| abstract | - When presented with his first blade to swing about with wild abandon, as is every young whelp, Bragg showed great affinity for lopping off the heads of any nearby. It wasn't that Bragg fought with grace or finesse (such attributes elude all Ogres), but rather that he had a natural gift for landing blows causing maximum damage.[1a] It was when Bragg created the death-dealing weapon known as the Great Gutgouger that he earned true notoriety. The weapon was cobbled together after Bragg broke his scimitar at the Battle of the Fire Mouth. He fashioned the polearm from the broken blades of a slain Black Orc Warboss, and the magically glowing steel was beaten and reformed using the magma of the Fire Mouth itself. Thus was born a legend.[1a] Wielding the hook-blade with prowess, Bragg could slice off a foe's head with a flick of his powerful wrists. Time and again Bragg slew foes, beheading Orc Chieftains, Skaven Warlords and heavily armoured Champions of Chaos. It was not until Bragg turned his weapon against his own kind that his comrades learnt to know fear. During inter-tribal wars Bragg discovered the bladed hook could cut above a victim's gutplate and slide down to scoop out his foe's guts, sending them splashing wetly to the ground. Ogres are used to heinous wounds, but disembowelments cause them to cringe. There can be no recovery from a gutblow and with their extraordinary size, it takes a long, painful time for the innards to fully uncoil outwards. Bragg had become a much-feared executioner, or Gutsman, as Ogres called him.[1a] Since then Bragg has travelled from tribe to tribe seeking battle. He is always welcomed, for he is a powerful Bruiser and helpful in a scrap. Champions of every race have fallen before Bragg, dismembered by his strange weapon. To see the mightiest of their foes chopped down always raises cheers amongst the Ogres, yet sooner or later Bragg finds himself called out or forced to settle with some internal challenger. After spilling his victim's guts in a brief duel, Bragg finds himself no longer welcome. Even when killing a Tyrant, Bragg finds no tribe will follow him. So, shouldering the Great Gutgouger, he moves on, forever seeking the next tribe where he might find work for his thirsty weapon. Bragg feels the need to kill calling him as surely as he feels the voracious stirring of the Great Maw in his own belly.[1a] It is a lonely life - for where Bragg walks, he walks alone, save perhaps the pitter-pattering of a few tagalong Gnoblars. To increase his fell reputation, Bragg has taken to wearing a dark leather hood over his head in the manner of a human hangman, feeling that, since he has such a dreaded aura about him, he may as well capitalise on it.[1a]
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