| abstract
| - “For now, we will delve into the tale of one family of Orks that were slightly smarter, slightly stronger, and much more perceptive of the world around them. They had no name, they simply had similar traits and characteristics. This unique family of Orks dwelled deep within a section of one of the most intricate and complex cave networks running throughout the Western Mountain Ridge. Here they caught fish in the dark with their bare hands and quenched their thirst on the blood from the numerous bats who were native inhabitants of the cave systems. Throughout the years, the family lived alone in solitude--their numbers reaching no larger than a few dozen Orks. On a particularly cold winter year, the family of Orks wandered further into the cave system in search of a warmer section: many volcanic flows vented steam near the bottom of the caves and certain parts were much warmer than others. The Orks wandered and wandered aimlessly in the dark (their vision allowed them to see somewhat of what lay before them). Scraping along the walls with their fists, one of the Orks screamed out, "Arraggghhhhhha!", as his leathery knuckles seared across a fiery hot, iron vault door. In the middle of a large cavernous section, in front of the Orks lay a huge, simmering, orange glowing vault door. Blood seemed to be leaking out from the corners and hinges of the door. The air in front and around the door shimmered with a dim glow, and a constant wave of heat cooked the air in the near vicinity. Sweat began to form on the brows of the Orks: they scratched their heads and looked around. The one Ork who had burnt his hand was kneeling next to an old stalagmite, licking his wound. The Orks sat in front of the vault and since it was generating a good amount of heat, they hunkered down and began to fall into a deep slumber. "RasagghhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHH!" A noise echoed throughout the caves, bellowing outwards from the vault door. The growl was deep: deeper and more menacing than any other creature or monster the Orks had ever encountered. The leathery skin on the backs of each and every Ork in the cavern stretched tight across their bony spines, their hands turned colder than they previously were and their eyes widened with alarm. The vault door began to slowly open, and a wave of dark, nearly coagulated blood seeped forward and spread outwards along the cold stony ground like an ancient hand reaching outwards to devour any souls that wandered too close. Fortunately for the Orks, the blood did not devour their "souls". One brave Ork stood up and actually stepped forward into the growing stream of blood and ventured forth into the vault chamber. As the Ork entered, a radiant wave of light ushered forth from a throne sitting in the center of a pool of molten lava. On the throne sat a figure glowing with a red energy, his face—or, for visual matters, anything about him could not be ascertained. The light and heat was too nauseating for the Ork to bear: he fell to his knees, captivated by the glow from the majestic creature that sat before him. "Youuuu entERRR HIS preseennce?" the creature questioned, with a hissing, steamy voice. The Ork, weak from the heat, and blinded by the radiance of waving lights managed to open his parched jaws and usher forth a whisper: "...me iz juzt an urukkk......" His voiced trailed off and his eyes closed for a moment. "A brrAVVEE ORK, he seesssss" replied the creature in a solemn, yet amused voice. "Youuu Could BE of SERVICccE tooo HIM, YesssssssS, you coullld." "..huw kan me serv lat bezt?" questioned the Ork. "Carry forthhhhh HISss nammmme from thessseee wretched depthssss. Usssher forth Hissss presssenccce amongssst the land where the ssssunlight ssstill touchessss." The creature paused for a moment, and a bit of steam escaped from his mouth. "Ssserve HimM, and you and your kinnnnn ssssshall be rewarded. They ssshall be blesssssed by HIM throughout the agessss." The Ork nodded and waited. "Come forthhhhh." The creature beckoned. The creature then waved its hand and a bridge of stone rumbled upwards from beneath the molten lava pit. The Ork crawled forward over the searing hot rocks, his flesh burning all-the-while. He reached the feet of the creature, panting and exhausted with pain. The Ork looked up at the creature. The creature looked down, and took his two forefingers and shaped them into a sign. He pressed them against the left side of the Ork’s chest and branded the Ork with a raw, fresh scar. The Ork did not scream, for he was already on the verge of collapse. The Ork, his head now resting on the heated rocks beneath the throne, asked: "whut is......'hiz' nayme, whu iz 'he'?....." The creature laughed a deep and evil laugh, heating the air around him more and more. "I am HE, and HE issss the Blood God! Now, GOOOOOO forth from thisss placcceee. Remember what I have told youuu!" And with that, the creature whipped his hand forward and a blast of heat flung the doll-like body of the Ork out of the vault chamber. The vault doors creaked shut again, and the immense wave of heat died down.” Now, it has come to be common knowledge that this particular Ork was presented with more wisdom and courage than any of the other Orks. He knew what he must do. Under the command of the Blood God, the Ork spread his knowledge amongst his family. Together they began learning how to utilize tools. They crafted bows from the small saplings which grew on the southern face of the range. Shafts were carved with stone daggers from the bones of fish caught in the cave streams. Granite arrowheads were bound to the bone-shafts with fish-guts. They practiced and became excellent archers. The more brutish Orks fashioned longer spears out of the hardened Obsidian from the volcanic flows within the depths of the mountain. After the Orks had become expert archers and spearmen, under the leadership of the branded Ork, they climbed down from their mountain dwellings and took over any other Orkish tribe they encountered along the way. Slowly they assimilated other Ork families into their own, training them and spreading their wealth of knowledge amongst the Orkish race. As the Blood God’s Orks grew more and more powerful, they pushed further towards the southern edge of the tall Yew forests. Here, a small settlement of humans remained in control—but not for long. The settlers were overwhelmed by the Horde of unique Orks that they had never before encountered. The humans were bewildered. Previously, when a man happened upon an Ork—it would run and hide like a frightened kitten. Now, the Orks were guile, deadly creatures to be reckoned with. A fort was constructed in a clearing near the mountain’s Northern foothills—where the beginnings of the Bloodclan Orks took hold.
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