Urgoth’s life in Ulgu as a Brute Boss was an uneventful, if usually satisfying one. He fought his way to his position by bashing in the face of his fist’s Brute Boss. While it was more of a skull denting than smashing, and the boss did live through it, the many embellished retellings of this story earned his sobriquet “Skullsmasha” and command of his own fist. There was plenty of fighting to do with other Orruks and the beastmen and stunties that inhabited the area. Urgoth had good mates, good fungus beer, and plenty of opportunity to krump, but not much opportunity to advance. The Megaboss’s and other leaders of his Warclan were notoriously entrenched in their positions. More importantly, they were too big for Urgoth to bash.
Then one day Urgoth was drinking fungus beer with his mates when one of them dared him to krump a Minotaur in the wooded mountain near his Warclan’s home. Urgoth was going to tell the other Ironjaw to zog off so he could stumble somewhere to sleep when one of the other brutes asked if he was too much of a grot to do it.
Urgoth smashed his fist into the side of the offending brute’s head and told his fist to grab their choppas. They all armed up and headed towards the forest. Unfortunately, no minotaurs presented themselves for smashing but Gork (or Mork) decided to smile upon their drunken children by allowing them to stumble upon a small band of Stormcast.
Urgoth had never fought Sigmar’s Stormboys before, and didn’t put much thought into how unlikely it was they’d be wandering this beast infest forest. Instead, with a mighty Waaaghh, he led his brutes in a charge. After a hard fought battle Urgoth’s band stood victorious, although only two of his brutes survived. Giddy over their win now rather than fungus beer, they rummaged through the small cache of treasure the Stormcast had apparently been transporting somewhere.
Among the weapons and other less interesting items Urgoth found himself drawn to a shiny new bosshat, apparently made out of something like pig iron. He didn’t think much about how odd it was that the little hat somehow fit his head, or the strange whispers he heard when he put it on. At least they seemed to shut up when he yelled at them.
After returning to his Warclan Urgoth’s with his new trophies Urgoth’s status continued to grow. Urgoth seemed to develop Mork’s own luck in knowing the right moment to charge and krump a foe, or when to hold off briefly before krumping them. He acted a little odd at times, especially when he argued with someone that no one could see, but he gained a loyal following for his ability to win fights. Even better, dead things and spooks occasionally appeared to try to take his shiny hat. Hanging around Urgoth always meant a good fight.
Eventually Urgoth started to feel a strange urge to wander, as if he was being pulled elsewhere. One day without warning he wandered away muttering to himself. His most loyal followers noticed and followed after him, sure a fight would come if they stayed close to Urgoth.
Since then, Urgoth and his warband have wandered the realms, often going in one direction or another for weeks or months before veering off their course entirely on the whim of their strange leader. Somehow or another they always find a fight, however, and morale remains high. Most recently they have wandered to Rondhol, getting caught up in Da Choppas’ Waaagh.
