Olrog Iron Ead, Prophet of the Waaagh

Hello I'm Ollie.

I am continuing to build the narrative for Olrog Iron Ead, Prophet of the Waaagh.  Continuing his story from the Realm Hoppers campaign as he attempts to forge a mighty Greenskin Empire for the glory of Gorkamorka 

Olrog was bored and irritable. It had been over a week since he smashed up the pansys and became a Prophet of the Waaagh.  For the entire time he had Gork (or perhaps Mork) raving in the back of his mind urging him to create an empire of green flesh and glorious mayhem. Despite his ascension Olrog had not lost his keen (for an Orruk) intellect or his grasp of strategy. The Waaagh energy coursing through his body meant he was now revered as religious icon by the Boyz but they didn't respond to him in the same way anymore. He needed to find a Warboss to lead his armies in his stead. 

His lieutenants were no use. Bolg didn't have it in him to lead any more especially considering the kicking he'd received from the Pansy's Thunder Umie allies. Ringoz and Gaztrukk were lunatics he might as well choose one of his Bonesplitter bodyguard as either of that pair. 

Luckily a number of rival Orruk Warband a had come to his notice. Olrog was sure he could "persuade" one these aspiring Warbosses to join him and who knows maybe a gain few extra Boyz into the bargain.  

The story of the honourable Lord Black Raven.

I post as Praecautus on TGA and I am looking forward to taking part in this. I hope my story, army and battle reports are enjoyable.

The story of the honourable Lord Black Raven, protector of the Faithful and the Guardian Lord of the lands of Tagge.

Prologue
"More water, Master?" The acolyte raised the cup to the old man's lips who gratefully drank some of the cool fluid and whispered a quiet thankyou. The acolyte looked at the old man lying on his death bed, the Master of the Order of Watchers had been a constant in his life in the church for these twenty past years, and now he was passing, change was coming.

The Master turned his head and 'looked' at the acolyte with sightless eyes. As he did so he coughed up some blood, which the acolyte reverently wiped from his chin.
"My son" he started and coughed again. "My son, while I have strength you shall have your final lesson."

"Save your strength Master, surely the other Masters can teach me?"

"No my son," replied the Master, "there are some things only a few can teach. Tell me, why is the Church here?"

"To help the poor and guard the souls of the faithful." replied the acolyte, "We all know this Master."

"Of course," and here the old Master paused. "but who are we guarding them from?"

The acolyte was silent and before he could respond the Master continued. "The Raven Lords guarded this land, but the last of their family died just over nine hundred..." he coughed more blood onto his chin, "...nine hundred and eighty years ago." finished the Master.

"Do you know of the last Raven Lord my son?" Here the acolyte was silent. "Of course you are too young, not yet finished in your lessons. I shall tell you and it shall be the last thing I teach you."

The old Master was silent a moment, then he began...