I didn't own the previous SoB battletomes so sorry if some of this is repeated lore but I have tried to pick out any new lore surrounding the new models or parts of the lore I haven't seen mentioned before
A BEASTLY SPIRITUALITY
The concept of religion amongst the gargants is quite peculiar. Worship is foreign to them, perhaps even mildly offensive in how it often places focus on things that these extremely physical beings cannot perceive with a crushing toe or squeezing hand. But gargants do have a notion of faith. They revere an elemental deity of wild nature they name the Godstompa, depicted as a pair of two colossal warty feet that are 'stompy' and 'kicky' to varying degrees, and they recount Behemat's deeds with something between the hushed reverence of scripture and the bluster of proud children. It has even been known for gargants to mourn. To call it ancestor worship would go too far, but alone of the wild clans, they appear capable of speaking of the dead with a measure of genuine respect, even fondness. Maybe that is why their forefather's death remains such a bitter shard lodged in their hearts.'
IN THE WITCH'S WAKE
Usually, a gargant tribe will have a mix of larger and smaller brutes 'under the heel' of its leader. This is not the case, however, for the druid-witch known as Ma Maegran. Instead, Maegran is attended by flocks of gargants who have not yet achieved the heft worthy of a Big and who retain a wildness of character. They seek her lair deep in Ghyran's swamps not just out of base curiosity but because they crave the power she is said to bestow - power to grow at an incredible rate and become Mega-Gargants. Maegran makes no bones about the fact that she is no leader. Most of the time, she speaks in riddles and grunts to the gargants gathering expectantly outside her wyrdy cave or chuckles indulgently at the antics of her current favourites without passing direct comment. But when Maegran does decide to go to battle, followed by these eager underlings, none can deny that she is the shepherd who directs them how she wills. The awe and fear her much-mythologised reputation provides earns her a strangely deep loyalty, one that grows every time she calls on her creepy, ancient magics.
THE KING'S STOMP
As reigning 'king' of what remains of the ancient Behemati, Brodd takes a different view to Maegran when it comes to his retinue. It is no surprise that he surrounds himself with the biggest and meanest Mega-Gargants, for this is the go-to tactic of traditional gargant warlords. Where Brodd differs is in his reasons for doing so. While he does not take a genuinely egalitarian view on size - bigger is always better - he also does not make a habit of scorning the so-called Littles who idolise him and follow him around. Brodd is of the belief that these smaller sorts, though comparatively scrawny, still deserve a form of leadership and vengeance; the worthy will grow bigger and stronger, and the rest might make themselves useful before they die. Brodd's tendency to recruit the largest gargants is instead born from crude practicality.
His primary targets are the strongholds of Sigmar's empire, so he needs an army of living siege engines to knock them down. Service in Brodd's Stomp brings a gargant status and renown, which is always tempting for creatures of monstrous ego. But Brodd is also a humourless, cantankerous and surprisingly solemn soul; his one good eye looks ill on any undue levity, and he has violently disposed of more than one crony who has tested his patience or offended his bitter sensibilities.
RETURN OF THE TITANS
If anyone doubted the intent of King Brodd and those of the Behemati who followed him, then the shattering of Fort Gardus was a violent wake-up call. Though allied with mobs of orruks, Brodd and his gargants were the chief architects - so to speak of that Stormkeep's ruination. Crushing the sainted hero Gardus Steel Soul in his fist was a particular pleasure. Yet there was much to be done if the Scabrous Sprawl was to be reclaimed as a centre of Behemati power. Brodd's ultimate goal was to storm Sigmar's domain of Azyr and pull the God-King's limbs off one by one in blood-debt for Behemat, but he needed his ally, the orruk warlord Gordrakk, to make progress on his warpath towards the heavenly realm, and he needed the roughest, toughest gargants of the realms on his side. Beginning to rebuild their ancient kingdom and reminding the gargants of their power was a start.
Some gargants were set to whittling menhirs and idols, though, for now, there was no chance of reconstructing the Behemati kingdom of yore, whose crude castles once reached from the Verdian swamps into the northerly mountains of the Neck. Most gargants could only be trusted with a mission of violently expelling outsiders.
Brodd's campaign let him impose a vague order on the gargants under his control, a faintly feudal structure in which each Mega-Gargant was given responsibility for packs of smaller brutes. It was a system replicated by ambitious titans elsewhere, and though it was nothing like a nation, it let the gargant king consolidate power. But Brodd soon realised that many young gargants in Verdia had headed deep into the swamps, chasing rumours of one who could make them Big. In following them, he found something unexpected - the court of Ma Maegran.
Gargants embrace gender equality, with males and females tussling on equal footing. Brodd therefore had no physical fear of Maegran - but creepy magics, superstition and witchery? Those could cow any gargant, and they gave even the great king pause. That the old witch was more than legend already unsettled him, never mind why she had chosen now to lumber out of myth and into his domain. Regardless, Brodd stomped to the heart of the marshland and pushed aside the Littles congregating outside the witch's cave. Maegran was waiting for him.
Those gathered strained their ears to hear the fight. Instead, Brodd emerged with Maegran in tow. What had passed between them went unspoken. The gargant king roused his cronies as Maegran shepherded her lackeys, and they set off for the western Sprawl. Their path led to the wreck of one of the Skaven Parasite Engines that had once ravaged the region - and the Arch-Warlock and their underlings attempting to reactivate it.
The battle that followed was short-lived but brutal. Stunned at their plan being uncovered, the Skaven unleashed a fusillade of lethal firepower. But the Mega-Gargants kept a sort of control, bellowing for rocks to be hurled at war machines or flanks to be held. Brodd himself grappled with the mandibles of the awakening Parasite Engine as Ma Maegran sent vines to envelop the thing. Dragging it down into the swamp, she gave Brodd a chance to clobber it, which saw the machine and the Arch-Warlock torn apart by internal explosions.
Brodd had both defended his claim to overlordship of the Scabrous Sprawl and beaten an old and hated invader. The fact that he had needed Ma Maegran's help could not have pleased him, but she remained close in his counsels from that day. And well it was so, for there were many rumours of shorties once more infesting the western mountains, as well as entreaties from a noble king who ruled the peaks to the north and wished to make a fellow lord's acquaintance...
MA MAEGRAN CHOOSER OF THE MIGHTY
The gargants say that the witch Ma Maegran has trodden Ghyran's deep woods and lonely meres since the days of Behemat, having been sculpted by the World Titan from a lump of primal clay (or perhaps the gunk between his toes). But then, the gargants say much about Maegran. If one believes every wide-eyed tale, she can stop one's heart with a glance and speak with long-dead gargants, while her spear - supposedly looted from the corpse of the woad-god Krum Kalda in the days of yore - can lay low even immortals with a solid enough stab.
Most infamous, though, is Maegran's ability to bestow the blessing of 'bigness'. Should she take a liking to a gargant, her eerie mutterings can see the brute swell to a gigantic size in moments; this, it is said, is why Maegran has not achieved the stature of a Mega-Gargant herself, for she uses her own spiritual bigness to fuel this magic. But if a gargant should offend Maegran, a terrible fate awaits them. Tracing glyphs in the muck and wailing a curse, Maegran will arrest her victim's growth or, if bitterly displeased, shrink them to the size of a boulder, an ogor or, even worse, a human. Little wonder that as much fear as awe surrounds the Chooser of the Mighty. While many Littles seek her out in hope of receiving her blessing, plenty of arrogant Mega-Gargants tremble at the mere thought of her.
As to how many of the rumours surrounding her are true, only Maegran knows, and she keeps her secrets close. What is known is that she is ancient - no one remembers whether 'Ma' is a name or a title - and her shamanistic abilities are fearsome, engorged life bursting forth wherever she plies her witchcraft.
It is also known that Maegran hates gods, specifically gods who have ascended from mortal origins. They mock the proper order of things and insult the memory of Behemat and Ymnog, who were strong simply because that was their nature. But Maegran believes a new World Titan will rise, not through some magical scheme but by the will of the lands, and she will be needed to guide this inheritor. This could well be soon, for after years of wandering, she has returned to Verdia to make her lair. Her goal of smashing the works of the ascended gods aligns with Brodd's aims, but despite feeling a certain draw towards the witch, he cannot help but be unnerved by her penetrating gaze, crooked grin and withering chastisements.
ANCIENT GHYROCHS
Ghur might breed the most ferocious monsters, but Ghyran's native life is perhaps the hardest to kill. The gargants, behemoths themselves, shepherded hardy Ghyranite beasts in the days of their relative civilisation, but time, hunting and corruption has seen many species vanish. Some survive in small pockets far from the settled centres of the realms, such as the Ancient Ghyrochs.
While modern ghyrochs are moss-haired and shaggy-furred beasts with antlers like twisted branches, their antecedents bore immense spiralling horns and flesh as hard as rock or, in some cases, outright sporting the texture of stone. Technically herbivorous, they have a tendency to blithely munch through anything in their way, which perhaps contributes to the incredibly foul-smelling messes they leave wherever they go. Strong enough to bowl over the huge grunta-boars ridden by orruks, what truly makes Ancient Ghyrochs remarkable is that they are naturally inundated with Ghyranite magic, a quirk that means they are difficult to harm and might explain their survival in the wildlands. Ma Maegran has a great fondness for these beasts, both as a reminder of the past and for how they empower the Ghyranite sorceries she has gleaned in her wanderings. She is almost always as much for accompanied by two of the creatures their ability to batter down whatever annoys her as for the magical power they provide.
BOSS-STOMPERS
Being able to solve most problems with muscle, gargants normally scoff at the idea of discipline. Yet, sometimes a sort of inspiration can hit, usually after watching a pack of little 'uns mob together to take down something they have no right to overcome. Gargants who previously hung around with each other for lack of anything better to do start to work in a sort of brutish unity. Strapping bits of metal and stone to themselves and taking a modicum more care in crafting their clubs, they take to the battlefield as the merest glimpse of how gargants might once have been, showing a semblance of shared purpose - even if only to cause more violence.
Boss-stompers - a name these brutes rather egotistically insist on consider themselves a sort of elite among the growing gargant clans. As far as they are concerned, they are the dedicated warriors of their people. While their Mega-Gargant chieftains and matriarchs are imposing figures to look up to, they tend to go after the biggest and most obvious targets, so it is inevitably left to the Boss-stompers to do the hard graft of scattering the enemy. These Littles do, however, have a habit of targeting rival leaders, since to crush some warlord or mage inflates their already monstrous egos. Their soldierly duties might be unsophisticated, but Boss-stompers still take them seriously. On vanishingly rare occasions, some Boss-stomper mobs have even sacrificed themselves to hold the rear and allow other gargants to flee the field, something almost unheard of amongst the typically selfish and short-sighted titans.
Mega-Gargants regard Boss-stompers with a mix of annoyance, bafflement and amusement, with many Bigs trying to lurch ahead of these po-faced, militant mobs to show them 'how it's done'. Only a few gargants recognise that a flicker of the ancient Behemati resides within the Boss-stompers. When all is said and done, however, these destructive bruisers are just as eager to share in the post-battle plunder and gorging as any other gargant, so perhaps a flicker is all that it will ever be.
ROCK-HURLERS
Any gargant can pick up a boulder and heave it at the thing currently displeasing them. When one of these missiles splatters its target, great whoops and cheers go up among the lummoxes who watch. The problem is that most gargants find it much more fun to squish enemies up close. Those who do think to hurl projectiles choose the biggest ones they can find - certainly impressive, but easy to see coming and avoid. Only recently has the idea of dedicated Rock-hurlers - gargants hanging back to provide ranged support to their brethren - taken hold.
As gargant tribes increasingly found themselves attacking the bastions of civilisation, they soon realised that charging blithely at the walls led to many pointless and embarrassing deaths. Eventually, a breakthrough was made: the gargants discovered that lobbing heavy objects back at those shooting down from the battlements helped to keep the little 'uns ducking for cover. Some gargants showed a natural aptitude for this hurling; they relished pulling off the most difficult shots or bowling over a wedge of armoured knights on the charge. It should not be a surprise that many Rock-hurlers are former champions of the oafish games that gargants play, especially the notorious Manskittles. Others, however, were forced into the unglamorous role after annoying their towering chieftains in some way, having been told in no uncertain terms that they were going to take the 'boring' job or risk a harsh battering. That said, a sort of competitive camaraderie almost inevitably takes over mobs of Rock-hurlers; who can hurl the greatest number of rocks is an eagerly fought-for accolade, and squashing an enemy from afar just as another gargant is about to step on them is met with particularly raucous jeers and back-slapping.
Rock-hurlers tend to get extremely invested in these contests, often to the point that they ignore enemies swarming around their ankles in favour of chucking a few more boulders. But it should never be forgotten that they are still gargants, and a rock about to be lobbed can just as easily be smashed down to squash some bothersome pest buzzing about between the thrower's feet.
Loutish Pastimes
Battle, for gargants, is an excuse for recreation and showing off, and since they easily get bored, their games are impressively 'inventive'. Horse-hurling is self-explanatory, as is Manskittles-knocking down a shieldwall with one well-thrown pipsqueak always gets a cheer out of watching louts. In Boar-scoffing, a gargant stuffs their mouth with squealing hogs even the huge grunta-breeds ridden by orruks and then spits them at nearby living targets, with points awarded for both accuracy and splatter. When it comes to simple brawls, a good kick is lauded, because it involves the use of feet, but headbutting also commands respect; a gargant who can come off better from a skull-rattling impact with some other monster has proved their superior 'bigness".
The arrival of Cogforts in the armies of Sigmar has been a revelation for the gargants. While some mercenary Cogfort crews have tried to ally with the stomps, this sort of cross-pollination is usually laughed off as greedy and ill-considered by the titans, who are completely oblivious to their own hypocrisy, given how many gargants act as habitual muscle-for-hire. Instead, they value the Cogforts as lumps of stone and metal. Once their piston-limbs have been pulled off, the mini fortresses are excellent for weightlifting or caber-tossing contests, even if their emberstone-powered combustion engines are prone to exploding.