Grimgor Ironhide

Grimgor Ironhide came out of the east like a rumour of the world's end — a Black Orc harder, meaner, and hungrier for battle than any greenskin in living memory, and greenskin memory is written in scars. Where he was spawned, not even Grimgor knows or cares. His legend begins in the Dark Lands, where he fought anything that walked on two legs or more, and it has been growing louder ever since, one atrocity at a time.

Grimgor barely sleeps and wakes up furious. He fights from first light until nothing within reach is still moving, and his axe Gitsnik has drunk so deep over the years that other orcs swear the blade growls when battle is near. Around him march da Immortulz, a bodyguard of Black Orcs who have each survived long enough in his shadow to be worth something — the highest compliment Grimgor has ever paid anyone.

His tragedy, if a greenskin can have one, is winning. Every enemy breaks too fast; every Waaagh! he raises outgrows the war it was raised for. So Grimgor marches on — over the mountains, into the Old World, toward any banner rumoured to belong to somebody hard — searching for the one fight big enough to be worth finishing. He has already decided how the story ends. Grimgor is da best. The rest of the world is just taking too long to admit it.