Bestigors are what a gor becomes when it wins every contest the herd can offer: taller, heavier-horned, and armoured in looted plate and mail, swinging double-handed axes that hit like falling trees. They form the vanguard of any greatfray worth fearing, striding ahead of the mob to break the enemy's strongest point out of simple, savage pride.
Nothing enrages a bestigor like order itself. Banners, drilled ranks, and gleaming formations draw them as blood draws wolves, for every neat line of soldiery is a boast that the world can be tamed — and the bestigor exists to answer that boast. They take standards as trophies, feast first at the herdstone, and hold their place in the herd the only way it can be held: by never once losing.
Order of battle
