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Description RINGU NO TANZOU! リングの鍛造! Jaakuna-Oh wa kono kogane no yubiwa no chikara de tochi o shihai shimasu. 邪悪な王はこの黄金の指輪の力で土地を支配します. (The evil king rules the land with the power of this golden ring.) MAGMA READ! マグマーリード! KASAIRYUUKEN YOUGAN! 火砕流剣溶岩! Get solid gold to rule them all! RINGU NO TANZOU! リングの鍛造! MAGMA HON'YAKU! マグマー翻訳! Kusubutte iru ken ga ishi no naka de akaruku kagayaite imasu! くすぶっている剣が石の中で明るく輝いています! (The smoldering sword shines bright within the stone!) Kamen Rider Terza is a dark Swordsman, seeking to acquire a magnificent power prophesized by the Order of Logos generations ago. He locates the outpost where Hiroki was training, and attempts to steal his Seiken for his own nefarious purposes. Terza will do anything to achieve his mysterious goals, which for some reason require a SworDriver. His attempts to steal one inadvertently lead to the rise of Kamen Rider Parry, and Terza vanishes after assuring the new Swordsman that he is no match. Terza uses his Touken TerzaDriver and the Ringu no Tanzou Wonder Ride Book in his blazing default form. Wielding the Kasairyuuken Yougan and the power of the Magma element, Terza is fluid and ferocious, harnessing the geothermal power of his blade to great effect. Terza can heat metal and stone, as well as increase ambient temperatures, and his blade can melt through very dense materials. Terza can also present his left side to produce an energy shield shapes like a black tower, through which he can fire molten bolts of force. YOUGAN IAI! DOKUGO ISSEN! 溶岩イアイ! 読後一閃! Terza docks his weapon in his Hissatsu Holder then withdraws it, swirling it around his body and releasing waves of heat as he lines up his attack. Once his sword is red hot, he slams the tip into the ground, sending rivers of magma snaking across the floor to erupt under his target. REFERENCE: Terza is named for the Italian fencing term for third position, a downward, off the hip stance. His Wonder Ride Book, Ringu no Tanzou, translates as "The Forging of the Ring," and is based on Lord of the Rings.

Title: Otto Von Trapezoid and The Empress of Thieves Author: Jesse Baruffi Pages: 264 Format: E-Arc received from publisher in exchange for an honest review Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press Rating: 4/5 Blurb: OTTO VON TRAPEZOID AND THE EMPRESS OF THIEVES is the story of two criminal masterminds who can conquer anything except their own feelings. Otto Von Trapezoid is a mad scientist who rules an army of robots from his orbital space station. Angry and grumpy, he sees no value in humanity except becoming their ruler. Esmerelda Santa Monica is the stylish self-proclaimed “Empress of Thieves,” who values her own legend and the thrill of the theft over actual wealth. Both live lonely lives, the desire to become the greatest villains of all time primarily on their minds  When the two meet in simultaneous attempts to blackmail the UN, their instincts are to attempt to kill one another, but soon they discover a mutual attraction that neither thought possible. Once they begin to pool their resources, the pair seems on track to become the most successful evil-doers of all time and set out to conquer the world itself. But what happens when their villainous natures emerge, and both realize there can only be one absolute ruler of Earth? Can either be satisfied with being second to another?  To make matters worse, they must deal with the protestations of Otto’s sidekick robot SCRAP, the meddling of their fellow villains, their families, and worst of all, heroic superspy Jake Indestructible is determined to bring them both down, once and for all.  Filled with robot dinosaurs, exploding dinner parties, and villainous poker games, OTTO VON TRAPEZOID AND THE EMPRESS OF THIEVES is a hilarious sci-fi comedy that will leave you falling in love with the bad guys! "Good evening, Earth. Tomorrow... you are ours." This book was like Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy meets Doofenschmirtz from Phineas and Ferb. It was a very funny book and, as someone who really loves nonsense and puns, there was a lot to enjoy. Puns especially, there's a character in this book who speaks pretty much only in puns - which made me so very happy. The main characters both exceeded my expectations. As well as being quite funny, both individually and as a couple, and getting up to lots of great villainous hi-jinks, they were also way better developed than I had expected. The character development across the board was brilliant, but for Otto and Esmerelda especially I loved how they grew and improved as the novel progressed. Otto starts slightly goofy, a little bit sexist and looking down on everyone. And if, at the end, he still looks down on pretty much everyone, he does at least allow for some equals. Esmerelda was probably my favourite character, I can't remember the last time I wanted to be a character this much. She was stylish and talented and it was amazing how prepared she always seemed for every eventuality. The side characters are some of the best written I have seen in a while, they were all individual and had their own character quirks and they all developed so much. I really liked Meg and her cats, I could probably read a whole book just about her. I loved the UN, those scenes were always a lot of fun to read. It is not often I become as attached to side characters as I do the main characters. Esmerelda's family infuriated me whilst Otto's family made me so happy every time the popped up.  I do feel like the plot wasn't really there for the first half of the book, it was more a series of events than a cohesive whole until Otto's plan really kicked in. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, the first half of the book was arguably the funniest section and the beginnings of their romance was interesting to read. Their first date especially was incredibly entertaining. However it did mean the first half wasn't as compulsively readable as the second half - which I raced through.  The plan itself was pretty surprising and very super-villainesque (returning again to Doofenschmirtz). I love over the top plans to take over the world and this was a great one. And of course, I always enjoy it when an author can make me root for the super-villains over the "good" guys. There was a plot twist I didn't see coming (although in retrospect I probably should have done) and I loved it. I totally thought it was going in a different direction. I really loved how often I could be surprised by what was happening and yet completely unsurprised that I was being surprised again. At some point I just accepted that nothing was going to happen quite like it seemed it would and to just go with it. I really enjoyed reading this book, it was a great experience and I loved all the characters, there was not a single character that I didn't enjoy reading about. I do think this would make an amazing movie! There was a lot of action and funny one liners. I would recommend this if you like the humour of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the action and couple rivalry of Mr & Mrs Smith and lots of villainous fun! Author Bio: Jesse Baruffi was born in a West Virginia college and quickly became the adorable dorm mascot of his parents’ alma mater. While other little boys dreamed of being astronauts and firemen, Jesse dreamed of creating stories, a curse which failed to subside, even in adulthood. He has been a teacher, tutor, caseworker, cat rescuer, filmmaker, and accidental kite-flying champion. He currently resides in Chattanooga, Tennessee with two demanding feline overlords. Otto Von Trapezoid and the Empress of Thieves is his first novel. Find Jesse Baruffi Online: Facebook | Goodreads You can also find us on Goodreads (Ann and Clare) to keep up with what we are reading

* I own nothing seen below. Credit goes to owners of Games Workshop and the equally awesome people who did the rest of the pictures. I would also like to thank the makers of the Orcs & Goblins Army book, without which much of this would not be possible. If I forgot about someone then credit goes to you. INTRO - The Greenskin Horde Orcs and Goblins are overwhelmingly violent. Orcs are built for war and resolve even minor disagreements with full-blooded combat. Goblins, on the other hand, prefer to wait until opponents are badly outnumbered, wounded or looking the other way (and preferably all three). Put them together in the same force and you have the makings of a WAAAGH! - a greenskin invasion that will conquer and crush all in its path! An Orcs and Goblins army is an unruly mix, formed out of a staggering variety of greenskins and monsters. From the elite, soldierly Black Orcs to towering Giants; from diminutive Snotlings to monstrous spiders the size of houses, the variety of tactics available to the Warbosses is matched only by the sheer variety of troops at his disposal. Regardless of how it is formed, an Orcs & Goblins army is unpredictable on the battlefield. It is capable of smashing aside all opposition in a storm of violence.  So if you're looking for a fight, or some boyz to fight with you, you've certainly come to the right place…  LORE OF DA BIG WAAAGH!  Attribute: Power of Da WAAAGH! : The magical powers of Orc and Savage Orc Shamans are boosted by the positive energies of Orcs fighting nearby. Conversely, if nearby Orcs are running away, their negative energy weakens a Shaman.  Gaze of Mork: Mork (or possibly Gork) gives the Shaman the ability to project beams of coruscating energy from his eyes. Has a range of line-of-sight. Brain Bursta: Projecting violence in a mental wave, the Shaman glowers at his targets and lets loose a bolt of brain-melting force. Has a range of 300 meters (can be increased to 1 kilometer with additional effort) and targets a single enemy. Depending on the willpower of the target they could suffer anything from a minor headache to having their head explode. Powerful willpower will allow them to throw off the effects of the spell with no damage. Fists of Gork: In a fit of fighting fury the Shaman's gnarled fists grow large, becoming harder than iron. An augment spell that increase the Shaman's physical strength and durability. The Hand of Gork: The Shaman's eyes roll back and an enormous, ghostly green hand materializes in order to pick up a nearby mob and plonk them down where the fighting is fiercest. Has a range of 1 kilometer and targets unengaged friendly units, and moves them wherever the Shaman needs them to be in that range. 'Eadbutt: As the Shaman chants and slams his head forward, a wave of potent green energy emanates forwards, forming a shockwave of power that assaults an unfortunate enemy wizard. Has a range of 24 meters (can be doubled to 48 with more effort), and bypasses armor. 'Ere We Go!: As the Shaman chants his gibberish, he seems to visibly leak fighty energy, which boosts the aggressive zeal and close combat prowess of an nearby mobs of Orcs. Has a range of up to 12 meters. Foot of Gork: The Shaman raises his arms and implores the sky with wild gesticulations. An almighty green foot descends to crush the foe, making a resounding krunching sound as it does so. Can be summoned up to 1 kilometer from the Shaman. The foot causes a large shockwave from where it lands. The Shaman must be careful when calling upon Gork. While he can intensify Gork's involvement in battle to a full warpath of stomping, the effects are not always what he intended. Gork might slip and stomp one of the Shaman's own teammates. He might get bored and wander off. Or he might stomp the same area over and over again (Cause when Gork wants something stomped, he stomps it!).   LORE OF DA LITTLE WAAAGH!  Attribute: Sneaky Stealin' : Whenever a spell from da Little WAAAGH! has been successfully cast, there is a 1 in 3 chance that the Goblin Shaman will snatch some of the enemy wizard's magic along with it, which can be used in the future to dispel future enemy spells. Sneaky Stabbin': This spell focuses mischievous energy to ensure blows from the mob blessed by this spell find the weak spot in armor, go right after 'hurty bitz' or sneak in at unexpected angles. An augment spells with a range of 100 meters, it grants a targeted friendly unit's weapons the ability to pierce any armor until the Shaman casts a spell again. Vindictive Glare: Green bolts of purest spite bust forth from the Shaman and streak towards the foe. As the Shaman concentrates his vitriol, the bolts explode, pop and fizz amid the foe. A magic missile with a range of 300 meters (or 1 kilometer with more effort, which also increases the power of the blast). Gift of the Spider-god: Hissing and baring his own fangs, the Shaman calls upon the Spider-god for its wicked aid. As if in answer to his call, nearby allies seem to take on a spider-like aspect… An augment spells with a range of 100 meters, it makes the targeted unit's weapons poisonous. If their weapons are already poisonous, then it boosts the venom. Itchy Nuisance: The Shaman vigorously scratches his armpits, cackling maniacally as he does so, and projects unhygienic discomfort and painful chafing onto a nearby foe. Has a range of 300 meters and makes it very difficult (and uncomfortable) for that target to move. Gork'll Fix It: The Shaman points a bony finger at a nearby enemy, and curses them in the name of Gork. Has a range of 300 meters. The enemy's attempts to wound, to dodge, or defend are all subtly sabotaged (their blade is just off, they trip over their own feet, or don't raise their shield quite fast enough) until the Shaman casts again. Night Shroud: The Shaman throws a black-capped nightshade mushroom into the air, which bursts to form a cloud of pitch darkness. Targets the Shaman and any unit he is with. They are made very difficult to target (save perhaps with AOE attacks) until the Shaman casts again. The Shaman can choose to have the Night Shroud target all friendly units within 100 meters of himself, but this takes more effort. Curse of da Bad Moon: With a chilling howl, the Shaman summons a great pale moon with a leering goblinoid face and large, tusk-like fangs. This summons a small magical vortex which, while initially aimed by the Shaman, will eventually begin moving in random directions. Any unit under or passed over by the vortex is cursed, bypassing all armors. They might simply be injured, they could loose their strength, they might become less durable to harm, or become slower. With increased effort, the Shaman can make the Moon a large vortex instead, and will also be able to choose the exact curse that will be laid upon the victims instead of it being random.  RECON Greenskins will send out various scouts (typically Goblins, either spying on their own or scouting from the backs of their swift wolves). Sometimes Boar Boyz will act as scouts, but they tend to end up charging into the fray more often then returning back with info. Forest Goblins on the backs of spiders can act as spies, creeping into fortified positions to sabotage or assassinate, or creeping back out with enemy positions. The Shamans of the Greenskins can call upon their gods to send them visions of where the best fighting will be. Finally, they may just split up and go in various directions, then wait until one of them gets into a scrap, then head in the direction they hear violence, drawn to it like a moth to flame.  PRIMARY UNITS:  Orc Boyz Mobility: 4 Training: 4 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee  Orcs, often known as Orc Boyz, or just 'da Boyz', are the hard-fighting infantry found at the heart of most greenskin tribes. Goblins are more prolific, but it is the Orcs that do the bulk of the bloody work in most battles. That is okay with all parties, as Orcs are a warrior race and there is nothing they like half as much as a good scrap. In fact, it is hard to get Orcs to stop fighting. They are an overly pugnacious lot and if no one else is around they will pummel each other just to keep their spirits up. Orcs form up into units, called mobs, which are led by the biggest of their kind. Before battle Orc Boyz chant and stomp the ground, building up into a wild crescendo of utter violence. Weapons and shields are clashed together in a growing din. When their leader roars his WAAAAGH!, Orcs respond in kind, using their guttural voices to join in the swelling barbaric battle cry. It is a release of battle-fury and a call for all-out war that sweeps the Orc Boyz into a joyous tide of violence. Offense: Mobs carry a range of weapons - long-staved spears, a variety of bladed cleavers, clubs, or occasionally looted weapons. Defense: Orcs do not register pain as other races do. A typical green-skinned lout won't let a minor injure, such as a severed limb, keep him from fighting. Orcs are so tough and resilient that if the arm can be found and sewn back on (however crudely) it will heal quickly. That's not to say they don't have armor. It's typically crude and battered, but it is still armor. Larger and more powerful Boyz may have more sturdy armor, but it will still be battered. No Orc would trust armor that didn't look like it had been in a least a few fights before. They also tend to carry wooden shields. Special: Variant: Arrer Boyz: Some Orcs carry bows. These Orcs, known as Arrer Boyz, are viewed suspiciously by the rest of da Boyz, for archery is a bit 'Gobliny'. If Arrer Boyz can prove their prowess in combat, such oddities can be overlooked. Still, it is best not to camp next to Arrer Boyz, as a hail of arrows periodically pincushions passers-by. Yelling rude names at Arrer Boyz is a proven way to alleviate camp boredom and the start of many a good ruckus. Arrer Boy Bosses are notorious dead-eye shots that often order their mobs to keep shooting corpses long after their foes have fallen as 'it's good practice'. Special: Variant: Big 'Uns: In many tribes the largest Orcs band together into a mob that is accurately, if not imaginatively, called the Big 'Uns. These warriors are bigger, stronger and even fightier than regular Orc Boyz. Those that survive their stint with the Big 'Uns often go on to become Bosses, Big Bosses, or even Warbosses. In the meantime, they form an elite unit that gains the reputation for being the hardest-hitting mob in the tribe - a claim they are only to eager to show off to any foes or rivals that get in their way. Only one mob can 'be da best' so Big 'Uns are mercifully rare in each greenskin tribe. Additional Factors:  -All Orc weapons are called 'choppas' and are kept in a battered condition - if it isn't already splattered with blood, it soon will be. To an Orc, an untarnished weapon is a sure sign that a fight is overdue. -It is common practice to brag about one's own mob, while rudely scoffing at the other mobs. Naturally, this leads to punch-ups, scrums, and actual combat - which is what the Orcs wanted all along.   Black Orcs Mobility: 4 Training: 6 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee  Black Orcs are the biggest, meanest, and strongest of all Orcs. They get their name from their dark green or black skin, although the title is just as much derived from their dour demeanor. Black Orcs are grim and singularly focused on war - an occupation they take extremely seriously. It can be truly said that Black Orcs live to fight. In this regard all Black Orcs treat other greenskins, even the more battle-worthy types, such as Boar Boyz, as little more than frivolous amateurs. This is largely because less Orcs, even the hulking Big 'Uns of the Orc tribes, are likely to squabble among themselves instead of concentrating on the foe. This lack of discipline is a shortcoming that Black Orcs neither forget nor forgive. The Black Orcs' opinion of goblinoids is even worse, seeing them as beneath contempt and not fit to carry spar equipment, much less fight. Many Orc and even Goblin Warbosses find that Black Orc mobs will serve, but only as purpose suits them. Black Orcs can always be found in the thick of the fighting and regularly do more than their share of killing, however, the price is often high. Such elite regiments are even more likely to depart than other greenskins if the fighting slows down. Worse yet, if the pickings are rich, the Black Orcs will stay, but will work towards supplanting the tribe's current leaders. As they are the biggest and toughest fighters, it usually isn't long before the Black Orcs are no longer following orders, but rather beginning to issue their own. Offense: Black Orcs are armed to da teef, often bearing multiple choppas of various sizes. These are meticulously (for Orcs, anyway) cleaned when the fighting is over. Defense: Heavy Armor Additional Factors:  -Black Orcs pride themselves on being the best fighters and, as such, they claim the lion's share of any loot after battle. Being militaristic and spartan, Black Orcs seek only food and gear of war - leaving weedier greenskins to debase themselves fighting for shiny trinkets and any remaining scraps of meat. -Most greenskins don't understand the kill-joy behaviors of the Black Orcs, preferring instead to whoop and revel in jubilant victory celebrations. This, naturally, just further disgusts the Black Orcs and confirms their belief that 'they are da best'. -The exact origins of the Black Orcs are debated, but the most agreed upon version is that Chaos Dwarfs, tired of the unruly nature of their other greenskin slaves, magically bred the more disciplined Black Orcs. If this is true, their experiment failed badly, for Black Orcs are willful and independent-minded, far more likely to lead than to follow. As the tales go, the Black Orcs led a rebellion against their taskmasters and escaped the shackles of slavery, heading for the mountains and freedom. -Black Orcs are immune to psychology.  Savage Orc Boyz Mobility: 4 Training: 3 Max Range: Arrows Preferred Range: Melee  Long ages ago, all Orcs were savages with no means of manufacturing metal weapons, armor or war machines. These primitive brutes lived a nomadic existence using rudimentary weapons to stalk their prey. It is no easy task to bludgeon to death a great land leviathan using only simple clubs, yet such contests proved immensely satisfying to the lowbrowed warriors. A day full of fighting mammoth creatures followed by eating them was a proper living! When early Orc tribes encountered (and fought) more advanced races, they coveted the superior metal armor and weapons of their foes. Captured gear was hotly contested, though some tribes shunned the shiny contraptions, preferring traditional weapons of bone, wood and stone. When some Orc slaves escaped their bondage under Chaos Dwarfs, they returned to the tribes with a knowledge of metal working. Soon most Orc tribes could make their own metal weapons and those that refrained from such advancements became increasingly distinct. Over the long years, the Savage Orcs, as they are now known, have kept to the 'old ways'. These Orcs wear little or no clothing and their grunt-heavy language is significantly cruder than other Orcs (which is saying something). When they cannot get their limited thoughts across, Savage Orcs turn to wild gestures or even scribble simple stick-pictures in the mud or upon cave walls. Offense: Heavy Stone clubs, Flint-tipped spears. Some Savage Orcs use bows, firing stone-tipped arrows. They also have the Big-Stabba, a two-Orc team weapon that is a log-sized spear, traditionally used to hunt gigantic monsters. Defense: Warpaint: Bestowed by Savage Orc Shamans, the Savage Orcs believe so strongly that these signs of Gork and Mork's favor offer protection that enemy sword blows and arrows really can be deflected by the Orc's self-generated aura of faith. The Warpaint also grants a potent magical forcefield. Additional Factors:  -Savage Orc tribes tend to have more Shamans then other tribes. -Frenzy: Before battle Savage Orcs drum and chant themselves into a bloodthirsty rage.  Goblin Warrior Mobility: 4 Training: 3-4 Max Range: Bow Preferred Range: Sneak Attack!  Goblins vary widely in size and habit, but all are mean-spirited and wicked. They are scrawny and gangly with clutching fingers; the perfect sneak-thieves. With their shifty eyes and whipped-dog demeanor, most gobbos act like the guilt party, even when they're innocent, largely because they spend a goodly portion of every day committing malicious acts, with any remaining time spent denying it or trying to sneak off. As a result, a Goblin's life is fraught with danger. Their grasping nature and penchant for thievery means scraps break out within their own mobs frequently. It is dangerous to turn your back on your comrades, as backstabbing is rife within a Goblin camp. If that isn't enough to contend with, Orcs frequently kick gobbos simply to show off who is bigger. Hungry Orcs are even worse, certainly not being above having a few Goblins to 'tide 'em over' between meals. Despite all this, Goblins are ridiculously prolific and thus accept the steady loss of their fellows' lives as a given - so long as it's 'da uvver guy'. Goblins gather in great masses under the tyranny of an Orc leader or in widely varying tribes of their own. Regardless of whether a Goblin is a lackey under the heel of a domineering Orc, or the member of a distinct tribe, Goblins make for lackluster troops. They can defeat an enemy through weight of numbers, especially if they can attack from a flank or even better from behind. Goblins prefer to attack defenseless foes and shooting arrows from a distance is likewise popular. Offense: Short Swords and daggers, but they prefer bows and attacking from a distance or else flanking or surprise attacks. Defense: Scrap they've beaten into form, or things they've stolen to serve as armor. If they're not using bows, they've got a wooden shield. Special: Variant: Nasty Skulkers: Some Goblins excel at darting forward and stabbing at an enemy's soft spots before slinking away. It is almost magical the way they seem to pop out of nowhere - striking from between a comrade's legs or leaping out of the shadows. Such devious gobbos are known as Nasy Skulkers and are generally thought to be 'a bad piece o' work' even by shifty Goblin standards. Once a Nasty Skulker has latched onto an enemy unit, he will plague it, slitting throats and jabbing groins until he is found out and stomped to death. Additional Factors:  -Goblins are the cleverest of greenskins and are the primary builders among their kind. From the construction of crude engines of war to the rickety watchtowers that guard encampments, Goblins provide the know-how, if not always the brute labor. It was Goblins that learned to stitch beast hides into wings, make wheels for chariots and other dead-useful things. -When it comes to discovering underhanded advantages, Goblins are always seeking some new kind of dirty trick, be it a chance to sneak attack a foe, or gang up on a crippled enemy. -Goblins hate Snotlings. -Goblins are afraid of elves: All Goblins dislike fighting elves of any kind. Elves are haughty, unnatural and 'stink funny', which is more than enough to unnerve such a cowardly race.  Night Goblins Mobility: 4 Training: 3-4 Max Range: Bow & Arrows Preferred Range: Picking on a weakened enemy that can't fight back.  Long ago many Goblins took up abode in the caves beneath the Worlds Edge Mountains. Over the centuries those that survived became distinct in type and are now known by the name men have given them: the Night Goblins. Night Goblins are well suited to their subterranean existence. They range in size, but many are on the stunted side, which better enables the spiteful creatures to move quickly through the tight cavernways below the ground. Night Goblins are easily marked out from other greenskins as they wear long, dark and hooded cloaks, in part to blend in with the poorly lit tunnels, but mostly to protect themselves from the hated sunlight should they venture above ground. Given a choice, Night Goblins only leave their underground lairs at night or when the sun is shrouded by cloud or gloomspell. When they do emerge, Night Goblins launch deadly raids, ambush travelers in mountain passes, and commit countless other malicious deeds. They are particular enemies of the Dwarfs, and the two races share a long history of bitter battles on the mountains peaks and below ground. When a leader arises who is sneaky and brutal enough to focus the boundless energy and spite of the Night Goblins, he can wield their numbers as a formidable (if unstable) army. When the underground tribes are called to battle, the mountains seem riddled with holes, each issuing forth a steady procession of cackling, black-hooded creatures. Horrible high-pitched shrieking issues forth from the caves, as does the unpleasant smell of fungus-beer and moldy rot. The army clusters in the shadows, gathering in mobs beneath their tribal banners. Should the moon emerge to light the vales, it would reveal a nightmare - a teeming mass of Night Goblins. While individually puny, Night Goblins rely on numbers rather than quality. Archer mobs can release a dark cloud of arrows while other units present a spiky forest of cruel-tipped spears. They shriek and howl, eager to jab the enemy (especially if he can't fight back!). Once summoned out of their caves, Night Goblins launch such merciless attacks that all who live within sight of the Worlds Edge Mountains have learned to dread them. Offense: Short bows and Spears. Some carry nets. Defense: None Additional Factors: -Fear Elves (See Goblin Warrior), Hate Dwarfs -While not necessarily nocturnal, Night Goblins hate the sun, and prefer to move about in the shadows or the dark of night. They can move in the day if they have to, but they'll need their cloaks to shield them from the hated light. -In the moist darkness of their subterranean lairs, the Night Goblins are inundated by all manner of molds and mushrooms. Many kinds of toadstools are grown for a variety of uses. Fungus is consumed, mixed in potions, used to fuel glow-lights and used as bait to attract the unusual creatures known as Cave Squigs. -Night Goblins are especially cowardly, even for Goblin-kind. While their mobs might be more likely to run from danger, there are some Night Goblins who overcome their spinelessness through sheer madness. Perhaps it is the lack of sunlight or the proximity of so much dank mold, but Night Goblins produce more bulging-eyed lunatics than all other Goblin tribes combined. -Even among Goblins, Night Goblins are especially cruel.  Night Goblin Squig Herds Mobility: 4 (5 for Squig) Training: 3-4 (2 for Squig) Max Range: Melee (Several Meters for Squig) Preferred Range: Behind the Squigs (Biting for Squig)  Cave Squigs are found far beneath the Worlds Edge Mountains. They are improbable creatures, part fungus and part flesh with spheroid bodies, beady eyes and gaping maws dominated by row upon row of dagger-like teeth. Night Goblins hunt Cave Squigs for a number of purposes. Squig hide is very useful and Squig meat is considered a delicacy. Some Cave Squigs are captured and reared to become guard creatures or pets to affluent Boss-types (no other could afford to feed such voracious beasts). In times of need, Squigs are driven into battle with devastating effect. Captured Cave Squigs are herded into combat by Night Goblins. Incensed to be out of their protective holes, Squigs become even more ferocious. To ensure the rotund beasts waddle in the correct direction, Night Goblin employ prodders, pitchforks, firebrands and a host of noise-making devices such as squigpipes, gongs, or skrittle-barkers. This array of stabs, bright lights, and clanging keeps the Squigs moving in the right direction, and also keeps them incredibly angry. With their iron-breaking bite, Cave Squigs can do major damage, and after all that irritating poking, they are more than ready to do so. The Night Goblins chip in by stabbing over the top of the bounding beasts where they can. Offense: The Night Goblin herder has a pointy stick to drive the Squig in the desired direction, and a large club for defense (either from enemies or a rampaging Squig). They also have nets to entangle prey or fleeing Squigs. The Squigs have a mouth full of teeth, and a bite powerful enough to pierce plate armor. Defense: Night Goblins have black robes, and Squigs have thick, rubbery muscles. Additional Factors:  -Cave Squigs are attracted to the pungent smell of fungi, as it is their primary food source. -Cave Squigs have evolved to specialize in cave fighting. -When all goes well, a Night Goblin Squig Herd can chomp through any opposition. When it goes wrong, like when all the Night Goblin Herders are slain, the remaining Cave Squigs quickly disperse. Driven mad by noise and prodding, Cave Squigs are eager to scatter in all directions, snapping at anything in their way, including other mobs on their own side. Night Goblins, being a bit deranged, don't seem to mind such a risk - as long as it is somebody else being bitten in two by suddenly rampaging, wild Cave Squigs. -The Night Goblin herders hate Dwarfs, and fear Elves. -Squigs cannot be intimidated or scared off by magic or other psychological tactics. -Obnoxious: Most units outside the herders will do their best to avoid being near the Squigs.  Snotlings Mobility: 4 Training: 0-1 Max Range: Thrown rocks Preferred Range: In sight of other greenskins  "If I find out 'oo ate me favorite snottie then there is goon be sum trouble. I wuz savin' 'im, I wuz. Ded clever lil' feller - he could fatchit right quick. 'Course, it wuz never wot I asked fer, but yer could see he wuz eager. Poor lil' feller." -Orc Warlord Grizgutz Badax.  Snotlings are the smallest of the green-skinned races. They possess pea-sized brains and behave very much like extremely enthusiastic and uncontrollable puppies. Snotlings infest Orc and Goblin settlements, scavenging the rubbish piles and stealing whatever they get their grubby little green hands on. Snotlings often nab unwanted cast-offs, bits of scrap or well-gnawed bones and they joyfully scamper off to hide such treasures in some secret nook. When Orcs and Goblins march to battle they are often accompanied by a horde of armed Snotlings. There is a broad spectrum of what the little greenies consider weapons, such as small branches, eye-catching mushrooms or bits of bone. Occasionally a Snotling actually acquires a real weapon, most probably a point stick or small dagger. As they frequently scavenge near the greenskin latrines, known as 'da dropz', Snotlings sometimes find and make use of exploding spores. These fungus balls can be thrown a short distance and upon landing will emit a deadly toxic cloud and an extremely terrible smell. Snotlings want to do their part in any battle, but are not very effective. Their enthusiasm is undampened by their catastrophic results. The undersized greenies exhibit extra vigor when fighting where their larger brethren can see them. With such an opportunity to show off Snotlings pour forth a heightened output of attacks, although this still rarely harms a foe. For the most port, Snotlings harmlessly buffet the enemy with pieces of rubbish before begin slaughtered wholesale. That's all right with other greenskins, although the most familiar Orc patrons are saddened by the loss of a favored 'snotty.' Such rare emotion only lasts for a short while, often about as long as it takes an Orc to scratch its unmentionables. By the time the Orcs and Goblins return to their camp, more Snotlings will have sprouted up anyway. They are, if anything a constant nuisance. Offense: See Description Defense: None Additional Factors:  -Orcs look upon their smallest cousins with a certain amount of affection, often treating them as wayward and mischievous pets. Some Orcs will even capture a few Snotlings and train them to perform entertaining, if rude, tricks or possibly a few simple tasks. The brightest Snotlings can learn to fetch and carry or do menial duties such as scratching hard-to-reach scabs, but they are no use for real work and only serve to get underfoot when they invariably try to help. -Goblins, on the other hand, despise Snotlings, finding the thieving habits of the little runts get in the way of their own, similar activities. Goblins find it harder to sneak about if they are shadowed by a mob of gleeful Snotlings. Worse yet, the runts have a habit of squealfully pointing out guilty parties, showing off the hiding places of appropriated goods and pantomiming murder scenes. To escape a Goblin's vengeance, Snotlings often run between the legs of a protective Orc, which further infuriates the gobbo! -Snotlings are fascinated by the activities of their larger relatives and are great mimics. Although these actions are inexplicable to their limited understanding, Snotlings will cheerfully imitate what they witness. It is common to see a self-important Orc or Goblin Boss swagger through camp followed closely (but safely out of kicking range) by a tiny Snotling impersonating his walk and every nuance in an exaggerated fashion. This aping behavior can infuriate any greenskin, but especially Black Orcs, who are renowned for their lack of humor.  LINEBREAKERS: Orc Boar Boyz Mobility: 5 Training: 5 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee  "'Ere we go, ''ere we go, 'ere we go!" - Orc war chant  The war boar is a stubborn and vicious animal that stands nearly as tall as a horse and is considerably bulkier. It is an extremely tough beast that is notoriously bad tempered, loudly flatulent, wholly dangerous and unpredictable. These are just the sort of qualities that Orcs greatly admire, so it was only natural for them to adopt war boars as their mounts. When beasts lower their tusks and charge, the Orc Boar Boyz will crack open an enemy battleline as easily as a well-placed choppa blow can tear apart a foe's rib cage. In battle, mobs of Orc Boar Boyz fulfill the role of heavy cavalry, able to shrug off hails of missile fire and bring home mauling charges. Boar Boyz are a rugged lot, bearing even more scars than their foot-slogging mates. Many of these old wounds are from their life of battle, yet no few come from their own mounts. Boar Boyz take great delight in showing off their impressive injuries. It is said by some Goblins that, with their long tusks and unintelligent but beady eyes, many war boars have grown to look (or even smell) remarkably like their Orc riders. However, this might be an empty compliment intended to curry favor with the powerful and influential Boar Boyz. Offense: The War Boar has their tusks and hooves and their charge can throw a victim many feet into the air. The rider has an axe or a long spear.  Defense: War Boars have uncommonly thick hides and are covered in coarse bristles or warty growths. The boyz who ride them have some beat on scrap armor and a wooden shield Additional Factors:  -Not every Orc that attempts to ride one of these beasts succeeds. War boars are well known for their violent attacks against any who try to mount them. From a front a boar's tusks can gore, while the rear creature's legs can deliver crippling kicks. While it is impressive how far entrails can be squished outwards by the angry stomping of a boar, it is the creature's thunderous charge that is truly special. The first sign that such a spectacle is about to occur is when the enraged boar retreats a good distance from its stunned victim, turns around and scrapes the ground with its iron-hard hooves. When the war boar lowers its snout and begins to run, even the most raucous Orcs hush in anticipation. It takes some distance to build up speed, but eventually the boar's churning legs get the beast moving at a rate wholly unexpected from such a lumpen mass. The ground shakes with each thumping stride and the impact of the boar charge shatters bones and sends its victims (or at least parts of him) dozens of feet into the air. The constant danger presented by their own mounts ensures that only the most daring Orcs succeed in becoming Boar Boyz. -Boar Boyz love to lord their status over all other greenskins save leaders and Black Orcs.  Orc Boar Chariot Mobility: 6 Training: 4 Max Range: Spear Preferred Range: Melee  By lashing together roughly hewn logs, Orcs are able to construct formidable chariots. It takes two powerful war boars to pull such a blocky construction and, at first, even the thickly muscled beasts struggle. With some grunting and not just a little straining flatulence, the boars finally get the crude wheels rolling. Once the curbing porcine legs have the chariots rumbling along at full tilt, it becomes an impressive shock weapon, capable of slamming into a foe with the force of a thunderbolt, albeit a hairy and stinky one. If the sheer impact of such a hurtling force does not smash the enemy, there are always the iron-shod wheels with crude blades attached, the gorging tusks of the boars or the spear thrusts of the Orc crew themselves. While not as fast as a wolf-drawn Goblin Chariot, the heavier Orc vehicle hits harder and in return can absorb considerably more punishment than the more flimsy gobbo-crewed devices. Offense: See Description Defense: Heavy Wood and Iron for the chariot, the riders have what Boyz have. Additional Factors:  -It's considered very prestigious to ride in a chariot, and more then one brawl has been started over the rights to a chariot. Further, the Orcs who DO ride the chariots tend to be rather insufferable about it, considering themselves above the foot-slogging infantry or even the Boar Boyz (after all, the Boar Boyz are closer to their mounts and are more likely to be gored). They just love showing off their wheels.  Savage Orc Boar Boyz Mobility: 5 Training: 5 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee  Boars and Savage Orcs get on well, as they share an identical world-view and remarkably similar personal hygiene habits. Savage Orc Boar Boyz are formidable troops that combine the fury of the Savage Orc with the thumping momentum and huge tusks of a boar. This makes for an especially hard hitting charge that has been known to break through tough opposition or collapse enemy lines altogether. Offense: The powerful charge of their mount, then laying into the enemy with boar tusks and the Orcs own crude axes or flint-tipped spears. In their frenzy some even clutch onto a weapon in each hand, using their legs alone to clutch onto their mounts. Defense: Although they bear no armor, save an occasional hidebound shield, they are remarkably hard to bring down. These nearly bare brutes can ride through clouds of arrows and emerge unscathed (although perhaps much angrier). Even in CQC they can withstand all but the most determined of blows. This is due to the sturdy hides of the Orcs, the thick-muscled, protective mounds of their smelly boar mounts and their own mystical warpaint. Additional Factors:  -Savage Orcs rarely keep their war boars in a pen, preferring instead to capture their mounts when needed. Before a battle a Savage Orc will stalk and ambush a boar, headbutting the beast into submission. Once captured, many Savage Orcs adorn their malodorous mounts with good luck charms, use dyes to mark out tribal symbols on the boar's fur, or push bones through the creature's lips, ears and nose. All of this makes the already enraged swine even angrier. When not sought for battle, war boars are left free to forage. For this reason Savage Orc camps are surrounded by free-ranging boars, who hang around due to the piles of food they can snuffle out. This is the way Gork and Mork intended, for those meant to ride to battle will always find, and best, a boar.  Goblin Wolf Chariot Mobility: 6 Training: 4 Max Range: Bow Preferred Range: Melee  It wasn't long after they first started using giant wolves as cavalry that Goblin armies began to field wolf-drawn chariots. Cobbled together out of crudely hacked wood or scavenged materials and lashed tight with guttering cords, all greenskins hold such rickety constructions in high regard. To be able to rumble across a battlefield mounted atop a chariot is a clear sign of importance. Many tribal chieftains prefer to ride in chariots, trying to outdo their rivals by having the fastest and flashiest contraption. In battle, Goblin Wolf Chariots are steered into the enemy line, ploughing into units and running over them with ironshod wheels. While not as sturdy as the lumbering boar-pulled chariots of the Orcs, the Goblin wolf-drawn chariot has one huge advantage - speed. The giant wolves that pull the chariots are lean, savage beasts, well used to chasing down prey across the empty steppes. When deployed in mobs, chariots are capable of tearing gaping holes in any enemy unit. A tribe able to employ several mobs of Wolf Chariots can form a swift-drawn wedge of devastation capable of sweeping away enemy battlelines in an instant. Fleeing from Goblin Wolf Chariots is one thing, but actually escaping from the fleet-moving battle-carts is anther. When faced with a routing foe, the wolf-drawn chariot comes into its own, the howling beasts straining to mercilessly run down the opposition and feast on their ruined remains. Offense: Wolves have teeth, and the chariots have ironshod wheels to run over enemies. Bigger chariots may have room for an archer or a goblin holding a spear to jab at the enemy. Some have scythe blades on the wheels. Defense: The chariots are made of scavenged materials or wood. Additional Factors:  -Fear Elves -Uncommon, usually. Unless the mob is very big, very powerful, very rich, or very good at stealing, most Goblin hordes don't have an abundance of Wolf Chariots. -Goblins love showing off with their chariots. They nail trophies, paint symbols, and tinker endlessly to make their chariot the fastest, flashiest, most fightiest death machine there is. While this does come from a place of tribal pride, there is a practical reason: the flashiest chariots are easier to find and reclaim after it has been stolen by some other thieving tribe!  Night Goblin Fanatic Mobility: 4 Training: 2 Max Range: Several Meters Preferred Range: ^^ A Fanatic is a Night Goblin that wields an iron ball so heavy it should be impossible to lift; yet these crazed individuals whaler the weighty orb on the end of a stout chain. The entire gob rotates, spinning the ball and smashing any caught in its deadly arc. What grants the Fanatic such strength is a highly intoxicating brew made from the rare and deadly Mad Cap Mushroom. Once a drought is consumed, a Night Goblin's eyes bulge and his whole body begins to spin. This mad urge to rotate is stifled by the Fanatic's mob-mates, who hold him down until an enemy unit approaches close enough. At this time, the mob hands the Fanatic the end of his chain and chucks him in the right direction. Free at last, the deranged Night Goblin spins crazily. After the initial shove, the Fanatic has no directional control and will recklessly plow through anything, including friendly troops or even his own regiment. Few things can survive the battering a Fanatic can deliver. Eventually, however, a Fanatic will stumble, throttle himself with his chain or simply collapse, dying in a maniacal convulsing fit. Through it all, Fanatics have a crazed, euphoric expression and even in death many a Fanatics bear a self-satisfied and tongue-lolling grin. Offense: See Description Defense: None Additional Factors: -Round and round they go, where they stop, nobody knows! -Fanatics are so crazed they are not affected by attempted mental manipulations. Trolls Mobility: 5 Training: 2 Max Range: Several Meters Preferred Range: Melee  Trolls are hulking creatures whose hunched appearance belies their powerful nature. Trolls physically adapt to their environment and, depending on where they live, their skin can be warty, rocky, slimy or scaly. Despite their many physical differences, all Trolls are hideous, slow-witted and eternally hungry. Being dim creatures with indiscriminate appetites means Trolls will eat anything - they prefer flesh and bone, but will eat wood, rocks, or bits of metal. Not surprisingly, the stomach of a Troll contains incredibly powerful digestive juices. This potent bile is highly sought by alchemists, potion-makers and dark sorcerers. Bands of Trolls often latch onto greenskin tribes, attracted by the profusion of carcasses and refuse. Some are even thrown the odd Snotling or captive - the greenskins do this to encourage the Trolls to stick around, for they are handy in a scrap. In combat they will flail about with their mighty fists, or use makeshift weapons to lay waste to just about anything. Trolls also have the disturbing ability to retch up the contents of their stomachs. This noxious attack sends a semi-liquid spray of bile and half-digested bits upon its victim that can melt through armor and sear away flesh and even bone - it is, truly, an ugly way to die.  Offense: Claws like sabers with the strength to cut through plate armor, and teeth that can easily chew through flesh, bone, and armor. Some will carry large clubs. They can also vomit acid. Defense: Regeneration: The best known characteristic of Trolls is that their hide is able to regrow almost as quickly as it is damaged. If a Troll's clawed hand is removed, a fresh one will grow form the stump. If a Troll is decapitated, a new head forms on its shoulders. You have to cause a great deal of damage to a Troll to stop it regenerating and even then it might reform the following day. The only thing Trolls cannot endure is fire, so burning a Troll is the one sure way of killing it. Special: Variant: River Trolls: River Trolls live in bogs and along untamed riverbanks. They partially submerge themselves in swamps or brackish ponds in order to sneak up on and ambush their prey. River Trolls are slimy creatures that reek of rotten fish, but they'll leave their dank water holes to follow any greenskins that promise them a chance to gorge their bloated bellies. They can also move through rivers and marshes as easily as most move over dry land. Their bodily stench is so powerful that it can actually be distracting to those fighting it in CQC. Special: Variant: Stone Trolls: Stone Trolls live underground or in mountainous regions. They have rock-hard skin and are naturally resistant to magic. Many Stone Trolls wander the slopes and passes of the Worlds Edge Mountains, where they often fall in with the tribes of Orcs or Night Goblins that are prevalent there. They have a moderate magical resistance. Additional Factors: -Trolls can maul a foe, but are so dumb it is hard to get them to follow orders. Savvy Warbosses know that, without help, the brutes seldom remain focused on the battlefield. Left on their own, Trolls are easily distracted  and, instead of attacking, will stoop down to eat the injured or simply stand and drool. Only by barking commands himself, or by tasking a Big Boss to lead the Troll pack, can a greenskin commander come close to relying on the hulking creatures. Even this shepherding isn't foolproof and some Trolls have been known to tune out a Warboss' yelling in order to eat rocks or pull up offending patches of grass.  RAPID RELIEF: Goblin Wolf Riders Mobility: 6 Training: 4 Max Range: Bow Preferred Range: Bow  "Flank 'em, shoot 'em, hit 'em hard, and then do it again for annuver angle. Of course, if da battle is going bad for one side, I'm gonna keep riddin' and act like wuz never there, so yer'd better stick close!" - Gitilla da Raider's advaice to new rekroots Goblin Wolf Riders are dangerously fast, able to outride all other beasts save perhaps the swift steeds of the Elves. Some Wolf Rider mobs use bows to shower a foe with arrows. They lope into range, unleash a hail of bonfire, and then retreat before a foe can respond. Wold Riders often harass the flanks of oncoming troops but have also been known to charge into smaller (and more vulnerable) units such as war machines or enemy scouts. Other Wolf Rider mobs are more heavily armed and armored and these Goblins will dare to lower their spears and attack larger formations, howling as they crash headlong into enemy troops. However, it is often said that the snarling wolves are more formidable foes than the Goblins who ride atop their backs. More than one Warboss has found out that the 'dog boyz' are not always reliable, finding Wolf Riders sometimes are quick to leave the field of battle as they are to launch an attack. Both Orc and Goblin tribes will commonly recruit a mob or two of Wolf Riders in order to harry the foe or mercilessly chase down any who flee the battle (be they friend or foe!). These speedy patrols often range far out from the main battleline, seeking the enemy, probing for weaknesses, and sniffing out small settlements to pillage and raid. Many a large and successful WAAAGH! has been led on its destructive journey by scouting Wolf Riders. Offense: Bows for distance. Some use spears and charge into the enemy. Wolves have teeth and claws. Defense: Running before the enemy is in range. If the Goblins plan to charge the enemy, they'll wear heavier armor and have a small wooden shield. Special: Mount: Giant Wolf: The giant wolf stands taller than a pony and is a slavering beast with a ravenous appetite. Long ago the predatory packs were so large and formidable that they prowled the lands unchecked, holding back the rising civilizations of mankind for millennia. To this day the mighty wolf packs are still a threat, although entire villages being destroyed in the night is now only common on the edge of the wilds or in the trackless wastes, such as Kislev or the Badlands. Additional Factors:  -All Wolf Riders will fight alongside any greenskins, but conversely, they have no qualms about fleeing far afield and leaving their former tribe as the opportunity favors them.  Forest Goblin Spider Riders Mobility: 6 Training: 4 Max Range: Bow Preferred Range: Ambush! "They were already over the walls before the guards knew they were there. The town was destroyed and half the population was carried off to the forest… " -Albrecht Heinz, Drakwald Militia  The dark forests of the Old World are home to many dangerous creatures, including Beastmen, Jabberslythes and countless other evil-minded things. In these gloomy arboreal regions also dwell the Forest Goblins. These distinctive Goblin tribes decorate themselves with bright feathers, the quills often stuck directly into their skin. Different tribes use various colored feather combinations and bear tribal glyphs on their shields and skin. What is most unusual about Forest Goblins is how they are so intertwined with the spiders that live deep in the woods - they are eaten as food, milled for poisons, kept as pets and even worshiped as gods. In battle Spider Riders act as light cavalry, although the shrewd gobbos always look to maneuver into dense terrain. They know that once ensconced in a copse of trees, the Spider Riders will have cover from an enemies' attacks while being able to quickly launch their own deadly strikes. Some Spider Rider mobs are equipped with bows and these regiments typically slink over obstacles or around an enemy's flanks seeing to pick off vulnerable targets. The most aggressive Spider Riders scurry straight at the foe, relying on their spears and the venomous bites of their mounts. When they charge, the Forest Goblins are well known for screaming out of their horrible, high-pitched and undulating battle cries. Offense: Bows and Spears Defense: Leather and Feather armor, sometimes with wooden shields Special: Mount: Giant Spiders: The giant spider breed grows large enough to serve as mounts for Forest Goblins, who capture and hand-rear these scuttling nightmares. There are many sub-types of giant spider, such as Tilean Greybacks, Drakwald Manchatchers, and the Scarlet Deathheads of the Great Forest, to name just a few. All are poisonous and have steely, pincer-like mandibles that can punch through platemail to deliver a toxic bite. While not as fast as wolves or horses, these spiders can move at speed through the most dense patches of woods. Additional Factors: -Fear of Elves (Goblins, not spiders) -Forest Goblin Spider Riders have become masters at stalking their prey, nimbly guiding their multi-legged beasts to scuttle across the treetop canopy in order to get into ideal position before pouncing. Spider Rider mobs are known to ambush Empire patrols, eradicate Beastmen herds or even attack large monsters that encroach into their territory. -The spiders can easily crawl over walls and other obstacles. They can also squeeze through tight spaces.  -The war cry of Forest Goblins can be quite unnerving to some.  Night Goblin Squig Hoppers Mobility: 5-6 Training: 2 Max Range: Several Meters Preferred Range: Biting  Once, in a reckless mood, a Squig Herder dared to leap upon the back of one of his catches. Driven to new heights of rage by the unexpected rider, the Cave Squig responded by a bouncing with unflagging enthusiasm. The rider flailed about, screaming in a high-pitched manner, while desperately holding on. This provided great entertainment and the remaining Herders cheered and cackled every time the Squig nearly unseated its unwanted guest. Although the incident ended with both Squig and rider skewered on top of a wickedly sharp stalagmite, it was an impressive enough spectacle to inspire the onlookers. Thus the tradition of riding atop Squigs was born and the first mob was Squig Hoppers soon followed. The majority of gobbos that try to ride a Squig end up being eaten. However, enough survive the most Night Goblin tribes can muster a mob or two of these unusual troops. Squig Hoppers are an unpredictable lot, sometimes covering much grounded with great leaping bounces, while at others thumping along sluggishly. The riders try to control their mounts, but simply holding on and coaxing their beasts in a desired direction is as much as most can accomplish. When living balls of muscle, teeth and claws do mange to bounce into an enemy, they deliver quite a blow. Squigs use their gaping maws and prodigious strength to gouge and tear, often biting victims in two. The riders are far too preoccupied with clinging onto their mounts to add their own meager contributions. This doesn't stop some Night Goblins from bringing along clubs or weapons, but these are mere props brandished when bragging about their (mostly fictitious) heroic deeds. Offense: The Squigs are all muscle and teeth, easily able to bite a man in half. The Night Goblin may hold a weapon, but its entirely for show. Sometimes, a Squig will get so much bounce in their springy strides that they become hurtling toothy meteors. The impact they make when they hit the ground is quite impressive. Defense: Thick muscle for the Squig, nothing for the rider Additional Factors:  -Hatred of Dwarfs -Are uncharacteristically brave for Goblins, charging into hulking monsters and elite troops with abandon. The reality of the matter is that Squigs are too dumb to know fear, and the riders are too busy holding on to see where what is going on. -Squig Hoppers are held in awe by other Night Goblins.  -Squig Hoppers move about to the whims of the angry Squig, with very little control from the rider.  SHOCK & AWE: Goblin Rock Lobba Mobility: 3 Training: 3 Max Range: Artillery Preferred Range: ^^ Orcs and Goblin were introduced to catapults, or 'fings wot throw roks," shortly after they encountered the Dwarfs. Greenskins are not technically minded (particularly Orcs), but they have great appreciation for destruction. Even as boulders splattered their forces, Orcs and Goblins began to wish for some catapults of their own. Since then, the greenskins have built a plethora of what they generally refer to as "lobbers." These are deployed singly or in batteries to soften up enemy formations, smash defensive portions, or to toss those that offend the Warboss very, very far. A great shot, one that pulverizes a large amount of the foe or sends body pieces flying particularly high, always raises a rowdy cheer!    Offense: Rocks! Defense: Wood, and defended by Goblins and one elderly Orc warrior. Special: Bullies: Rock Lobbers are generally made and crewed by Goblins, often under the command of an Orc Warboss. Being lazy, Goblins rarely finish what they start, so canny Warbosses provide an Orc overseer to see the work gets completed. These Orcs, known as Bullies, are irascible, infirm, and often incontinent old warriors that boss the war machine's crew around. This is a comfortable position for an Orc, as it allows him to crack the whip with authority without doing any of the actual work. The looming presence of a gnarled and muscular Orc helps keep discipline among the crew, as Goblins by themselves are likely to abandon their machines should the enemy get too close. Bullies have proven so effective that even Goblin Warbosses sometimes seek them out to ensure their Rock Lobbers remain steady and focused. Additional Factors:  -The Goblin crew fear elves. -If the Bully dies, the Goblins may take this as a sign to flee, abandoning their machine.    ================= Goblin Spear Chukka Mobility: 3 Training: 3 Max Range: Artillery Preferred Range: ^^  The opportunity to spear large monsters from a distance or to skewer several man-sized creatures in a single shot appeals greatly to the violent and bloody nature of any greenskin. The bolt thrower, or Spear Chukka as it is termed by Orcs and Goblins, is a device commonly found in greenskin armies. Working along the same lines as a giant crossbow, the device fires a single spear-sized bolt at a high velocity. A well-placed shot can bring down a row of oncoming infantry, penetrating the armor of a steel-encased knight or even slay an Ogre with a single shot, which is no easy feat given their considerable girth! Made from wood, scrap metal, or even the bones of enormous creatures, Spear Chukkas are easy to build, transport and maintain, making them popular war machines with all types of Warbosses. When working bits break, as is common with such dubiously made contraptions, it is easy enough to lash it back together. Spear Chukkas can be found not just in the battlelines supporting advancing troops, but also atop watchtowers, mounted aboard rickety greenskin-made ships, perched atop siege towers, bolted onto mobile caravans of the Shiftygobs and other, even less successful adaptations. Every so often a bright young gob will attempt to strap a firing platform and some spear Chukka atop a Giant, but such experiments fail as soon as the towering lummox breaks off a piece of the war machine to use a backscratcher. Offense: See Description Defense: See Description Special: Bully: See Rock Lobba Additional Factors:  -See Rock Lobba -Slipshot: Goblin Spear Chukkas are notoriously unreliable and prone to misfire. When this happens, anything from a minor mechanical malfunction to total collapse and death of crew could happen.  Goblin Doom Diver Mobility: 2 (Catapult), 7 (Doom Diver) Training: 3 Max Range: Artillery + Preferred Range: ^^  First developed as a means for nomadic Goblin tribes to scout surrounding areas, the Doom Diver Catapult has become a dreaded weapon of war. The device, a small but powerful catapult powered by a huge stretchy sinew (often cured Troll intestines), lobs Goblins high into the air. The aerial Goblins are known as Doom Divers, or occasionally 'Bat-Winged Loones'. The height the Doom Diver can reach is largely dependent upon the quality of his hand-stitched leather wings and, perhaps even more importantly, how far back his crew can pull him on the sinew. It has been known for over zealous types to pull the entire device from its mounts - but more often than not the Doom Diver is stretched back to the limits of the crew's strength and let go with a loud TWANG! Ripping skywards like a bullet, the Doom Diver reaches cloud level before beginning his dive. Using his wings, the gobbo spirals and guides himself toward the chosen target. As the downward descent gains speed, most Goblins emit a high-pitched scream that grows louder and more irritating as it plummets earthwards. With worrying rapidity, the black speck in the sky expands into the plunging Doom Diver. When the Goblin finally impacts, the greenskin himself might splatter altogether or, if he has effectively applied his wings as brakes and is a bit lucky, he might bounce. Either way a Doom Diver is likely to cause considerable damage to any foe he lands upon. As Goblins have a remarkable tendency to bounce upon impact, casualties among the Doom Divers are less than one might reasonably expect. There are many unfortunates, though, whose diving career ends with a wet splatter. It is a sad way for a Goblin to go, but it is infinitely better than being eaten by a peckish Troll, and so there is no end of willing volunteers eagerly awaiting a chance for airborne glory. Offense: See Description Defense: Wood and Troll intestine Additional Factors: Arachnarok Spider Mobility: 6 Training: 3 (Spider), 4 (Goblin Warriors), 7 (Goblin Shaman) Max Range: Artillery Preferred Range: Biting  Of the many spiders that infest the wild woods, the colossal Arachnarok Spider is the largest. It is a nigh-unstoppable predator bigger than an Empire townhouse. In the depths of the forest where the light of the sun never penetrates, the gargantuan eight-legged monstrosity stalks and entraps whole Beastmen herds as well as larger prey such as Giants or Cygors. After incapacitating larger creatures with flesh-dissolving venom, an Arachnarok Spider will drink up the liquefied innards of its paralyzed, but still living quarry. Man-sized victims are wrapped into web-casings by the hundreds. So potent is the poison in the Arachnarok's web that a few hours entwined in its sticky mass will reduce a man into a jelly-like morsel of putrefied flesh, a protein-rich puddle ready to be consumed. Arachnarok Spiders have been known to ensnare the entire population of villages foolish enough to build near its darksome abode. Despite its bulk, the great beast can work noiselessly to encircle a hamlet within webs thicker than an Orc's arms. None can escape. Then, leisurely, the creature will feast. Since Goblins first entered the primeval woods, they have been prey to the spiders that dwelt within the arboreal confines. The goblinoids adapted their customs to the woodland environment, becoming the precursors of the Forest Goblin tribes known today. They soon found that packs of giant spiders could be defeated and, over time, could even serve as mounts. The larger Gigantic Spiders could be fended off and, if their broodlings were captured, those could be hand-fed and turned into great steeds for powerful leaders. However, no tribe could stem the onslaught of the Arachnarok Spider. Luckily, these titanic beasts were rare, as their appearance spelt a horrible end for an entire tribe or, at best, a rapid move of camp with many a fearful backwards look. The Goblins reasoned that since the powerful arachnids could not be defeated, perhaps they could be appeased. Eight-legged totems festooned with webbed skulls began to appear alongside idols of Gork and Mork. The Forest Goblin Shamans, having recently discovered the hallucinogenic venom of the tinier spiders, talked about the many faceted eyes of the Feaster from Beyond. With tongues swollen purple from the bites of tiny mouth-mites, the Shamans turned to worshiping the Spider-god. The tribes followed their Shamans in supplicating themselves, and the Spider-kult was born. Although Gork and Mork were not forsaken, in the black thickets of the endless forest the Spider-god soon ruled supreme. Forest Goblin Shamans led gruesome rituals, and the tribes offered elaborate sacrifices. Who knows what thoughts, if any, occur behind the multiple eyes of an Arachnarok Spider, but the eight-legged behemoths did not attack Forest Goblin camps surrounded by Spider-totems. Some crept to the edge of the fire-lit clearings to watch the tribes weave the spider-dance and offer gifts of war blood to the insatiably hungry Kings of Spiders. Emboldened, some Shamans dared approach their living idols. Many tried to communicate and were summarily eaten, until finally the mystical properties of the small Purple Skullback spiders were discovered. By chewing on enough of the bulbous, plum-colored savories, a Shaman either died a twitching and horrible death or entered such a state of shock that new vistas and mindpaths into the Great Beyond were opened. The convulsive rhythms of a mind-numbed Forest Goblin Shaman will entrance an Arachnarok. The great spider will sway back and forth on hunched legs, the image of the tiny twitching gobbo reflected in the black orbs of its many eyes. Under the hypnotic spell, the Shamans discovered they could communicate in simple terms with an Arachnarok. The ravenous depredations of the Arachnarok were ended and Forest Goblin Shamans learned that, with enough bribes of fresh blood, they could call out such a beast. Instead of fleeing from the deepwood behemoths, Forest Goblin tribes began to purposefully seek out and encamp near an Arachnarok's lair. There the tribe proffered the beast sacrifices and used Shamans to coax the enormous spiders out should a formidable enemy draw near. The worshiped spiders grew even more bloated due to the non-stop supply of blood-rich offerings. Many spiders began to remain in their darksome holes as still-screaming food was thrown into their pits. Over long periods of time some Arachnarok Spiders no longer needed the shamanistic rituals, having grown tolerant of the Forest Goblins. They even allowed them to scurry about their hulking bodies, treating the Goblins as if they were young broodlings that needed to be carried upon their spiny backs. Great stick-howdahs were created atop the beasts using green saplings and copious spider-silk rope to build battlements and platforms from which to shoot. Over the centuries many Arachnarok Spiders have become satisfied with their life of luxury, keeping their bulk hidden underground upon a nestbed of their victims' remains and their own foul wastes. Such noisome dens house veritable mountains of bones and dried husks. To Forest Goblins, these pits are the most holy sites of the Spider-kult. When the needs of such an ancient monstrosity are required, the Great Shaman moans and convulses in a summoning ritual. First to emerge from the dark hole are the spider's front legs, which it uses to pull the rest of its bloated and nightmarish immensity out of its loathsome lair. Bedecked with shanty towers, altars to the Spider-god or even crude catapults, the Arachnarok Spider lurches forward to war, to once again terrorize the surface world.  Offense: The Arachnarok Spider's poison is powerful enough to melt through the flesh of even giant monsters. It can pierce them with its sharp legs, step on them, crush them with its bulk, or bind them with webs that will slowly dissolve their flesh and are capable of binding even a rampaging giant. If there is a goblin crew on its back, they likely have bows or throwing spears. Defense: The Arachnarok Spider is protected by a thick, chitinous hide, allowing it to take a cannonball with minimal damage. The goblin crew have feathers and wood. Special: Upgrades: -Flingers: A stone thrower attached to the Arachnarok Spider's back. -Catchweb Spidershrine: A shrine to the Forest Goblin Spider-god, a Goblin Great Shaman mounted on the Arachnarok Spider's back with this shrine will have total mastery of the Little WAAAGH! lore. In addition, he and any other friendly wizard within 200 meters of the Arachnarok Spider will have an easier time channeling magic. Both the Shaman and the Arachnarok Spider gain a minor magical barrier. Additional Factors:  -You cannot intimidate the Arachnarok Spider. -Despite their large size, Arachnarok Spiders can crawl over walls and obstacles. They can also move silently, and are masters of ambush tactics. -Rare  ================= Mangler Squigs Mobility: 6 Training: 2 Max Range: Several Meters Preferred Range: Melee  Other greenskins claim that living underground has driven Night Goblins mad, and it might be true. One thing is for certain - only the unhinged would try to catch a Great Cave Squig, and only absolute maniacs with little regard for life would dare chain together two Great Cave Squigs and then prod them towards the enemy. Known as Mangler Squigs or occasionally Chain-Squigs or Great Squig Knockers, these bounding balls of destruction can tear apart a battleline with brutal savagery. Alternately pulling, yanking, and dragging each other along, the two fettered Great Squigs hurtle forwards. There is a token attempt by the Night Goblins to steer the Mangler Squigs by chaining a few foolish volunteers directly onto the furious beasts. This crew, if they can be called that, preserve some notion of goading the rolling monstrosities in a direction, however this fades the moment the creatures first move, and is altogether gone by the time they hit anything. The chained Giant Squigs produce an impact that is nothing short of spectacular. The ideal end result, at least from a Night Goblin's perspective, is that the Mangler Squigs enrage each other, whirling themselves into a tumbling motion. The beasts build a wild, unstoppable momentum of pure aggression, swirling chain and snapping teeth. Should the Mangler Squigs hit a unit, they earn their name, sending severed body parts and splashes of gore skyward, to the delight of any onlooking Night Goblins. Offense: Teeth that can easily chew through armor, their chain can entangle or bowl people over. They can crush units by jumping on them. Defense: Thick Skin and their erratic behavior makes them hard to target with ranged weapons. Additional Factors:  -Mangler Squigs will attack anything even remotely close to them, friend or foe. Thus, they are usually deployed far away from the rest of the army. -Mangler Squigs are basically uncontrollable by their Night Goblin crew, so their movement in battle is totally random. -It's possible that in their wild charges and killing sprees that the Mangler Squigs will end up killing themselves. They might choke each other to death on the chain, tear each other apart, or slam into each other so much they are literally mashed to death. -Mangler Squigs pay almost no attention to their surroundings, and are thus immune to attempts to trick them with psychology or magic.   The Ironbreakers formed a living wall across the passageway, their backs against the last gateway protecting the hold above. The Night Goblins had tried for days to breach this tunnel, but the Dwarfs had held firm, their nigh-impenetrable armor blocking the feeble strikes of the greenskins, while their own axes claimed the lives of many foul Grobi. The Dwarfs were tired, but unyielding. They had fought the Night Goblins enough to not trust this lull in the fighting, suspecting some new trickery. Sounds could be heard on the other side of the mound of Goblin corpses that blocked the tunnel and soon two immense Squig-beasts emerged over the pile. The creatures snorted with rage as they were prodded down the passageway. When the Squigs caught Dwarf-scent at the end of the hallway, no further goading was needed and they bounded forward. The beasts were chained together, and they stumbled over each other, crashing against the narrow confines. Yet for all their commotion, the tumbling did not slow their pace, but accelerated it to a breakneck speed. Each snarling beast whipped the other around in a dizzying whirl until all that could be seen were flashes of teeth, swirling chain, or a semi-pulped Night Goblin who was tied onto one of the Squigs. The Dwarfs raised their shields against the living thunderbolt, but to no avail - the rotating Squigs scattered the Dwarfs like skittles and smashed straight into the gate beyond with a resounding clang. Although a few of the severed limbs still twitched, not a thing was still alive. The pathway to the Dwarfhold was open and the Night Goblin assault began in earnest. Snotling Pump Wagon Mobility: 5 Training: 1-2 Max Range: Thrown Spores Preferred Range: *CRASH*CRUNCH*  The Snotling Pump Wagon is a wooden fighting platform on wheels. Like a chariot, a Pump Wagon hurtles towards the foe to run them over. However, the Pump Wagon rumbles under its own power, with momentum provided by Snotlings, who frantically pump crude contraptions and cranks to drive the belts that turn the wheels. With spikes, or sometimes a heavy roller fitted to the front, the Pump Wagon crushes any foes (or crew) that fall before it. The crudely constructed war machine is built and crewed by Snotlings. This is surprising, as Snotlings barely know how to use tools, and are extremely dim - often struggling to even pick their own noses. How it is that Snotlings become possessed of enough know-how to construct a formidable killing device like the Pump Wagon should be considered one of the great green wonders of the world. Or at least it would be if greenskins cared about such things; but they don't. Snotlings buzz with strange purpose when WAAAGH! energy is in the air. They instinctively gather materials, heaping all manner of junk in a pile. When the rubbish mound is large enough they begin to build. The Snotlings work without language or plans. Many small green hands lash wooden beams together. In unison they pound broken blades into a log to make the formidable spiky roller. Crude wheels are built or scavenged. With such an anarchic building process, it is never quite known what the Snotling-built device will look like. Whether it is a shanty hut on wheels, a great teetering tower, or a mere wooden frame with planks for the crew to walk on, it still crashes into the foe with the same devastating and bone-breaking crunch! Offense: In its base mode its a pile of wood on wheels that is driven into battle to roll over the enemy. It is crewed by Snotlings. The Snotlings on it carry exploding spores, which they can hurl at the enemy from atop their wagon. Defense: Made of wood Special: Upgrades: No two Pump Wagons are exactly alike, and its possible for a Pump Wagon to show up with any of the following: -Spikey Roller: The Pump Wagon is fitted with a roller studded with sharp spikes. -Out Rigga: The Pump Wagon is fitted with a makeshift sail. This makes it faster but more difficult to control. -Flappas: Crude wings, attached to the side of the Pump Wagon, and flapped up and down by the actions of the crew. This allows the Pump Wagon to make short jumps as it bounces along, in order to avoid dangerous obstacles. -Giant Explodin' Spores: Sometimes Snotlings attach really big exploding' spores to the front of their Wagon, which burst when the Pump Wagon hits anything. Additional Factors:  -See Snotlings -Pump Harder Ladz! : Snotlings can force the Pump Wagon to move even faster by pumping harder, making it hit with greater force. -Hard to Control: The exhilaration of battle can cause Snotlings to lose control. This can cause them veer drastically off course, sometimes into their own side, sometimes into an immovable obstacle.  Giants Mobility: 4 Training: 4 Max Range: Artillery Preferred Range: Melee  Descendants of the long-forgotten Sky-Titans, Giants are large, lumbering brutes that bestride the world seeking battle and food (the one leading to the other in a Giant's mind). Giants can now be found almost everywhere, though they are (thankfully) rare. Giants often settle for a time before moving on, leaving behind ravaged countryside and flattened villages. They live solitary lives, but some of the hulking behemoths are coaxed to join in Orc & Goblin army. Rival tribes will often fight over a Giant, with the big lummox winning, as he eats the casualties from both sides. To most greenskins, a Giant is a bellowing, cursing display of raw might, ruthless aggression and really large stumpy feet - all things that make Orcs and Goblins break out into raucous cheering. There are few sights more inspiring than watching one of "da big fellas" dispense huge portions of violence upon an enemy and stomping them into paste. Some even earn a degree of fame and notoriety, such as "Little Gork", so named because he was once hit in the face by a stone from a Grudge Thrower and has since believed himself to be Gork, painting himself green before each battle for effect. For their part, Giants are happy to join in any army of greenskins, as it significantly increases their changes of eating regularly and getting their hands on strong liquor. Amid the endless battles, if an odd handful or two Goblins happens to get scoffed along the way, no one seems to mind - it's just considered part of the rough and tumble of greenskin life. Offense: The club is the Giant's go to weapon, but they can also stomp on, jump on, punch, pick up and throw (inanimate or animate) or pick up and eat (mostly animate, unless really drunk). Through it all the giants will yell and bawl, which is unpleasant for everyone, as they are both deafeningly loud, and have terrible oral hygiene. Defense: Sheer size mostly, though some may have scavenged bits of armor. Additional Factors:  -Giants are ungainly and clumsy at the best of times, and this is not helped by their love of the drink. Thus, they have a tendency to trip over their own feet and fall over. This is especially problematic if you're the guy they're falling on.  Great Cave Squigs Mobility: 5 Training: 6 (Rider) 3 Max Range: Long Bounds Preferred Range: Biting  Only the most fungus-covered Night Goblin lairs attract the Great Cave Squig - an even larger and more ferocious version of the Cave Squig. The fangs of these beasts are as long as swords and they will snap at anything that moves in front of them. Their hides are tough and leathery and their small eyes gleam with a mad fury. As one might expect, these powerful Squigs are greatly prized, although it takes an equally crazed Night Goblin to hang onto such a hard-bounding creature. As Great Cave Squigs are ridiculously dangerous to capture, to ride one into battle is quite an achievement for a Night Goblin Big Boss or Warboss. The process of breaking in a Great Cave Squig costs many Night Goblin lives, but once the beast learns to accept a rider, they serve as more stable mounts than smaller Squigs. This allows a rider a free hand to fight in close quarters, instead of just hanging on for dear life. When grouped with Squig Hoppers, Great Cave Squigs lead the pack. Although they are costly, eating over twice their own body weight daily (ideally in Dwarfs or the the right kind of mushrooms), Great Cave Squigs are still the preferred mount for any right-thinking (and insanely daring) Night Goblin. Offense: A mouth full of sword sized teeth. It can also crush people with sheer weight by bouncing on them. Defense: Thick, rubbery flesh.  Special: Variant: Titanic Squig The Titanic Squig are among the largest Squig breeds to ever walk this earth, growing to such a monstrous physique that it can rival the size of a small Imperial warship. These legendary creatures have been known to live within the deepest darkest depths of the Vaults and the Grey Mountains of the west. A monster with an insatiable appetite, these massive Squigs are in essence no more than an impossibly vast fleshy maw studded with row upon row of scimitar-bladed teeth. Prized as the ultimate symbol of power and prestige, only the most powerful of the Night Goblin tribes have been known to lure a Colossal Squig towards the ranks of the enemy. Nearly impossible to direct, let alone train, Night Goblin Shamans must resort to drugged meat, often live and unfortunate Goblin ‘volunteers’ or hugely potent spells to overcome the crude instincts of these behemoths. Once the monster is drugged or under the influence of an impressive spell, these behemoths can literally wreck havoc upon an entire army alone, tearing through the ranks of the enemy as the creature consumes an impossible amount of flesh and metal with each ravenous bite.  Additional Factors:  -Great Cave Squigs are immune to intimidation. -If there are Squig Hoppers nearby, they will defer to the Great Cave Squigs for leadership and direction.  Gigantic Spiders Mobility: 6 Training: 3 (5 for rider) Max Range: Several Meters Preferred Range: Biting  The darkest forests of the world are home to the Gigantic Spiders. These venomous creatures grow to an enormous size, sucking the life juices out of prey and leaving behind only skin-husks and bones. A full-grown Gigantic Spider is larger than a troll, and its whole body is protected by chitinous armored plates. All Gigantic Spiders have a poisonous bite that is used to paralyze their prey. Only the most foolhardy would attempt to seek them out, and Forest Goblin Shamans fit right into that lack-of-common sense category. A gifted Shaman, touched by the Spider-god's blessings, will not turn into a lifeless husk, but instead may be rewarded with a clutch of spiderlings. This foul brood, with each spider already the size of a horse's head, can be reared and trained. When fully grown, these Gigantic Spiders are prized as revered mounts for a Goblin tribe's mightiest warriors. Offense: A poisonous bite, they can also spin webs thick enough to hold a rampaging troll in place. The rider usually has a spear or bow, if there is one. Defense: Thick Chitinous skin, feathers and a wooden shield for the rider. Additional Factors:  -The sight of a Giant Spider can easily sow fear -Gigantic Spiders, like their smaller kin, can crawl up flat surfaces. -Despite their size, Giant Spiders can move very stealthily, especially in forested areas.  Wyverns Mobility: 7 Training: 7 (Rider), 4 (Wyvern) Max Range: Several Meters Preferred Range: Biting  At a distance you could mistake a Wyvern for a Dragon, but there is no nobility of spirit in these brutal beasts. Wyverns are cannibalistic predators that are not above eating carrion and this, along with their other filthy habits, ensure Wyverns are among the most foul-smelling creatures imaginable. Wyverns live high in the barren reaches of the World's Edge Mountains, although they often venture far from their bone-filled lairs to devastate Empire towns and farms. When the greenskins see the menacing silhouette of a Wyvern circling high above, they greet it with raucous cheers - another example of the strong imposing their will. No Orc would be so foolish as to try to tame a fully grown Wyvern. However, adventurous Night Goblins raid Wyvern nests to steal eggs, which are traded or subsequently sold to Orcs for a steep price. It is dangerous work to hand-rear a Wyvern to full growth, but they are highly prized mounts for the most powerful Orc Warlords or Great Shamans, who form an unnatural bond with these hideous brutes. Wyverns are voracious beasts that always hunger for fresh meat, and their Orc masters are always willing to throw a few unlucky gobbos into the feeding pit of their lay winged steed. Offense: Large teeth and a massive body that can crush all in its path. It also has long claws, so covered in filth and decay that to be scratched by one is to be poisoned. The Rider can have whatever they want, no one is going to argue with the greenskin sitting on the Wyvern. Defense: Thick Scales and the power of flight, the rider wears heavy armor (if Warboss) or uses magic (if Shaman) Additional Factors: When WAAAGH! Nogdrod descended upon the city of Baltheim, it found the entire Talabecland army arrayed against it. Thousands of soldiers were arrayed in Baltheim's defense, hardy warriors of Talabecland, who stood firm as the WAAAGH! surged forward. So valiant were the men of the Empire that Nogdrod swiftly lost patience with his army's progress. He spurred his wyvern, Snaptooth, forward to the center of the enemy army, where Arch Lector Fedorin marshaled his troops from a War Altar's lofty perch. As the Wyvern's shadow fell over him, the Arch Lector smote his staff upon the ground and a bolt of holy soulfire leapt forth, charring the creature's scaly hide. Dull-witted though Snaptooth was, he knew pain well enough and fled into the lightning-flecked skies - carrying an unwilling Warboss with him. The greenskins, their enthusiasm for the fight subdued by their Warboss' seeming retreat, lost all heart as the Talabeclanders surged forward. The Goblins routed first, to the usual Orcish jeers, but then the Orcs swiftly decided that, for once, the gobbos had the right of it and so began to retreat themselves. Seeing victory in his grasp, Fedorin roused the men of Talabecland to fresh deeds. He called upon Sigmar, upon duty to the Emperor, land and lord. Ten thousand soldiers cheered their reply in once voice, and carried their swords, and spears forward onto the greenskins. Unfortunately for Fedorin, this was the precise moment at which Nogdrod, having finally regained control of his unruly steed, reentered the battle. Bellowing wildly, Warboss and Wyvern burst through the encircling stormclouds like a mucky emerald thunderbolt and slammed into the War Altar with a deafening thud; timbers splintered, iron buckled, and the War Altar exploded in a shower of debris. In the wake of the battle, his aides were to diligently search the crater, but all they would find of their fallen master was a single finger bearing his ring of office. For their part, Warboss and Wyvern had indeed survived, thanks mostly to a pair of thick skulls, and they rose roaring from the wreckage. Nogdrod's victorious cry was answered from every corner of the battlefield, as his boyz took heart from their boss' deeds. Where the horde had been in full retreat it now surged forward once again. The Talabecland forces, who had thought the battle done and the pursuit begun, were caught completely wrong-footed. In moments, what had been a proud-arrayed army of  the Empire was reduced to scattered islands of desperate warriors huddled around their regimental colors, calling on their last dregs of courage to stave off a sea of greenskins. All to no avail.  ================= Rogue Idols of Gork (Or Mork!) Mobility: 3 Training: 4 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee  "By order of Theodemar Untrich, General of the armies of Wissenland, All Imperial soldiers are to consider it their solemn duty not only to slaughter the Orc when encountered, but also to topple all Orcish statuary, lest we leave a worse threat behind us. Any soldiers found in violation of this order will be executed." - Standing Order of the Army of Wissenland whilst campaigning in the Black Tire Pass    Crushing armored knights, city walls, and just about anything else that gets in their way with their brutal fists, Rogue Idols of Gork are the living embodiment of the spirit of the WAAAGH!, gigantic stone and scrap effigies built in the shape of the greenskin gods and animated with their arcane power. Arrows and broadswords break and shatter on their rock bodies as they smash a brutal path of destruction through an army, near impervious to the blows being rained upon them, lacking muscle and sinew to damage or blood to spill. Crudely fashioned from heaped stones and battlefield debris, they are unmentionably fetid and daubed with obscene glyphs and slogans. Some are no taller than a chapel door, the Orcs being too eager to fight to devote much time to building them, but when enough greenskin tribes gather to create a WAAAGH!, as the mightiest of the Orc armies are known, the idols can grow to immense proportions as if one of the greenskin gods themselves has come to watch the carnage their boyz are about to unleash. In war Rogue Idols of Gork loom over almost everything, striding implacably forwards with limbs the size of tree trunks and a malevolent grin on their leering faces. Needing neither food nor rest they do not tire but just carry on, fighting first one unit and then stomping off to smash apart the next one, and then the next one, and so on until the army is either utterly destroyed or its warriors have fled. Such is the erratic nature of these monsters and the fickle power that animates them, that although created by the power of the Orc Shamans their control over them is tenuous at best, and they often rampage where they will, collapsing when the magic that animates them wanes, only to reassemble themselves again as the winds of magic gather once more to storm force, sometimes years or even centuries later. At such times often the only way for a marauding Rogue Idol to be stopped is for a powerful wizard tot bind the creature, but without a battle to unleash its fury upon, his hold upon it is a treacherous one at best.   Offense: Great stone limbs can smash or stomp an enemy into a bloody paste. Their charges can smash through fortified walls or knock a giant monster off its feet. Every step it takes shakes the earth. Defense: It's body is made of magically charged rocks. It does not feel pain and it doesn't know fear. It can basically ignore all but the most potent attacks. Additional Factors: -The Rogue Idol is a massive target -The Rogue Idol is driven by a lust for battle, and cannot be scared off with psychological tactics or magic. -Da Big Un: A Rogue Idol of Gork (or possibly Mork!) is the personification of the spirit of the WAAAGH! Imbued with so much potent Orcish power, the rocks and stone, debris and old scrap that makes up a Rogue Idol's body is animated into a bestial likeness of a mighty Orc warrior, both in behavior and savagery. If it possible to charge an enemy, the Rogue Idol will do so. If there is an enemy to stomp, the Rogue Idol will be there. It does not retreat. It does not surrender. It fights until it dies, or it kills every non-Greenskin around it… and then goes to look for something else to fight.  SPECIALIST SUPPORT: Orc Warbosses Mobility: Varies Training: 7 Max Range: Varies (Usually Melee) Preferred Range: Melee  Orcs are lead by the biggest and brawniest of their kind. These hulking individuals have pummeled their way to the top in a culture where only the strongest survive. Orc leaders do not rise above the knock-down brawls so common among their kind, they thrive on them - at least until they are toppled by a still mightier challenger. Having established dominance over all competitors, Orc leaders take control of a mob or, if they are strong enough, an entire tribe. Any who question the right of the leader to rule must be slain, driven off or spectacularly beaten into submission. Warbosses form a focal point for the greenskin army, as only a tribe's leader can call da WAAAGH!, the deep-throated roar that causes all Orcs to scream at the top of their lungs as they surge towards the foe in a tidal wave of violence and destruction. The best leaders know instinctively when to call for such an ultimate outburst of brutal energy, timing it to ensure the collapse and slaughter of any who dare stand in the way of the greenskin horde. Offense: Whatever weapon they want, with a high chance for a magical one. Defense: Whatever armor they want, with a high chance for a magical set. Special: Mount: Some Warbosses may have a mount, which could be a chariot, a boar, or a wyvern.  Special: WAAAGH! : See description  Additional Factors:  -What's in a Name? : The most powerful leaders are known as Warbosses, though any number of violent activities, major victories or well-known domains are layered into the commander's title, such as Chief Headtaker, Skullkrumpa of da Stunties, or Grand Rula of Spikepeak. Longer titles are favored and the number of bragging rights an Orc Warboss has accumulated can be used to gauge his power level. Such credentials can be slightly exaggerated ('He stacked dead stunts to da sky!') but are never without a basis in fact. Orcs seldom bluff, possibly because they are a bit dim, but more probably because it never occurs to them. They simply don't understand the concept of trying to get someone to back down. Surely the point of such grandiose titles is to draw challenges to you? -Trophies: Backbanners and trophy displays of enemy skulls are not uncommon. Black Orc leaders, being militaristic and dour like all their kind, favor wearing a remarkable set of horns upon their helmets or wielding the largest battle axe imaginable. Savage Orc Warbosses are typically even more overt, often bearing the most impressive warpaint or taking the tribal customs, such as odd body piercings or wearing top-knots, to the most extreme level. Some Warbosses prefer to lead their troops from atop an impressive mount befitting their high status. This could be a chariot, a particularly large and ferocious war boar, or even one of the highly prized serpentine wyverns.   -Quell Animosity: Black Orcs do not tolerate unruly behavior, and will bash heads together to restore order in the ranks.  Orc Shaman Mobility: 4 Training: 7 Max Range: Battlefield Preferred Range: ^^  An Orc Shaman is a living conduit to Gork and Mork and can wield such arcane might that even the crustiest old Warbosses have to be impressed. The power of a Shaman comes not just from the Winds of Magic, or 'da Great Green' as greenskins know it, but also from the raw energy radiated by their fellow Orcs. As they advance into battle, the WAAAGH! energy rises, allowing a Shaman to focus that force through the power of his mind. What erupts out of the Shaman are spells as brutal as the Orcs themselves. Shamans have been known to cause a foe's brain to burst out his skull, to shoot death beams out of their own beady eyes, or to summon an almighty green foot from the skies to stomp and squish any unfortunate enough to be underneath. By using the awesome powers of greenskin magic to destroy an enemy, Orc Shamans earn the right to their eccentricities.  Offense: All Orc Shamans (both normal and Savage) can use spells of da Big WAAAGH! They are also not above hitting things with a big stick. Defense: Magical Barriers. Warpaint (Savages only) Additional Factors:  -A Bit Weird: While an Orc Shaman may be powerful, he is also quite strange. It is as if being so close to the powers of the greenskin gods is enough to unhinge a Shaman's mind. Thus, they are prone to trances and sudden spasms of fitful dancing. This is both embarrassing and annoying to their fellow Orcs, and many (Black Orcs especially) go to great lengths to ignore them, or refuse to acknowledge the Shaman's presence altogether. However, they dare not strike the Shaman, as it is believed to be bad luck (Gork and Mork might be watching after all). -Tolerance: The Superstitious Savage Orcs observe even more rituals and put up with even more bone-rattling, feather-waving dances by their mumbo-jumbo-chanting Shaman. As the Shamans provide them their magical warpaint, such activities are generally accepted. If there is any chance that the magic juju will work, the Savage Orcs will put up with any amount of shamanistic prancing.   Slaughter at Grimspike Pass Engorged with magical power, the Shaman gestured and our Longbeards fell. At its beckoning screech, the feet of some foul greenskin god descended, grinding a hundred Ironbreakers to death. With each incantation, the Shaman's power grew until its eyes sparked with hate and malice. Then, with a crash akin to a thousand cannons sounding, the Shaman exploded. The detonation caused the ancient walls of the pass to topple and fall, crushing all beneath them. For ten thousand kindred dead we swear vengeance against Grimspike pass. No peace until the mountain is mined to exhaustion and the rocks of the pass are as dust. -From the Karak Azul Book of Grudges, 2315 Goblin Warboss Mobility:Varies Training: 6 Max Range: Varies Preferred Range: Sneakin'  Orcs determine their hierarchy in a simple manner - the biggest and best fighter takes control. Goblins follow a less straightforward path to the top ranks, as they are both more devious and more cowardly than their brutish Orc cousins. Underhanded ploys and strategy are the preferred tactics for goblinoids. Although straight-up fighting is still an option, it is one typically reserved for the desperate. All Goblins use dirty tricks, with the best schemers being the most dangerous of their diminutive kind and the most likely to rise through the ranks. Those Goblins that make it to the very top are known as Warbosses or Warlords. Goblin Warbosses in tribes that comprise both Orcs and Goblins are often subservient to their larger kin, but some have developed a knack for placating their over-sized comrades. The cleverest Goblin Warbosses can manipulate the Orcs to do their bidding. Thus, the Goblin becomes the 'power behind da throne', able to aim the violence of the Orcs in any direction he chooses. While Goblin Warbosses might dream of becoming mighty enough to boss Orcs about with a mere grunt and a scowl, only the infamous Grom the Fat ever grew so powerful that he could actually get away with it. Offense: Whatever weapon they want (or can steal), with a pretty good chance of having a magical one. Defense: See above Special: Mount: May have a wolf, chariot, spider, etc.  Additional Factors:  -Hatred of Dwarfs (Night Goblins only) -While Goblin Warbosses are not as physically imposing as their Orcish cousins, this doesn't mean they aren't deadly in their own right. Grottnik, the Warboss of the Broken Nose tribe, rose to power in a typical goblinoid fashion - by outfoxing his enemies. While Grottnik did best Orc Warboss Raggat in personal combat to claim the tribe rule, this was largely because the Orc was significantly wobbly from being drugged. This is typical of Goblin cunning; rivals are more likely to encounter mysterious accidents or manipulative assignments that end in death than one-on-one combat for supremacy.   Hero for a Day Despite his diminutive stature, Goblin Big Boss Snorko the Sneak is fondly remembered by Greenskins everywhere as the hero of the Blood Peak Massacre. Finding himself caught betwixt the duel of Warlord Bludgit the Beater and an Elven Prince upon a Star Dragon, Snorko did as any right-thinking Goblin would do - pulled his spiked helm over his head and cowered. As the mighty dragon inhaled, preparing to unleash a torrent of fire upon the embattled Bludgit, the terrified Snorko was sucked into the Dragon's gullet where, thanks to his spiked helm, he lodged fast. While Bludgit clobbered he Elven rider to death, the Dragon choked on the unfortunate Snorko and died shortly thereafter. Only when the battle was won, and Bludgit's Black Orcs were chopping up the Dragon for eating, was the hapless Goblin discovered. Snorko was pronounced a hero and elevated to the honorary rank of Big Boss in Chief. He did not, however, survive the celebratory beatings. Goblin Shaman Mobility: 4 Training: 7 Max Range: Battlefield Preferred Range: Battlefield  A Goblin Shaman's spells are weedy and irritating, but dangerous - just like the Goblins themselves. While Orc Shamans tend to be seen as trance-addled buffoons, Goblin Shamans are cagey and cunning, if no less odd. They often use their magics to barter for tribal influence. Many Goblin Shamans work their way into a top position, either directly advising the Warboss or even taking the command role themselves. Any greenskin that opposes a Goblin Shaman is apt to suffer nasty rashes, mysterious beetle infestations or some other wicked malady. In battle, Goblin Shamans turn their spiteful spells towards slaying, or at least annoying the foe. These spells are more subtle than their larger kin's, but no less effective. When an enemy fails to charge because they have doubled up with itchy hives, or the weapons of the greenskins seem to dart unerringly for weak spots in a foe's armor, it is often due to the magics of a Goblin Shaman.  Offense: Goblin Shamans (Whether they be Night Goblin, Forest Goblin or otherwise) use spells from da Little WAAAGH! Defense: Magical Barriers, and being far from danger. Special: Magic Mushrooms (Night Goblins Only): While casting a spell a Night Goblin may eat a Magic Mushroom to increase their casting power. Of course, they must be very careful that the mushroom is not poisonous first… Additional Factors: -Goblins fear elves -Night Goblins hate Dwarfs -Just as Goblins are widely varied, so too are their Shamans. Shamans exemplify the Goblin tribe to which they belong. For instance, the Shamans of the Wolf Riders are a feral lot, draped in skins and laden with wolf skulls. Shamans of the Red Cloud tribe ritually use their magic to turn themselves at least half red depending on the cycle of the moon. Forest Goblin Shamans allow spiders to nest in all the nooks and crannies of their bodies. Night Goblin Shamans are easily recognized by their hoods and are known for being particularly crazed due to eating vast quantities of hallucinogenic mushrooms. HEROES & LEADERS: Grimgor Ironhide Mobility: 4 Training: 9 Max Range: Battlefield (WAAAGH!) Preferred Range: Melee "Everfing I see is mine. All da uvver bits are mine too - I just ain't got there yet. When we reach da end of da whole world, we'll turn around and march back." No one knows much about Grimgor before he staggered out of the Blasted Wastes with the Immortulz, his bloody-minded bodyguard. They were tired and hungry, but they were Black Orcs nonetheless, and particularly hard ones at that. They proceeded to take over one greenskin tribe after another, quickly establishing themselves at the dominant force in the region. Tribes that fought well, like the Skullsplittaz, were allowed to limp off, but most, like the Goblin-dominated Bonepickaz or the Red Spears, were smashed aside or annihilated. Soon the most formidable tribes along both sides of the northerner Worlds Edge Mountains were either following Grimgor or had the fallen before his blood-spattered axe. Even for a Black Orc, Grimgor's thirst for war was exceptional. If a single day went by without a battle, Grimgor was known to start camp-decimating arguments, his one good eye blazing with eagerness to find fault and start a good scrap. Two days without a battle and Grimgor would smite anything he could reach, save (perhaps) his fellow Black Orcs. No one knows for sure what would happen if three days without a battle ever occurred, but even scarred veterans tremble just to think of it. This unquenchable thirst for battle is a sign that marks out a Warboss for leadership, a sign that the Orc is favored by Gork. In a hulking Black Orc with unmatched fighting skills and ferocity, it has marked out Grimgor for greatness; the prophet and harbinger of Gork.  Grimgor maintains a tough, elite retinue of Black Orc warriors around him. This is the hard-as-nails mob known as da Immortulz, a moniker earned due to their habit of surviving almost impossible battles (although rumors abound that they tend to go rekrootin' after a fight with a bit more fervor then usual). This veteran bodyguard has seen many battles alongside Grimgor, and they enjoy their grisly work. On the whole, Grimgor much prefers Black Orcs to any other kind of greenskin, but plenty of weedier types have sneaked into his camp when the steely gaze of his single eye is fixed elsewhere. So long as things are going well (which means there are are lots of other things to fight against), Grimgor tolerates the company of other Orcs and Goblins, at least as long as they stay out of his sight. However, when Grimgor runs dry of opponents to chop into offal, the many tag-along tribes drifting in his wake are liable to end up on the wrong side of Grimgor's frustration and his magical axe, Gitsnik. At times like these, the smarter tribes tend to keep well away from Grimgor's camp for a while. Grimgor has slaughtered his way across the Blasted Wastes to the center of the Empire and back. Yet after winning many victories, Grimgor returned to the Red Eye Mountain. Deep underground, beyond where the Red Eye Night Goblins dwell, the endless hordes of Skaven can be found. Here, for a time, Grimgor can appease his need for daily butchery - for the ratmen feed uncountable numbers into the fray solely to occupy Grimgor's fury. Yet eventually Grimgor will grow weary, striking out again in search of a worthier challenge - and when he does so, the world will tremble with fear, each nation praying that Grimgor won't head in their direction. Offense: Gitsnik: This formidable axe came from the forges of Zharr-Nagrond and, despite constant use, has never grown dull. The axes increase Grimgor's strength and speed when attacking. Defense: Blood-Forged Armor: Magic Armor. After being forged, this armor was cooled with the blood of Dwarf Runepriests. This Blood-Forged Armor gives Grimgor a potent magical barrier and is sturdier then normal plate armors. Special: Da Immortulz: Grimgor is always accompanied by his grizzled Black Orc Bodyguard. They are each weapons experts, and veterans of many campaigns.  Special: WAAAGH! : See Warboss  Additional Factors:  -Hatred! : Grimgor and his Immortulz hate just about everyone. All other life exists just so they can fight and kill it. -Grimgor does not know fear. He cannot be intimidated or swayed by any method of psychology, magic, or other trickery. -Grimgor will not join any other unit in battle save Black Orcs, and even then he prefers the company of his Immortulz. Wurrzag, Da Great Green Prophet Mobility: 4 (5 on mount) Training: 9 Max Range: Battlefield Preferred Range: ^^  Wurrzag Ud Ura Zahubu is a Savage Orc Shaman of mighty mystical powers. Known as da Great Green Prophet, Wurrzag is guided along his path by the greenskin gods. He leads tribes to greatness before wandering off to pursue yet another mad plan to advance Orcish kind. Wurrzag's green crusade began to the Southlands when, with the magical energy that arced uncontrollably out of his eyes, he transformed the former Shaman of the Bone Nose tribe into a squiggly beast. As the tribe prepared to ritually eat Wurrzag for his deed, the marinated Orc entered a trance and spouted a tale of long ago, when the now-sorry Bone Nose tribe ruled the lands. The cold-blooded ones came and built great pyramids, driving the tribe away and destroying their idols. Since those shameful days, the tribe had lived under a curse. Wurrzag rekindled their spirit of conquest and, filling in for their transformed shaman, led the Bone Nose warriors to the nearest lizard-city. Using the rubble of the wrecked pyramid, Wurrzag ordered the greenskins to erect two edifices. To this day these same stone-faced idols watch over the Bone Noses and the tribe's fortune has grown. Next Wurrzag traveled to the Land of the Dead, where, after saving the Spotted Skullz tribe, he was presented with the Bonewood Staff. In the Badlands, Wurrzag raised new effigies of Gork and Mork, for which he was given the War Boar Spleenrippa, by the Iron Pig tribe. Speaking with other tribal Shamans at every stop on his journey, Wurrzag sought out the best Big Bosses and the most promising Warbosses. His message was always the same - Gork and Mork are coming, now is the time for greenskins to take what should be theirs. Even now Wurrzag is wandering somewhere in the lands, seeking out and aiding the most powerful greenskin leaders, or perhaps inspiring some unknown tribe to greatness. He travels alone or with mobs of Savage Orcs that have vowed to 'see 'im off to da next fight.' Rumors about da Great Green Prophet run rife and it is said an army with Wurrzag in it has never been defeated in battle. Offense: Wurrzag is an incredibly powerful Shaman who uses spells from the da Big WAAAGH! In addition, he alone can cast the powerful Wurrzag's Revenge, a hex spell that turns Wurrzag's rivals (basically any other magic caster) into Squig-like beasts. It has a range of line-of-sight, and only works 1 out of 6 times, but when it does it bypasses all magic, armor, and magic armor. Wurrzag's magic power increases each time he casts this spell successfully. Bonewood Staff: This bone staff bears many glyphs, and grants Wurrzag minor magical resistance and allows him to avoid miscasting his spells. Defense: Magical Barriers, Warpaint Special: Baleful Mask: This mask contains the Vindictive Gaze (See spells of da Little WAAAGH!), at a medium power level. Special: Mount: Squiggly Beast: This odd beast was once a Shaman that was transfigured by Wurrzag. Not only can it attack with large teeth those who get to close to Wurrzag, but it can also absorb magic from the air, storing it until Wurrzag has need of it to temporarily boost his power.  Special: Mount: Spleenrippa: A massive war boar Additional Factors:  -Warpaint of Wurrzag: No one makes paint like Wurrzag. His warpaint gives those that wear it a much more powerful barrier of defense. -In addition to battlefield prowess, Wurrzag will look to council the most powerful Warbosses on what to do, typically guiding them to what would most please Gork and Mork. -See Orc Shaman Gorbad Ironclaw Mobility: 5 Training: 8 Max Range: Battlefield Preferred Range: Melee Gorbad Ironclaw is one of the most infamous of all Orc Warbosses. In his day, Gorbad led a massive invasion that almost crushed the Empire. His armies succeeded in slaying Emperor Sigismund and wiping the Imperial province of Solland off the map. 'Not too shabby,' as Orcs like to say. Gorbad was hulking Orc who rose to fame as the leader of the Ironclaw tribe. It was he who first built the Iron Rock, the most redoubtable Orc fastness in the Old World. Yet conquering greenskin tribes was no real challenge for Gorbad and so he inevitably crossed into the human land of the Empire. It was his horrific deeds there that raised Gorbad's status, making him a bloody inspiration to his kind and a byword for 'invasions done propa'. It is said that Gorbad could single-handedly destroy enemy regiments and headbutt a war boar into a tongue-lolling comatose state. However, it wasn't his remarkable strength that allowed Gorbad to wreak such havoc. Gorbad was a supreme Warboss, able to drive his troops, whether Orcs or Goblins, to their utmost. Tribes from all corners traveled to join this legendary leader. Most of the truly hulking Orc Warbosses disdain the weaker types that rush to join a successful WAAAGH!, generally considering goblinoids too puny to aid the cause. Gorbad did attract many hard units, especially Orc Big 'Uns, yet he had an eye for when to use lesser types too. He was a master at ordering Goblin screens and Wolf Rider flank attacks. Despite his brawn and predilection for close combat, Gorbad wasn't above winning a battle through massed archery or war machine batteries. He used the troops he had and drove them to do their best. It was this flexibility that garnered the mighty Warboss a bloody and unbroken string of triumph after triumph. Of course, it helped that if the battle wasn't going his way, Gorbad could rear up on Gnarla, his immensely large war boar, and bellow out his WAAAGH! so that it echoed across the battlefield like thunder. Every greenskin who heard this war cry surged forth with renewed and rampant violence, a call to once again rise to greatness and to bloody victory.    Offense: Morglor the Mangler: This magical weapon is one of the most feared weapons to ever be wielded by an Orc Warboss. It bypasses any armor, and increases Gorbad's speed, allowing him to smash enemies to paste before they can even draw their swords. Defense: Thick Skin, criss-crossed with many scars and heavy armor. Special: Mount: Gnarla: A War boar of prodigious size, might, and flatulence. Additional Factors:  -Da Great Leader: Gorbad can whip any rabble into an effective fighting force. He can suppress animosity among troops. -Da Boss 'as a Plan! : Gorbad was one of the few Orcs to see the benefit of strategy. Granted, it wasn't Art of War level stuff, but to the Orcs this guy looked like Patton. -Gorbad acts as both the General and an inspiring presence for his army. When he orders it, greenskins will dig in their heels and stop giving an inch. -Orcs are da Best: Gorbad was such an inspirational leader that he drew in the biggest and best Orcs from across the land to fight under his banner. He was always surrounded by Big 'Uns and Veterans of many glorious battles.  Azhag the Slaughterer Mobility: 7 Training: 9 Max Range: Battlefield Preferred Range: Melee Azhag was a threat like no other. What made Azhag so unusual was his ominous iron crown, which emanated an ancient evil. It was this crown, a relic of olden days, which granted Azhag sorcerous powers and a sinister council beyond the comprehension of any greenskin. This evil combination of Orcish brute strength and a brilliant, if completely malevolent, ability to grasp far-seeing strategy made for a deadly combination. Having discovered the magic crown amid the ruins of a long-forgotten city, Azhag soon rose to ascension in his tribe. Rivals were easily beaten, for the crown whispered fell plans to Azhag. It is true that Azhag did not fully understand many of the suggestions, and often the crown used a vocabulary beyond the grasp of the Orc Warboss, but still, the plans worked to perfection. Many battles with rival Orcs or barbaric human warbands followed and Azhag led his tribe to resounding victory each time. As word of his deeds spread, many greenskins traveled to join Azhag.    It was at the Battle of Butcher's Hill that Azhag gained his infamous title as "The Slaughterer" after he organized a pincer-movement that utterly trapped and destroyed a powerful Imperial army. In that battle, the massacre became so legendary that Azhag had gained a place in the Empire's history as one of Mankind's most hated enemies.   Many of his followers noted marked changes in Azhag. He used un-Orcish words and often tried to explain orders instead of simply cracking skulls and bellowing. The hordes forgave such peculiarities, as the victories were rapidly stacking up. As the crown fully grafted itself into his mind, Azhag felt a yearning to travel southwards. With a growing WAAAGH! at his back, Azhag marched from the wastelands towards the land of the crown's origins. As the evil artifact sought its original owner, Azhag struggled to have a say in his own actions. For all his brutish simplicity, Azhag found he could still, at times, exert his will. So the army zig-zagged along its journey, getting sidetracked despite the protests ringing in Azhag's head. To the crown's frustration, Azhag could not resist raiding towns or rushing headlong to confront armies raised against him. At times when the crown and Azhag's willpower struggled for control, the Orc commander would go into trances or move slowly, as if sleepwalking. More than one of Azhag's lackeys heard the Warboss mumbling nonsense or even arguing with himself.  One of the oddities that the greenskin army grew to favor was Azhag's new habit of reviewing troops before a battle. The mobs took inspiration from seeing Azhag, mounted atop the Wyvern, Skullmuncha, flapping down the battleline. He had a disturbing trait of stopping to give a mob orders that were seldom understood. Once the fighting was underway, however, all knew that Azhag would wade in as needed. During several engagements Azhag flew into the thick of the battle to lop off many enemy heads and turn the tide. At times, Azhag's eyes and crown would glow with a dark nimbus and horrific, un-Orcish spells would blast the foes. Many Orcs found such behavior 'not right.' but as long as they were fighting and winning, they tolerated such peculiarities. Still, some grumbled that no good would come of such behavior, and in the end they were proven correct.  It was finally, after many long months of constant mental infighting that the battle between the Crown and Azhag would cost them both everything. Within the infamous Battle of Osterwald, Azhag had once more diverted from the crown's intended path and headed straight into the path of an advancing Imperial army. It was during this battle that Azhag once again attacked headlong into a mass of Imperial Knights of the Order of the Knight's Panthers. The crown grew insane with rage that the Orc Warlord once more diverted from the invasion's intended route, and sought ever greater control over Azhag. The mental duelling left the Orc Warlord distracted at the most critical moment, and with this small window of weakness, Warlord Azhag was slain by Werner von Kreigstaldt, the Grand Master of the Knights Panther. Without his evil genius to guide them, the Greenskins hordes were in disarray and was soon routed from the battlefield. As for the crown, the Grand Theogonist recognized its foul origins and sought to hide it from the world once and for all. Refusing to touch it with his bare flesh, he took the ancient relic back to the capital-city of Altdorf, where it was placed within the deepest darkest vaults beneath the Cathedral of Sigmar. From then on, the ancient crown has since been guarded eternally by both the ever vigilant Clergy of Sigmar and the powers of the Vault's ancient magical wards. Of course, Azhag can't very well participate in a campaign if he's dead now can he? So, for the purposes of this profile, we'll assume that some great and terrible force has whisked the Slaughter away before his fall, allowing him to participate in the coming Conquest with his fellow greenskins.   Offense: Slagga's Slashas: Azhag always fights with two crude but magical weapons known as Slagga's Slashas. They can pierce any armor and seem to unerringly guide Azhag's hands to strike wear they will do the most damage. Defense: Azhag's 'Ard Armor: Magic Armor, containing many charms to boost the protective power of Azhag's heavy armor. It is more durable then most material armor, and protects him from all but the most powerful magic. His mount can also fly. Special: Mount: Skullmuncha: See Wyvern Special: The Crown of Sorcery: This magical crown speaks to Azhag with a voice as dry as the grave and old as the southern desert. The crown makes Azhag a level 3 wizard who uses spells from the Lore of Death. As the whispers can sometimes contain language far too advanced for his Orc brain, Azhag can sometimes be a little confused as he tries to work out what the Crown wants or is trying to say (much to the crown's frustration). LORE OF DEATH Shyish is the purple wind of magic, and is associated with the Lore of Death. The power of Shyish comes from the ending of things, the slow decline of the soul, and the certainty and terrible awe of death that all sentient creatures must face at some point. Shyish tells us that even though physical form must inevitably come to an end, creation is permanent, and there exist forces larger than our mortal selves that deserve respect and even reverence. Shyish is drawn to places where death must be faced, or where things are brought to an end. It blows strongly around battlefields, lingers around gallows and courts of justice, and hangs in the mournful silence around fresh graves. It is said to be strongest around times of obvious transition, when one state ends and another begins. Dawn and dusk are the most obvious examples of this, but also spring and autumn, and the equinoxes that mark the beginning of the end for winter and summer. It is because of their ability to gain from slaughtering the enemy that wizards of the Lore of Death can sometimes “re-charge” their Winds of Magic, utilizing their expended life force for energy, allowing them to summon greater spells or cast more. -Spirit Leech: The caster chooses a single enemy character (1) and tries to drain his soul. The success depends on enemy overall willpower, with the greatly willful capable of fighting it off entirely. Has a range of 50 meters normally, that can be via more energy extended to 300 meters. -Aspect of the Dreadknight: The wizard targets a friendly unit within 300 meters and surrounds them with a invisible aura of horror, making enemies scared to fight them. The wizard can upgrade this power to make them even more horrifying, so that only the bravest would consider tangling with them. -The Caress of Laniph: Laniph was a Arabian sorceress known for both her capriciousness and passions that haven’t stopped after death. In casting this spell the wizard calls her back from the spirit world and sics her on a single enemy character. While she might just caress him she has a chance of trying to forcibly drag him back to the spirit world. Should the enemy not be strong enough to fight her off, she’ll succeed. Has range of 50 meters or can be enhanced to 300. -Soulblight: Harnessing the sickly power of death, the conjurer hexes a enemy unit and weakens his will to live. This correlates into being slightly weaker and less durable in combat. Can be cast on any unit within 300 meters or, with additional prowess, cast on all units within 300 meters. -Doom and Darkness: With this terrible spell, the wizard has spirits of the departed assail a enemy unit, sapping its willpower. This makes it easier and more likely to rout, along with its willingness to follow orders. Has a range of 300 meters that can be upgraded to a range of about one kilometer. -Fate of Bjuna: This odd little spell conjures the fate of the warrior of Bjuna, a powerful warrior infamous for never smiling. He then laughed so hard his sides burst, perishing that way. This spell targets a single enemy character and causes him to laugh uncontrollably, with the potential of his sides literally bursting from the strain. Should he survive he still has giggling fits the rest of the battle, and thus won’t be totally mentally competent. -The Purple Sun of Xerus: The lore of death’s most powerful spell, this conjures a colossal orb of purple edged darkness over the battlefield.With a diameter of 9 meters, it will then start to roll in a direction directed by the caster. Any that fail to get out of the way die immediately. How far it moves is a bit random, but many dozens of meters easily. The wizard can, through increased casting, upgrade its diameter to 20 meters! However this power comes with a drawback, for death can be incredibly fickle. Should the wizard mess up the cast the giant purple orb will always still appear, but directly on top of him! It will then roll in a random direction for a couple dozen meters, killing those allies nearby (for wizards are usually near the back of enemy armies). Additional Factors:  -Get on Wiv it! : Azhag has no tolerance for in-fighting. -The best of both worlds: Azhag is a commander unlike any Orc before him, combining Orcish brutality with ancient guile and dark sorcery. -Author's Note: To answer your question: Yes. It is that one. If you're familiar with Warhammer Fantasy lore, particularly some of the more recent events, yes, it is THAT crown.  Grom the Paunch of the Misty Mountain Mobility: 2 Training: 7 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee  Gobbos are cowardly and disloyal, but nothing stirs their wicked hearts like Grom, mightiest of the Goblin Warbosses. Stories of Grom's greatness still command attention around any Goblin Camp and if a Shaman should conjure his superlative-sized image, even the most boisterous gobbo will behave with reverence. In Grom's looming presence Goblins will stand up straight, refrain from grumbling backtalk and even limit their rampant nose-picking. These ultimate displays of respect are because, to lowly Goblins, Grom is a living god, the embodiment of everything they will never be - large, ferocious, and idolized. It was not always so. Grom's meteoric rise began when, as a young Boss of the Broken Axe tribe, he consumed a portion of raw Troll. As Troll flesh regenerates and Grom, always a big eater, had not stopped to cook the meal, and the foul meat writhed in his belly. The race to regrow against the race to digest was on. A lesser Goblin would have burst asunder, but Grom was made of sterner stuff. The Battle of the Belly, as the deed came to be known, changed Grom. He grew to prodigious size. It is said that on that day Grom last saw his own legs. Yet so huge and powerful had Grom grown that he no longer needed to see them, and could, instead, order others to see his legs for him! So Grom's legend began. He quickly rose to be a Warlord of the Broken Axe tribe and they spent many happy years plundering the Wolf Lands, the Badlands, and the southern Worlds Edge Mountains. By this time, Grom had taken to fighting atop a chariot, as it suited his grandiose proportions. Many Goblins traveled far to see 'da Great 'Un' and join his exploits and, at its peak, Grom's WAAAGH! contained hundreds of different tribes. Grom carved his name large in the psyches of Men, Dwarfs and Elves, in whose realms he is still feared and cursed. Even now, rumors sweep the Badlands that his corpulent majesty has returned and is once again amassing an army to launch a new invasion… Offense: Axe of Grom: The fabled Axe of Grom is also known as Elf-Biter. This axe greatly increases Grom's strength. In addition, against Elves (of any kind), Grom's axe will magically seek out the killing blow each time.  Defense: Grom has heavy armor over his head and arms, but his massive belly is mostly exposed. This isn't a problem though, as Grom has the regenerative powers of a Troll, and only fire can cancel it out. Special: Lucky Banner: Held by Niblet the Night Goblin, this magical banner is actually lucky and gives Grom and his Chariot a powerful magical forcefield.  Special: Mount: Grom's Chariot: This large chariot is pulled by three Giant Wolves has scythed wheels. It has room to carry only Grom and Niblet.  Additional Factors:  -Eats Elves for Breakfast: Grom has overcome his fear of Elves, and as long as he's around, so will his army. -Grom's WAAAGH! : Grom is so huge and mighty that he can call a WAAAGH! just as if he were an Orc Warboss. It is especially effective on Goblins (all types).   The Challenge of Thunder Mountain Within a year of the Troll-eating incident, Grom was already 'large and in charge' of the Broken Axe tribe. The tribe had grown considerably but had yet to test his strength against the most formidable power in the region - Zhok Gutstabba, Orc Warboss of the Gutstabba tribe. Zhok and his Orcs had recently conquered the Night Goblins that lived in and under Thunder Mountain. Many of the Broken Axe Goblins felt they should run from the larger Orcs or submit to their rule. Grom, however, had other ideas. Grom set out alone, his axe slung over his mighty shoulder. When word reached Zhok, the Orc demanded the Goblin King be allowed to journey without ambush - he would teach the lumpy gobbo a lesson himself. When Grom made it to the Gutstabbas' camp, he found Zhok waiting for him, already encircled by a ring of bloodthirsty onlookers. Grom's size was impressive; he was less muscled than Zhok, but far larger in girth. The battle was short and brutal. Zhok landed a blow with his cleaver, but before everyone's eyes, the gaping wound healed itself. Zhok's dismemberment, however, did not. Grom's takeover bid for the Gutsabbas was only resolved after he slew every Orc Big Boss in the tribe. Grom was so exhausted he sat his bulk down - directly on top of a diminutive Night Goblin. All expected to find just a black cowl and an oozy stain beneath Grom's mass, but the Night Goblin not only survived, he sprang forth with a maniacal grain on his face. Taking this great fortune as a sign from Mork, Grom instantly promoted the lucky Night Goblin to carry his standard. Skarsnik, Warlord of the Eight Peaks Mobility: 6 Training: 8 Max Range: 1 Kilometer Preferred Range: In the background, scheming Skarsnik is the chieftain of the Crooked Moon tribe and the most powerful Night Goblin in the Worlds Edge Mountains. All of the surrounding greenskin tribes acknowledge Skarsnik's overlordship of the peaks, valleys, and upper levels of the ruined Dwarfhold of Karak Eight Peaks. Through devious machinations and relentless spite, Skarsnik has risen to command in the midst of the bitter and ongoing three-way battle between the greenskins, Dwarfs and Skaven. Skarsnik is a mastermind when it comes to laying complex ambushes and setting elaborate traps. When necessary, however, the self-proclaimed Warlord of the Eight Peaks is more than capable of leading an assault. Although a fierce fighter himself, what really makes Skarsnik formidable is his ever-present pet, the Giant Cave Squig named Gobbla. Grown huge on a steady diet of Dwarfs and Skaven, Gobbla will attempt to bite anything that its near-sighted, beady eyes can focus on. Gobbla's massive teeth and voracious appetite can clear a hallway of a Stormvermin assault, or break the most determined of Dwarfish defenses in the blink of an eye. Although it galls Orcs to take orders from a diminutive Night Goblin, Skarsnik backs up his authority when needed, and Gobbla has feasted on dozens of failed Orc challengers. A merciless opponent, Skarsnik is forever devising new traps with which to lure his enemies to their doom. His mere name kindles incandescent rage in Dwarfs. It is said that the abominable deeds done by Skarsnik have gained their own chapter in the Book of Grudges, but the Dwarfs are not alone in hating Skarsnik. The Skaven have made innumerable pacts with the greenskins, only to find they themselves being double-crossed by arguably the shrewdest Night Goblin ever. Skarsnik orders heaps of Skaven skulls stacked into grim monuments to demoralize his ratmen foes. Queek Headtaker, second in command and right Clawlord of the grand ruler of Clan Mors, has vowed to place the head of Skarsnik on his trophy rack. Not a day goes by in Karak Eight Peaks without some plot, probing raid, ambush, assassination or full-scale assault. Yet still Skarsnik rules supreme. By the light of flickering candles made of Dwarf-fat, Skarsnik sits on his iron throne and plots yet more wicked schemes of conquest.  Offense: Skarsnik's Prodder: This magical pointy implement projects the spite of nearby Night Goblins. The Prodder contains a powerful bound spell magic missile with a range of 1 kilometer, and bypasses all armor. The strength of this blast is increased if Skarsnik is within 300 meters of a Night Goblin Horde. Defense: He's protected by Gobbla, but usually he's never even close to where the danger is. He schemes and plots so that enemies rarely get close enough to put him in any real danger. Special: Mount: Gobbla: Skarsnik's pet is a huge and ferocious Giant Cave Squig. Additional Factors:  -Hatred of Dwarfs -Fear of Elves -Sneaky Schemes: Skarsnik is renown for his evil sneakiness, sending warriors through dank, secret tunnels to catch his enemies off guard before the battle has even begun, seeding the battlefield with wild squibs (in such a way that the enemy army is sure to march right in their path), or some other malicious happening. -Night Goblins rally when Skarsnik is on the battlefield, and are less likely to flee in panic.  Snagla Grobspit Mobility: 7 Training: 8 Max Range: Spear Preferred Range: Ambush!  When men from the Empire first cut their frontiers deeper into the surrounding forest, they unwittingly began the bitter War of the Drakwald that continues to this day. The fractious Forest Goblin tribes who dwelt in the hinter regions of that sprawling woodland ceased their internal strife to unite against the enemy. Unbeknownst to the men of the Empire, their deepest forays had encroached dangerously close to the most holy sites of the Forest Goblin tribes, the sacred lands known as the Black Pit, or the Valley of Many Eyes. To stray near that dark and web-strewn place is certain death, for the Forest Goblins will stop at nothing to destroy any interlopers who dare approach it. At first, forest patrols and huntsmen disappeared at an alarming rate. The deep woods were always treacherous, but the men of the Empire were savvy enough about life beneath the boughs to understand that something terrible was brewing. They didn't have to wait long, for soon the Forest Goblin raiding parties mobbed together to form armies. Emboldened by their numbers, the Forest Goblins left the confines of the woods to mount fierce attacks on the nearest human settlements. In turn, fresh troops marched out from the Empire's cities, eager to push the boundaries of civilization further. Many ambushes and large battles followed, most fought entirely beneath the gloomy canopy. One of the rising legends among the Forest Goblins was Snagla Grobspit. He and his mob of Spider Riders, the Deff Creepers, were at the forefront of every greenskin victory. It was Snagla who rode straight into the line of Handgunners and broke the Empire's flank, leading to what is now known as the Forest Road Massacre. It was the stealthy Deff Creepers who silenced the central watchtower, leading to the fall of the walled town of Glomstadt. His foes whisper that Snagla and his Spider Riders can creep right out of the very shadows, and perhaps it is true. Snagla Grobspit is a woodcrafty Spider Rider, able to sneak around enemy armies and launch attacks from unexpected quarters. While all Forest Goblins wail a high-pitched cry as they charge, none can match the horrible undulating cry of Snagla and his mob. Snagla has a knack for picking his way through dense cover and scuttling unseen over the forest canopy. Once the Deff Creepers have worked their way into the most advantageous position, they will dart out of hiding to ruthlessly destroy their target. Of Snagla's tribe, the Redvenom Forest Goblins, little is known. They were destroyed early on in the battles in the Drakwald, for they dwelt on the edge of the Gnarlwood - the lands that were first cleared by the Empire soldiery. If there were any survivors they never returned from out of the woods. When Snagla returned to find his camp in ruins, it is rumored that the Spider-god spoke to him. All that is known for sure is that Snagla took the fangs from his tribe's cannonball-blasted Arachnarok Spider. With these he fashioned a throwing spear and a great spiked club. When the Forest Goblins first began to gather, seeking to push the invading humans farther away from the sacred Black Pit, Snagla and his Deff Creepers mob turned up, eager to join the fight. They alone still wear the distinctive striped feathers and facepaint associated with the Redvenom tribe. Snagla and his mob have a penchant for the feathers worn by many Empire troops. After battle, the Deff Creepers soak these feathers in the blood of their former owners and wear them as grim trophies upon their weapons and shields. With their status still growing, Snagla and his mob travel throughout the vast forest, ever eager to join any battle they can.  Offense: Sting of Snagla: This throwing spear is tipped with the poisonous fang of a giant spider, and blessed by the Spider-God. It can pierce through any armor and go through many men when thrown. It is incredibly poisonous. Fangspike: The large spiked club made from the remaining fangs of an Arachnarok Spider, and blessed by the Spider-god, it is a very poisonous weapon. Defense: See Spider-Riders Special: Mount: Giant Spider Special: Deff Creepers: Snagla always rides into battle at the head of his elite Deff Creepers. They are expert ambushers, but can also charge forward and break enemy lines, and share Snagla's hatred of the Empire. Additional Factors:  -See Spider Riders -Snagla has a burning hatred for the men of the Empire, and he will never forgive them for what they have done. -Snagla and his Deff Creepers have been able to creep around highly alert armies and break into highly fortified areas.   The Sacred Spider Grounds The most revered of all Forest Goblin sites is the Black Pit, which is also called the Valley of Many Eyes. Beyond a series of wooded hills deep in the trackless depths of the Drakwald Forest can be found this bleak and unwholesome valley. Here, the light of the sun never penetrates, and all color seems drained from the lands. The ground is strewn with piled bones and pitmarked with the nest-lairs of spiders of enormous size. It truly is the black-heart of spiderdom in the world. Only the largest of Arachnarok Spiders make their foul dens here, gargantuan creatures whose bloated size staggers belief. When the cycles of the moons are in alignment, Arachnarok Spiders make their way to this twisted wood to breed, traveling from the forest of the Old World and beyond. The Forest Goblins protect this land, entering it themselves only occasionally in order to drop vast amounts of sacrifices into the dark pits. They let the ancient behemoths sleep, and they wake only to feed languidly upon the mountains of sacrificial victims. Such great beasts are only fully roused in times of greatest need. Gtilla da Hunter Mobility: 6 Training: 8 Max Range: Bow Preferred Range: Bow  Some young Goblin leaders leave their traditional hunting grounds in search of richer pickings. It is a hard existence following the Gruntalope herds on the wind-swept plains of the Wolf Lands, and there is little chance for loot or fame in those mean regions. Riding down Skaven clans as they search for fallen meteorites in the open was not enough for a challenge for Gitilla, Big Boss of da Drippin' Fangs tribe. Gathering some other dissatisfied Wolf Riders, Gitilla split off from his former tribe, setting off through Mad Dog Pass in pursuit of greatness. Calling his new mob da Howlerz, Gitilla has since seen many lands. During his extensive travels he has joined countless battles, taking part in the Black Orc Warboss 'Uge-jaw's Stunty Wars, riding as scouts for Gruntaz Boar Boyz army, and leading the Moot Raids with the Night Goblins of Spite-peak. It was high up in the Worlds Edge Mountains that Gitilla caught sight of Ulda, a lone she-wolf of unusual ferocity. Eager to capture the beast to serve as his own steed, Gitilla pursued her high up and over the narrow passes for three days and three nights. At last, driven to exhaustion, the Great Wolf was bested and broken to Gitilla's will. Ulda has proven an excellent mount with an ability to scent trouble, nudging her master when it is time to leave the battlefield. After years on wolfback, Gitilla is a master raider and a scout beyond compare. None can match his sudden assaults or wily feints along an enemy's flanks. With his enormous bow (for a Goblin, anyway), Gitilla has become a deadly accurate marksman. He and da Howlerz are notorious for launching wicked volleys, even while riding at breakneck speeds. Unless the situation is desperate or victory is assured, however, the crafty Wolf Rider will keep his speedy mob uncommitted, preferring instead to harass the foe with deft maneuvers and a steady rain of black-shafted arrows. With his mob's deadly services eagerly sought by any Warboss with even a hint of cunning, Gitilla and his Howlerz still remain unsatisfied. They never stay with any tribe for too long. Bold opportunities, worthier opponents, or juicier targets always seem to beckon from over the horizon. Gitilla ensures his mob never runs out of juicy bones to gnaw upon, yet he keeps the Wolf Riders lean and ever-eager to mount up and ride off at a moment's notice. It is for this reason that, when their paths crossed in the Badlands, the wandering prophet Wurrzag called Gitilla 'da hunter' - for despite his ceaseless raids and plundering, he remains single-minded in the pursuit of his prey, and a great destiny. Gitilla envisions his eventual return to his homelands, not as another rider or mere mob boss, but as a triumphal Wolf-chieftain who will unite the tribes into a single almighty horde-pack and sweep all before him, like the great Wolf-khans of legend. That day may yet come, but until then Gitilla continues to affiliate with other greenskin tribes as outriding scouts, leading them on lightning raids and adding to his already fearsome reputation.  Offense: Bone Bow: Carved from a single piece of mammoth bone and strung with wolfgut, the bone bow is a missile weapon capable of piercing any armor. Gitilla is such a master marksmen that he can fire three shots before most can get off one. Defense: Stinky Pelt: Gitilla's thick, Gruntalope-fur cloak has protected him many times. It's thick enough to take a crossbow bolt. Gitilla also has the agility of his wolf mount. Special: Mount: Ulda the Great Wolf: Ulda is lethal in pursuit and has a knack for escaping when the fight goes poorly. Special: Da Howlerz: Gitilla is always accompanied by his trusty mob of slavering wolf boyz, da Howlerz. Da Howlerz are a unit of Wolf Riders who are exceptionally skilled and speedy archers. Additional Factors:  -No commitment: Gitilla is always prepared to flee if things start to turn bad for his side. -Fear of Elves Slaughter at Frozen Heath: In the bitter winter of 2497 Grand Master Ludo Brecht of the Order of the Hammer had his reputation utterly destroyed. Tasked with halting WAAAGH! Grognok, Ludo deployed a grand army upon the frigid banks of the River Sol and confidently awaited the greenskin offensive. The attack came before dawn, as two score Goblin Wolf Riders splashed noisily across a deep, icy ford and overran the pickets. Howling Wolf Riders swept through the Empire camp, moonlight gleaming upon their filthy bodies. Their flesh, and that of their mounts, was smeared in a thick, greasy coating of Troll fat; ample protection from the winter chill. Quickly they loosed a salvo of arrows, cheerfully insulted the parentage of their foe and awaited the reaction. Duly enraged, Brecht roused his warriors, and barely gave them time to gather their weapons before ordering them to chase the whooping Goblins. As they retreated across the river, the Wolf Riders chanted one word over and over again: 'Gitilla!" While the Troll fat protected Gitilla and his Howlerz from the icy river, the Empire soldiers stumbled and trembled, while weapons slipped from icy fingers. As the Empire vanguard reached the other bank, they looked into the eyes of a horde of fresh, rested Orcs, and realized their folly.   Borgut Facebeater Mobility: 4 Training: 7 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Headbuttin' It's not often that Grimgor Ironhide is impressed by another warrior's prowess. It is even more unusual when he doesn't just perish such an individual on the spot 'to keep his 'and in'. Borgut Facebeater is one of those rare exceptions. He first came to Grimgor's attention when the mighty warlord was based at Karak Ungor waging continual war on the Skaven of Clan Moulder. Grimgor had tired of Skaven slaying and was casting his blood-greedy eyes elsewhere but each day word reached him of an Orc boss who was emulating his own feats in the Hell Pit. Curious he made one more descent just to see. He found Borgut slamming his hammer-like forehead into the snouts of the largest rat ogres while harvesting ranks of Skaven with his choppa. The main thing that pleased Grimgor was the way he was thoroughly enjoying it. When Grimgor left Karak Ungor to go beyond the Worlds Edge mountains, Borgut was at his side - the green slaughterer had found a kindred spirit. For himself, Borgut is a simple creature, brutally direct, utterly uncompromising and subject to wild intoxication in the heat of battle. He had grown in the horde of Grimgor and to him the slaughterer was the living manifestation of Gork, the epitome of all he, himself could hope to be. His loyalty is absolute, to be the right hand of Grimgor is to be the right hand of Gork. Offense: 'Ardlad's Axe o' Doom: Taken from the body of Grimgor's former lieutenant, this powerful weapon of brazen iron hisses with Orc magicks. This massive axe adds considerably to Borgut's already impressive strength, it also aids him in deflecting attacks. Of course, he earned his name 'The Facebeater' due to his propensity for headbutting opponents (or their mounts) when in combat. Defense: Drog's Dead 'Ard Armor: Heavy Magic Armor, is enchanted to be slightly harder then normal. Additional Factors:  -Borgut is good at maintaining order, even if he has to smash heads to do it. Orcs and Goblins are more disciplined when he's around. -Borgut is immune to intimidation techniques, magic or otherwise. -Keep Your Enemies Closer: Though Borgut is Grimgor's most trusted lieutenant, that's not saying much for a Black Orc. Grimgor likes to know exactly where the next strongest Orc in his army is, and if Grimgor and Borgut are participating in the same battle, Grimgor will always want Borgut within line of sight of him. -Do as I say and wot I do: Borgut has fought alongside Grimgor through all his long wars and battles, one of the few survivors of the battle against the forces of Crom the Conqueror. As a result, he and his lads have picked up a few tricks of their own along the way. Thus, Borgot is always accompanied in battle by a squad of Big 'Uns who fight by his side in battle.  Gorfang Rotgut Mobility: 4 Training: 6 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee Gorfang Rotgut is the chieftain of the Orcs of Black Crag, the ancient Dwarf hold taken over by Orcs many years ago. Over the centuries many tribes have fought over and occupied Black Crag, and the most powerful tribe has always taken the crag as its homeland. Gorfang's tribe, the Red Fangs, is currently the most powerful Orc tribe in the whole of the area around the western end of Death Pass. Gorfang has subjugated most of the local Orc tribes but his neighbours are the Night Goblins of Karak Eight Peaks whose leader is the old and infamously cunning Skarsnik. The two leaders enjoy an uneasy alliance, with Skarsnik controlling the mountains around Karak Eight Peaks and the eastern end of Death Pass, while Gorfang controls the western end of Death Pass and the adjoining area. Gorfang is an immensely strong Orc. He lost an eye at the Battle of the Jaws, and wears an iron patch to cover the wound. Many of his battles have been fought against Dwarfs, including the siege of Barak Varr and the attack on Karak Azul. As a result of his long struggles Gorfang has acquired an unreasoning hatred of the Dwarf race. When Gorfang attacked Karak Azul he broke into Lord Kazador's throne room and captured many of the Dwarf Lord's kinsfolk. Some were taken back to the dungeons of Black Crag where they remain to this day, to the anger of Kazador. The Dwarf Lord's son, Kazrik, was not taken captive but was shaved, and his head tattooed with a crude Orc glyph representing Gorfang. Then he was firmly nailed to Kazador's own throne. Although Kazrik survived, the experience has unhinged him somewhat. Lord Kazador has sworn vengeance and awaits the day when he can crush the Orc chieftain. Offense: The Red Fang: The large sword that is always clutched tightly in Gorfang's fist is the blade known as the Red Fang. Some say this was named for his tribe and others that the tribe was named after it. Either way, it is the right of the chieftain of the tribe to carry it and is taken from a defeated chieftain only by a successful challenger. It increases Rotgut's strength slightly, and wounds caused by the Red Fang do a bit more damage then a normal sword. Defense: The Evil Sun Armor: This includes a shield and is bedecked with grimacing faces. Heavy Magic Armor & Shield, this armor gives Rotgut moderate magic resistance. In addition, the faces on his armor twist and move as though alive, seeming to take on the form of the gazer's deepest fears… Additional Factors:  -Gorfang possess a deep, burning hatred of the Dwarf race Morglum Necksnapper Mobility: 6 Training: 7 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee Black Orcs come from the east, from the Dark Lands and the Mountains of Mourn where the land lies under a cloud of black volcanic dust. Some Black Orc tribes have undertaken the arduous journey across the Dark Land into the west, where they have conquered Orc and Goblin tribes. The most feared of these tribes is the Necksnappers under their ambitious chieftain Morglum. Most Orcs are loud and quarrelsome, but Black Orcs are quiet and stern, strong and silent. This is especially true of Morglum who appears to be almost entirely fearless. Morglum is renowned for his short, to the point battle cries and terse tactical observations. At the Battle of Death Pass he led his Black Orcs, Orcs and Goblins to a convincing victory against an errant Bretonnian army. As the Bretonnian duke and his knights galloped frantically out of Death Pass towards the setting sun, pursued by hordes of Goblins, Morglum Necksnapper made his famous pronouncement "Let 'em tell da King. Da east belongs to da Orcs. Da east belongs to Morglum. Da east is green." Offense: The Humie Hewers: With his twin axes, Morglum leaves a bloody trail of severed heads as he plows through the enemy ranks in the time-honored tradition of the Necksnappers. While riding, Morglum is able to swing both axes with no trouble, having beaten his boar into submission in a day-long head-butting contest. Defense: Bulak's Bloody Armor: Magic Heavy Armor, This old and well-worn suit of armor is encrusted with blood that will never wash off. Most of the blood seems to actually be Bulak's rather than that of his enemies, which is why Morglum is now the one wearing it. Still, rumor has it his final fight wasn't at all fair and that somehow the spirit of the long-dead Bulak is trapped inside, eager for revenge. This armor gives Morglum a potent magical barrier. However, if the barrier is overpowered, Morglum suffers twice the damage, as the bitter spirit of Bulak takes his revenge! Special: Mount: War Boar Additional Factors:  -Morglum is good at maintaining order, even if he has to smash heads to do it. Orcs and Goblins are more disciplined when he's around. -Morglum is immune to intimidation techniques, magic or otherwise. -Natural Leader: Morglum is in charge or there will be trouble. He doesn't take kindly to anyone trying to occupy his natural position as general… this could cause trouble down the line, especially if he gets into it with Grimgor. Guy could get his back broken if he's not careful…  Oglok the 'Orrible Mobility: 6 Training: 6 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee Oglok's Orc tribe lives in the Bad Lands and was defeated by Morglum Necksnapper's Black Orcs. Oglok was so overawed by the Black Ore leader that he decided to throw in his lot with Morglum. Since then he has fought in many battles alongside the Black Orcs, leading his Orc Boar Boyz against the Bretonnians at the Battle of Death Pass and against the Dwarfs of Karak Azul. Oglok is a gnarled old Orc whose craggy head bears the scars of many years fighting. His powers of leadership are second only to Morglum himself. Offense: Choppa Defense: Light Armor & Shield Special: Mount: War Boar  Additional Factors: -Oglok is a veteran of many battles, and he is quite a skilled leader, when given the opportunity.  Badruk 'Eadsplitta Mobility: 4 Training: 7 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee More than anything else, more even than kicking Gobbos, ’Eadsplitta likes fighting Dwarfs. They’re good in a scrap so he gets a worthwhile fight, they don’t break easily (not like Elves) so he gets a chance to flex his muscles, and they don’t run away in the middle of the fun. At least they never get far when they try. They are what is known to Orcs as ‘Skumgrod’ – ‘favorite enemies’ – and ’Eadsplitta has made his home in the mountains where he can be near them. The Grey Dwarfs of Karak-Norn know him well – if not from personal experience then by reputation. Actually, he has caused so many deaths down the years that there are few families who have not lost a relative or friend to Badruk or his boyz. It was way back in ’56 that Badruk appeared. Some said he trailed a wounded Dwarf prospector into the mountains. Some think he simply got lost after a raid. The truth is even stranger. He’d been in battle in the western foothills of the Worlds Edge Mountains, in the thick of the fray with the rest of his ladz, hacking and smashing the Empire fools that were trying to stop the green horde from spilling down the mountainside and ravaging the plains below. The militia were not winning. In fact, they were being massacred. Standing knee deep in blood and gore, Badruk roared with the sheer joy of the slaughter. There were few of the humies left now, fewer still that were in any state to put up a fight. In fact, the only one left anywhere near him was a wizened greybeard, all twisted and hunched, trying to sneak away from the disaster. A vicious smile broke over Badruk’ s face as he saw him stumble and fall. With practiced ease the Black Orc followed, moving over the blood-slick rocks towards the fallen pinkskin. One last taste of blood for his axe today. The humie was scrabbling about in an old leather bag, obviously looking for something. Then he found it, and turned his terrified face to Badruk. But the huge Black Orc was already upon him, and as Badruk raised his blood spattered axe for the final blow the humie’ s trembling voice croaked out his last words. “Sigmar forgive me,” he muttered, and threw a handful of sparkling blue powder at the huge Black Orc. For a moment Badruk was blinded by the dazzling glitter of the powder, but silly magic tricks wouldn’t save the humie. Down came Badruk’ s axe with the power of a thunderbolt, down it came to sink deep into the snow. Snow? Badruk blinked the sparkles from his eyes and gazed about him. No wizened old humie, no bodies, no ladz. In fact, completely different mountains, no battle and more snow than he’d seen since he fought with Grablag against the hairies in the north. Quite how the magic worked, nobody knew – perhaps the death of the caster was part of the spell. Whatever the cause, Badruk found himself hundreds of leagues from home. However, being a Black Orc, and a vicious one at that, he’d soon found a tribe of greenskins to boss about. Then he discovered the Dwarfs and the fun really began. It has been years now that Badruk ’Eadsplitta has lived in the Grey Mountains, plaguing the lives of the Dwarf prospectors and traders from Karak-Norn. His small band of greenskins and his tattered banner bedecked with trophies is a familiar, if unwelcome, sight to the local Dwarfs who have come to treat him as simply another natural problem, like the rockslides or the weather. Badruk has even taken to letting captives go so that he can fight them again later. Killing them when they’re bound just isn’t any fun, and if there’s one thing he likes more than kicking Gobbos it’s having a bit of fun with the Dwarfs.  Offense: A big heavy choppa, and lots of slightly smaller choppas too, just in case. Badruk’s skill with a Great Axe has been honed by hundreds of battles in which he has perfected the simple (but effective) executioner’s strike. With the awesome strength of a Black Orc behind a crushing blow like this it’s hardly surprising that some foes can do nothing except die rather untidily when confronted by Badruk. Defense: Heavy Armor Special: Dwarf Trinket: Of the many trophies Badruk has taken from the Dwarfs over the years, this bauble is his favourite. He hasn’t any idea how it works, but there’s something appealing about the way it glints and sparkles, and he thinks it’s lucky. Certainly he’s survived a lot of really dangerous fights whilst wearing it. Once per battle, this talisman can cause an enemy to miss all their normal attacks. Does not apply to magic spells or special effects. Additional Factors:  -Badruk is good at maintaining order, even if he has to smash heads to do it. Orcs and Goblins are more disciplined when he's around. -Badruk cannot be intimidated, magically or otherwise.  Git Guzzler Mobility: 2 Training: 6 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee Shrewd and cunning, the Goblin King Git Guzzler has plotted long and hard to overthrow the fabled brewery of Josef Bugman. In a fungus-induced trance did Git first discover the existence of the hidden brewery. From that day he began sending his Goblin scouts to scour the land. For Git believed that with the destruction of the Dwarf settlement he could bribe other tribes to join him with the beer he'd steal and eventually form a mighty Waaagh! of his own, perhaps even to rival that of Grom the Paunch himself, whom Git has a great loathing for. Git Guzzler is huge for a Goblin, his mighty girth allowing him to push round his diminutive kin and even bully weak-willed Ores to do his bidding. He is also a fierce and dirty fighter, prone to outbursts of needless anger, which he often takes out on his nearest unfortunate minion.  Offense: Da Wicked Edge: Guzzler's lethal magic axe has been sharpened to an impossible edge. It cuts through plate and mail with ease. Defense: Ugbrag's Lucky Shield: Ugbrag had this shield made for him by a captured Dwarf smith, but the smith forgot' to tell him that the enchantment only worked once in each battle…With this shield, the first attack to hit him, no matter how powerful, is totally ignored. Only works once per battle. Beer Gut: From supping large quantities of ale, Git Guzzler has an impressive beer gut. This disgusting flab offers some protection against the blades and arrows of his enemies. Special: Guzzler's Bad Brew: This is one of Git's own concoctions, so potent that any ordinary Goblin drinking it would be knocked unconscious from the slightest sip. For Git, supping from this brew may increase his strength or durability, it could send him into a rage or a blood-crazed frenzy, or it may make him blind stupid drunk. Additional Factors:  -Git fears elves -Wrathful: 'The Git', as he is sometimes known, is miserable and prone to bouts of violent anger, brought on when he is drunk on his brews or sobering from their effects. -Git Guzzler and those with him will not panic. -Due to his girth, Git moves rather slowly in battle.    ================= Kap'n Skabend & Slygit Mobility: 4 Training: 5 / 3 Max Range: Pistol / Knife Preferred Range: Melee Skabend is a malicious and calculating goblin. He has plagued the rivers of the Empire for many long years and grown wily and cunning in that time. His River Ratz are loyal and fearful of him. He is keen to catch up with his arch-enemy (the Dwarf Grim “Dead-eye” Grunnson) once more, having developed a persistent itch where his hand used to be. In battle he dons all the trappings of a traditional pirate, even down to a small parrot-like Squig called Skreek which site upon Skabends shoulder. Diminutive even by Goblin standards, Slygit is Skabend's not-so-trusted first mate. The only reason Skabend keeps him around is that the rest of the River Ratz have got quite attached to him, He was once struck by lightning while they war out on the river in a storm and miraculously survived. Since that fateful night the River Ratz believed that Slygit was blessed by Mork and is regarded as something of a lucky mascot. Offense: Skabend has Hacka's Sword of Hackin' : It was said, mostly by Hacka, that he fought alongside Azhag, and was the one who first proclaimed him 'the Slaughterer'. He also mentioned single-handedly killing Sigmar and being a drinking buddy of Gork (or possibly Mork). Whatever the truth, Hacka acquired this slender and rather Elven looking sword from somewhere strange and nobody ever felt much like asking where. Not after the last time, anyway. This sword is able to find gaps in the enemy's defense, regardless of the wielders weapon skill. He also has a hook for a hand and a flintlock pistol. Slygit has a pair of small knives that he uses to hack at the knees of his enemies. Defense: Skabend has light armor, Slygit is very lucky. Special: Skreek, Parrot Squig: A peculiar variation of the Squig, Skreek resembles a skinny, squig-like bird. His tiny wings are so small that he cannot fly very well but often flaps about in mid-air for a few seconds whilst he shouts warnings no his master. With this forewarning, Skabend is one step ahead of his enemies and can avoid their attacks. Special: Slygit's Bana: Slygit wears the Red liana on his back. It waves In the air madly as he cavorts and jumps all over the place, and is a source of much pride to the River Ratz. All Goblins who see Slygit resist panicking and rally. Additional Factors: -Enmity: Skahend has a deep abiding hatred of Grim “Dead-eye” Grunnson, it was him that gave him the hook hand that causes him so much discomfort. As such Skabend is scouring the river, waiting for the day that Grim crosses his path again. -Both have a fear of elves -Both are experienced at ship to ship combat. -Troglagobs: Skabend is drawn to the river like a moth to a flame. He is distantly descended from a scarcely- known species of Goblins called Troglagobs, which are natural river dwellers. Because of this, Skabend is almost semi-aquatic and swims with ease. -Lucky Git: Slygit is possibly the luckiest Goblin ever co have walked the face of the Old World. Certainly he has avoided death at the hands of his master many times!  Grabnatz Sourbelly & Gulag Mobility: 4 Training: 5 Max Range: Several Hundred Meters / Melee  Preferred Range: ^^ Grabnatz regards himself as the `Gratist Goblin Mind of Iz Time'. He is obsessed with experimentation, in particular the concoction of potions. He watches the Dwarfs and the men of the Empire with jealous eyes with their mastery of the fabled black powder. Inspired by the attack on the Dwarf Bugman's brewery, he has concocted a number of fungus brews. Trying many of the brews upon himself has had adverse effects on his digestive system. Not all his potions are useless, and certain among them have proven to have an explosive, if unpredictable, potential. Gulag is Grabnatz's faithful bodyguard. Dim-witted at best, Gulag is employed purely for his muscle and seldom leaves the Shaman's side, such is Grabnatz paranoia that someone will try to get at him for his inventive ideas. Offense: Grabnatz has a staff and a short sword, he is also a minor wizard who uses spells from the Lore of the Little WAAAGH! Staff of Sneaky Stealin' : Goblins are well known for their ability to treat other peoples' property as their own and this generous trait even extends to magical power. Grabnatz can use this staff to steal power from enemy magic users for his own use. Gulag has a choppa. Defense: Grabnatz uses magical barriers, Gulag has light armor and a shield. Gulag's head is especially hard and empty, and any injury to his head is usually just shaken off and ignored. Special: Dangly Wotnotz: This necklace made up of gnarled and splintered teeth, bits of broken bone and shattered beads is riddled with sorcerous power. Once during a battle, Grabnatz can draw on the energy in this trinket to give his spells a minor boost. Additional Factors:  -Grabnatz is afraid of elves.  -Bodyguard: Gulag is Grabnatz's bodyguard. Not the brightest of Orcs, he suffers being bullied and pushed around by Grabnatz quite gladly. He will always remain within CQC range of Grabnatz. -Gut Rot: The foul smelling brews Grabnatz has inflicted upon himself have meant he is troubled by a constant, chronic belly ache and is prone to noxious emissions from drinking his fungus brew. All units within CQC suffer in attempts to hit him.  Grotsnag Mobility: 6 Training: 5 Max Range: Short Bow Preferred Range: Taunting Self proclaimed 'Scourge of da Black Mountins' and leader of the Red Tooth Bandits, Grotsnag fancies himself as something of a Goblin folk hero. He leads a small raiding force of Wolf Riders in the mountains and launches frequent ambushes throughout the southern Empire against Man and Dwarf alike. Despite his overblown opinion of himself, Grotsnag is cunning and possesses an uncanny knack of taunting his quarry into foolish and rash decisions, making them easy meat for him and his boyz. Offense: Wollopa's One Hit Wunda: Around the campfire, after the Orcs have drunk too much fungus beer to clout them, the Gobbos will talk in hushed tones of the rebellious Wollopa, of his tremendous weapon and his even more awesome ability to outrun even the fastest boar when he missed his target. It's a magic throwing stick that does more damage then a normal thrown stick. Grotsnag also has a short bow and is a moderate wizard in the Lore of da Little WAAAGH! Defense: Light Armor & Shield Special: Nobbla's 'Elmet: Given that it was made by Gobbos. Nobbla's 'Elmer is a fantastic piece of worksmanship - given that is was made by Gobbos. This helmet gives Grotsnag a powerful defense against both magic and non-magic attacks. Special: Taunt: Grotsnag has perfected an annoying method of taunting his enemies. He rains a barrage of insults, stupid faces and rude noises upon them to force his enemies to attack, leaving them vulnerable and exposed as he canters away, blowing a parting raspberry. Special: Mount: Snarler: A large wolf Additional Factors:  -Grotsnag has a deep fear of elves.  Durkol Eye-gouger Mobility: 4 Training: 7 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee Durkol is one of Da Immortalz, a trusted band of Black Orc warriors who have spent many years fighting in the name of Grimgor Ironhide. At the moment, he is tasked with keeping order and collecting tribute in and around the Howling Hills - a job only made bearable by the constant beatings he administers to "troublesome" Goblins. As Durkol regards all Goblins as troublesome, his whip arm is never short of exercise. Offense: Two large choppas, a great sword, and various smaller weapons. Defense: Heavy Armor Special: Collar of Zorga: This studded collar is inscribed with ancient glyphs entwined with the shapes of mysterious beasts. The wearer can stare imperiously at any beast that dares confront him and say, “Don even fink abart it!” or something like that, and the beast cowers before him. Works on mounts, warbeasts, monsters, and monstrous beasts, unless their handlers are really, really good at their job. Special: Bigged's Kickin' Boot: Bigged - an old and boastful Orc - made his last boast in front of an Empire cannon. Only his boots were recovered. His vengeful spirit lives on (the odor of his feet lingers forever). Gives Durkol a very powerful kick. Additional Factors:  -Durkol can quell even the rowdiest of Boyz and get them to fight disciplined right. -Durkol is immune to attempts to sway his mind, magical or otherwise. -Durkol has a strong burning hatred for all non-Orc life.  Grotfanger Mobility: 6 Training: 6 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee Grotfang is the Waaagh-boss of the Iron Fist tribe. The tribe was one of the most powerful ones, until margrave Frederik managed to besiege and successfully capture their fortress. Grotfang and a few of his tribe were lucky enough to escape. The margrave left the fortress and the captured land, which is considered sacred to Gork and Mork by the Orcs, to his subordinates to make a living for himself. The rest of the once proud Iron Fist tribe fumes with rage and expects Grotfang to lead a revenge campaign against the humans. Grotfang knows that if he wants to keep his position as Waaagh-boss, he has to act quickly and re-capture his tribe's former lands. Offense: Martog's Best Basha: Old Warboss Martog the Mauler had a vast collection of weapons – most of which were stolen from other owners. His most favouritist of all was a massive Dwarfen axe, heavy with runes and (since Martog’s possession of it) Dwarven blood. It increases Grotfang's strength, skill, and initiative. Defense: Light Armor & Shield Special: Mount: War Boar Additional Factors: Uzguz - Leader of the Scabbie Boyz Mobility: 6 Training: 6 Max Range: Melee Preferred Range: Melee Uzguz is the chieftain of a nomadic savage Orc tribe. His boyz roam the lands in search for easy pickings and oftentimes ally with other tribes if this serves their cause. Uzguz is not very bright, even for Orc standards and thus he relies on Nazgob's intelligence – which actually isn't any better. Uzguz has started to question Nazgob's qualities as a shaman and adviser recently, leading to a rapidly growing tension in the tribe. Offense: Shaga's Screamin' Sword: Uzguz wields a huge blade, which apparently makes him stronger, the more he rants and insults his foes. Defense: Light Armor & Shield Special: Mount: War Boar Additional Factors:  -Long Live Our Boss! : Although Uzguz is the leader of a rather small Orc tribe, his people show respect and loyalty uncommon to any Orc individuals. Nazgob - Savage Orc Shaman Mobility: 4 Training: 7 Max Range: Battlefield Preferred Range: Melee Nazgob is Uzguz’s adviser. Most of the time he can be found in one of the many dark and damp mushroom caves somewhere in the wilderness, where he makes plans with other shamans. Therefore he is always up to date on what is going on in his vicinity – and he can tell the boyz which heads they can bash. Recently though Uzguz has begun to question his advice, and started thinking for himself more and more, leading to a rapidly growing tension in the tribe. Offense: Nazgob is a moderately powerful wizard who uses Lore of da Big WAAAGH! He also carries a choppa Defense: Magical Barriers Special: Skull Wand of Kaloth: Originally captured from the Necromancer Kaloth, this staff fascinated the Goblin Shaman Kazgi, who spent long hours trying to plumb its secrets — that is until his mysterious disappearance. At first glance this skull on a stick seems like any other Shaman's fetish, at least it does until the ancient headbone's eye sockets gleam with an unearthly glow. Then the jawbone moves and a voice as dry and raspy as the ages gone rattles out. It speaks in a language long forgotten, but its words hold a fell power that even simple beasts might recognize and rightfully fear: Should you be close enough to hear it tell its dread secrets and mouth its unholy curse, then that will be the last thing you ever hear, for its words are death. Should an enemy get within CQC range, the Wand can cast a curse on them. They must muster their willpower or else die instantly. Additional Factors:  -Nazgob spends most of any battle is a frothing frenzy.  Snagga - Big Orc Boss Mobility: 6 Training: 6 Max Range: Battlefield Preferred Range: Melee Snagga is regarded as one of Grotfang's best bosses. Snagga committed himself to move deeply into the old territories of his clan, which are now populated by humans in order to create as much chaos and mayhem as possible. Because of this he has gathered some of the hardest, meanest and brutal clan members to his cause. Offense: Large Choppas Defense: Light Armor & Shield Special: Mount: War Boar Special: The Horn of Urgok: Snagga possess a warhorn, carved in the form of a wild and wide opened mouth and painted with colorful Orc glyphs by Orc and goblin shamans. This enchanted item contains a powerful spell. When sounded, all friendly units rally and all enemy units feel a spike of fear in their hearts. With each use, their is a small chance that the magic will rebound on the bearer causing some damage. Additional Factors: -Snagga is especially cruel to those smaller then him, even by Greenskin standards. Goblins tend to avoid him altogether.  Oddgit - Night Goblin Shaman Mobility: 4 Training: 7 Max Range: Battlefield Preferred Range: ^^ Oddgit is one of Grotfang's followers and acts as his advisor. As a shaman of the Night Goblin kindred, he has great influence over the Night Goblin tribes that forged an alliance with the Iron Fist tribe. Oddgit is a loyal servant and totally convinced of Grotfang's qualities as a leader – as long as the Waaagh-boss listens to his wise council at least! Offense: A moderately powerful user of the Lore of the Little WAAGH! He will also carry a knife or staff for melee Defense: Magical Barriers, being sneaky and staying behind the bigger units Special: Aaaaargh!-Mushrooms: Oddgit has a big bag full of carefully collected Aaaaargh!-Mushrooms, which are known for their devastating (well, in the eyes of a greenskin, funny) effects they have on goblins. These mushrooms are given to any Fanatics Oddgit deems worthy. This doubles the Fanatic's strength.  Additional Factors: -Oddgit has a deep fear of elves. -Oddgit has a deep hatred for dwarfs.  ARMY X-FACTORS  Morale: 95: Orcs love to fight, and it would take something truly monumental to break their will to keep doing so… assuming you even could. The only reason this isn't a full 100 is because non-Orcs in the army don't share this trait, and it is possible for a smart Warboss to realize that maybe it would be better to perform a tactical retreat rather than have all his boyz die in one battle. Logistics: 85: Being fungal in nature the Greenskins produce their own ecosystem that provides an abundance of food, workers and other resources. They don't need supply lines like other armies, because they'll grow what they need simply by being there. The only thing this doesn't apply to is weapons and armor, which they'll either make from scraps or steal from others if they have to.  Espionage: 5 / 65: Orcs aren't much for sneaking about. But Goblins are really, really good at it. Forest Goblins especially can wreck an army's day with some brutal sabotage. Magic, poison, and other trickery, can leave a force far to weak to face the greenskin tide the next day. Discipline: 25-30: Most Orcs are just barely able to hold formations long enough to get to the enemy then break apart into a rampage of fighting. Some are better at this then others, and certain Warbosses (Goblin and Orc) can enforce their will on their troops. Black Orcs, on the other hand would have a discipline score roughly double that. Army Intimidation: 85: An army of greenskins is a terrifying sight, with muscled behemoths, giant spiders, fanged squigs and many other beasts ready to tear you apart not for any ideological reasons, but just because that's what they think is fun. Reinforcement Rate: Swarm: Every greenskin available will want to fight, and the more fighting there is, the more greenskins will come.   ADDITIONAL INFO -Biology: The Greenskins are often divided up into three main species, the Orcs, the Goblins and the Squigs. These Greenskins are unique in comparison to other races as their genetic makeup is entirely different compared to any other creature living within the known world. Theories abound that the Greenskin race harbor genetic traits of both animal and fungal life forms, and that it is this unusual biology that gives a Greenskin his remarkable constitution. The species green coloration could also be explained, Imperial scholars suggest, due to some form of algae or green fungus that permeates their cellular makeup. Such a substance could break down and repair damaged tissue at an incredible rate, accounting in part for the Orc's extremely durable metabolism. The physiology of the Greenskin race is also quite remarkable. As the Greenskins grows older and win battles against larger opponents, they are pumped with extreme doses of adrenaline and hormones that helps to increase their natural size and strength. These characteristics are the most common amongst the Orcs rather then the Goblins, as the Goblins are often bullied upon relentlessly, which would naturally stunt their growth process considerably. The Greenskins have also been theorized to reproduce by means of fungal spores. A fully-grown Orc or Goblin would release these spores continuously over his lifetime, which would then take root underground and grow into a plant-like womb that nourishes the bodies of various Greenskin species. This is the entire basis of the Greenskin ecosystem, producing first Squigs, then Snotlings who cultivate the Squigs and the fungus they feed on, then Goblins to build the Greenskin settlements, and finally the Orcs themselves. This means the Greenskins, wherever they go, will have an abundance of food, slaves and other resources, a moving ecosystem that supports them as they unleash their WAAAGH! across the known world.    -WAAAGH! : All greenskins want to fight alongside a powerful Warboss who has built a reputation for leading his tribe to victories. This is partly because they all want to be on the winning side, but mainly because no mob wants to miss a good scrap. The biggest Warbosses lead their tribe to so many victories and cause such commotion that lesser tribes flock from far away to join the mighty commander. Thus the living tidal wave of destruction known to the greenskins as a WAAAGH! is born. A small WAAAGH! occurs when a few tribes unite to launch an attack, while a larger WAAAGH! is an epoch-changing invasion that draws Orcs and Goblins from many thousands of miles around. A WAAAGH! generates untold fervor amid the greenskins and sweeps violently over anything in its path, irrevocably changing the landscape and laying bare swathes of territory. Some WAAAGH!  travel a short distance before dispersing, while others have crossed half the known world, charting a zigzag course as utterly unpredictable as the greenskins themselves. The largest WAAAGHs! are the stuff of legend - the earth shaking beneath the immense armies that gather to march forth and destroy. The devastation wrought by such invasions blots the sun behind palls of smoke, covering great portions of the world in a shroud of darkness. It is unknown how many Orc & Goblin tribes exist, for they seem to crop up everywhere. Greenskins proliferate quickly, a large force gathering in a fortnight, yet even a sizable horde can disperse overnight if the tribes fall out due to quarreling. As most Orcs & Goblins are nomadic, traveling where necessity (i.e. fighting and loot) take them, it is hard to gauge their numbers. The more civilized races of the world - Men, Elves, and Dwarfs, for example, know that there are greenskins in the wild regions, but whether they are massing for a great migratory invasion or merely drifting by in disorganized packs of unruly raiders is impossible to discern. Many of the largest invasions have come without warning, building up mass and momentum too quickly be foreseen. -The Greenskin Gods: There is no shortage of lesser deities or strange cults that catch on among the highly superstitious Orcs and Goblins. Far above any mere fetishes or minor idols, however, are the real powerhouses of the greenskin pantheon, the boisterous and belligerent brother-gods known as Gork and Mork. Greenskins do not call upon Gork and Mork for aid when they are in trouble, nor do Orcs and Goblins beseech them for gifts, such as softer or punier races might do. Instead, these war-gods and their infamous deeds serve as inspiration. Gork is brutal but kunnin' and his brother Mork is kunnin' but brutal. Every greenskin has complete and unquestioning faith that if he is brutal or kunnin' enough, he will join the gods after his death and continue the fight. The power of their gods is made visible to greenskins in many ways. The almighty phenomenon of the WAAAGH!, that almost spiritual calling to war that fills every greenskin with frenetic energy, is the will of Gork and Mork made manifest. Shamans, as greenskins call their wizards, are also directly connected to the gods. A Shaman can tap into that green power to blast foes or rouse greenskins to greater heights of violence. Clearly, however, such communication with the gods unhinges the minds of every Shaman. This explains their unusual rituals, trance-fits and other such shamanistic oddities. VICTORY GAINS   With victory comes glory for the Greenskin race, and pride from Gork and Mork to the Warboss what accomplished it all. Weapons and Armor will be taken, as will any treasure or jewels. Orcs and Goblins don't really care for money, but it is shiny and they like that. Captives, if there are any, will be taken, likely to be eaten by Orcs, Goblins, Squigs, Giants, etc etc. Territory will be divided among Greenskins, so that they might war over it among themselves. Alliances with third parties are... unlikely to last long. It is possible that some might happen, if the third party promises them something they want (like the chance at a good fight), but eventually they'll figure they can fight the third party too. Thus, treaties with Greenskins don't last long, and likely won't last past a Greenskin victory.

St. Maximus the Confessor (Feast Day - January 21) By St. Dimitri of Rostov The venerable Maximus, whose name means "greatest" and whose way of life was unsurpassed, was born in the renowned queen of cities, Constantinople. His parents were of noble lineage and Orthodox, and gave him an excellent education. Maximus thoroughly studied philosophy and theology, and was widely respected for his wisdom, even in the imperial palace. Impressed by his knowledge and virtuous life, the Emperor Heraclius compelled him to become asekretis or first secretary and made him a chief counselor. The entire senate loved and respected Maximus, whose competence in affairs of government was of the highest order. In those days appeared the heresy of Monothelitism, according to which Christ our Lord possesses a single will. Its antecedent was the delusion of Eutyches, who asserted that our Lord has but one nature, and denied the Orthodox teaching that He, as God incarnate, has two undivided and unmingled natures, wills, and operations in one person. First to defend and disseminate Monothelitism were Cyrus, Patriarch of Alexandria, and Sergius, Patriarch of Constantinople. The Emperor Heraclius was drawn into this error early on by the two hierarchs. Cyrus in Alexandria and Sergius in Constantinople convened local councils endorsing the heresy, which then spread throughout the East. Only Saint Sophronius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, rejected the false doctrine. Seeing that the Emperor, his courtiers, and many others had been corrupted, the blessed Maximus feared lest he go astray. He resigned from his duties at court and renounced all the world's glory, went to a monastery in Chrysopolis, on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, and became a monk, preferring rather to be an outcast in the house of God than to dwell in the tents of sinners. On account of his virtuous life, he was chosen abbot after a few years. Meanwhile, Patriarch Sergius convinced Heraclius to publish a decree called the Ekthesis, or "exposition," propagating Monothelitism. The entire population of the Empire was ordered to accept it, and as a result, the Church of Christ was thrown into confusion. Abba Maximus observed how turmoil prevailed in Constantinople and throughout the East, how the heretics multiplied and took control of churches, and how the Orthodox were buffeted by the tempest of persecution and diminished in number. Profoundly downcast, he sighed and wept bitterly, until he learned that the heresy had no followers in the West and had been completely rejected there. Severus, Pope of Rome, scorned the Ekthesis, and his successor John had it anathematized at a council; so the blessed Maximus decided to leave his monastery and go to the West. As an Orthodox Christian, he hoped to find refuge with the Orthodox of old Rome, since the Holy Land was under attack by the Saracens and it was impossible to reach Jerusalem. On the way he visited the bishops of North Africa, conversed with them, confirmed them in the faith, and advised them how to avoid being snared by the cunning adversaries. To those living in remote cities, he sent letters expounding the dogmas of Orthodoxy and warning about the dangers of heresy. About that time the Patriarch of Constantinople died and was succeeded by the apostate Pyrrhus. Cyrus of Alexandria also died, then Heraclius. Before he expired, the Emperor, deeply shamed that many renowned and holy hierarchs and wise fathers had rejected and anathematized the Ekthesis, made it known that not he, but Sergius had written the document, and that he had only signed it at the Patriarch's insistence. Heraclius' son Constantine was next to rule the Empire, but after four months was secretly poisoned by his step-mother Martina. With the assent of Patriarch Pyrrhus, Martina elevated her son Heraclonas to the throne. After he had reigned for six months, court dignitaries rose up against Heraclonas and Martina, cut off their noses, and exiled them in disgrace. The courtiers chose as ruler Constans, son of the murdered Constantine, grandson of Heraclius and father of Constantine Pognatos. When Constans became emperor, Pyrrhus became very frightened, knowing that the people regarded him as a conspirator with Martina in the death of Constantine. He stepped down as patriarch and fled to Africa, and his see was occupied by Paul, another heretic. The new emperor announced that he also adhered to Monothelitism, of which he became a notorious champion and disseminator. The venerable Maximus was still in Africa when Pyrrhus arrived there. The Patriarch traveled from one city to another, hoping to corrupt the Orthodox. He might have seriously harmed the churches of Christ, had he not encountered the godly Maximus as an opponent. The two men spent many hours debating, and at length the patrician Gregory, governor of the land, convened a council which all the bishops of Africa were required to attend. The divinely wise Maximus, basing himself on the Scriptures and the dogmas of the Holy Fathers, thoroughly refuted Pyrrhus at the synod, showing that as Christ God has two natures, so He must have two wills and operations, indivisible in His one person. Admitting defeat, Pyrrhus united himself to the Orthodox. He was received warmly by the Church, treated with the utmost esteem, and allowed to employ the title of patriarch. Pyrrhus even wrote a book confessing the true faith. He went to Rome to visit Pope Theodore, John's successor, and the Pope greeted him respectfully as the Orthodox Patriarch of Constantinople. Soon it became known in the Imperial City that Pyrrhus had joined the Orthodox. The heretics, burning with envy, spread a rumor that the African bishops and the Pope had forced Pyrrhus to assent to their opinions. This slander reached the Emperor, who immediately sent to Italy one of his officials, a heretic named Olympius, with orders to return Pyrrhus to Monothelitism. Olympius took up residence in Ravenna, summoned Pyrrhus from Rome, and convinced him to espouse heresy again. Like a dog returning to its vomit, Pyrrhus rendered himself worthy of the anathema subsequently pronounced by the holy fathers against him and those of like mind. At that time the Emperor Constans, under the influence of the false-patriarch Paul of Constantinople, signed a heretical edict called the Typos, just as his grandfather Heraclius once signed the Ekthesis. He distributed the document throughout the Empire and ordered everyone to accept it. The Typos reached Rome when Pope Theodore was on his deathbed. After Theodore's repose, the blessed Martin became Pope. The Emperor wanted Martin to endorse the Typos, but he refused, saying, "Were the entire world to embrace the new heresy, I would not. I will never renounce the doctrines of the Gospels and the apostles or the traditions of the Holy Fathers, even if I am threatened with execution." Saint Maximus was in Rome at that time and advised the blessed Martin to convene a local council and condemn the Typos as alien to the teachings of Christ's Church. The Pope agreed, and 105 bishops, with Abba Maximus, anathematized the errors of Cyrus, Sergius, Pyrrhus, Paul, and the Typos. Afterwards, the Pope wrote to the faithful throughout the world, confirming them in Orthodoxy, explaining the errors of the heretics, and cautioning against them. When the Emperor heard about this, he became furious and sent his regent Theodore Calliopos to Italy with orders to seize Pope Martin. The charges against the Pope were as follows: that he had entered into secret negotiations with the Saracens, urging them to attack the Graeco-Roman Empire; that he did not keep to the faith handed down by the Fathers; and that he blasphemed the most pure Mother of God. Upon arrival in Rome, the Emperor's representative publicly accused the Pope of these crimes. The blessed Martin, who was completely innocent, made this response: "I have never had any dealings with the Saracens, although I have sent alms to Orthodox brethren living in poverty under their oppressive rule. As for those who do not honor, confess, and venerate the immaculate Mother of God, may they be accursed in this life and in the age to come. It is not we who betray the faith transmitted by the holy apostles and Holy Fathers, but those who reason other than we do." Constan's deputy paid no heed to Martin's defense, but pronounced him guilty as charged, adding that Martin had become pontiff by illegal means. He secretly seized the Pope by night and dispatched him under guard to the Emperor. From Constantinople, Saint Martin was exiled to Cherson, where he died. Shortly before the Pope's arrest, the venerable Maximus and his disciple Anastasius were taken into custody and sent in chains from Rome to Constantinople. This was done at the Emperor's command, since he knew that Maximus had advised Saint Martin to convene the synod that condemned Monothelitism and the Typos. When Saint Maximus disembarked at Byzantium, Constan's men met him, glaring fiercely. They shamelessly laid hold of the godly one, who was barefoot and half-naked, and dragged him through the streets. His grieving disciple followed, but was not allowed to share his dark cell; instead, he was cast into a different dungeon. Several days later, the saint was taken to the palace to be questioned by the entire senate; the Emperor, however, was not present. As Maximus entered, the eyes of all, filled with hatred, were upon him. One of the officials, the gazophylax, or treasurer, was charged with the interrogation. He was a smooth-tongued man, adept at presenting falsehood as fact, devising specious arguments, and distorting the truth. What insolence and duplicity he displayed! What reproaches and taunts he heaped upon our blessed father! He was not abashed by the elder's age (Saint Maximus was then over seventy years old); nor by the grace which shone from his countenance; nor by his meek, proper bearing; nor by his unaffected, kindly manner; nor by the monastic habit. Hurling vicious slander against the innocent one, he displayed the utmost malice and proved himself a master of guile. He could not, however, provide well-founded rebuttals to the saint's unpretentious, sober arguments, and was ultimately reduced to confusion and vanquished. The apocrisiarios or legate of the Roman Church and disciple of Saint Maximus, another Anastasius, describes in detail the mendacious accusations made against the saint, but we can do no more than to provide here a summary of his account. Stepping forward to confront his gentle opponent, the evil treasurer began by insulting and attempting to frighten him. He called Maximus a sly traitor, an enemy of the Emperor, and ascribed all manner of wicked, insidious deeds to him. The saint denied betraying the realm and asked his accuser why he was vilifying him. The treasurer responded by producing witnesses who alleged that Maximus had handed over many great cities to the barbarians. "You have torn Alexandria, Pentapolis, and the whole of Egypt from the Empire," he raved, "giving them to the Saracens, towards whom you are well disposed." The saint pointed out that the charge was ridiculous. "What have I, a monk, to do with the defense and conquest of cities?" he asked. "Why would I, a Christian, aid Saracens? I desire only blessings for Christian cities." The bold-faced liar responded with fresh falsehood, shouting that the blessed Maximus preferred the Western kings to the Eastern Emperor, and introduced perjurers to confirm this. The venerable one sighed, "I thank God that He has allowed me to fall into your hands and I hope that by enduring these afflictions, my voluntary transgressions might be purged. Regarding your last charge, I would like to know: did you hear me condemning the Emperor, or did others tell you what I said?" The accusers answered, "We heard it from others, who heard it from you." At this the saint demanded that the hearers testify in person, only to be told that they were dead. "Why then," asked Saint Maximus, "did you not interrogate me while they were alive? You would have spared yourself the labor of fabricating many lies and been able to convict me on the basis of evident truth. It is obvious that I have committed no crime and that my slanderers have no fear of God, Who searches out the hearts of men. May I cease to be counted by the Lord as a Christian and never behold His countenance if at any time I have entertained in my thoughts, recounted, or given ear to anyone proposing the despicable deeds you ascribe to me!" Then the saint's enemies produced another false witness, Gregory by name, who asserted that in Rome he heard Anastasius, Maximus' disciple, say that he and his teacher held that Constans claimed priestly authority. Saint Maximus directly refuted Gregory, saying, "When this man was in Rome, we discussed Monothelitism, and he pressed us to accept the Typos. Mindful of the Lord's judgment, we refused. God is my witness that neither I nor my disciple have ever said that the Emperor was playing the priest. What I did say, not to Anastasius, but to Gregory himself, was, 'It is not the task of rulers to investigate and define dogmas of the faith, but of ministers of the altar, who anoint the Emperor and lay hands upon him, offer the Bread of heaven, and perform the other lofty and divine Mysteries.' I said this then and stand by it now. Gregory remembers my words. If he denies hearing them, it is because he considers it advantageous to do so. This is the truth; judge me as you wish." The prosecutors, having put all their hope in false witnesses, were uncertain how to proceed against Saint Maximus, so they led him away and brought in his disciple Anastasius. They attempted to cow him into confirming the slanderous charges and testifying that the blessed one had employed torture to force Pyrrhus to renounce Monothelitism. Anastasius was not intimidated, but boldly asserted that his teacher had done no harm to Pyrrhus and had treated him with particular respect; whereupon, they pummeled him upon the neck, face, and head. Unable to prevail over the truth by violence, they finally desisted and returned Anastasius to prison. Meanwhile, they devised fresh calumny, then brought back the saint and again endeavored to conquer the undefeatable one, asserting that he was an Origenist. The blessed one easily rebutted them by proclaiming Origen to be cut off from Christ and all Christians, and his followers to merit divine judgment. Next the prosecutors demanded that Maximus explain why he had separated himself from communion with the Patriarch of Constantinople, and questioned him about Pyrrhus. They also interrogated him on other points and proposed that he accept the imperial Typos as a perfect and most praiseworthy exposition of the faith. This the saint absolutely refused to do. They hurled various taunts at him, but fearing entanglement in their own snares, would not risk being trounced in debate. Scurrying back to the Emperor, they testified to the invincible valor of the abba of Chrysopolis, saying, "No one can best Maximus in argumentation. It is doubtful that he can be made to agree with us, even if torture is employed." The elder was returned to his dungeon, but not long afterwards, visitors arrived, hoping to intimidate him or at least sap his patience. They announced that the Patriarch had sent them, then asked the saint, "To which Church do you belong: to that of Byzantium, Rome, Antioch, Alexandria, or Jerusalem? All these churches and the provinces under them are in concord. If you belong to the Catholic Church, you must enter into communion with us at once, lest you forge a new and strange pathway and fall into unexpected disaster." The man of God wisely replied, "Christ the Lord acknowledges as Catholic that Church which maintains the true and saving confession of faith. He called Peter blessed for his correct confession of Him, upon which He built His Church. But tell me: on what basis have all the churches, as you say, entered into communion? If it is on a foundation of truth, I do not wish to be separated from them." The messengers said, "No one has commissioned us to speak about this; nonetheless, we shall explain. We confess both two operations in Christ by reason of His distinct natures, and one operation because the two natures are united in one person." "If you mean that the two operations have become one as a result of the union of two natures in one person, then besides those two operations you recognize a third, in which the human and divine are mingled," asserted the saint. "No," replied the messengers. "We acknowledge the two operations, but speak of them as one in consequence of their being united." "You are devising an ill-founded faith for yourselves, asserting that God can exist without being," said Maximus. "Combining the two operations on account of the linking of two natures in a single person, and dividing the one operation into two because of the distinction between the natures, you allow neither one nor two operations, for the duality is excluded by the union, and the union by the duality. These contrivances render the union of God and man in Christ ineffectual, or rather abolish it altogether, since they posit activities proper to neither nature. An essence that is not manifested in its own operation has no being. This is why I will never agree with your interpretation of the faith. It is contrary to everything I have learned from the Holy Fathers. As regards my temporal fate, do with me as you please: you have power over my body." The messengers did not know how to answer the saint's arguments, so they merely assured him that if he did not submit, he would be anathematized and put to death. Meekly and humbly, the saint said, "May God's will be done in me, unto the glory of His holy name." The messengers returned to the Patriarch and related everything. Thereupon, the Emperor took counsel with the Patriarch, like Pilate with the Jews of old, and exiled the saint to Bizye, a town in Thrace. They banished his disciple Anastasius to a dismal place on the border of the Empire, called Perveris in the language of the local barbarians, and sent the other disciple of the saint, Anastasius the former apocrisiarios of Rome and author of the Life of Maximus, to the Thracian city of Mesembria. It happened about the same time that the blessed Martin, Pope of Rome, arrived in Constantinople. After enduring much suffering, he was exiled to Cherson. Before Martin was sent away, Patriarch Paul of Constantinople died. Pyrrhus regained the patriarchal throne, but four months later he died as well. Pyrrhus was succeeded by Peter, an obstinate Monothelite. After quite some time, three men of high rank, Theodosius, Bishop of Caesarea in Bithynia, and the patricians Paul and Theodosius, were sent by Constans and Patriarch Peter to win over the saint. They were joined by the Bishop of Bizye, and alternately flattered and threatened Maximus, testing his faith and posing various questions. They began by introducing themselves, then requested Maximus to sit down. Bishop Theodosius asked, "How are you faring, my lord Abba Maximus?" "Exactly as God knew I would before the ages," replied the saint. "He foreordained the circumstances of my life, which is guarded by providence." "How can that be?" objected Theodosius. "Did God foreknow and actually foreordain our deeds from eternity?" The saint said, "He foreknew our thoughts, words, and deeds, which nevertheless remain within our power to control; and He foreordained what befalls us. The latter is not subject to our control, but to the divine will." "Explain more exactly what is in our power, and what is not," requested Bishop Theodosius. "My lord, you know all this," answered Saint Maximus. "You only ask to try your servant." The Bishop admitted, "Truly, I do not know. I wish to understand what we can control and what we cannot, and how God foresaw one and foreordained the other." The venerable Maximus explained, "We do not directly control whether blessings will be showered upon us or chastisements will befall us, but our good and evil deeds most certainly depend on our will. It is not ours to choose whether we are in health or sickness, but we make determinations likely to lead to one or the other. Similarly, we cannot simply decide that we shall attain the kingdom of heaven or be plunged into the fire of Gehenna, but we can will to keep the commandments or transgress them." Then the Bishop asked, "Why do you insist on prolonging your exile and imprisonment?" "I pray God that, castigating me by these sufferings, He may forgive my failure to keep His commandments," responded Maximus. "Is it not true that many are tested by afflictions?" asked Theodosius. "The saints are tried so that their secret virtues may be manifested to all, as in the case of Job and Joseph," said the saint. "Job was tempted, and demonstrated perseverance second to none, and Joseph underwent trials that revealed his chastity and abstinence, qualities of holy men. If God permitted the saints to suffer in this life, it was because He wished to see them vanquish the devil, the ancient serpent. In a sense, the patience of the saints was actually a result of their tribulations." "Truly, you speak well and instructively," sighed Bishop Theodosius, "and I would be happy to converse with you at any other time about such matters. My companions, the honored patricians, and I have come, however, a considerable distance to speak about something else. We have a proposal to make, and hope that you will agree to it and delight the whole world." "What is it, my lord," asked the saint, "and who am I that my concurrence will please the whole world?" The Bishop replied, "Since the Lord Jesus Christ is Truth itself, I will relate exactly what our master the Patriarch and the most devout Emperor told me and my lords, the illustrious patricians." "Speak, my lord; I am listening," said Maximus. "The Emperor and Patriarch want you to explain why you have cut yourself off from communion with the see of Constantinople," Theodosius said. "In the sixth indiction of the last cycle, Cyrus, Patriarch of Alexandria, published the Nine Chapters, which were approved by the see of Constantinople," recounted the saint. "Soon the novelties proposed in that document were followed by others, overturning the definitions of holy councils. These innovations were devised by primates of the Church of Constantinople: Sergius, Pyrrhus, and Paul, as all the other churches know very well. This is the reason I, your servant, am not in communion with the throne of Constantinople. Let the offenses introduced by those men be rejected and the abettors deposed; then the way to salvation will be cleared, and you will walk the smooth path of the Gospel unhindered by heresy. When I see the Church of Constantinople as she was formerly, I shall enter into communion with her uncompelled, but as long as the scandal of heresy persists in her and her bishops are miscreants, no argument or persecution will win me over to your side." Bishop Theodosius asked, "Precisely what evil in our confession prevents you from entering into communion with us?" The godly Maximus answered, "You say that the Saviour's divinity and humanity share a single operation, but the Holy Fathers teach that every distinct nature has its own distinct operation. It is not the Holy Trinity you confess, but a quaternity. Positing one operation of the Saviour's divinity and humanity, you allege that the Word assumed, not our flesh and that of the immaculate Virgin Theotokos, but flesh having the qualities of the divine nature. Verily, you gainsay the Trinity and invent a quaternity, because you deny that Christ had a true human nature and imagine that the nature formed in the Incarnation was actually co-essential with that of the Pre-eternal Word, as the Word is co-essential with the Father and the Spirit. Again, disavowing the two operations and asserting that Christ's divinity and humanity share a single will, you deprive the Lord of the ability to do good as God or man. Indeed, if a nature lacks its intrinsic operation, it is incapable of doing anything at all. Further, confessing that the incarnate Christ has two natures and one will, which is divine, you must say that His flesh, according to its will, created all the ages and everything that exists, with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, while itself having been created according to its nature. You make flesh beginningless according to its will (since the divine will, like the Godhead, can have neither beginning nor end), yet admit that, according to its nature, it was fashioned in time. This is senseless, or rather, completely godless. As for the Typos and the Emperor's laws, by forbidding mention of one will or two, or of the operations of Christ's natures, they deprive Christ the Lord of all the properties and manifestations that demonstrate His human nature and His divine nature. The Typos and the laws reflect your position well, for you overturn the notion of a single will and operation by insisting on their duality and you contradict the truth that there are two wills and operations by fusing them into one." Hearing Saint Maximus say this and much else (which his disciple Anastasius relates in detail), his opponents began to realize their error. Nevertheless, the Bishop proposed, "Accept the Emperor's Typos not as an expression of dogma, but as his personal interpretation and a means of silencing controversy." "If the Typos is not a dogmatic definition establishing that our Lord has a single will and operation, why have I been exiled to a land of barbarians and pagans who do not know God?" asked Maximus. "Why do I waste away here, and my fellow-laborers in Perveris and Mesembria?" Then the saint mentioned how the synod convened in Rome by the blessed Pope Martin had condemned the Monothelites, to which Bishop Theodosius responded, "It is the Emperor's summons that gives authority to a council." "If that were so, the Orthodox faith would have long since come to an end," said Maximus. "Recall the councils summoned by imperial decree to proclaim that the Son of God is not of the same essence as God the Father. The first was held in Tyre, the second in Antioch, the third in Seleucia, the fourth in Constantinople under Eudoxius the Arian, the fifth in Nicaea, and the sixth in Sirmium. Considerably later, a seventh false council took place in Ephesus, at which Dioscorus presided. All these synods were convened by imperial decree, but were rejected and anathematized, since they endorsed godless doctrines. On what grounds, I would like to know, do you accept the council which condemned and anathematized Paul of Samosata? Gregory the Wonder-worker presided over that council, and its resolutions were confirmed by Dionysius, Pope of Rome, and Dionysius of Alexandria. No Emperor convoked it, but it is unassailable and irrefutable. The Orthodox Church recognizes as true and holy precisely those synods that proclaimed true dogmas. Your holiness knows that the canons require that local councils be held twice yearly in every Christian land for the defense of our saving faith and for administrative purposes; however, they say nothing about imperial decrees." Both sides produced various arguments, but Saint Maximus spoke under the manifest influence of the Holy Spirit. The result of the lengthy discussion was that his eloquence and divine wisdom vanquished the adversaries, who sat for a long time hanging their heads and staring at the floor. Then, moved to contrition, they began to weep, after which they bowed before the saint, and he before them. They prayed with Maximus, fervently and joyfully accepted his Orthodox teaching, and promised that they would confess it and attempt to win over the Emperor. As evidence of their sincerity, they kissed the divine Gospel, the honored cross, and holy icons of the Saviour and the Theotokos. After speaking for some time with the elder about various edifying topics, they exchanged a kiss in the Lord with him and bade him farewell. Upon return to Constantinople, Bishop Theodosius and the patricians told the Emperor everything, and the ruler became enraged. Fearing his wrath, all three men reverted to heresy. The patrician Paul was given orders to return to Bizye and bring the venerable Maximus to Constantinople, showing him every courtesy. The saint was assigned quarters in the Monastery of Saint Theodore. The next morning the patricians Epiphanius and Troilus were sent to the godly one by the Emperor. They were splendidly attired and accompanied by Bishop Theodosius and numerous noblemen, soldiers, and servants. Saint Maximus was hoping that the Bishop would bring word of how he had successfully fulfilled his promise to confess Orthodoxy and attempted to convert the Emperor. Instead, the blessed one learned that Theodosius had been false, preferring to please the earthly ruler rather than the King of heaven and His Holy Church. When the visitors were seated and had persuaded the venerable one to sit, Troilus began the conversation thus: "The Emperor, whom God has appointed master of the ends of the earth, has sent us to declare what he wishes you to do. Tell us whether you will obey." Saint Maximus said, "Tell me first, my lord, what His Majesty wants, and I shall answer. How can I reply to a demand I have not heard?" Troilus insisted, "You must assure us that you will submit; then we shall explain." In view of Troilus' sharp, insistent demand and the angry glances of all the nobles, the man of God declared, "Since you are unwilling to tell your slave what our lord the Emperor seeks from me, I avow before God Himself, the holy angels, and you that if the ruler requires something of temporal and transitory significance, and it is not inimical to God and my soul's eternal salvation, I will gladly fulfill it." At this Troilus stood up and blustered, "I am leaving. It is clear you have no intention of submitting." An uproar ensued and Bishop Theodosius said, "Tell him what the Emperor wants and listen to his response. We must not leave without doing this." The patrician Epiphanius declared, "Hear His Majesty's words: 'With you as their guide, schismatics throughout the East and West have risen up against us. They ever increase in number and incite disturbances; moreover, they have cut off communion with us. May the Lord soften your heart to share with us the Eucharist. If you accept our Typos, we shall receive you lovingly, escort you to church in honor, and seat you at our side, in the place reserved for rulers. Together, we shall partake of the immaculate, life-giving Mysteries of the Body and Blood of Christ. We shall proclaim you to be our father, and there will be great joy, not only in our Christ-loving city, but throughout the world. When you enter into communion with the holy Church of Constantinople, all who have cut us off because of your teaching will be united with us. Of this we are certain.' " With tears in his eyes, holy Abba Maximus sighed to Bishop Theodosius, "We all await the great day of judgment, Master. Have you forgotten what you promised before the divine Gospel, the life-giving Cross, and the sacred icons of our Saviour Jesus Christ and His most pure Mother, the Theotokos and Ever-virgin Mary?" Hanging his head, the Bishop muttered with a broken voice, "What could I do? The most devout Emperor had already reached a conclusion on the matter in question." Abba Maximus pressed him, saying, "Why did you and your companions put your hands on the Holy Gospel, if you did not have a firm intention of fulfilling your vow? Truly, all the hosts of heaven cannot persuade me to do what you propose. I would have to answer, not only to God, but to my conscience, if I were to reject the true and saving faith for the sake of empty glory and the adulation of men, which are valueless." The Emperor's lackeys sprang to their feet in a rage, threw themselves upon our father, and rained blows and insults upon him. They dragged, kicked, and trampled the saint, and would have made an end of him, had not Bishop Theodosius restrained them. When they had ceased beating and tearing at the man of God, they covered him with spit. Maximus dripped with their stinking spittle from head to toe, and his clothes were drenched. The Bishop told the others, "That was uncalled-for. You should have left as soon as he replied, and reported to the Emperor. The canons do not sanction such abuse." With difficulty Theodosius calmed them somewhat and persuaded them to sit down, although they continued to hurl the crudest insults at the saint. Shortly afterwards, the patrician Epiphanius began angrily berating the elder. "Tell us, wicked graybeard, possessed of a demon: why do you consider the Emperor and the citizens of the capital heretics? We are more Christian than you, and more Orthodox," he raved. "In Christ Jesus our Lord we recognize a divine and a human will and a rational soul. Operative ability is intrinsic to sentient being, just as will is to mind, and every rational nature possesses a power of willing and a capacity for operation corresponding to itself. We acknowledge that the Lord has the power to will according to His divinity and His humanity and do not deny that He has two wills and operations." "If you believe as befits the sane and as God's Church teaches, then why do you attempt to compel me to accept the Typos, which forbids any affirmation of what you now purport to hold?" asked Saint Maximus. Epiphanius replied, "The Typos was written to put an end to controversy about matters that are not entirely comprehensible and to protect the people from erring in respect to what they little understand." "The Typos is opposed to a correct confession of the faith, by which every person is sanctified," insisted Abba Maximus. Then the patrician Troilus interjected, "The Typos does not deny the two wills in Christ, but merely orders that there be no discussion of them, for the sake of peace." "To suppress confession of the faith is to deny it," retorted our father. "The Holy Spirit declares through the prophet, There are no tongues nor words in which their voices are not heard; consequently, if a word is not uttered, it is not a word at all." Troilus said, "Believe what you wish in your heart. No one cares what you think, as long as you do not stir up trouble." "Our salvation does not depend merely on faith of the heart," said Saint Maximus. " The Lord teaches, Whosoever shall deny Me before men, him will I also deny before My Father Which is in heaven. Furthermore, the divine Apostle tells us, With the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation. If God and the prophets and apostles command that the mystery of faith which is the salvation of the whole world be confessed openly, then our salvation is hindered when its proclamation is forbidden." At this Epiphanius shouted angrily, "Did you sign the acts of the council held in Rome?" "I did," replied the saint. "You dared to put your name on a document anathematizing the Catholic Church and every sound-minded person? We shall drag you through the streets and into the forum; bind you; and permit actors, whores, and the rabble to pummel you and spit in your face," threatened Epiphanius. "Let it be as you say," agreed the saint, "if we anathematized those who confess two natures and two corresponding wills and operations in Christ our Lord, true God according to His divine nature, and true man according to His human nature. Read the acts of the synod held in Rome, my lord. All who signed them pronounced the anathema only on those who, like Arius and Apollinarius, recognize one will and operation in the Lord, and do not acknowledge Him as having a distinct operation and will for each of the two natures by which He brought to pass our salvation." "We shall starve or die of thirst if we let him go on," grumbled the patricians and the others. "We should get some supper and tell the Emperor and Patriarch what we have heard. The knave has delivered himself to Satan." With this, they rose and went to eat, although it was the eve of the Exaltation of the Precious Cross and the All-night Vigil was about to begin. After eating, they went back to the city. The next morning, the patrician Theodosius returned to the venerable Maximus and announced in the Emperor's name, "Since you refuse to be honored, you shall be exiled again and treated in a way befitting your obstinacy." Theodosius delivered our father into the hands of soldiers, who took him to Selymbria, where he remained for two days. Meanwhile, a local recruit put about the army's camp there slander that Maximus blasphemed the immaculate Theotokos. Word of this reached the townsfolk, inciting them against the saint. The recruit's general summoned the most respected presbyters and deacons of Selymbria, and the most revered monks, and sent them to learn whether what was said about the blessed Maximus was true. The saint greeted the clergy and monks with a prostration, and they prostrated themselves in turn; then everyone sat. A respected elder asked the godly one, "Holy father, people say that you deny that our Lady, the most pure Virgin Theotokos, is the Mother of God. We beg you, in the name of the consubstantial Trinity, to tell us the truth and dispel our perplexity. We do not wish to condemn you unjustly." The godly one fell prostrate again, stretching out his arms to form a cross, then arose and lifted his hands to heaven. With tears in his eyes, he solemnly declared, "In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the co-essential and supersubstantial Trinity; of all the hosts of heaven; of the choir of holy apostles and prophets; of the innumerable array of martyrs; and of every righteous soul reposed in the faith: may he be anathema who fails to confess our all-hymned, all-holy, immaculate Lady, the most honorable of rational beings, as the true Mother of God, Who hath made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is therein, now and ever and unto ages of ages." Hearing this, the monks and clergy wept. They blessed Saint Maximus, saying, "May God strengthen you, Father, and vouchsafe you to complete your course without stumbling." A large number of soldiers were gathering to hear the edifying conversation, and a member of the commander's staff observed them listening to the saint and criticizing the government for exiling Maximus; so he ordered the elder taken away at once. Our father was led a mile further on the route to Perveris, where he was to be banished. The clergy and monks, spurred by divine love, accompanied him. In the meantime, Maximus' guards prepared to resume the journey. When the guards were ready to depart, the clergymen and monks embraced the saint tearfully, lifted him onto a donkey, and bade him farewell, then returned to Selymbria. Upon arrival in Perveris, Saint Maximus was imprisoned. Much time passed, and the Emperor recalled the venerable Maximus and his two disciples to Constantinople. They sailed into city at sunset and were met by two officers and ten guards who removed them from the vessel half-naked and barefoot, and locked them in separate cells. Several days later the prisoners were taken to the palace. Both disciples were left outside under guard, but the elder was led in. The senate was in session and numerous high-ranking officials were there; the Emperor, however, was not. Saint Maximus was presented to the seated nobles. The first to speak was the gazophylax, who angrily demanded, "Are you a Christian?" "I am, by the grace of the God of all," replied the elder. "You lie!" shouted the treasurer. The saint answered, "You may say that I am not a Christian, but God knows that I am and ever shall remain one." "If you are a Christian, why do you hate the Emperor?" the treasurer continued. "How can you say I hate the Emperor?" asked Maximus. "Hatred is a hidden feeling of the soul, as is love." "It is obvious from your deeds that you are a foe of the Emperor and the Imperial City," insisted the gazophylax. "You alone have betrayed Egypt, Alexandria, Pentapolis, Tripolitania, and Africa to the Saracens." Saint Maximus inquired, "What proof have you of this?" Thereupon, the elder's enemies produced a man named John, who was sakellarios or comptroller for Peter, former Duke of Numidia. John asserted, "Twenty-two years ago, the grandfather of our lord the Emperor ordered the blessed Peter to lead his army into Egypt against the Saracens. Having absolute trust in you as God's servant, he wrote asking your advice. You replied that it was not pleasing to God that he assist Heraclius or his heirs." The saint countered, "If you speak the truth and have Peter's letter to me and mine to him, show them and let them be read, so that I may be punished according to law." "I do not have your letters and have never seen them," admitted John, "but everyone in camp was speaking about them." If the whole army knew about them, why are you alone accusing me? Have you ever even seen me before, or I you?" asked the saint. "Never," confessed John. "Decide for yourselves whether it is just to accept such testimony," Maximus reproached the senators. "Remember the words spoken by God, the righteous Judge of all: With what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." Next Sergius Magudas was brought in. He said, "Ten years ago, blessed Abba Thomas of Rome told me, 'Pope Theodore dispatched me to Gregory the Patrician, Exarch of Carthage and the Western lands, who had rebelled against the Greek Empire. He wanted me to assure Gregory not to fear attack by the Greeks, because, he said, God's servant Abba Maximus had seen in a dream a multitude of angels in the heavens, some in the east, exclaiming, Constantine Augustus, you shall conquer! and some in the west, crying, Gregory Augustus, you shall conquer! and the sound of those in the west was stronger and clearer than of those in the east.' " At this the treasurer gloated, "And now God has brought you to this city to be burned alive!" "I thank God for cleansing my voluntary sins with involuntary sufferings," said Maximus; "nonetheless, woe unto the world because of offences: for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh. It is shameful to vilify someone unjustly, as you have, and no less shameful to leave unpunished those who say such things to please mortals. You should have made your accusations while Gregory the Exarch was still alive. Then the patrician Peter, Duke of Numidia; Abba Thomas; and the blessed Pope Theodore could have been summoned. I would have asked Peter in the presence of all: 'Tell me, my lord, did you write me, as your sakellarios reports, or did I write you?' I would have inquired of the blessed Pope, 'Tell me, Master, did I ever relate one of my dreams to you?' But even if the Pope did say that I had communicated to him the dream, the guilt would have been his for directly encouraging rebellion, not mine. A dream is not a matter of the will, and certainly not punishable by law." The prosecutors made other accusations against the blameless man of God, mostly that in Rome he and his disciples had censured the Emperor. Saint Maximus humbly continued to demonstrate his innocence, refuting every slander with wise and divinely inspired proofs. Then guards brought in his disciple Anastasius, and the interrogators tried to snare him into implicating his teacher in some crime. It soon became clear he would say nothing against the righteous one, so they beat him with their fists and led him away. He and our father were both returned to their cells. The next evening the patrician Troilus and Sergius Euphrastes, steward of the imperial table, came to speak with the venerable one. After offering him something to eat, they asked, "Abba, what arguments did you employ in Africa and Rome to convince Pyrrhus to renounce his true dogmas and accept yours?" The saint replied, "If I had the books in which I wrote down the details of our conversations and debates, I would tell you. They were taken from me, so I can only relate what I remember." He proceeded to recount as much as he could, concluding with these words: "I have no dogmas of my own, but only those held by the whole Catholic Church. My confession includes not a single word that can properly be called my invention." "And you still refuse to enter into communion with the Patriarchate of Constantinople?" they asked. "Still," he answered. They asked, "Why so?" "Because the leaders of this Church have rejected the definitions of four holy councils and accepted the Nine Chapters published in Alexandria; the Ekthesis written by Sergius, Patriarch of Constantinople; and the recently issued Typos. What they proclaimed as dogma in the Ekthesis they rejected in the Typos. They have repeatedly excommunicated themselves from the Church and are completely unstable in the faith. Additionally, they have been cut off and stripped of priesthood by the local council held at Rome. What Mysteries, then, can they perform? And what spirit descends on those whom they ordain?" "So then, you alone will be saved, and all others will perish?" the Emperor's men objected. The saint explained, "When the people in Babylon worshipped the golden idol, the Three Holy Youths condemned no one. Their concern was not for the doings of others, but that they themselves should not fall away from piety. When Daniel was cast into the lion's den, he did not condemn those who, obeying Darius, failed to worship God, but kept in mind his own duty. He preferred to die rather than sin against conscience and transgress God's law. God forbid that I should judge anyone or say that I alone will be saved! Nevertheless, I would rather die than violate my conscience by betraying the Orthodox faith in any particular." "And what will you do when the Romans unite with the Byzantines? Yesterday two papal legates arrived. Tomorrow is the Lord's day, and they will partake of the immaculate Mysteries with the Patriarch," they taunted him. The godly one replied, "The whole world may enter into communion with the Patriarch, but I will not. The Apostle Paul tells us that the Holy Spirit anathematizes even angels who preach a new Gospel, that is, introduce novel teaching." The nobles asked, "Is it really necessary to confess two wills and operations in Christ?" "Absolutely," insisted the saint, "if we are to hold steadfastly to Orthodox doctrine. Every nature has its corresponding operation. The Holy Fathers clearly teach that it is by the operation that the nature is known to exist. Otherwise, how could we know Christ to be true God by nature and true man?" The nobles were forced to admit, "We understand that this is indeed the truth; nevertheless, we must not put ourselves at odds with the Emperor. He issued the Typos, not to deny any property inherent to Christ, but to bring peace to the Church. This is why he commands that there be no discussion of things that give rise to differences of opinion." Tears welled up in Maximus' eyes. Throwing himself to the ground, he cried, "I do not wish to grieve the Emperor, who is a good man and loves God; but still more, I fear to anger the Lord by keeping silence about what He commands us to confess. If, as the divine Apostle says, God hath set some in the Church, first apostles, secondarily prophets, thirdly teachers, then it is clear that the Lord speaks through them. All of Holy Scripture, the writings of the teachers of the Church, and the decisions of the councils proclaim that Christ Jesus, our incarnate Lord and God, has power to will and act according to both His divinity and His humanity. He lacks no property pertaining to the godhead or to human nature, except sin. If He is perfect in both natures and deficient in nothing proper to them, then it is evident that the mystery of the Incarnation is utterly distorted by anyone who fails to confess Him to have all of each nature's innate properties, by which and in which His natures are known." After the saint had expounded this and many other points, the noblemen praised his wisdom and realized that it was impossible to refute him. Nevertheless, Sergius said, "Abba, there remains the primary point at issue: because of you many have broken communion with the Church of Byzantium." Maximus objected, "Who can say that I have ordered anyone to break communion with the Patriarchate of Constantinople?" "The fact that you are not in communion with us turns many others away," replied Sergius. "There is nothing more burdensome than to suffer the reproach of conscience," sighed the man of God, "and nothing more desirable than conscience's approval." "Is it good that the Typos of our devout Emperor has been anathematized and is disdained throughout the West?" asked Troilus. The saint answered, "May God forgive those who prompted our lord the Emperor to issue the Typos." "Who prompted him?" demanded Sergius. "The primates of the churches prompted him, and the nobles gave their consent, thrusting responsibility for their impiety upon our blameless ruler, who is a stranger to all heresy," asserted the venerable one. "Advise His Majesty to do as his grandfather Heraclius of blessed memory. Learning that many fathers refused to accept the Ekthesis and condemned the heresy therein, he cleared himself of responsibility for it by sending letters to all the churches, explaining that the Ekthesis was not in fact his, but that of Patriarch Sergius. Constans should emulate him and thereby exonerate himself." Troilus and Sergius shook their heads and remained silent for a long time. Then they mumbled, "It is inconvenient, or rather, impossible to follow your counsel, Abba." They continued to converse with our father for quite some time and departed on friendly terms with him. A week later, on a Saturday, the saint and both his disciples were taken to the palace for further questioning. Anastasius the former legate of the Roman Church was left outside while the other Anastasius was presented to the senate and two patriarchs, Thomas of Constantinople and another. Immediately, Maximus' enemies began spewing out slander, which they demanded Anastasius confirm. He fearlessly refuted every charge made by the senators. Then they asked whether he had anathematized the Typos, and he replied, "Not only did I anathematize it: I wrote a book against it as well." "Do you acknowledge that you have erred?" they asked. "God forbid that I should say I have done wrong when I have done well, upholding the canons of the Church," answered Anastasius. With the Lord's help Anastasius responded wisely to all their questions, so they drove him out and brought in the holy elder Maximus. Troilus addressed our father thus: "Speak the truth, Abba, and God will be merciful to you. We shall interrogate you in accordance with the law. If even one of the charges against you holds good, you may be executed." The elder replied, "I told you before and tell you again that the charges are false. It is as impossible for you to prove one of your accusations as it is for Satan to become God. Satan is an apostate and can never become God, and the accusations are completely false and can never become true. Nonetheless, have it as you wish. I worship God with all sincerity and do not fear you." "Did you anathematize the Typos?" asked Troilus. "I have confirmed several times that I did," answered the elder. "If you anathematized the Typos, it follows that you anathematized the Emperor," asserted Troilus. "I did not anathematize the Emperor, but only a scrap of parchment which overthrows the Orthodox teaching of the Church," explained the godly one. "Where did you anathematize it?" Troilus demanded. Saint Maximus replied, "At the local council in Rome which took place in the Church of the Saviour and the Theotokos." Then the Prefect asked, "Will you enter into communion with our Church, or not?" "I will not," said the saint. "Why?" asked the Eparch. "Because it has rejected the rulings of Orthodox councils," said Maximus. The Eparch continued, "If that be so, how is it that the fathers of those councils remain in the diptychs of our Church?" "How do you profit by commemorating them, when you renounce their doctrines?" countered the saint. The Prefect asked, "Can you prove that our Church rejects the dogmas of the holy synods?" "If you wish me to, and you remain calm," said the elder, "I can do so easily." There was a pause and silence; then the imperial treasurer asked our father, "Why are you so fond of the Romans, but hate the Greeks?" "God commands us to hate no one," said the saint. "I love the Romans because they hold the same faith as I, and I love the Greeks because we speak the same language." "How old are you?" inquired the treasurer. "Seventy-five," answered Maximus. The treasurer asked, "How many years has your disciple been with you?" The elder said, "Thirty-seven." Suddenly one of the clergymen present shouted, "May God punish you for what you did to the blessed Pyrrhus!" Maximus made no reply. The interrogation concluded with mention of the synod held in Rome. One of the saint's adversaries, Demosthenes, asserted, "That was not a true council, because Martin, who convened it, was deposed." "Pope Martin was not deposed, but persecuted," said the man of God. At no time during the examination did either patriarch say a word. When the questioning was completed, the senators sent out Maximus and deliberated what they would do to him. The inhuman persecutors decided it would be too kind merely to imprison or exile the saint again and thought it best to subject him to torments worse than death. They handed over our father and his disciple to the Eparch of the city; whereupon, the Prefect took them to the praetorium. Here the iniquitous torturer had the holy elder stripped naked and flogged with scorpions. He was not put to shame by Maximus' advanced age, saintly appearance, or emaciated body, wasted by ascetic labors. His servants covered the elder with stripes and the floor with blood; then the savage beast turned his attention to Maximus' disciples and ordered them given the same treatment. Meanwhile, a herald proclaimed, "Whoever refuses to submit to the Emperor's decrees renders himself liable to similar punishments!" Afterwards, the half-dead prisoners were dragged back to their cells. At dawn the venerable one, with his senior disciple, was again brought before the Prefect's judgment seat. The sight of the holy elder, ascetic, eloquent theologian, and confessor of the faith hardly breathing and covered with wounds seemed enough to incline the hardest heart to mercy, but the Eparch and his servants were already devising fresh punishments. They tore out Maximus' tongue at the very root, hoping to staunch the flow of divine teachings that was drowning heretical error and to reduce the elder to silence, then did the same to his disciple. After this they sent both men back to the dungeon. Their cruelty was gainless, however, since Christ the Lord, Who of old perfected praise out of the mouths of babes and sucklings and granted the dumb man speech gave His true and faithful servants, the venerable Maximus the Confessor and martyr, and his disciple the godly Anastasius, the miraculous ability to converse more clearly than before. Discovering this, the wretched heretics were infuriated and pounded a knife through our father's wrist, severing his right hand, which they threw to the floor. In the same way they chopped off the hand of his disciple, Saint Anastasius. The other disciple, Anastasius the legate of the Roman Church, escaped the second day's punishments because he had previously served as imperial notary. After this grisly business was finished, the Eparch's servants dragged Saint Maximus and his disciple out of the praetorium and through the markets, abusing them and displaying their tongues and hands to the mob. When they had tired of ridiculing and tormenting the sufferers and of clamoring at the top of their voices, the Prefect's lackeys sent the three prisoners to separate places of exile, barefoot and almost naked, and without food or anyone to care for them. On the road Saint Maximus and the others endured many hardships and additional mistreatment. The venerable one was in such sorry condition that he could neither ride an ass nor endure the jolting of a wagon; therefore, the soldiers carried him in a basket. Even so, the elder was in agony throughout the journey. He was taken to a region called Alania in the European part of Scythia and imprisoned in the town of Skemarum. The holy soul of his much-suffering disciple Anastasius departed from his battered body while he was still travelling and ascended to God and the realm of life everlasting. The venerable Maximus lived for three years in his final place of exile, enduring severe afflictions. He was confined to a dungeon where he was brutally handled and deprived of the care necessary in old age. Before delivering him from his sufferings and leading him out of prison to the heavenly and eternal kingdom of freedom and rejoicing, the Lord consoled him with a divine visitation and proclaimed to him the day and hour of his departure. The blessed passion-bearer was cheered, and although always ready to meet his end, began making special preparations for it. When the long-awaited moment came, he gladly surrendered his soul into the hand of Christ God, Whom He loved from his youth and for Whose sake he had suffered greatly. Thus did Christ's confessor and martyr depart this life and enter into the joy of the Lord. After his burial in Skemarum, three candles appeared over his grave and burned miraculously, illumining the whole area. They signified that the saint, who was a light to the world during his lifetime, continued to shine upon all in his repose. Indeed, to this day he remains a beacon for us and provides an example of virtue, long-suffering, and fiery zeal for the Lord. The fact that three candles were seen indicates that the favorite of the Holy Trinity had taken up his abode in the radiant dwellings of the kingdom of God, where the righteous blaze like the sun and exult in the vision of Triune light. Anastasius the apocrisiarios survived the venerable Maximus and wrote a very lengthy Life describing the labors and sufferings of his father and teacher. We have abbreviated his account, retaining what suffices for our edification, to the glory of our God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, wondrous in the saints. Unto Him be praise, honor, and worship from us sinners, now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen. Apolytikion in the Plagal of the Fourth Tone You are a guide of Orthodoxy, a teacher of piety and modesty, a luminary of the world, the God inspired pride of monastics. O wise Maximos, you have enlightened everyone by your teachings. You are the harp of the Spirit. Intercede to Christ our God for the salvation of our souls. Kontakion in the Plagal of the Fourth Tone Let us the faithful praise with fitting hymns that lover of the Holy Trinity, great Maximus, who clearly taught the divinely-given Faith: that we should give glory unto Christ our God, Who, though but one hypostasis, hath in very truth two natures, wills, and energies. Let us cry to him: Rejoice, divine herald of the Faith.