Greenskin Hordes

The Black Orc Warboss is the strongest of the Black Orcs — Krak's chosen caste, black-glistening plate, monstrous size. He commands by sheer mass: no speeches, no parley, no strategy. He marches ahead of the Horde, he fells whatever stands, and the Horde follows as water follows the slope.

He wears scale-cuirass looted and re-welded by fire, the great axe he forged himself at his rising, and the skull of a vanquished Bigboss as a pendant. His Virtue is Silent-Brutality — a Black Orc Warboss speaks little, strikes fast, eats what he fells. When a Krakaa rises, he declares the start; when the Krakaa falls, he holds what remains of the Horde. No Orc disobeys him twice.

The Orc Warboss is the chief of a mixed Horde — ordinary Orcs, Goblins in tutelage, Snotlings at the rear. Smaller than a Black Orc Warboss, also more political (Goblins need a few orders to follow). He wears plate looted from Empire soldiers, the great axe, a visor-less helm (an Orc trusts his eyes to find the enemy).

He leads middling Krakaa, declares raids, picks targets. His Virtue is Mêlée-Brutality — he fights in the front rank, not by ritual but because he loves to strike. When a Krakaa rises, he rallies five or ten tribes in a season; when the Krakaa falls, he keeps what he has plundered and waits for the next. No other Boss will challenge while he wears three enemy skulls on the belt. On the field he charges with his Boyz, strikes at the front, does not retreat.

The Orc Shaman Boss is the supreme clergy of Krak in a Horde — no wizard in the human sense, but an Orc who hears Krak's voice in himself and renders it as strike-spells. He has outlived the other Shamans (magic often kills an Orc who lacks the strength to channel) and bears on his body the visible marks of devotion: glyph-tattoos on the scalp, a third arm that sometimes grows during a Krakaa, a tongue greener than the hide.

He invokes the Way of Krak — Beast and Fire Breaths — by trance on hallucinogenic mushrooms, ritual dance, guttural howl. His magic is potent when the Krakaa rises, weak when it falls (the Way feeds on collective energy). On the field he attends the Warboss, casts spells that grow extra arms on the Boyz, burn enemy horses, turn stones into burning shot. When a Shaman Boss falls, his heir (the most advanced Shaman of the Horde) takes the place by nightfall.

The Black Orc Bigboss is the Warboss's second — strong enough to challenge, not yet strong enough to win. He wears lighter cuirass, a two-handed axe, and the skull of a rival Bigboss he has felled (proof he is the only Bigboss of his generation still wearing the skull).

He leads the Black Orc companies on secondary raids, challenges the Warboss when the chance opens (rarely wins), and takes the outcome — win or die, no complaint. His Virtue is Brute-Patience (an Orc's patience, lasting a season or two). On the field he commands the Warboss's left wing, signs secondary charges, fells enemies the Warboss has no time to touch. When the Warboss falls in battle, the Bigboss becomes Warboss at the next dawn by the Horde-fire.

The Orc Bigboss is the Orc Warboss's second — leader of a secondary band, able to lead a raid without the Boss if needed. He wears a simpler cuirass, a great axe, and a spiked helm (the spikes serve to charge head-down).

He commands two or three Boy companies when the Boss commands all. On the field he signs tactical orders within his wing, picks flank charges, challenges an enemy Bigboss in duel by ritual (these duels are common in inter-tribal raids and let a rivalry settle without total scattering). His Virtue is Coherent-Brutality. When a Bigboss survives ten raids, he often challenges the Boss; none survives that challenge without becoming Boss. The loser feeds the Horde — it is ritual and efficient.

The Orc Shaman is the second tier — an Orc who hears Krak but not as loud as a Shaman Boss. He attends the companies, casts minor spells (growing an extra arm on a wounded Boyz, burning an isolated target), conducts Krak's rites after the battles (eats the liver of the bravest enemy, burns a piece of enemy armour).

His magic is limited to one spell, two perhaps. On the field he fights in the rear, looses his spells between gulps of mushroom-beer, howls when the Krakaa rises. His Virtue is Brute-Learning. Many Orc Shamans burst (uncontrolled channelling of the Fire Breath is treacherous); those who outlive ten engagements become Shaman Bosses in time. The transition is marked by a personal explosion called 'the Burning Birth'.

The Goblin Warboss is the chief of a Goblin Horde — small, vicious, sly. He wears cuirass cut to size (often looted from a human Halfling), the short curved blade, and the pointed helm (Goblins love points). He commands by cunning rather than sheer force; a Goblin Boss who challenges an Orc in straight duel dies, so he avoids duels.

He leads a mostly Goblin Horde, sometimes augmented by Snotlings and a company of broken-in Trolls. On the field he commands from the rear (no shame among Goblins in surviving a battle), signs the flanking tactics, orders flight if the day turns sour. His Virtue is Cowardly-Cunning. When a Krakaa rises, he rallies his Goblins and joins a stronger Orc-Boss as useful vassal. When the Krakaa falls, he returns to his cave and counts the loot.

The Goblin Bigboss is the Goblin Boss's second — even smaller, even slier. He wears a makeshift cuirass (often a leather jerkin with a few iron plates riveted on), the short blade, and a wolf-mask or rat-mask (by tribal fashion).

He commands two or three Goblin Boyz bands while the Boss commands all. On the field he harries enemy flanks, flees before the riposte, circles to bite the rear. His Virtue is Misdirection. No Goblin Bigboss has held a line in a frontal battle; all know to avoid direct combat when the enemy is stronger. When the Boss falls, the Bigboss becomes Boss in two nights — the delay needed to assassinate competing rivals (a Goblin rite called 'the Night-of-Knives').

The Goblin Shaman Boss is the supreme clergy of Skreel in a Goblin Horde — venerator of the Cunning Twin, the Boss's counsellor in schemes, maker of venoms and snares. He wears a heavy leather robe tattooed with Skreel-glyphs, a rune-staff of carved wolf-bone, and a crown of dried mushrooms (sign of his cult).

He invokes the Way of Skreel — Death and Shadow Breaths, plus deceit-magic — by night-trance, vicious dance, guttural snicker. His magic is subtler than an Orc Shaman Boss's: partial invisibility, demoralisation of enemy horses, poison-curse that infects wounds. On the field he fights in the rear, looses spells that slip enemies on mud-illusions, conjures clouds of invisible squigs. When a Goblin Shaman Boss falls (rarely — he knows how to flee), the heir (the slyest Shaman) takes the place after a Night-of-Knives.

The Goblin Shaman is the second tier — a Goblin who hears Skreel in a low voice. He casts minor spells (making a blade poisoned for a season, tripping an enemy knight), conducts Skreel's rites after the battles (theft of enemy amulets, ritual sacrifice of a human prisoner).

His magic is limited. On the field he attends Goblin Boyz companies, looses his spells from the rear rank, flees before the riposte. His Virtue is Learning-Cunning. Many Goblin Shamans cheat their own rites (the cunning is in the blood) — they outlive the Orc Shamans, who follow the rites in brute sincerity. Treachery is devotion.

The Night Goblin Warboss is the chief of the Night Goblins — Goblins who dwell in the mushroom-caves' Deeps, never come out to daylight, attack always by night or in lower galleries. He bears pale skin, red eyes (adapted to darkness), and black cuirass without bright plate (light wounds them).

He commands a Night Horde — Night Boyz, squig herds, sometimes a tamed cave Troll. On the field (by night, or in an underground gallery), he commands by hissed cries and hand-signs. His Virtue is Vicious-Darkness. No Night Goblin fights in sunlight without preliminary rite (black-leather hood, shadow-spell). When a Night Warboss dies, the Mushroom-Council (Night Shamans' rite) names the heir — not by challenge, but by mushroom-vote (divination spell).

The Night Goblin Bigboss is the Night Boss's second — paler, slier still. He wears the black robe with pointed hood, the blade poisoned with deadly mushroom-sap, and the throwing-stone bag (Night Goblins hurl pebbles when the bow would be too visible).

He commands two or three Night Boyz bands. On the field he harasses in the dark, picks off enemy sentries one by one, flees into shadow. His Virtue is Cowardly-Stealth. No Night Bigboss has outlived combat in full light; they know. When the Boss falls, the Bigboss becomes Boss after a Night-of-Knives by mushroom-luciferase light.

The Night Goblin Shaman Boss is the supreme clergy of Skreel in the Night version — yet more devoted than common Goblin Shamans, venerator of the Cunning Twin in his darkest form. He wears the black hooded robe, the mushroom-rune-staff, and the Purple-Mushroom crown (a Deep-specific fungus, heavily hallucinogenic, possibly heresy to day-Shamans).

He invokes the Way of Skreel in its Night version — Death and Shadow Breaths, magic of irrational-panic. His magic is potent but unpredictable (the Purple-Mushroom is treacherous). On the field he casts spells that send enemy horses fleeing for no visible reason, conjures invisible squigs that bite at legs, bursts the heads of isolated targets. When a Night Shaman Boss falls (common — the magic is dangerous), the Mushroom-Council names a new one.

The Night Goblin Shaman is the second tier — a Night Goblin who hears Skreel under the Purple-Mushroom's effect. He casts minor night-spells, conducts the Mushroom-Council's rites, survives by devotion rather than talent.

His magic is limited. On the field he attends the Night Boyz, looses spells from the rear rank, howls when the Krakaa rises (Night Krakaa are silent; the howl is inward). His Virtue is Sanctified-Madness. Many Night Shamans become mad (the Purple-Mushroom leads there); the Night Goblins consider madness a spiritual accomplishment — a truly mad Shaman is a truly devoted one. When a Shaman falls (common), he is eaten by his peers — the rite frees the visions accumulated in the flesh.

Snikgob the Loot King is the most illustrious living Goblin Warboss — chief of a Krazz Plains Horde, he has led seven major Krakaa in fifty years without dying (absolute Goblin record). He wears unlikely composite armour (plates looted from an Empire General, painted Goblin-red, hen feathers stitched atop the helm), a curved blade looted from a Cathayan, and a loot-sack where he keeps a few pieces from every conquest.

He fights in the rear of the Horde (no shame among Goblins in surviving), commands by shrill cry and hand-sign, and ever flees when the day turns sour. His Virtue is Cunning-Survival. The Orc Warboss he vassalises to during major Krakaa tolerates him as useful — Snikgob always knows where to find reinforcements, treasures, news. When the Krakaa falls, Snikgob keeps half the loot and returns to his gilded cave. He has thirteen-thirteen different caves, the tale says — he changes every year.

Grotmaw Bogbreath, Shaman of the Mire, is the most illustrious living Night Goblin Shaman Boss — a venerator of Skreel in his rottenest form, dwelling in a deep Vermont marsh for three centuries, emerging only to join a major Horde when the Krakaa rises. He wears the black hooded robe stained with century-old mud, a rune-staff of female-troll bone, and a crown of living Purple-Mushroom (which he chews ceaselessly).

On the field he fights behind the Night Boyz, casts spells that raise invisible squigs from the ground, rot enemy Watcher Liturgies, burn Naheb's Tomb Sphinxes with pus-mingled fire. His Virtue is Veteran-Sanctified-Madness. No human enemy has seen him and lived; no Watcher High Priest has faced him in spell-duel without receiving a rot-curse that lasts a decade. The Council of Hierophants has set Grotmaw in the Book of Cosmic Grudges. Grotmaw himself does not mind — he laughs while chewing his mushroom, in his marsh, awaiting the next Krakaa.

The Orc Mob is the flesh of the Hordes — common Orcs, smaller than the Black ones but in far greater number, fitted with composite armour (leather-mail-looted plate), short axes or great blades, round shields. They fight in loose-to-dense formation by pressure, howl in the charge, strike with joy.

On the field they form the second line behind the Black Orcs, or the first in Hordes without them. Their Virtue is Brute-Joy. No common human psychology touches them — they do not flee from fear (a fleeing Orc is rejected by the Horde), but they can break from over-excitement (an Orc who sees too much loot will scatter to plunder). The Warboss keeps order with a club. Of ten raids, one Orc ends a Bigboss, two end dead, seven return to the Horde with their scars.

The Goblin Mob is the mass of the Goblin Hordes — common Goblins, fitted with makeshift armour (skins, leather pieces, sometimes a looted plate), short curved blades, short bows. They fight in loose formation, howl in the charge, flee without shame if the enemy is too strong.

Their Virtue is Number. A Goblin Mob is scattered individually yet redoubtable in mass — twenty ranks deep can saturate a front, and short-bow volleys can kill a hero by chance. On the field they are placed in front as flesh-screen, or on the flanks as harassers. When the enemy breaks their formation, they flee and reform elsewhere. When the enemy is held by an Orc charge, they bite the rear. Without a Boss nearby, they scatter within the hour.

The Snotling Mob is the larval flesh of the Hordes — creatures fifty centimetres tall, light-green skin, intelligence of a three-year-old human child. They do not really fight — they try. Armed with iron-shod sticks, stones, sometimes a broken blade found on the field, they scamper as a swarm, bite enemy legs, hurl stones without really aiming.

Their Virtue is Joyful-Smallness. They do not think of death — they do not know it exists. When a Snotling falls (always), the others do not stop to mourn; they eat the body if the enemy has no time to take it. On the field they serve as absolute flesh-screen — set ahead of the true fighters to absorb the first volley. The Boss does not mourn them; Snotlings breed swiftly (the Boss guarantees the next generation arrives before the Krakaa ends).

The Goblin Spider Rider Mob is the cavalry of forest Goblin Hordes — Goblins mounted on giant spiders (a Vermont species, tolerated by the Sylvestrins at the edge for payment of a few live squigs per season). The spider is two metres long, runs horizontally as well as vertically, and lets the Goblins ride trunks and cliffs.

On the field they harass enemy flanks from unlikely angles — behind, above, under cover. The spider bites with venomous mandibles, the Goblin rider looses short shafts. Their Virtue is Vicious-Verticality. No human cavalry follows a spider into the woods; the terrain is theirs. When the spider falls (a Dwarf axe-blow suffices), the Goblin presses on afoot until he catches another spider — there are always more in the forests.

The Goblin Wolf Rider Mob is the cavalry of steppe Goblin Hordes — Goblins mounted on giant wolves (bone-wolves, a special breed raised in the Krazz Plains, greater than the common wolf, viler). The wolf is broken in to run, to bite, to flee at a whistle. The Goblin above wields a short spear or a bow.

On the field they harass the flanks, flee before the enemy charge, return from another angle. Their Virtue is Steppe-Mobility. Swifter than Marauder Horsemen, more disciplined than Spider Riders, but less enduring. When the wolf falls, the Goblin presses on afoot (a Goblin without wolf is a common Goblin — useful but slow). The Boss names the new pair at the next raid.

The Night Goblin Mob is the mass of the Night Hordes — Night Goblins in loose formation, fitted with black hooded robes, short spears or night-bows, blades poisoned with deadly mushroom. They fight in the lower galleries, in moonless nights, in shadows.

Their Virtue is Massed-Darkness. No Night Goblin fights in sunlight without ritual hood; the Boss enforces it. On the field (generally by night, or in a gallery), they saturate by number, encircle through shadow, strike with venom that infects wounds slowly. No human morality grasps them; they do not kill by strategy, they kill by habit. When the Night Warboss falls, they scatter into the Deeps within two nights.

The Night Goblin Squig Herd is the monster-unit of the Night Hordes — a mass of squigs (balls of muscle with maw, no eyes, just tooth and bound) driven by Night Goblin Herders. The squig has no mind; it leaps at what moves, bites, leaps elsewhere. The Herder guides by stick-blow and shrill cry.

Their formation is a moving mass. On the field the Herders loose them at the enemy ranks, and the mass of bound-and-bite saturates the enemy front within a minute. Its Virtue is Bounding-Saturation. Horses panic (a horse does not know how to answer a bouncing red ball with a maw twice too big), pikemen do not know where to aim. When a squig is felled, it rolls over and bites on; when cut in two, both halves bound. No enemy knows how many squigs it takes to kill a squig.

The Black Orc Mob is the elite of the Hordes — Black Orcs in deep formation, fitted with the fullest armour (often looted and re-welded by Krakaa-fire), great two-handed axes or double blades. They do not speak in battle — they strike, and when an enemy falls, they strike the next.

On the field they form the spine of the shock — four ranks deep, six wide, pure mass. No human line has held a frontal Black Orc charge without breaking. On the flank of skeletal Cohorts, they break them in three charges. Their Virtue is Disciplined-Brutality — discipline rare among Greenskins, possible for Black Orcs thanks to the Warboss, who clubs them when they step out of rank. When a Black Orc falls, his body stays in the rank; the others march over so as not to lose formation. The Boss inscribes the name in the next Krakaa — no Book, but a war-cry.

The Troll Mob is the monstrous unit of the Hordes — mountain or marsh trolls (by tribe) caught young, broken in by whip-blow and shout, aligned in bands of three to ten. The troll stands three metres at the shoulder, regenerates wounds in a minute, eats what it fells on the field.

On the field they charge in loose formation, strike with bare fists (weapons are superfluous when one regenerates), bite. Their Virtue is Brute-Regeneration. The only way to fell them for good is fire — a Dwarf Flame Cannon burns them, a Cathayan Fire-spell too. Without fire, the Troll presses on. When a Troll falls to fire, the Boss notes the loss (broken-in trolls are dear). When it falls to ordinary blade, it rises in minutes and the Horde learns not to mourn prematurely.

The Orc Boar Riders are the cavalry of Orc Hordes — mounted on steppe-boars (a special breed, greater than the common human boar, bone-yellow tusks, cuirassed hide). The boar is broken in to charge, to bite, to crush; the rider wields a short lance or a great axe.

On the field they charge in close formation, strike at the front, pass through enemy ranks. Faster than Albéen Knights, deadlier than Skeleton Horsemen. Their Virtue is Bloody-Shock. When a boar falls (a well-placed lance), the rider presses on afoot until he catches another boar (there are some in the Krazz Plains, and the Krakaa breed more). No human knight respects a boar; no human knight has charged a boar without falling. The lesson has been noted.

The Orc Boar Chariot is the charge-engine of Orc Hordes — a two-wheeled chariot of dead wood reinforced with looted plate, drawn by two Marked boars (steppe breed), driven by an Orc Driver and a Javelin-Hurler. Axle-blades fixed in improvised fashion (Orcs are no Dwarf Engineers, and it shows).

On the field it charges in wedge, scythes through ranks, crushes what it meets. Brutaler than a Chaos Chariot, less precise than a Skeleton one. Its Virtue is Improvised-Charge. When one boar falls, the chariot often presses on (the other boar pulls alone, the chariot zigzags). When the chariot falls (axle broken, wheel burst), the Orcs cut their way out, free the boars, charge afoot. The loss is ritual.

The Goblin Wolf Chariot is the fast version of the Orc Chariot — lighter chariot (two thin wooden wheels), drawn by two bone-wolves, driven by a Goblin Driver and a small-shaft Shooter. Faster than an Orc Chariot, less sturdy, deadlier on the flanks.

On the field it harries enemy flanks, whirls in zigzag, looses short-shaft volleys at full gallop. Its Virtue is Vicious-Speed. The bone-wolf does not halt to bite — it is the Goblin Shooter who strikes at distance while the chariot turns. When one wolf falls, the chariot zigzags more deadly still (the other wolf pulls alone, in panic); when the chariot falls, the Goblins flee afoot. No Goblin waits to die with the chariot.

The Snotling Pump Wagon is the improvised siege engine of the Goblin Hordes — a four-wheeled wagon mounted with a pump mechanism (originally a Cathayan water-pump looted and badly modified), staffed by Snotlings who pump while howling. The mechanism propels... something. None is sure what exactly. Sometimes stones, sometimes living squigs, sometimes Snotlings themselves (unintentionally).

On the field it is set behind the Goblin Mobs, the mechanism started, and hope is placed. The range varies, precision is absent, the effect unpredictable but often comical-fatal. Its Virtue is Catastrophic-Chance. When the Wagon bursts (it happens — the mechanism is not made for pressure), Snotlings fly in many directions and the Horde laughs. The Boss names another wagon within the decade.

The Night Goblin Squig Hopper Mob is the unlikely cavalry of the Night Hordes — Night Goblins sitting on giant squigs specifically broken in to bound (and to bear a rider, which is not natural to the squig). Discipline is held by minor Shaman-spell and spiked whip.

On the field they bound in zigzag at unpredictable heights — sometimes five metres, sometimes two, never straight. The rider clings, hurls javelins at short range mid-bound, howls to announce the charge. Its Virtue is Vertical-Unpredictability. No enemy lance has struck a Squig Hopper mid-bound; the Albéens have tried, without success. When the squig loses control (it happens — the spell does not always hold), it bounds the opposite way of the charge and sometimes crushes its own Night Goblins. The Boss smiles. It is ritual.

The Goblin Bolt Thrower is the shooting engine of the Goblin Hordes — an improvised copy of the Dwarf Bolt Thrower (looted in pieces and reassembled without a plan), mounted on a poorly nailed wooden frame, served by three Goblin Crew turning the crank. Range is less than a true Dwarf Bolt Thrower, precision too, but the engine costs less.

On the field it fires at long range (relatively), pierces enemy ranks when it aims true (rarely), bursts in fragments when the mechanism gives (often). Its Virtue is Improvised-Shot. The Goblin crew flees the moment the mechanism creaks too loudly — a Goblin knows a poorly reassembled Dwarf Bolt Thrower can kill its crew. The Boss tolerates this precaution; a living Goblin is a useful Goblin, a Goblin killed by his own crossbow is a ridiculous one.

The Great Spider is the monstrous version of the Giant Spider — four metres long, eight massive legs, fatally venomous mandibles. She is rare (perhaps three or four in a major Horde), raised by Goblin Shamans who have sworn devotion to Skreel in his spider form.

She bears no rider — too large, too independent. She accompanies a Goblin Shaman Boss by ritual bond, and obeys (mostly). On the field she runs at unlikely angles, bites, plants silk threads that immobilise enemies, eats. Her Virtue is Vicious-Scale. When she falls (a Fire-spell suffices, sometimes; a well-placed lance also), the Shaman Boss mourns three days and names another spider. The Vermont always produces more.

The Giant is the unMarked monstrous creature of the Hordes — a five to six metre giant, caught young in the margins of the Krazz Plains, broken in by blows (the verb is exact) by an Orc Boss who fears nothing. He bears an iron-shod tree-trunk club, a layered stitched-leather cuirass, and dangling chains (ritual-decor without function).

On the field he advances heavily, strikes club-blows that crush horses, sometimes picks an enemy up to eat in mid-battle (ritual and amusing). His Virtue is Stupid-Scale. He fights alone or in pair — three giants cannot be commanded. When he falls (rarely — a Dwarf Irondrake or a fire-spell is needed), the Horde eats him in two days. The feast is seen for leagues.

The Mangler Squigs are the weapon-version of common Squigs — huge squigs (two metres across) chained together, hurled by sling by a duo of Night Goblin Herders. The result spins through the air with maws open, lands on the enemy, bites in mad bounds.

The chains do not hold long (a few minutes), but while they hold, the effect is devastating. On the field they are loosed at tight enemy ranks (cavalry, phalanx, infantry mobs). Their Virtue is Whirling-Death. When the chains break, the squigs free themselves and charge in random directions (sometimes enemy, sometimes friendly). The Goblin Herders flee before the break. No Herder has died by squig-return — it is ritual and tactical.

The Goblin Rock Lobber is the improvised catapult of Goblin Hordes — a poorly nailed wooden engine drawn by two Goblin ponies, hurling badly calibrated stones by a crude counterweight. Range is random, precision absent, the effect unpredictable yet often crushing enough to kill a hero by chance.

The crew is three Goblin Crew who load the stone and a Herder who drives the ponies. On the field it is set behind the Goblin Mobs, fired, and hope is placed. Its Virtue is Massive-Chance. When the stone strikes its target, it is by luck (or a Shaman's minor spell); when it lands beside, the Goblins laugh. When the engine bursts (it happens — the counterweight gives), the crew flees. No Goblin has died by his own catapult — he knows how to flee. It is cultural.

The Goblin Catapult is a variant of the Rock Lobber — instead of stones, it launches living squigs. The squig in flight howls, struggles, and lands on the enemy bouncing at once. The effect is more predictable than with stones (the squig heads for what moves), deadlier too (the teeth are fearsome), but less cost-effective (the squigs are kin).

On the field it is set in the rear, a squig is loaded (rite: the Shaman chants the squig to accept the voyage), it is fired. The squig lands, howls, bites whatever moves — including, sometimes, friendly Goblins if the trajectory is poor. Its Virtue is Living-Pressure. When the Catapult bursts, the surviving squigs return to the herd (they have home memory).