The Ogre Bulls are the common ogre in his natural state of war: a wall of gut and muscle that walks forward and does not stop. They form the core of every tribe and the mass of every army, ordinary only by the standards of a race in which ordinary means half a ton of hungry killer. Each carries a heavy club or cleaver and wears a gut-plate of scavenged iron across his belly, the better to shove aside spears and take a charge on the fat.
There is no drill to them, and no need for any. Bulls advance at a rolling trot that quickens into a thunderous charge, lower their gut-plates, and crash into the foe like a landslide with appetites — goring, clubbing, and trampling ranks flat before they can dress their line. Whatever survives the impact, the Bulls eat. They fight for loot and meat and the approval of their Tyrant, and in the whole history of the race they have never once required a better reason.
Order of battle
