Once long ago Gnargog was a mighty Warboss whose deeds brought his Throatrippers at a head of a coalition of tribes

in the Vaults. Yet he didnt get the chance to lead them in a Waaagh! A roving black orc band ambushed them during a night and their boss defeated Gnargog in challenge, smashing his left eye out and shattering his jaw along with countless other injuries which he inflicted on his defeated foe once he fell unconscious. Gnargog was happy to escape with his life though his shattered body meant he was relegated to the very bottom of the orc society. The only creatures he could now boss around were the goblin crews of the tribes warmachines. Malcontent and miserable he succumbed to fungus beer and other more potent liquors obtained for him by his underlings. It was a perfect symbiosis between an orc and goblins. They kept him in a state of placid drunkenness where he could escape to memories of glory and slaughter and he left goblins alone to do what they like. Warbosses came and went, years turned into decades and decades into centuries and old Gnargog became as much a part of the tribes inventory as the warmachines he was officially in charge. None knows how many years have passed since that fateful day when Gnargog lost his eye for his life was lost in a drunken stupor. Than one evening he realised he was sober and there wasnt a goblin in sight. More curious than enraged he stumbled out of his tent in search of a drink. The tribe was in a commotion and there was a big fire around which boyz were gathering. To his horror they were roasting goblins. Unknown to him a new black orc warboss took over the tribe and ordered all goblins to be purged from the tribe and what better way to do it than through a feast. A terrible shriek pierced the night as Gnargog ran towards the baked goblins, flailing his arms wildly above his head. If an orc could feel grief that would have been the moment for he became attached to the goblins as one gets to his favourite choppa. Amused the new warboss strode towards Gnargog wanting to know why this orc was trying to pull out half baked goblins out of the fire. Gnargog was half mad by now for he had no drink in almost a day and as the warboss swung to beat some sense into him he instinctively grasped a nearby fire prodder and drove it through the warbosses eye into his brain. For a few moments he stood there stunned before collapsing into the dirt dead. Utter silence fell upon the camp as the orcs began to realise what has just transpired. But for Gnargog there was no stopping, taking the fallen orcs cleva he ploughed into the warbosses bodyguards, hacking and slashing in all directions. Pandemonium broke out in the camp as all out fighting erupted, with small groups of warriors gathering around more prominent fighters. When morning came barely one in ten orcs were alive and those that were have pledged their allegiance to Gnargog. Over the coming weeks Gnargogs memory slowly returned and with it his ambition. Once more he was a warboss and he would not let it slip again. Now he was ready to spread his Green across the globe. To bolster his forces he broke three nearby goblin tribes and absorbed the survivors into the Throatrippers. In a matter of weeks the news of a gathering Waaagh! spread far and wide as Gnargog led his warriors in absorbing even more tribes. On the southern foothills of the Dragonback Mountains he defeated a beast lord and claimed a shiny weapon that imbued the wielder with more power the more foes he fought but before he would use it the blade had to be properly orkyfied. In the swaps to the east Gnargog broke into an ancient barrow, shattered its owner and from his crumbling corpse took a shiny amulet that would later serve him to great effect. As his force was getting larger he took them further east across the great mountains, ash covered plains and into the domains of the Ogres where Throatrippers slaughtered an entire tribe, that night they feasted well. From the entire loot Gnargog took just a shiny ring of elven design. Little did he know what power it held and only at accost of couple of dozen of his boyz was the secret of his latest acquisition unlocked. Content with the picking in the east he pushed his warriors further. The green horde crossed the warpstone desert and entered the lush plains of Cathay. For nearly a year Throatrippers plucked the riches of that exotic land before crossing the great bastion and disappearing into the steppes of the north in search of a worthy foe. None can truly tell what manner of foes they fought there but when Gnargog and his warriors returned south they were much diminished and ready to plunder the slave camps of Naggaroth. The dark elves greatly underestimated Gnargog and three armies sent to capture him were slaughtered to an elf. Disappointed with the lack of proper opposition or loot Throatrippers continued south fuelled by rumours of cities of gold told to them by enslaved dark elves. Weather captured dark elves tired to goad the orcs into attacking the lizardmen of the south so they could escape in the confusion or just in hope of attaining a better position will never be known as they were served to Gnargog as a delicacy by the tribes shaman. But orcs never reached these golden cities as the call of the sea pulled Gnargog to build a fleet and sail east, ever closer to the rising sun. During the crossing of the great ocean Throatrippers were preyed upon by the beasts of the deep, elven reavers and dwarf ironclad submersibles. After a gruelling month at sea Gnargog and a handful of survivors crashed on the shores of Estalia. Making their way into the mountains they left a trail of burned villages and dismembered bodies and so the legend of the one eyed slaughterer was born. To this day Gnargog has terrorised the lands from the coast of the great ocean in the west, south and north to the World Edge Mountains in the east.