Kazogh

Kazogh iz a cunnin’ big gob, green an’ mean,
talkin’ ta da swamp spirits an’ shoutin’ at da boyz.
He don’t lead from da front — he leads from da smoke, da mud, an’ da bad signs.

HIS WAAAGH:
Rust-armoured orks an’ gobs, plates held by nails an’ faith,
stink o’ swamps, blood, an’ old iron.
Dey fight dirty, drown enemies in mud,
an’ keep goin’ even when bits fall off.

Wild trolls come when Kazogh calls,
half-naked, scarred, hungry,
too dumb ta fear death, too tough ta care.

WHERE DEY COME FROM:
Da Marshes o’ Mephidroos — wet, rotten, an’ full o’ things dat bite.
If ya see da fog move an’ hear drums in da mud…
it’s already too late.