17 Apr 2009
Tribe of the Morning Light Mountain a.k.a. The Mawfeeders
The Tribe of the Morning Light Mountain lived an idyllic lifestyle in a busy pass through the Mountains of Mourn. Providing protection for those who would buy it, slaughtering and pillaging those who would not. Tyrant Collossogut the Double-crosser envied no one and he and his tribe grew wealthy as they passed the years watching the Sun rise over the nearby peak from which they took their name.
Then the Great Maw arrived. Other tribes moved through their pass, their pilgrimage bringing war after war after war on the Tribe and their numbers began to decline. Though all in the Tribe felt its call, Collossogut resisted and kept them in check. Steeling them against the pull of the maw in an effort to preserve the good life they had. Eventually members of the Tribe began to defect, drawn to the Maw. Collossogut took the only logical step he would kill the Great Maw.
Once more Collossogut pressed the Tribe of the Morning Light Mountain into war, but this time it was different. This time there was no bellowing, betting on the most kills and other such pre-slaughter celebration. This time the tribe travelled for a month in a grim mood, the calling of the Maw growing stronger with each step they took towards it, the hunger and desire to kill consuming their minds. Eventually the Tribe arrived at the Great Maw but instead of declaring the charge with boulders, flaming debris and great weapons, all Collossogut could muster was a roar of anguish and pain as the Maw assaulted his mind. Collossogut began to stagger toward the great Maw, his Thundermace held high, but Hammerfist blocked his way. In a heartbeat the Tribe of the Morning Light Mountain began to tear itself apart. Having drawn them in and allowing them to approach, the new god of the ogres closed the trap. The hunger of the Great Maw and the thunder of its heartbeat in the heads of the ogres crushed the minds of the tribe like a giant would a baby and to a soul they tore and devoured at any flesh within reach, lost in hunger and violence. The earth turned to mud with the blood of the tribe as Collossogut and Hammerfist tore at each other in the centre of the insanity. The larger Collossogut, already having lost his gutplate, forced his bruiser down on one knee, biting down on his thick skull. Then the bruiser smashed both his hands into the Collossogut , just below the ribs and pulled down. Collossoguts legs refused to yield so it was the flesh wall of his massive gut that came down like a curtain. Roaring as agony cut through bloodlust, Collossogut released his grip and his entrails spilled out. From his kneeling position Hammerfist lifted the larger ogre up above his head and staggered to the very lip of the Maw, entrails and organs hanging over him like a mass of bloody dreadlocks and cast the tyrant into the living pit. At that moment the madness vanished from the tribe and the ogres, broken and bloody and less than half in number than when they left their mountain home, knelt before Hammerfist, hailing him as their new tyrant. The new tyrant of the tribe from the Morning Light Mountain turned to look at his tribe, coated in thick, clotting, sticky, red blood from head to toe and he understood, understood what had begun and his place within it.
What remained of the Tribe of the Morning Light Mountain never returned to the home that gave them its own name. Their experience with the Great Maw imprinted each of them with the rock solid belief that by feeding, they feed the Maw. By feeding, they feed the maw. By feeding we, feed the maw. Feed the Maw. Feed. Feed. Feed.
And they marched behind their new leader, called by the Maw, chosen by combat, baptised in the blood of his predecessor. They named him Murderblud in reference and in reverence to that blood, which painted his entire body as they set off on their journey. Though he was not the same ogre that left the Mountains of Mourn, most of the time he was fixed upon his quest, but at other times he would be overcome by fits of violent rage smashing buildings, rocks, even his followers into ruins. At other times his hunger was so intense that he would eat everything he could lay his hands on, trees, clubs, gnoblars, again his tribe were not safe from his cravings. At these times his tribe would fight to restrain him, sometimes they would manage, sometimes they would not.
This is his quest: To lead his tribe in the consumption of the world in the name of the Great Maw, which burrowed in his gut, in the gut of each of his tribe. Everything that can reason, that can think, must be sacrificed to the Great Maw. Every creature that can understand the terror and the glory of the Maw will take its rightful place inside it. The Hunger and the Rage demand it. No peace, no rest, no mercy. Only worship, and to worship is to eat the screaming wretches who would resist. Other ogres from other tribes have chosen to safely join under the banner of Murderblud Mawfeeder, but those who resist play a different roll in worship of the Maw.
They are the Mawfeeders, and they are coming for us all!
The Tribe of the Morning Light Mountain lived an idyllic lifestyle in a busy pass through the Mountains of Mourn. Providing protection for those who would buy it, slaughtering and pillaging those who would not. Tyrant Collossogut the Double-crosser envied no one and he and his tribe grew wealthy as they passed the years watching the Sun rise over the nearby peak from which they took their name.
Then the Great Maw arrived. Other tribes moved through their pass, their pilgrimage bringing war after war after war on the Tribe and their numbers began to decline. Though all in the Tribe felt its call, Collossogut resisted and kept them in check. Steeling them against the pull of the maw in an effort to preserve the good life they had. Eventually members of the Tribe began to defect, drawn to the Maw. Collossogut took the only logical step he would kill the Great Maw.
Once more Collossogut pressed the Tribe of the Morning Light Mountain into war, but this time it was different. This time there was no bellowing, betting on the most kills and other such pre-slaughter celebration. This time the tribe travelled for a month in a grim mood, the calling of the Maw growing stronger with each step they took towards it, the hunger and desire to kill consuming their minds. Eventually the Tribe arrived at the Great Maw but instead of declaring the charge with boulders, flaming debris and great weapons, all Collossogut could muster was a roar of anguish and pain as the Maw assaulted his mind. Collossogut began to stagger toward the great Maw, his Thundermace held high, but Hammerfist blocked his way. In a heartbeat the Tribe of the Morning Light Mountain began to tear itself apart. Having drawn them in and allowing them to approach, the new god of the ogres closed the trap. The hunger of the Great Maw and the thunder of its heartbeat in the heads of the ogres crushed the minds of the tribe like a giant would a baby and to a soul they tore and devoured at any flesh within reach, lost in hunger and violence. The earth turned to mud with the blood of the tribe as Collossogut and Hammerfist tore at each other in the centre of the insanity. The larger Collossogut, already having lost his gutplate, forced his bruiser down on one knee, biting down on his thick skull. Then the bruiser smashed both his hands into the Collossogut , just below the ribs and pulled down. Collossoguts legs refused to yield so it was the flesh wall of his massive gut that came down like a curtain. Roaring as agony cut through bloodlust, Collossogut released his grip and his entrails spilled out. From his kneeling position Hammerfist lifted the larger ogre up above his head and staggered to the very lip of the Maw, entrails and organs hanging over him like a mass of bloody dreadlocks and cast the tyrant into the living pit. At that moment the madness vanished from the tribe and the ogres, broken and bloody and less than half in number than when they left their mountain home, knelt before Hammerfist, hailing him as their new tyrant. The new tyrant of the tribe from the Morning Light Mountain turned to look at his tribe, coated in thick, clotting, sticky, red blood from head to toe and he understood, understood what had begun and his place within it.
What remained of the Tribe of the Morning Light Mountain never returned to the home that gave them its own name. Their experience with the Great Maw imprinted each of them with the rock solid belief that by feeding, they feed the Maw. By feeding, they feed the maw. By feeding we, feed the maw. Feed the Maw. Feed. Feed. Feed.
And they marched behind their new leader, called by the Maw, chosen by combat, baptised in the blood of his predecessor. They named him Murderblud in reference and in reverence to that blood, which painted his entire body as they set off on their journey. Though he was not the same ogre that left the Mountains of Mourn, most of the time he was fixed upon his quest, but at other times he would be overcome by fits of violent rage smashing buildings, rocks, even his followers into ruins. At other times his hunger was so intense that he would eat everything he could lay his hands on, trees, clubs, gnoblars, again his tribe were not safe from his cravings. At these times his tribe would fight to restrain him, sometimes they would manage, sometimes they would not.
This is his quest: To lead his tribe in the consumption of the world in the name of the Great Maw, which burrowed in his gut, in the gut of each of his tribe. Everything that can reason, that can think, must be sacrificed to the Great Maw. Every creature that can understand the terror and the glory of the Maw will take its rightful place inside it. The Hunger and the Rage demand it. No peace, no rest, no mercy. Only worship, and to worship is to eat the screaming wretches who would resist. Other ogres from other tribes have chosen to safely join under the banner of Murderblud Mawfeeder, but those who resist play a different roll in worship of the Maw.
They are the Mawfeeders, and they are coming for us all!