Gobsprakk

Gobsprakk is the mightiest shaman of the Kruleboyz and, if you believe him, the personal mouthpiece of Mork — and it is genuinely difficult not to believe him, because the god's cackling malice seems to drip from every word he says. He rides to war on a Corpse-rippa Vulcha, a monstrous carrion bird that has developed a pointed taste for wizard-flesh at its master's side, and wherever its shadow circles, Kruleboyz take it as holy writ that something kunnin' is about to happen to someone who deserves it.

His magic is the swamp's magic: prophecy read in bubbling mud, curses that ripen slowly, and a particular delight in unravelling other people's spells — enemy wizards are his favourite prey, their own sorcery turned inside out and fed back to them. At the Siege of Excelsis he matched his kunnin' against the greatest mages of Order and flew away boasting, which, against that city's defenders, is victory enough for any legend.

But Gobsprakk's longest game is theological. He preaches — quietly, poisonously, to anyone kunnin' enough to listen — that the Great Waaagh! belongs to Mork, that Gordrakk is the wrong god's fist, and that when the moment comes, the whole tide of Destruction will turn its head his way. Whether that is prophecy or ambition, no one can say; with Gobsprakk the two have never been separate things. Enemy wizards fear his silence more than his voice, because when the Mouth of Mork stops talking, it means he already knows how it ends.