[center][h3]The Three Warlords[/h3]
[b][color=9e0b0f]Stog[/color], [color=003471]Skagoth[/color], [color=440e62]Grekogork[/color][/b]
[/center]

The first bands of fire appeared on the distant horizon as the sun began to creep its way onto the sky. With that new day came another bloody conquest.

The smoke of several small campfires drifted lazily into the sky, and even the most dimwitted of ogres knew that there would be a camp full of victims to be found nearby. Among those great warbosses that had been appointed by Ommok, there was one named Skagoth, and he had claimed the honor of leading the raid. As if a brute his size had something to prove!

The lazy beast found no prey, and even whilst Skagoth made his preparations that morning to attack in an hour's time, a small party had already broken off from the disorganized ogre army and set out to do the task. Stog had grown tired of waiting, and it had taken little effort for him to rile up some of his more bloodthristy peers. They sent out as a band of six to do the work that Skagoth would have brought a hundred for.

The warband made their way through the woodland similar to how a woodpecker's beak bludgeoned into a tree. They swatted the foliage aside and scared off all the fauna as they stomped a path through the forest, but stealth was hardly Stog's intention. He was a grunt among the army, a mere soldier in the grand scheme of things; fighting and killing he knew. Strategy he didn't, and nor did he care to.

Stog and his band eventually saw the glow of a fire through the treeline. Huddled about it were several small white creatures, those crunchy little shelled creatures that Ommok had called 'heen'. There might be heen to the king, but to Stog they were nothing more than foodstuff. 

He raised his axe above his head and let forth a bellow that seemed to shake the trees and scare off every bird within a mile. The ogres charged the hain hunting camp. The hunters looked up from their morning's meal and saw their assailants. With terror palpable in the air, one of their kind turned to run. The others either stood transfixed or desperately clambered for their weapons. They fired their bows and Stog was struck in the chest by one arrow. The stone head barely even pierced his leathery skin, so with nothing more than a grunt he maintained his breakneck pace. The ogres moved astonishingly fast considering their bulkiness and soon they were upon the hain.

In closing the gap Stog had dodged another arrow, and as the marksman desperately fumbled to nock a third arrow Stog reached him. With a roar he swung his axe downwards. The hain dropped his bow and leaped backwards, the massive stone head of the ogre's axe missing him by a hair. That barely spared his life, but now the hain was scrambling backwards on the ground. Stog laughed and slowly advanced forward. He had time to toy with this one, because to the sides his fellow ogres were keeping the other few hain...occupied.

With one gigantic foot he stepped on the creature's chest. Even though Stog was short for an ogre, he was still twice the puny thing's size. He slowly pressed downwards with more weight and looked to see if the hain's shell was cracking. In that moment one of the hunter's friends charged bearing a spear. One of the other ogres moved to intercept the spearman but there wouldn't be enough time.

Stog needed no help. He jumped off the hain underfoot and took a step towards the one charging him; that boldness and aggression clearly took the spearman by surprise. Where once there had been pure fury, a brief moment of fear pierced that spearman's heart and he hesitated for a split second longer than he otherwise might have. That was all that Stog needed. With his free hand he batted at the spear as it lunged toward him, and then when the point was facing the ground Stog stomped on the shaft. It broke with a resounding crack and the hain tried to turn and run. With both hands the ogre gripped his axe's haft and with all his savage strength he swung horizontally.

[center][img]http://img15.deviantart.net/87dc/i/2015/274/e/8/kisekae_2_prop___blood_splatter_by_zebuta-d9blxeo.png[/img][/center]

...and then something pricked at his leg. Stog turned to see that hain that he had been stepping on. In its hand was a small knife, probably the thing that it had been scrambling on the ground for. That might have been funny if Stog was in a calmer mood, but now he was in a wild trance. Without even thinking he hefted his axe high and then brought it down in a downward arc. What his axe's stone head lacked in sharpness was more than compensated for by the amount of weight behind it; the blow connected and there was an audible crack as the creature's exoskeleton shattered. Stog's guillotine had split the hapless hunter almost in half. Blood erupted upwards in a fountain of gore.

He raised his axe and looked for the next victim, a hain that had been already been disarmed and roughly beaten onto the ground by another one of the ogres. Before he could advance upon that one too, a brawny hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Ay! Calm yourself down!"

Stog spun around. He gritted his jagged teeth and clenched his free hand into a fist so tightly that veins bulged out through all his brawn. That fellow grunt that had questioned him looked taken aback, but before Stog moved to strike there was another one of the ogres that came to intervene, "He just means that we killed all the res'. Better take our time with this one or there's not gonna be any fun, huh?"

Slowly Stog's rage boiled down. "First we gonna take all the loot that we came for. Before the other gits come lookin'. Turn over every stone! Take everything!"

He looked down towards one of the slain hunters that hadn't been mutilated too much. With one swing of his axe he chopped off an arm and moved to roast it over the still burning campfire. The living hain looked at him funny and Stog grew tired of its squealing, so he made it go to sleep with a few pats on the head. Playtime came after eating and looting!

But as luck would have it, their fun was soon interrupted by the sound of branches snapping underneath heavy feet. All around there came great hulking figures trudging angrily towards the camp. One of Stog's dumber friends looked up. "Uh oh, da otha boys foun' us! We gonna be in big trouble!"

A low growl seemed to reverberate from Stog's chest and that silenced the rest of them. They stood with icy stares as several ogres of great stature stepped forth. To ogres size was everything, and judging by their height these were all commanders.

"Well well, look what we got 'ere," one started. He reached for a looted bag of hunting supplies that one of Stog's goons had been holding in his hand. That ogre pull back and tried to fight it out of the officer's hands, but the much larger commander had the advantage in that. He twisted and the grunt released it, and then the officer pushed the smaller one. The grunt pushed back, and then the officer laughed and with one gesture had two or three of his men advance upon the straggler and beat him with clubs.

Another one of the officers glanced back and forth as if sizing up the band. His eyes finally came to rest upon Stog as he seemed to correctly recognize that one as the ringleader. He stepped forward and spoke with fire in his voice, "Orders were clear. We were supposed to attack later today with a hundred warriors. We were going to share the loot. But you wanted to steal it all, so you stole off and did this," he went on on, gesturing towards Stog's butchery, "an' it looks like you just ran in and smashed everything. You ever think about why we were gonna do a sneak attack? What if one of them escaped?"

"If one escaped then we just kill 'im later. Don't matter if his friends find out we're comin' these puny heen are easy to stomp."

"If one escaped, he will tell the nearby villages and they'll all run. Then what do we have?"

Stog snorted at that. "One tried to run an' I axed 'im up real good. Stop sayin' that word 'if'."

"We're taking all the loot. Your grubby hands don't get to keep anything."

"Ay! We fought for it while you slept under a tree! We deserve our share!"

"You disobeyed my orders, and the king said we're the bosses roun' here, not you [b]scrawny[/b] gits."

Stog's teeth gnashed together so hard that it hurt.

Just then another ogre stepped forth to declare that fresh tracks had been found leading away from the camp, as if one of the heen had just fled in a hurry. The officer looked back at Stog coldly. Off to the side, that ogre that had tried to fight over the stack was still yelping as they beat him. "Follow the trail! He'll be running back to his village," the general told the scout. Then he turned back to Stog and promised, "If you think your friend over there is getting it bad, just wait until it's your turn you [b]little[/b] git!"

At that moment Stog's burning gaze could have bored holes in stone. He stared lividly at the hundred ogres all about him. He wanted nothing more than to hack them all to pieces.

Instead, he watched as they stole all his hard-earned loot and went about punishing his friends one by one. At some point along the line, the hunter that Stog had left unconscious began to stir. That wretched general immediately noticed and grabbed the creature for himself.

[hr]

Each night the ogre invasion force would break camp. Most quickly assembled a crude lean-to for shelter or else just slept on the ground, but a few of the more important ones had taken felt or leather tents as loot from the previous hain villages. Skagoth was one of the generals and so he had such a luxury. By hain standards the tent was giant, but that was fitting for one that was huge even by ogre standards.

Cowering in the corner of his tent were several heen that he had claimed as his own slaves. Sadly the things weren't as useful as he would have hoped. Maybe they would make fine livestock back at home. He looked at the sorry lot of them tiredly and said, "Water! Here! Now!"

They all stared back dumbly. It was like talking to a rock or a tree. Except rocks and trees didn't flinch...

But then one of them quickly stood up. He said some gibberish and then the lot of them grabbed a pot and ran off to the river. When the returned, they handed it to Skagoth and the great ogre chugged the entirety of the pot's contents. He looked at the one that had understood and recognized it as that one that he had taken at the hunting camp only yesterday. He imagined that Stog, the idiot behind that foolhardy raid, would have simply killed that heen for the fun of it.

Shaking his head to banish the thoughts of that fool, he waved at the slaves to leave and they all scurried out of his tent. Even the dumb ones understood that gesture well enough. Then Skagoth sat and waited for the meeting that he had arranged. Some time later, a fellow general by the name of Makog showed up. Though Skagoth despised how Ommok had simply left the largest ogres in positions of command without paying a second thought to it or even considering the intelligence of his new commanders, it certainly made things easier. Through promising Makog and some of the others a portion of his own loot, their loyalty was secured.

Later that day he met with one of the more stubborn warbosses, and then he had been forced to resort to threats. When that failed, they taded blows, but in the end Skagoth finally earned the brute's respect. [i]'Both wits and brawn,'[/i] the general thought, [i]'that is what will earn me my place as the sole leader of this army.'[/i]

He had been planning to assume leadership for many days now, but he just needed the right time. Through quick thinking he had discovered the location of the largest heen settlement they had encountered yet; Stog's moronic attack had scared off one of those hain at the camp, and that hunter's tracks led straight back to his village just as Skagoth had predicted. This time the heen would know that the ogres were coming and they would have time to be ready, but it wouldn't matter. Skagoth would lead them all to victory, and then he would assume power while the triumph was fresh and he had the support of the other officers.

There was only one last ogre of importance that he would like to speak with - Grekogork. As one of the few of Ommok's sorcerers that actually came with the horde on their conquests and the only one that stayed behind after Ommok left, the task of managing four djinn fell upon Grekogork's shoulders. Three of them were lesser flamedjinn and they were not particularly uncooperate, but the larger one was a djinni of earth and it frequently battled to break free of the shaman's grasp. Fortunately Grekogork had been taught well by Falyr and Ommok, and so while his mind was strained he never lost control of those four djinn and he ensured that they fulfilled their role in every battle. Needless to say, that made Grekogork somewhat important. His close ties to the king also made him something of an officer, and it wasn't as if he was small by any measure.

"Grekogork," Skagoth had began, "I would like to speak with you."

The sorcerer snorted and the four djinn around him strangely did likewise, or at least they tried to mimic the sound. "You not as smart as you think you are, big mighty warboss!"

Skagoth was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. It was rare that his charisma failed him so the shaman's seeming indifference (or had it been an insult?!) was strange. He regained his wit and tried again, "I think we should become friendlier with one another."

Again the sorcerer snorted. "You wanna be Grekogork's friend? Why? You a clever little general, but Grekogork is smarter!

I know you just wanna tell me what to do an' tell those djinn what to burn or what to smash. But I don't think so! I'M DA BOSS OF THESE DJINN! I only listen to the great king Ommok! Grekogork does what Grekogork pleases!"

Taken somewhat aback, Skagoth backed down and left. He was no coward and he wouldn't have taken such a rebuke lightly had it come from any other, but in truth Grekogork's powers scared even the biggest of ogres and the cleverest of generals.

But it was no matter; the opinion of one shaman was nothing compared to the support of a half dozen other warbosses. Tomorrow Skagoth would be the high warlord whether that wretched sorcerer liked it or not.

[hr]

Stog's back and limbs still throbbed from his beating the day before. He had ignored the agony and marched all day with nothing more than the occasional grunt, but now as he laid down to sleep the sharp pains denied him even that rest. So wearily he simply sat against a tree and waited until morning.

He hated all the waiting.

He wanted the killing to start. If he fell asleep that night he might have gotten that wish, but it never was the same when it was only a dream. He couldn't taste the blood in his dreams. So he had to content himself with waiting. How could he ever sleep whilst there were still enemies in the hills that drew breath? How could he ever sleep when he served under a bunch of snotty generals that stole his loot?

His teeth ground together. They did a lot; a few of them had grown dull from it. But then in the distance there was a faint thud almost like thunder. His eyes wandered to the darkened sky above in search of the lightning or stormclouds but he found nothing. That was good. He hated being rained on. Unless the rain was blood. Then it was okay.

He heard the boom again, and then again. It repeated rhythmically like a drum. As a few minutes passed the sound grew steadily louder. Whatever its source was, it was coming closer. With nothing better to do Stog stood up and grabbed his axe. Other ogres were stirring and doing likewise, and soon they made their way to the edge of the camp. In the distance they saw it: a white giant lumbering on its way.

The ogres had told stories of white giants. In older days they had been a threat to the ogre homeland and occasionally attacked, but their great king Ommok had long since led his warriors to defeat the last of the white giants that had patrolled their region of the Venomweald. Still, they were called White Stompers. The ogres still told tales of the strange creatures' strength and violent temperament, but from afar this one looked...almost peaceful.

It slowly approached. The ogres turned towards each other and started arguing. Some of the dumber ones thought it was a walking rock. Some of the smarter ones knew what it was and wanted to avoid the thing.

Stog wanted to smash it.

He raised his axe high, bellowed, and advanced forth. The thing's wormlike head snaked to face the direction of Stog's warcry and it seemed to notice the ogres only just then. A tremble seemed to wash over the white giant. It shook violently for a moment, let loose an unnatural sound, and then charged.

Half the ogres ran from it and the other half followed Stog's wild charge. As the first to start running Stog was the first one to reach the giant. He leaped to the side at the last moment before he would have collided head on with the giant and been trampled. Then with one wild swing he smashed his axe into the creature's side and smashed through a porcelain plate. His axe burrowed into the unnatural flesh underneath, and with a great heave Stog began to wrench it back out. But then one of the six arms on that side of the giant swung at his head. He ducked the blow, but then another arm grabbed at him. Its grip was of such unbelievable strength that it was like a vice.

Throughout this whole time the white giant had continued its charge and so only by digging his heels into the ground and twisted back did Stog manage to break free, but it felt as though his arm was going to be torn from his socket. And then he was was almost trampled, but nonetheless, he rose again. Now the white giant was thrashing its way through a small crowd of ogres, slashing and striking with a dozen limbs at once and stomping upon any that fell onto the ground. To their credit the ogres fought back and shattered several more of its plates before trying to drive spears through the holes in its armor, but the enraged abomination refused to die.

Stog was back on his feet again. His axe was still buried somewhere in the giant's flank but that mattered little; he was beginning to realize that hacking it to pieces mattered little. If he wanted to kill the giant snot and get his axe back, he'd have to beat it at its own game. They'd knock it over and stomp it into the ground.

He charged at the giant again, roaring with panting breath, "Shove it on da groun'! Kick it down and step onnit!"

Then he threw himself onto the thing's side and shoved with all the strength he had. Though Stog had quite a bit of strength, the white giant hardly budged. Several of its arms grasped at him to try and wrestle him off and rip him apart, but before that happened a half dozen other ogres also leaped at it. Together they began to force it onto the ground, slowly but surely. At the same time other ogres were still swinging weapons at it; there was nothing but shouting, chaos, and the unnatural roaring of the giant.

But then there came the sound of one ogre's voice, "GET BACK YA DUM-DUMS! OUTTA GREKOGORK'S WAY!" If that didn't scatter the mob of ogres encircling the giant, then the three blazing firedjinn and the earthdjinn certainly did. Stog watched some unseen force hurl the other ogres off the white giant's flank. It tugged at him but he mostly just ignored it. How did such a puny shove knock off those other gits?

Then he saw the four djinn leaping at the giant and he broke free by his own volition rather than by Grekogork's magic. The white giant flailed about confused as if looking for some unseen attacker. The four djinn were in plain sight, and though the ogres didn't understand the whys of it, it was plainly obvious that the white giant wasn't even capable of detecting the djinn. [i]'Hah!'[/i] Stog thought, [i]'it can't e'en fight dem lil djinn!'[/i]

While the djinn bound to him kept the white giant occupied. Grekogork began to shake. His feet and arms flailed about as if he were being stung by a thousand venomous hornits from the Venomweald. His tongue lolled as he shouted some indiscernible gibberish and his eyes looked crazed. With no small exertion (for the white giant was much larger and much harder to fling than those scraggly gits that had been trying to climb on it!) he worked his magic and telekinetically lifted the white giant into the air. He kept gyrating wildly as he performed his Astartian magic, and the white giant kept levitating helplessly in the air. Now the three flamedjinn leaped at it and charred through its strange flesh, and then the stonedjinn delivered the killing blow by driving a razor-sharp shard of stone deep into the white giant and breaking something. Grekogork abruptly ceased his dancing and sat back down, clearly fatigued to the point that he was nearly unconscious. Stog could only watch in disbelief with his mouth agape.

"Grekogork, Grekogork!" a hundred of them chanted. While they cheered, Stog seethed and burned. He had wanted to smash the snotty thing himself, but once again he had all the glory snatched away by some git that thought himself better. He ground his teeth and looked to the side to observe another that wasn't cheering: Skagoth.

Stog spat and then returned to where he had been at vigil earlier in the night. Some time later the white giant's ruined husk exploded and its entropic magic caused strange things began to happen, but the ogres didn't pay much heed to such trivial things.

[hr]

The next morning came and Skagoth set his plan into motion. The incident with the white giant in the middle of the night had stopped nothing, though perhaps it did bestow a greater sense of urgency upon Skagoth. The general knew that Grekogork's demonstration of power that night had been the cause of much talking and he was wary of letting the sorcerer make too much of a name for himself lest he become a rival too strong to be beaten back down. He could only hope that another conquest would be enough to wash away the memories of Grekogork's victory and seize the hour for himself.

[i]'Too much plotting,'[/i] he thought to himself. The great ogre walked on at the head of the army and looked for the heen village that his scouts had found. On the far distance he eventually spotted it: a large hillock with a cluster of tents and hovels at the top. He saw the gleaming white exteriors of countless tiny heen as scurried about the village like ants. Clearly they knew what was coming for them and were getting ready. That these heen knew what was coming and yet decided to remain in their village told Skagoth that they were going to fight. [i]Good.[/i]

When they drew closer he addressed the big 'uns that were the army's officers and elites. "We already agreed that this is gonna get done my way," he declared at the very beginning, daring any of them to go back on their deals and object. None did. "So lemme tell you what to do. We split up and surround their hill. You each take twenty of your ogres and give 'em bows. No bows to the gits that are too dumb or don't have enough eyes to use 'em. They follow behind you and shoot arrows at the village. Doesn't matter what the arrows hit, just that they go flying to scare the heen. Then you stand real far apart from one another so it's harder for the hain to shoot you with their own arrows, and you run up the hill real fast and start smashin'. Wave the standards around! Scare 'em so much that they drop like rocks; Ommok wants slaves and you can't take 'em as slaves if you've deaded them!"

The boys quickly got to it just as Skagoth had said. When the assault began, the hain had archers and spear-throwers ready just as Skagoth had predicted. But his tactic worked; where they had hoped to slaughter the ogres as they tired themselves charging up the hillside, the hain found themselves under a barrage of the ogres' own arrows and they had to take cover. What few projectiles they did throw did little to stop the ogres' charge.

Skagoth himself led a warband up the hill. At his side there ran an ancient that carried a macabre totem.

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/5QTYaBr.jpg[/img]
[i]The ogres' standard was held high above their heads as they stormed the hill. It heralded a grisly fate for the brave hain that fought to defend their home.[/i][/center]

But when they had made it about halfway up the hill, there came a surprise. From between their hovels, the hain pushed huge balls of hay towards the slopes. With torches they set the things on fire, and they kicked them to roll down on the ogres below as gigantic fireballs. If they hadn't spread themselves out as they charged up the hill, Skagoth knew that they would have been unable to move as freely and might have been devastated. He would be sure to take credit for that good thinking!

The first few fireballs caught the ogres by surprise and several were crushed or burned, but now that they saw the things coming they moved to avoid the fireballs as they rolled down the hill in straight lines. The hain quickly ran out of the great balls of hay, but then they began to roll boulders down the hill, only these boulders seemed almost...guided. When the ogres tried to move to the side to avoid them, the boulders turned.

And then they crushed the first of their victims, and then the things that the ogres had taken to be boulders stood up. They opened their maws and raised their arms. "They're Stonies! Smash 'em to bits!" Skagoth roared, but there was hardly any need. Even in those wild and hilly areas near the Venomweald there existed the occasional pack of urtelem, and the ogres had encountered the so called 'stonies' before. Belligerent as they always were, the urtelem almost always attacked on sight. Though the stonemen stood a chance against their larger (but softer) relatives, the ogres were more than capable of fighting back.

The charge uphill halted as a brawl broke out between the ogre warriors and the local urtelem that this village had tamed. From between their hovels the hain popped out and tried to harass the ogres, but Skagoth's own archers returned fire.

Skagoth was sure to make a good account for himself; he locked arms with one of the urtelem and pinned it onto the ground. He smashed a tomahawk onto its head, but the crude stone head of his own weapon broke without doing much more than chipping off a piece of the urtelem and making it angrier. The thing delivered a punch to Skagoth's gut that would have broken the bones of any man, but ogres were made of stronger stuff. He pinned down the arm that had struck him and returned the favor with a blow of his own. Then he grabbed the piece that had broken off the urtelem and made a show of eating it. He kept punching that stony until it retreated into the dirt underneath its back. Stonies knew when to run.

The warlord was back on his feet a moment later and charging to help his grunts beat back the other urtelem. For a fleeting moment, Skagoth caught a glimpse of a half dozen ogres charging up the hill, nearly to the top. He recognized that one called Stog at the head and watched the brute launch himself headlong into a group of heen warriors and begin some crazed onslaught. What that one lacked in intelligence and size was made up for in sheer ferocity and how well he swung that axe of his.

[hr]

Within the passage of a few hours the conquest was complete. After scattering the urtelem the attack was easy enough; despite all their preparations the hain were ultimately overpowered. Brutes rampaged through the dirt paths to round up the survivors and pillage everything within sight. In the thick of it all stood Skagoth as he basked in his own triumph. Even an ogre warboss was prone to the occasional sentiment. 

He reveled for only a short time before one of the soldiers ran to him panting. "Skagoth," he started, "Makog! Ma-"

"What does that fool want from me now?! I did my part of the deal, he gets to take his big share and all loot would have been mine!"

"No, it not dat! He's, he's...Stog..." he stammered, and at the mention of Stog the messenger got Skagoth's full attention. "Makog tried to say Stog was takin' too much of the loot, and then Stog got mad chopped 'im up real good! I mean, real bad!"

With a roar Skagoth stormed through the village and knocked aside everyone in his path. When he finally came upon Stog there was already a crowd so thick that even the warboss struggled to push his way through, but with his greater height he witness what happened in the middle. Stog callously stood next to the mutilated remnants of Makog, and in his face was another general by the name of Ugrigg.

Ugrigg bellowed, "YOU CAN'T JUS' TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT AND MURDA A WARBOSS! I'M GONNA BEAT YOU SO HARD DA GROUN' WILL FEEL IT, YOU [b]LIL RUNT[/b]-"

With lightning speed Stog swung his axe in a low arc and struck Ugrigg in the knee. The gargantuan ogre fell to the ground like a rock and then it was Stog who towered over him. "I'LL SHOW YOU WUT A RUNT IS!"

Stog raised his his axe all the way above his head and then brought it down with the force of an avalanche. The head buried itself so deep into Ugrigg's skull that the end might have poked out from the bottom of his head like a second chin. It was hard to tell with blood gushing everywhere.

A collective roar went through the crowd. It was hard to tell if it was child cheering, disgust, or pure rage, but nonetheless this was turning out to be quite the event for the average grunt to watch. The officers were understandably beginning to feel different emotions.

Stog put his foot on the slain general's soldier and ripped his axe free once more. "I'M TIRED O' BEING CALLED LIL! I'M TIRED O' DUMB WARBOSSES TELLIN' ME WHAT I CAN TAKE AN' WHEN I CAN KILL! I'M THE GREAT, BIG, MIGHTY [b]WARCHIEF[/b] NOW! I'M GONNA LEAD US TO LOTS O' BATTLES AN' WE GONNA WIN 'EM ALL! BUT FIRST LET'S GET TO KILLIN' THE REST O' DESE HEEN!"

Skagoth finally made his way into the clearing in the middle of the ground and Stog grew silent and stared. Skagoth met his gaze, and then the mob of orcs went wild and cheered for another fight. A wicked grin slowly crept onto Stog's face, and in that moment Skagoth seemed to notice for the first time the countless scars upon Stog. He looked like the most ruthless warrior in the entire horde, and he might well have been. The gore that covered his body just then didn't hurt the impression.

"Well well, what we got here? You still think I'm scrawny like back when you stole my stuff? You think you can beat me again without ten gits holdin' me back? Hah!"

Skagoth began to open his mouth but Stog interrupted. "I don't wanna talk," he said as he brandished his bloodied axe. "I wanna maim you. So say what you gotta say and then get outta my face, 'fore I cleave you in half!"

Skagoth didn't answer Stog. In fact, he turned his back onto Stog because he knew that not even that brute was cowardly enough to attack another ogre from behind. Facing the mob, Skagoth proclaimed, "He's nothin'! I'm the one who got us this victory. It was [b]my[/b] idea to follow those tracks here, and it was [b]my[/b] ideas that won us this battle! I deserve to be warchief! Follow me and we all get red hands!"

"Red hands! Red hands!" they chanted back fervently.

Stog laughed. "He's a stupid git! [b]We[/b] won this battle! Our muscle smashed all da heen and stonies! We don't need some warboss takin' all da loot for himself!"

The grunts cheered even louder, but Skagoth quickly observed that he still had the big 'uns on his side. The warbosses were not at all content with some puny little upstart murdering his betters and trying to seize their power.

"So who's wit me?!" Stog bellowed. He received a deafening response.

"Who's with me?" Skagoth echoed, and the crowd was noticeably quieter. 

Stog laughed. "Looks like I win," he said, "now I'll be takin' back the loot you owe me!"

Skagoth spat. "King Ommok will hear of this treachery," he promised.

The new self-proclaimed warchief snorted in derision. "So long as 'e gets a few heen slaves and trophies comin' to him, he don't give a rock about whose in charge."

Skagoth's face tightened. Deep down, a part of him knew that Stog was right. He had come here expecting to a battle, and a battle he had found. But it had surprisingly been one of wit and word rather than of blows, and Stog had won. Skagoth decided to cut his losses then and there and not try his luck against the brute in a duel; though he was certainly bigger and stronger, Skagoth had witnessed firsthand how fast and deadly Stog was.

In the morning Stog's new horde left with the all of the warbeasts, the loot, and supplies that they could possibly haul with them. Skagoth was left with considerably less but at least Grekogork had stayed.

...that was, until midday. Then Grekogork too had declared his intention to become a warlord and left with a fair few followers and of course with all four of his djinn. Skagoth could only sigh; the once unstoppable ogre army had now splintered into three bands. For now there was at least enough lands around to let the three warlords do their fighting without getting in the way of one another, but soon enough Skagoth suspected that the rivalry might escalate. But for now, he returned to his tent and began plotting his next moves.

[hider=Summary]
Here we see what came of the ogre invasion after Ommok prematurely left to return to his fortress.

The ogre army ended up splintered into three hordes, each led by one of three great warbosses:
[list]
[*]Grekogork, who is brutally magical. He has the smallest horde, but also has several djinn bound to him.
[*]Skagoth, who is brutally cunning. He has a medium-sized horde and the support of most of the original officers, who happen to be the largest and strongest of the ogres.
[*]Stog, who is brutally brutal. He has the majority of the original army and also kept most of the warbeasts.
[/list]

This post goes into how they came to power, what they think of one another, and what they're up to. There's also a part where the ogres encounter a white giant and battle in which the hain actually manage to put up a fight thanks to forewarning and the help of some local urtelem.
[/hider]