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In the bitter winter of 2497 IC Grand Master Ludo Brecht of the Order of the Hammer had his reputation utterly destroyed. Tasked with halting Waaagh! Grognok, Ludo deployed a grand army upon the frigid banks of the River Sol and confidently awaited the Greenskin offensive.[1a]

The attack came before dawn, as two score Goblin Wolf Riders splashed noisily across a deep, icy ford and overran the pickets. Howling Wolf Riders swept through the Empire camp, moonlight gleaming upon their filthy bodies. Their flesh, and that of their mounts, was smeared in a thick, greasy coating of Troll fat; ample protection from the winter chill. Quickly they loosed a salvo of arrows, cheerfully insulted the parentage of their foe and awaited the reaction. Duly enranged, Brecht roused his warriors, and barely gave them time to gather their weapons before ordering them to chase the whooping Goblins. As they retreated across the river, the Wolf Riders chanted one word over and over again: 'Gitilla!'[1a]

While the Troll fat protected Gitilla and his Howlerz from the icy river, the Empire soldiers stumbled and trembled, while weapons slipped from icy fingers. As the Empire vanguard reached the other bank, they looked into the eyes of a horde of fresh, rested Orcs, and realised their folly.[1a]

Source

  • 1 Warhammer Armies: Orcs and Goblins (8th Edition)
    • 1a: pg. 70

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