The Meatfist are the largest and most widely scattered of all the Ogor Mawtribes, a nation so numerous that its warglutts have been sighted on the Mawpath of nearly every realm, blotting the horizon edge to edge. They are the tribe of the direct answer, the problem solved by running at it until it falls over. Subtlety, to the Meatfist, is a confession that you were not quite big enough to manage without it.
Their Tyrants preach the whole of the Gut's law in two clauses: anything in the realms can be knocked down, and anything knocked down can be eaten. All else — strategy, diplomacy, patience — is merely delay between those two happy events. A Meatfist warglutt does not manoeuvre; it finds the largest concentration of meat still on its feet and advances at a full, ground-eating charge.
What makes them genuinely terrible is not cleverness but sheer inexhaustible mass. Break one warglutt and another is already lumbering over the ridge; kill a Tyrant and the biggest survivor eats his heart and takes the title before the body cools. To subtler foes it looks like stupidity, right up until the whole horizon is charging and there is nowhere left to be clever. The Meatfist do not scheme. They arrive.
Ogor Mawtribes
Order of battle
The Meatfist field the units of the Ogor Mawtribes — a detachment from the roster:
Kindred formations
Other Ogor Mawtribes formations
BloodgulletNo mawtribe raises more Butchers than the Bloodgullet, and none holds its gut-priests in higher honour. Their camps are gore-slick kitchens where gastromancy bubbles in great cauldrons, and their warriors march to battle daubed in rendered fat and bad intentions. The Bloodgullet hold that the Gulping God favours the tribe that cooks best, and they take the theology of the feast very seriously indeed.
BoulderheadMightiest of the Beastclaw mawtribes, the Boulderhead drive the greatest herds of stonehorns and thundertusks in all the realms. Their Frostlords prize their beasts above almost everything else — an ogor is easily replaced, but a bull stonehorn is a mountain that has learned to hate. When the Boulderhead migrate, the ground reports them long before the eye does.
UndergutsThe Underguts worship at the altar of gunpowder as devoutly as the gut, fielding more Leadbelchers and looted cannon than any other mawtribe. They are siege-eaters, cracking fortress walls like shells to get at the soft meat inside. Defenders who put their trust in stone soon learn that the Underguts consider every wall a dinner bell.