Overtyrant Greasus Goldtooth, or to give him his formal title, Tradelord Greasus Tribestealer Drakecrush Gatecrasher Hoardmaster Goldtooth the Shockingly Obese, is the fattest and most powerful Ogre Tyrant within the entire Ogre Kingdoms and holds the current title of Overtyrant, the Tyrant of all Ogre Tyrants.[3b]
Greasus was one of the many whelps sired by the infamous Gofg, Tyrant of the Goldtooth Tribe. Like his brothers, Greasus grew up to become strong and fat. However, unlike his brothers, he killed and ate his own father. After assuming the Tyranthood of his tribe, and feeling the need to prove himself, Greasus demanded tithes from other kingdoms. All refused the audacious request and began baying for Greasus' blood. Who was this upstart to demand gold and food from them? They would soon learn.
These days, grown older, larger, louder and richer than ever, the Overtyrant's coffers fill faster than his Gnoblars can count. Greasus claims he is now too rich to walk, and so instead he chooses to recline on a living throne of Gnoblar bearers who haul his esteemed bulk about, many dying from the huge effort. A master of bribery, the Overtyrant has always used his considerable wealth as a way to inspire greed and confusion amongst his enemies. Yet Greasus' rampant success has not diminished his greed or his all-consuming desire to conquer everything he sees.
Ever since killing and eating his father in order to claim the leadership of the Goldtooth Tribe, Greasus was always scheming for a way to claim the legendary and prestigious title of Overtyrant ever since the previous Overtyrant, Donner Gutbag died from a massive avalanche a hundred years ago.[1a] To rule the Ogre Kingdoms, he knew his deeds must be legendary -- and so Greasus set out to conquer the nearby tribes single-handedly. The first to fall met their fate during a Midwinter Feast. Scaling the mountain above their valley, Greasus heaved boulder after boulder into the hillside, roaring oaths at the top of his voice until the vibration from the boulders and his own voice caused an avalanche of such size that it swallowed the entire tribal encampment, killing everyone within it. The second dissenting tribe, ruled by a Tyrant named Gut Badmouth, was paid a visit during the spring Hoof and Horn feast. There Greasus challenged the old Tyrant to single combat. Badmouth, older and significantly larger than Greasus, eagerly clambered into the maw-pit, awaiting his challenger.
In an unexpected entrance, Greasus launched himself into the maw-pit, and slammed his body gut-first onto the old Tyrant's head, breaking his neck. Some felt that Greasus had defied pit-fighting traditions, whilst others felt the rules might have been cleverly bent. Unperturbed by the debate, Greasus consumed Gut Badmouth and, without wiping his chin, he beckoned the next challenger. After beating and consuming three Ogre Bruisers in a row, all the tribe eventually swore allegiance to Greasus. As word of these prodigious deeds spread far and wide, many Tyrants decided to join the ruthless leader of the Goldtooths. In due time, the Ogre Kingdoms had an Overtyrant once again.
Yet admist the constant warfare of the Ogres, one battle stood out; a defining moment where a conglomerate of tribes was forged into a mighty nation whose tread shakes the world. The Great Battle at the Fire Mouth not only galvanised the Ogre Kingdoms, but also roused their dormant volcano god into a great fury and proclaimed the solidification of Greasus's rule over the entire Kingdom. It began with a great Black Orc invasion. Since the days when they first escaped the enslavement of the Chaos Dwarfs, many Black Orcs have settled within the Mountains of Mourn. Since that ancient time, Ogres and Black Orcs have fought many battles, but for all their brawn, the Ogres can never fully eradicate the Orcs from their midst. So it has gone, back and forth, for over two thousand years, both sides growing to respect their foe's fighting prowess.
An Inevitable Clash
Warlord Urk Ironskull rose quickly to become the greatest Black Orc Warboss within the Mountains of Mourn. Under his rule, the Black Orcs expanded further than ever, pushing far out from their stronghold of Mount Black Fang. Urk understood how to defeat the Ogres, destroying many tribes in the process. As Urk Ironskull's onslaught gained momentum, it swelled to a Waaagh!, an invasion that attracted greenskins from all over, including many Wolf Riders tribes from the Dark Lands and Night Goblins from Mount Grey Hag. With each new battle, Urk's legions grew and the disjointed Ogres could not hope to stand against the overwhelming greenskin attacks.
At the time Greasus Goldtooth had only recently claimed the title of Overtyrant — the ruler of all Ogre tribes. While he dominated the kingdoms nearest his own, more distant tribes, particularly those to the north, were not yet convinced of Greasus' right to rule. Greasus had performed feats of strength that carried his name across the Ogre Kingdoms, slaying the great Ice Drake Jaugrel (earning him the title `Drakecrush'). Its hide was later made into the Dragonhide Banner, passing some of the beasts ferocity onto those who march beneath it. [3a]
He broke open the stone gates of a Dwarf mine (hence the moniker 'Gatecrasher') and eating an entire herd of gruntalope (earning indigestion, it was simply too many hooves in one go), but he had never fully gathered the Ogres under his command. When Greasus heard of Urk Ironskull's army, he knew it was the challenge he had been seeking. If he could crush the Black Orc invasion, none could fail to recognise his greatness, or dispute his title.
The voluminous Overtyrant travelled to many valleys to gather support. Under his demand, the Ogre tribes all along the Ivory Road and as far south as Gnoblar Country answered his summons, until an army the like of which the world had never seen was assembled. So great was that Ogre host that the valleys quaked as Greasus led the host north. Uric Ironskull had not been idle. More Tyrants had fallen before him as he penetrated deeper into the Mountains of Mourn. When word of the new Overtyrant and his coalition reached Urk, he planned to confront them at a place of his choosing. With his vast horde surrounding him, Urk Ironskull assailed the Fire Mouth, driving off the strange flame-breathing Ogres that ruled there and planting his war trophies onto the slopes of that smoking volcano. Urk knew this was his chance to wrest control of the entire territory — and he planned to deliver the Ogres' defeat while standing upon their living god, so that the brutes would know true fear.
Urk Ironskull reckoned the simple bull-rush tactics of the Ogres would lead them straight into his trap — attacking up a steep slope against superior numbers. The Ogre surge would bog down against a sea-like mass of Goblins. Urk held little regard for Goblin fighting ability, but their great quantity would slow down his foes and buy time for the jaws of his trap to close. Massed Orcs stood ready to close onto either Ogre flank while Uric unleashed his deathblow — an assault by legions of armour-clad Black Orcs, who would charge downhill into the weary Ogres. To amuse himself while he waited, Urk ordered his last prisoners thrown into the hissing lava pools of the volcano.
The Power of Greasus
Urk had correctly judged the hot anger of the Ogres upon seeing the great Fire Mouth occupied by a mocking foe. Yet for all Urk's cunning, the Warboss underestimated the iron rule of the Overtyrant. Urk was used to fighting disparate Ogre tribes, not a vast host fighting as a single army. After a forced march, the Ogres entered the blackened valley and in the early light of dawn they saw Orcs and their trophies upon their volcanic deity and each Tyrant roared to be the first to storm the slopes. No other Ogre save Greasus could have halted that charge — yet by bellowing orders that shook the valley, he stilled the battle-hungry tribes. With a signal, Greasus called for the Tyrants to gather for an impromptu war council.
The pride of each tribe stepped forward, yet each leader was dwarfed beneath the colossal Overtyrant. Greasus recognised the trap the Black Orcs had set, yet he was not of a mind to back down. If Urk Ironskull wanted to charge down the Fire Mouth and surround the Ogres then so much the better, it would save a lot of marching. Aiming to teach the Orcs not to bite off more than they could chew, Greasus told the assembled Tyrants his battle plan. Several Tyrants scratched their heads, but most grasped the brutal potential. Once the new formations were assembled, all were impressed with the Overtyrant's plan.
The crux of Greasus' plan was for the great war beasts and Mournfang Cavalry that accompanied each tribe to be massed into a single wedge at the front of the battle line. As there were scores of different Ogre tribes, the monstrous herd was quite large, containing Stonehorns, Thundertusks and other beasts from that primordial land of ice and snow. Behind the formidable front rode a phalanx of Mournfang Cavalry followed by the rest of the Ogres.
Battle of the Slopes
Although Urk Ironskull had prepared his minions for the Ogre onrush, what surged up the volcano slopes was like nothing the greenskins had encountered before. The ground shook at their approach, and the unmistakable rumblings of the Fire Mouth were heard, the great volcano stirring as if in approval. The living wall of beasts stampeding towards them panicked swathes of Goblins, who, at best, loosed a few volleys of arrows before fleeing. Urk's plan of wearing down the Ogre impetus began to look shaky, but he still had hopes for his second wave, the large mobs of Night Goblins. As the monstrous herd churned up the mountain, dozens of mushroom-drugged loonies were launched out of the black-clad masses, each whirling a heavy iron ball.
The shaggy beasts did not pause, stamping the Fanatics underfoot and routing the Night Goblins utterly. Without breaking stride, the hulking creatures and gore-splattered Mournfang Cavalry crashed into the Black Orcs beyond. Despite the onslaught, the Black Orcs held, although a third of their number were flattened. Using great axes, the Black Orcs chopped furiously, hacking out trunk-like legs so that some beasts tumbled back down the steep slopes, crushing a path through the oncoming Ogres. Although they halted the stampede and were destroying it, the Black Orcs were pinned in place and could not fulfill Urk's plan by joining the rest of the army as it closed on the onrushing Ogres.
Further down the slope the jaws of the greenskin trap closed, the Orcs outnumbering the Ogres by more than six to one. Had the Black Orc centre been able to join the assault then it may have been all over. As it was, the Ogres were hard-pressed. Amidst the fury of the great bloodletting, the Fire Mouth itself spoke, shaking the ground and sending thick plumes of smoke skyward. The midday sun was obscured behind falling ash, and the slopes were eerily lit by the glowing streams of lava or the occasional flame gouts spouted by the Ogre Firebellies, the priests of the Fire Mouth, who had eagerly joined Greasus for the fight. Despite the press of greenskins, the Ogres dug in their heels and were starting to push back when the momentum shifted again. Having finally brought down the last of the great beasts near the summit, Urk and his Black Orcs at last joined the main fray. Their charge smashed into the Ogres and it was only the incomparable will of Greasus Goldtooth that held the Ogres in place. The Ogres gave ground, consolidating into a knot of resistance.
The Ogre centre remained rock solid, for there fought Greasus himself, surrounded by his bodyguard of Ironguts. The bedrock of the Ogre line, Urk realised that to break the resistance, he must break its heart. The most hardened veterans of either side pounded at each other, giving it all they could. Double-handed club strikes crumpled Black Orcs, while the great choppas of the greenskins cracked gut plates and were embedded deep in round bellies. It was here, in the slaughter-filled epicenter that the battle would be decided and both commanders knew it — for they personally pushed to the front, carving paths of carnage as they came.
Feast Atop the Firemouth
Around their leaders the two armies fought like a pair of raging cave-beasts locking horns atop a mountain peak and heaving with all their might. Disembowelled Ogres strove to smash one last greenskin even while their guts uncoiled from gaping wounds. Black Orcs, their helmets caved in and leaking brain matter; fought to deliver one more axe blow. Greasus swung his diamond-studded sceptre in sweeping arcs that smashed aside ranks of Black Orcs at a time. A grand uppercut from Greasus' club-like sceptre caught Urk's personal banner bearer, snapping his totem and sending the Black Orc flying upwards.
It was a prodigious shot of heroic proportions, and for a moment the battered body seemed to hang in the air above the rim of the volcano before plummeting into the coiling smoke. Surviving Ogres still talk of the distance and height of that majestic blow. Seeing the Ironskull's banner pole snapped and its bearer sent skywards, the greenskin battle line wavered. Howling in rage, Urk sliced his way through a wall of Ironguts to stand before Greasus on the slopes of the Fire Mouth. It was his battle to win and no Ogre was going to stop him. For the first time during the fight, a smile creased the many jowled face of Greasus, and he bared his bullion teeth. Laying down his colossal sceptre, the Overtyrant grabbed at the Black Orc Warboss. Urk's twin axes bit deep into his foe's meaty chest but, undaunted by his own free-flowing blood, Greasus snatched up his opponent with both hands.
Greasus squeezed and squeezed, then squeezed some more. The sound of Urk's armour buckling and snapping under the massive pressure was audible even over the cacophony of the battle. So too was the wet cracking that followed. For long minutes Greasus strained until his bulging arms visibly shook at the effort. The crushed and twitching thing that the Overtyrant finally dropped was unrecognisable, for Greasus had literally squeezed all the fluids out of the lifeless husk. The Ogres cheered, their hoarse bellows answered by geysers of flame erupting from the volcano. This sight was too much for the remaining greenskins, who turned and fled. The Ogres regrouped and, as directed by the Firebellies, gathered the slaughtered for a feast.
And what a feast it was — each and every Ogre had to himself a heaped mound of greenskin dead to devour. Greasus Goldtooth had, in one massive stroke, broken the Waaagh! and made absolute mush of its leader. Under the smoky gaze of the volcano god, Greasus had cemented his title of Overtyrant, for even those Ogre tribes that were not at the battle were soon talking of that great triumph and its monumental victory feast. At the end of the week-long celebration, as the Fire Mouth vented molten anger into the sky, foretelling of yet greater battles to come, Greasus gave what to the Ogres amounted as a long-winded speech. To the cheers of the assembled Ogre Kingdoms, Greasus bellowed; "Today the Orcs, tomorrow the world. Let them all tremble...".
Greasus was finally killed during the End Times, unwilling to ally with Grimgor Ironhide and his greenskin armies, the mighty Warboss smashed the Over Tyrant's skull asunder with his own enchanted mace.
Weapons and Equipment
- 6th Edition: Overtyrant's Crown, Sceptre of the Titans [3b]
- 8th Edition: Light Armour, Overtyrant's Crown, Sceptre of the Titans. [1b]
- Overtyrant's Crown - This enchanted, basin-sized crown was forged by artisans of the Empire for a king's ransom in gold, and is said to increase the Overtyrant's intellect to near-human levels.[3b]
- Sceptre of the Titans - This massive sceptre is ensorcelled with spells of might, imbuing Greasus with the strength of a Sky-Titan, as befits his status as the most powerful Ogre alive.[3b]
- 1: Warhammer Armies: Ogre Kingdoms (8th Edition)
- 2: Warhammer: The End Times Collection
- 3: Warhammer Armies: Ogre Kingdoms (6th Edition)