..... Grol stood upright and stared the brute square in the eyes.... A viscious tension in their gaze. The man struck the first blow, swinging a runesword from his side up and slicing at the Orcs face. With a cringeful sliceing noise, the Orcs ear fell to the ground. Grol stumbled back and took up his Great axe. The cheiftain came in for another lunge, aiming for Grol's chest, but the blade struck his armour and ricocheited off, sending the man stumbling backwards.... Grol saw his oportunity.
The Orc struck hard and fast, bringing his great axe from above. The Blade of the axe striking the Cheiftains helmet in two, but at the same time, shattering the battle worn blade... The Cheiftain fell to the floor, dazed from the blow, and Grol stood unarmed. Knowing what had to be done, He siezed the marauder by the throat and lifted him aloft. Squeezing tighter until the crunch of the mans neck was heard by all the spectating marauders. As Grol released... The cheiftains lifless body fell to the floor.... His neck wrought out of shape and broken in various places. Gasps of horror and shock flooded the Cheiftains men as they realised there leader was hewn by a savage beast of the south.
Suddenly they grey sky's cracked with red lightening, and thunder that sounded like a grotesque, blood thirsty laughter. Grol fell to the floor, gripped by agony as his helmet bent out of shape on either temple... Huge, demonic horns erupted from the side of his head as the snow underfoot cracked open, and an alter bearing a great axe, marked with unholy runes rose from the ground. It was then that it became obvious..... He had been chosen by Khorne. The marauders all fell to one knee and bowed before the Orc. Grol arose.... seeing more than a hundred men, all brutes compaired to the men he had faught in the south, bowing before him. He picked up the axe and let out an almighty roar. The sound of the bloodcurdling battle cry and the manic laughter making a sinister harmony all through Troll Country.
Realising he hand been given a chance of revenge... Grol set off marching south.... His new found troops following him. Within a matter of days, they had reached the Orc encampment in which Grol had grown up. Orc boys rushed to meet the horde of marauders, to see an all to familiar sight leading them..... Grol had returned, and his mind set upon revenge on those who betrayed him.... both sides lined up, ready for a blood bath. The shaman Glaring intensley at Grol.... But this did not fool Grol..... There was a sense of fear in all the Orcs. Grol let out a sinister cry, bellowing "Blood for da blood god, Skullz for da skull frone". The horde of Marauders charged, Grol at their front. The Shaman ordered his Boys to attack without him as he ran back inside the encampment and baracaded his hut, keeping a squad of Black Orcs inside there, with Grol's successor, Gromok Blood Axe, leading them.
The battle outside the camp was short lived.... Every last Orc butchered in short order.... The tide of Chaos could not be stopped. The marauders started to pillage and burn all the Buildings in sight, leaving smoking embers and ashes everywere. Out of one of the blazing huts ran the shaman Grol had come here for, engulfed in flame, crazy with agony. Grol brought his axe to his right side, and with an almighty swing, cleaved the orc in two. A bellow of rage came from the same hut. A pile of flaming timbers sent flying from the ruin. Out stepped Gromok.... "Oi ya runt.... I'm in charge round ere now, and yer not welcome.... Come ere you git"! exlaimed the Black Orc warboss.
The two mighty Orcs great weapons clashed, and with a crack, the Black Orc's axe exploded in his hands.... Now at the mercy of Grol, Grommok stumbled to his knee's. With a manic cackle, similar to the one bellowed by khorne in the Chaos Wastes, Grol pulled his Axe behind his head and struck down upon Gromok, cleaving through the neck, dismembering the head. The decapitated Orc slumped to the floor spraying blood allover Grol as his manic laughter continued to ring out. Cheers erupted around the surviving Marauders, as the last ork fell liflessly to the cold, hard ground. Grol picked up the dismembered head of Gromok and held it aloft, roaring triumphantly.
Grol and his men returned to the camp in the chaos wastes... Carrying various Trophies... But none more Important to Grol than the head of Gromok.... It is said that to this day.... Some sort of preserving magic keeps the head the way it was when it was freshly cleaved. Grol is truly the Orphaned Son of Khorne.... and without a doubt, one of his most beloved play things. A harbringer of Khorne incarnate..... His name is uttered through the south, a nightmare in the minds of all men.... A grim reminder that no one is beyond the taint of the Dark Gods.
That night, in the encampment of Bleak Fjord, Khorne visited The cheiftain of the clan in his dreams. He told him of Grol, a great warrior who's talents were un-pararlell. Waking up, The cheiftain gathered his most battle hardened marauders and set off into Troll Country to seek this Orc. In the perillous blizzards, the marauders trecked onwards, seeking this Orc. After severl days of searching.... They found ther prize. The greenskin sat feasting upon the corpse of a freshly slewn Ogre.... Its head cleaved from its body. The Cheiftain strode over.... His red hair swept behind him in the wind. The Orc heard the crunch of snow behind him. He turned around slowly to see a brute of a man, covered in slabs of muscle, wearing fur rags for armour staring at him intensley....
The Cheiftain uttered words in a calm, yet sinister voice. Grol didnt know the language of men.... But could see that in the man's face that he wanted to fight him..... Grol stood upright and stared the brute square in the eyes.... A viscious tension in their gaze. The man struck the first blow, swinging a runesword from his side up and slicing at the Orcs face. With a cringeful sliceing noise, the Orcs ear fell to the ground. Grol stumbled back and took up his Great axe. The cheiftain came in for another lunge, aiming for Grol's chest, but the blade struck his armour and ricocheited off, sending the man stumbling backwards.... Grol saw his oportunity.
The Orc struck hard and fast, bringing his great axe from above. The Blade of the axe striking the Cheiftains helmet in two, but at the same time, shattering the battle worn blade... The Cheiftain fell to the floor, dazed from the blow, and Grol stood unarmed. Knowing what had to be done, He siezed the marauder by the throat and lifted him aloft. Squeezing tighter until the crunch of the mans neck was heard by all the spectating marauders. As Grol released... The cheiftains lifless body fell to the floor.... His neck wrought out of shape and broken in various places. Gasps of horror and shock flooded the Cheiftains men as they realised there leader was hewn by a savage beast of the south.
Suddenly they grey sky's cracked with red lightening, and thunder that sounded like a grotesque, blood thirsty laughter. Grol fell to the floor, gripped by agony as his helmet bent out of shape on either temple... Huge, demonic horns erupted from the side of his head as the snow underfoot cracked open, and an alter bearing a great axe, marked with unholy runes rose from the ground. It was then that it became obvious..... He had been chosen by Khorne. The marauders all fell to one knee and bowed before the Orc. Grol arose.... seeing more than a hundred men, all brutes compaired to the men he had faught in the south, bowing before him. He picked up the axe and let out an almighty roar. The sound of the bloodcurdling battle cry and the manic laughter making a sinister harmony all through Troll Country.
Realising he hand been given a chance of revenge... Grol set off marching south.... His new found troops following him. Within a matter of days, they had reached the Orc encampment in which Grol had grown up. Orc boys rushed to meet the horde of marauders, to see an all to familiar sight leading them..... Grol had returned, and his mind set upon revenge on those who betrayed him.... both sides lined up, ready for a blood bath. The shaman Glaring intensley at Grol.... But this did not fool Grol..... There was a sense of fear in all the Orcs. Grol let out a sinister cry, bellowing "Blood for da blood god, Skullz for da skull frone". The horde of Marauders charged, Grol at their front. The Shaman ordered his Boys to attack without him as he ran back inside the encampment and baracaded his hut, keeping a squad of Black Orcs inside there, with Grol's successor, Gromok Blood Axe, leading them.
The battle outside the camp was short lived.... Every last Orc butchered in short order.... The tide of Chaos could not be stopped. The marauders started to pillage and burn all the Buildings in sight, leaving smoking embers and ashes everywere. Out of one of the blazing huts ran the shaman Grol had come here for, engulfed in flame, crazy with agony. Grol brought his axe to his right side, and with an almighty swing, cleaved the orc in two. A bellow of rage came from the same hut. A pile of flaming timbers sent flying from the ruin. Out stepped Gromok.... "Oi ya runt.... I'm in charge round ere now, and yer not welcome.... Come ere you git"! exlaimed the Black Orc warboss.
The two mighty Orcs great weapons clashed, and with a crack, the Black Orc's axe exploded in his hands.... Now at the mercy of Grol, Grommok stumbled to his knee's. With a manic cackle, similar to the one bellowed by khorne in the Chaos Wastes, Grol pulled his Axe behind his head and struck down upon Gromok, cleaving through the neck, dismembering the head. The decapitated Orc slumped to the floor spraying blood allover Grol as his manic laughter continued to ring out. Cheers erupted around the surviving Marauders, as the last ork fell liflessly to the cold, hard ground. Grol picked up the dismembered head of Gromok and held it aloft, roaring triumphantly.
Grol and his men returned to the camp in the chaos wastes... Carrying various Trophies... But none more Important to Grol than the head of Gromok.... It is said that to this day.... Some sort of preserving magic keeps the head the way it was when it was freshly cleaved. Grol is truly the Orphaned Son of Khorne.... and without a doubt, one of his most beloved play things. A harbringer of Khorne incarnate..... His name is uttered through the south, a nightmare in the minds of all men.... A grim reminder that no one is beyond the taint of the Dark Gods.
But I've heared things about marauder horsemen with flails and the Mark of Slanesh being quite a formidable adversery aswell....