The Orcish

Apendix Epicanum: Epicanum De Vi:

 The Orcish:

The orc is the least studied, but paradoxically most plentiful of the foul races of the world of Epica. There isn't much chance to get near enough to do any prolonged observations. No, an orc observance is typically a heated, frenzied, fast paced, fight to the death, and the only good look one gets at the monster is when they lay dead at our feet. This tells us a great deal about what an orc is, physically, what manner of weapons and crafts they wield, and what sort of creature they are. Yet, of their lives in general there is a blank place in the records of history. It has been said that; "the quill can be mightier than the sword." yet, whoever wrote this saying wasn't an orc. Whilst the rest of the ancient creeds were devoted to learning, song, dance, and philosophy, the orc was crafting swords, and perfecting the use of them. They came swiftly out of the southerly bogs, and spread across the face of the globe like a swarm of flies. They nearly destroyed the fairy peoples of the Old World in the Dark Era. Orcs backed the Undead God, and were broken at the Battle of Mt. Primus. Such death came to them, that it took well beyond a hundred thousand years to regain their losses. They fought forgotten wars with trolls, beast folk, giants, ogres, dwarves, and themselves. Until at long last, their second mighty empire was forged anew in the bog land's. It wasn't long after its formation, say the legends, and the hordes bashed at the gates of high Karzanz halls. Then twenty years later, they invaded the first holdings of men on the mainland. The imperial army of Timroa met them, and we all know the glory of men that followed that test of wills. It is the 'Eboned Hand', that fabled orc nation which Bordel conquered, from which we learn our greatest understandings of the orcs culture. How they view the world, and how such a power can rise.

The Old Writing's: Gorhak the Putrid, was the goblin-blooded minor chieftain who unified three continents under an orc war standard. While the orc is not the father of recorded histories, this uncommonly wise, and intelligent leader saw a need to chronicle his own rise to power, and did so by developing the first runic script of Olde Orcish. It was a slightly changed transcription of Dwarfish runes, and structured in much the same style. In his tome: 'A Warchief Rises', he listed his obscure origins, his claim to greatness, his tactics to achieve his title, his usurpation of the ten tribes, and his campaign against the Karzanz. Had he lived through the siege at Burgedan Hall, he'd likely have detailed his conquest of men. Happily, he was slain, and the heroes that fought his divided empire did not have to face him. It is doubtless his leadership would have made it ten times the harder to defeat his forces, but the fates had it planned differently. Using eyewitness accounts from rangers of the wildernesses, and adventurers who frequently deal with such raiders, along with the book set down by Gorhak, I will attempt to shed light on centuries of misconception, and unknown mysteries that few care to know. Most decent folk of our world think such an endeavor to be useless, and a complete waste of time and inks. I am of a different opinion. To the sound warrior/general it is always best to have the greatest understanding one can of their enemies. In knowing their beliefs, goals, and traits we hope to gain some use over them in combat or dealings to placate them. It may well be a waste of time to talk to an orc warlord, but when the dagger is at your throat, and the guards dead upon your walls, such nuances might just save your life.

Historical Notes:

Bog Orcs: The earliest contact with orcs of any kind happened in the Darkness. The age after creation, when the orc, and every demonic creed was born. Seed's of Ulghalbah the Orc Mother, they were created to hunt the fairy races to utter extinction. They came out of the shadows and murdered millions of the winged elves of light. They met the armies of the true elf tribes, and did not prevail. These they called 'Drall', or 'Rat', in Elfish, because of their filthy natures, and the nastiness they lived in, spoiling everything they touch. The original brutes were truly savages, brutally constructed creatures of misery and battle. Their very appearance seemingly designed to stop a foes heart in their chest, and then tear it out for good measure. Standing seven feet tall on average, they were giants before there were giants. Huge curved lower jaw tusks dominating the face, and reminiscent of elephant or boar tusks, they were monstrous warriors. After the first conquests of the Fair, as recorded in "The Ballad of the Nwyrrin", a lesser breed emerged from the sickly and servant casts left to run the tribal homelands in the wake of their powerful masters' passing. These were given the name 'Kerg', by the Wolven race they oppressed. Kerg, mean's 'Runt', and so we can place the Kerg race as the ancestral link to the goblins of the modern day. In the wake of Xethos, and his subsequent destruction by Thorgrim White Beard, it would take two hundred twenty five thousand years to see another orc horde. The whole race- (according to the high elves) -was lowered in population to less than twelve thousand individuals. Kingdoms setup to monitor and take a census of their numbers, as well as thinning the rest out further, reported this in the Renewal. During that time, Mora Tyrial Gwinian Arn Valenoth  Eta Elmoni Den Fin, went throughout the Old World land masses and planted groves of all the holy seeds. Fulfilling the role all her kind once lived for, and budding anew the surface of creation. In a combination of elf ambush, petty infighting in their own clans, and the revolt of the Knoll's. A breed of animal folk who they had bred for war. They were put to death until the true Drall breed was as dead as the Eelian race. They taught them the lash, the ax, and the spear. In an ultimate betrayal that was well deserved and desired by all the goodly kin of Epica, the purest line of orc blood was exterminated by the very slaves they had trained to hunt.

The Knoll Revolution: The Knoll as he is today is a horde apart from the other wicked races, and at war with every race that isn't purebred Knoll. Only when the enemy is a grand host of men or elves do they make a partial alliance with the old master race. But other than preventing their nations destruction, they will never live peaceably with orcs. The revolt was a spontaneous and unforeseen thing at its beginning. As written by Gorhak: "Our pure brothers died in that age, those sons of the moor, those of the great curved tusk, oh how the Orc Mother wept in their passing, long was her lament at our failure, and woe was the dread of the hated fairies.." He goes on in the tome to give what must be considered the most historically creditable proof of the event, and measured with Delve Lore, and Elfish Ledger his story backs up the total extinction of the true Drall. "And Rif Rakk chieftain of the warband of Slond the Face Taker, as Captain Serf of the Cohort of Hounds, was unleashed to ravage the country of Hon, and did find there the steel spears of the monkey beasts. They were a band of the spear, and deadly if not tended strongly by the lashes of the whip. Thus, in taking such arms the dog beast roared in his words the meaning of 'Steel Blade', and so his uprising began to the horror of the clans." By this account we know that the tribe still known as the Steel Blade, and feared in the region to this day, was the founding tribe of the Knoll's. They came in behind the orc lines leading freed cohorts, and slaying the remaining masters. By the end the great chief Rif Rakk had many hundreds of his peoples free and roaming the wasted barren lands of the orcs, their hands wielding the Honjo crafted Yari Ashigaru spears. The orc called it a curse, but in the anguish of a warlords memoirs we read the elf counter-history. Balance was struck by the goddess of nature. For despite what the orcs had done to change them into the monsters they became, they were a race of the fallow kin, and more closely related to a fairy than an orc. Bloodwilt was paid, blood for the blood of the first race of light, by the mysterious design of Mistress White Wolf, Lorllyn. The Knoll's went on to claim a wide section of the Hordeland's in the north of Gwanji. Today nothing that isn't Knoll can pass through that land without the threat of attack. They are a fierce pagan people, and have forgotten all love of nature, or their elf brethren.

The Chaos: Orcs were left hollow in the aftermath of the revolt. The age that followed the death of all Drall was called the 'Chaos', by our historian Gorhak. The latter half of this period of perhaps seven hundred eighty years, give or take a few decades, was the era when Gorhak was born. He saw with his own eyes the divisions of his people, and the glory they had lost. He wanted to bring a new day of dark power, and to lead his clan to the pinnacle of that power. The turmoil was caused by the loss of the Drall nobility. Now the diverse races of orcs, and their minion races, had no united leadership to force their local chiefs into service. Add to this the rise of elf attacks, and the now random and devastating raids throughout the orc lands by the beastmen, coupled with Hon taking the offensive and fighting well beyond the borders that were long held in stalemate, and we see that chaos is a good word to describe the age. By devious trapping field crafts and goblin cunning the orc was not completely vanquished as a great power. Gorhak writes of his own birth: "And Gormuk raided Clan Blood Eye, taking the wench Melawi to swive. In mirth he begot his bastard of the hob waif, and Gorhak drew his first breaths a short while after. A mutt breed, not fit to sit the stools, but forced as a pup to fight the worg litter for bones upon the dirt. But my father was slain by a hydra, leaving me his bastard, not recognized as his own. I grew up strong but small, hating my stature and the sickly ilk left to rule the realm of the orc. I was beaten by gangs from five clans growing up, my course was to be served cold at every supper. I was a nothing until my first clan battle." Gorhak, was forged in strife, bitterness, and combat. His accounts leave a reader deeply attuned to his personal tortures. Bullied, ostracized for his hobgoblin blood, and beaten down for the pride he could not tame, this enigmatic warrior slew thirty ogres in his first battle, and his legend was begun.

The Tribal Moot: The ogres were a threat in Blood Eye, the closest clan of all the eastern horde. Gorhak, a short fellow in the line of grunts held two slender stabbing short-swords. His armor only hydra scale arm and wrist padding. Hard as iron, his greaves were, well able to block the strokes of hardened ogres. He wore a wolf pelt about his loins, and wore a prized set of lengthened dwarf boots. They really protected his feet, and gave him surer footing than most others. Ogres thundered in with Half Giant kin, and the hordes became locked in the battle to decide final rule of the plains before the Ogre Ranges Mountain's. Broken Hammer was the great battle tribe, and they were led to battle by the thousands by Hu, a towering Hill Giant. He was said by a noted Jam ranger of the day, to be more than twenty seven feet tall. His ax he crafted himself of iron, and the handle was a tree. But for his size he could move like an able beast. Blood Eye's banner was in the middle, the clan Cracked Jewel on the left wing, and Clan Kill Ogre on the right. All were bitter tribal rivals where their own lines were drawn in Hordeland. Though willing partners in a war with ogres. But the fight was made a frenzy when the little toady fellow in the infantry began to cut a murderous path into the ranks of giant foes. Hashi Kono' No' Doro, was the ranger who witnessed the battle from a high bluff  in southern Jamepha and backs the account as Gorhak writes it. "And whatsoever enemy beset me I slew by my hand. And my fathers before me blessed my blades with black poison, and the vim of them was strong. As strong as the scent of blood in my nostrils. My clan roared in pride to see their footstool kill so easily, and I laughed as the fools died trying to be Gorhak." Hashi says much the same but doesn't name the warrior directly, he tells of him rivaling the masters of his land with the blade. "My conquest was in front of my dead chieftain, in the threescore heads I gathered that day. My clan once two hundred were fourscore and nine. The ogre ran from us, and Hu the giant ape was blinded in the eye by a sling. He died as our hound riders chased him shooting him like the fairy would have wars won, with many arrows. My clan looked around to find a new master, only I stood tall as a runt could, and made my bid for power." The clan met with the two clans from the battle, and all were persuaded by his skill at arms to name him a warchief.

The Unifying War: Gorhak used his reckless courage in war to place him high in honor above all those towering muscled ham-fist's that once tormented him as a sprout. And being bold enough to say it, and standing up for his own ability to do so, he offered not only to chieftain Blood Eye, but all three clans. He swore the omens had guided his swords that day, and that a great destiny was meant for his tribe. He gutted an ogre captive before the howling orc mob. So they bathed their hands in the blood of the ogre and the ebony bile was blackened upon them. Raising hands high he is quoted as saying: "By the blood of ogres will this nation rise.." To remember the occasion when he spilled the innards of the ogre swine as an offering to the black goddess, the tribe was named 'The Eboned Hand'. But he was far from an emperor, he wasn't even a king. He was a petty tribal warchief in a sea of warring clans, and enemy races. All he had done was build a small but fanatically driven warrior band around him, and under their guard he moved east into the mountain hills of the ogre, a master of four hundred of the best orcs of all the clans.

Clan Elk Skull: Clan Elk Skull, was impressed to get wind of his victory, and fearing war with the larger tribe Gorhak had made, they bowed their knees at the moot of the next gathering. The army under him grew to six hundred able fighters, and forty four hunters with arrow making skills, and many arrows already made. His tactics would change to incorporate these new missile weapons, and the hunters provided new boons of forage as the tribe moved.

The Boar Hide Drove: Clan Elk Skull bordered the hound rider clan of Hulndlub the Oaken Fisted. He was a big orc at eight feet tall, but fat and wheeled about on a battle platform by tusk boars. He rode this way allowing his many goblin subjects to keep the great wolf pack in order in life, and in war. Yet in any moment of his choice he might wish to join a battle, and on those times when he fought, he was said to be deadlier than a viper. Elk Skull obtained arrows and bows from them, and they also considered riding with the new warchief's standard. His cavalry were at about six hundred and fifty worg raiders, and a herd of thirty eight tusk boar, tended by foot runner's.

Battle of the Hundred Hydra's: Ogres didn't stay out of the swampland's for fear of orcs, they did so to avoid the hydra's that were numerous in that age. Orcish fighters were smaller, more nimble, and the weapons they used, generally more potent in design. They hunted the hydra for its hard scales, and these hunts became an important ritual for promising young warriors. For the ogre however, it was a death sentence to traipse through the bogs. Hydra are large carnivores and they typically go after large prey. Ogres seem tailor made for hydra attacks. Thus, for the ogre, a hydra was the most deadly foe they could imagine. The title was then set over any mighty warrior in the ogre ranks who was a grand fighter with uncanny skills. And on the dawn when Gorhak led his new confederates to war in the highlands, there were more that a few 'Hydra's' in the ranks of the Orc Tusk's Clan. Prideful and hubric to a fault, the ogre clan marched out of the high passes, and deigned to meet the new orc alliance on a low-hilled plain below the peaks. They hurled boulders like catapults, and the orc infantry was pummeled under the large stones. The first forty casualties of the day were crushed under the press of tumbling rocks. But the orcs persevered in scaling the defile where the ogres rested at the top of a low mount. Blocked in on two sides, they were forced to retreat twice under the weight of the ogres press. Gorhak, then led his elite Blood Eye members in a flanking move that took some of the ogres from the main line, and forced them to the right. With his plan underway he waved his banner, and the hunters on the cliffs above the ogres began to decimate them from above with bow-fire. They'd used the first six hours fighting to move in behind the enemy as ordered.

The Pact: The battle ended swiftly once the advantage was lost by the ogres. Their chief Drunge, threw his hammer to the side and held up his hands as a captive, until his remaining warriors either died, or followed his example. He knew he was beaten, and with the tribe still recovering from the great battle on the plains, he decided to make his offer to the orcs. Of course, this option was only explored after his clan had been soundly defeated, so his new trend towards diplomacy was an unexpected turnabout. Gorhak, had him marched to the moot grounds, and there before the chieftain's of his tribe he had him kneel down and give his capitulations. He said the battle was won by the orcs cunning trap, and that if spared his clan would be bound to their conquerors against their ogre brethren. Gorhak makes this account: "Lo, did we thirst for cowards blood, as the ogre lay soiling himself, and begging quarter. For none of my clan, nor any other orc would belittle himself so. Yet we knew him for an ogre, and so he must needs have been affrighted under our glares of hatred. Though, his stature was mighty, his remaining stock of fighters impressive. I saw their potential to become orc, and a way to bring back the Drall of old." The deal struck would bring about a new creed of the already populous orc race. Ogres are not dissimilar to orcs, in actuality, of all giant-kin races, ogres in specific are the most like an orc. Breeding between the two is uncommon and taboo. There is a religious element I will discuss in a latter section, but for now, suffice it to say, the two races hate each other with a fanatically wicked scorn. In a buck of every high held orc principal, Gorhak's clan would do that very thing, and breed a stock of half ogre offspring.

The Experiment: What the warchief wanted to do was bring back the hulking orc ancestor who once terrorized the ancient world. The Drall, that had perished nearly a thousand years before him. He reasoned that ogre and orc were one in the womb of the Orc Mother before the birth of Teece. Teece was father god to the true ogre race, the Giant, but this race wasn't as old as the Drall. Gorhak, wanted the height and muscle of ogres in his sons, but the mind of a brilliant orc. First efforts fell short. His endeavors producing defective young who were too dominated by ogre traits. His offering of orcess host mothers ended, and he made the new minor chief Drunge, to lead his hosts to the wide cavern of the Orc Tusk's Clan. There he inspected his warriors from Clan Blood Eye, and selected twenty of the largest, most athletic, and soundest of mind. These he paired with the daughters of the greatest Hydra's. These mighty ogres were the cause of his tribes greatest losses in the lowlands. If only five of his brethren begot an orc so huge, then the rise of the Drall would begin. His own words report an even greater success, because the orc priestesses of Clan Elk Skull helped the orc seed to overwhelm the ogre traits. "So there were born of the mongrel breed, eight sons, eleven daughters, and one was kept by the Great Mother, and was born cold. Omens of these new sisters were grand. The shamans said that the Orc Mother had slighted Teece in their conception, that of our first stock, eleven sons were all the fruit we bore. We knew then that the next generation would see our clan alone in possession of the united bloodline. Our destiny would come as sure as the rain, and as rain, would the blood of many fall." Gorhak, was still young at the beginning of his reign. By the middle of his years his clan was composed of several mighty Orog.

Earning His Name Amongst The Tribes: One word was used when mentioning a chieftain so vile as to cross blood with hated ogres, 'Putrid'. And in twenty years time, this was the moniker that all orc tribes used to epitomize Gorhak of The Eboned Hand. Though orcs near his territory knew it was better to join him. It took only a couple raids by his Blood Eye elites, and any chief worth his title did what was best for his clan and joined him. The Boar Hide Drove, had long since joined his tribe, and victory after bloody victory Hulndlub the Oaken Fisted, had witnessed. Glory had kept him loyal to the runt.

The Betrayal: But even the united victories over Broken Hammer, the suppression of the Jamethan armies out of the north, and the near monthly defeats of rival tribes, couldn't keep his main ally loyal indefinitely. Hulndlub, began to hear what was said about the droves association with the new tribal power. He knew a great battle was coming to unite the tribes, but his racial pride, and his own misconceptions of the warchief wouldn't let him ponder the possibility of the Hobgoblin mongrel coming to power in the end. He felt it was better to betray, but knew if he waited much longer the little confederacy of clans would be a true nation, and thereby, unassailable. He chose an outing to make his attempt on the warlord. They fought with the Mighty Kerg Tribe, out of the southerly deltas. Not Kerg, but calling themselves by the name, they were three thousand strong across the swamps. They met on the fins outside the dreaded swampland, drought in the region had mercifully dried the peat fields, and the orcs found footing on solid parched ground. All went to plan in the outset, the hunters flinging arrows into the charging mass of scrawny goblins. The orog elites, leading a grand countercharge of orcs at their center that cut the two wings of the goblin lines in two. It was an easy victory, all that remained was for the worg cavalry to swarm the goblins from the rear, as they had a hundred times before. But on this day, the hounds raced in behind Gorhak's army, and with arrows, spears, cleavers, and nets they began to entangle and slaughter his prized hardened infantry. The goblins rallied seeing that their kin in the wolf drove were now killing orcs. They left off killing the cavalry, and focused on the bloody army in front of them. It was a miracle that any orcs survived at all, but the most surprising fortune was the fact that many survived, and even beset on two flanks by hundreds, they managed put their enemies to flight.

Making An Example: "So the betrayal came at long last. I had not expected such a bold move until the great war was come. Yet, the nomads grew frightened of the greater older tribes that had sworn our deaths. I had not fought in the last ten battles for I was not needed, but the need of my steel grew strong. I plunged into the press, and from the center my great brutes murdered the hated goblins that had stood a long while before them. Seeing my twin blades hack anew, to the ruin of my enemies, my orog guard roared in grim delights. We gut the lowly until they whimpered and flew back to their bog. Then we set our eyes to the traitor, who upon seeing my distain, dashed off into the coming dawn. Hulndlub, would be the prey for my new hunt, and I cast all dreams of lordship aside to have him bleed before me." By this notation on the betrayal, we can see the undoubted sway Gorhak had over the minds of his warriors. We have only his account on the fighting, but his honesty in earlier known battles lends credibility to his tale. His troops loved him, because he was a killer first, a chief second, and a leader on a par with any elf general. There is no clear reason why they'd won the battle. Let us then assume that Gorhak's mad rush into the fight was the pivotal moment that allowed them to win. That he played upon the moral as it was weakest, and transformed fright into iron resolve. A month later the tome reads, they caught the coward who fled the death of that day. The orcs took him alive in chains, and at the moot grounds, they presented him bound before their lord. Gorhak cut his bonds free, tossed an ax at his feet, and demanded the satisfaction he was denied when Hulndlub ran from his doom. It wasn't an easy fight. The huge orc chieftain was mighty when he fought, in spite of his courage, or lack of it, to put it better. Gorhak, shows his sense of honor, in not bragging too hard on his win, but says that in the end he took the hands of Hulndlub, setting them on nails to a pole which held his ebony banner. The head he tore loose from the lower jaw and neck, fashioning a goblet for his drink from the skull. "The mind of the traitor was filled with spirits. And refilled once empty that day, to the honor of our tribe." Morgash of Blood Eye, another orc chronicler wrote on the fate of Hulndlub the Wretch, many years after the event. His hands nailed to the banner read plain to every chief who would to be an ally of Gorhak the Putrid. Betrayal would not be forgiven, and your head would become his prize.

The Moot of Ten: With the ravenous pace of a brushfire, the warchief's fame spread to the greatest masters in the Hordeland. Although many simply took note of yet another petty rival to contend with, those from the middle of the orc realms knew of the Boar Hide Drove. They knew that any tribe fit to meet and win against such a deadly force, a force that consequently had raided them for years and never lost the field. Then that tribe must truly be made up of mighty warriors. These chieftains knew the runty hob, must be a great leader for his people, and so they came by the droves to see the skull cup fashioned from the dreaded Oaken Fist's head. Never one to waste a cordial visit, or pass up a possibility to gather more warriors, Gorhak held many feasts for his visitors, and more than a few, impressed by the chiefs words and the devotions of his tribe, considered a moot to join his forces. But considerations were far from a simple capitulation to his rule. Orcs, even those who have suffered defeat after defeat, are a proud warrior race. The moot gathered under the Hand- (or rather, under the hands of Hulndlub) -war standard deep in the goblin marsh known as the Rotting Mire, Gorhak's latest conquest. Ten tribes in all, they squared off in lines of show, to brandish their weapons, roar, beat their chests, and to intimidate one another if they could.

Moot Members: The Eboned Hand Tribe (Orog) The Skull Cairn Tribe (Black Orc) The Mighty Flayer's Tribe (Orc) Igail's Marauders Tribe (Orc) The Giant Killer's Tribe (Orc) Tribe of Hydra's Horn (Orc) The Man Hunters Tribe (Orc) The Black Raven Tribe (Goblin) The Tribe of Sunken Sun (Orc) Tribe of Bloody Hands (Hobgoblin)

The Trial: Gorhak led his clan in the midst of them all, proclaiming his rule to be the undeniable will of Ulghalbah. The imposing pureblooded and half ogre brutes of his personal guard towering over even the mighty black orcs of Skull Cairn. The petty displays of the other tribes cowering down as they launched into a frenzied whooping of their own. Gorhak, is said to have been the most impressive of all. His two blades rusted with brackish blood dried upon them, his hands wrapped in the scales of the hydra, his chest covered with a newly acquired iron breastplate made by dwarves, his prize lifted from the corpse of Hulndlub. "Let any who contest us bare their teeth!" Morgash, quotes the chieftain. To which he continues: "Yet none would rush into their deaths against them. So fierce was the sight of them, and at once it was known that the stories of their victories were true. Though if there was one tribe who did not cow to them, it was Skull Cairn's black orcs. Yet they were silenced when the sword of Gorhak flew through the air, and planted in the brow of their hulking leader Gulglug. Few of his warriors charged in to avenge him, and those who did so foolishly were smitten by the Warchief's own guard. It was a right proper end to the eve." Aside from The Eboned Hand, The Skull Cairn was the most feared of all the gathered tribes. It had hundreds of warriors from the northern bogs. When they joined his side- (having seen him dispatch their master so easily) -the others were swift to align themselves also. The rest were forced by overwhelming odds to back his cause. Thus the moot would end with Gorhak the Putrid, a newly appointed orc king, and the tribes dissolved into the Kingdom of the Eboned Hand.

Keeping His Crown: Gorhak was a master that all feared, and more than a few envied. Attempts on his life were frequent, but the wily chieftain was hunted by his fathers rivals as a child, he would not die easily. His ability to entrap potential agents, to trick assassins, and to kill those who tried him alone in his day slumber, made of him a legend. Putrid, became the sickness in the guts of any sent to take his life. For Gorhak was an assassin by course in his clans structure. How else could he live long enough to see his arms clad, and swords placed in his grasp? So his own retinue of agents grew many, for they were much more apt to work for their target, and not die in a fools quest to kill him. By ambush he captured ambushes, by slide of hand he traveled. Some departing here, others sent ahead on the path, another north as he went south, confusing the trail that led to the power hub of his kingship. No clear boundaries were ever drawn in his realm, for the Eboned Hand, felt it owned all lands.

The Rise: Ten tribes in one kingdom was a major accomplishment. By force of will and threat of brutal reproach, the warchief made his kingdom to quake in his presence. His runty stature no longer any issue, his word spreading throughout the Hordeland, his reach getting in the way of many. Now the only real kingdom besides the Eboned Hand, was mighty Brown Flag. This was a more rustic middle kingdom, really just a pseudo-nation, but sporting nine fierce tribes. They wore less armor, and more hides, used less sophisticated weapons, and also had a more reckless nature. They were easily provoked to war by unrelenting raiding. But Gorhak used the occasion for another political staging ground, giving a rousing speech before the two camps the day before the twin hordes battled for dominance. "Glory! I see glory for all who bear orc blood! I see a sea before me! A sea of that most noble line of the Drall! Two hordes! One at my back, one in front, but still my brethren! Here we squabble for the scrapheap left us by elves! Here your master whips you, to slay true sons of the Black Lady! Better we head west, and force thence the stubborn clans who would oppose our united power! But I know your minds, oh fierce lads of the hordes! In so, that a spectacle of blood is all that will tame you to the task! I offer then my blood if it will be taken, to dreaded Hof of Slogosh-Gul-Mar, king over Brown Flag! He who has called Gorhak, a coward! He who I too must bleed to sate my swords wrath! Let it be a duel to lead this great monster throng, and whoever fall be quartered! Whoever win, be master of the realm!" The orcs roared in cheer to hear such a complement to their mighty numbers and fierce reputations. They cheered louder to hear that there was one orc who stood tall for his personal honor. Gorhak's name was chanted, as the towering orc king paced about him in the thousands deep circle of rival tribes.

Winner Takes All: They squared off for hours, Hof forced to fight by many angry glances from the members of his various clans, his pride on the line. This fight was the hobgoblin's toughest to be sure. Hof was a monstrous fighter with a hilted cleaver, and a shield of hickory with bronzed capping over the shell. His armor was the height of orc craftsmanship. Hydra scale mail, with steel barding, and a heavy rawhide undercover. It was hard to find a gap in his protective gear. Hof was on the order of nine feet tall. His muscle was said to be considerable. Some even questioned whether or not he'd been born the son of a half giant. But he stood for the pure orcs in the Brown Flag tribal lands. This day he met ferocity, tenacity, skill, and courage, things not spoken of orc heroes outside of the Norrish folk of old. Lovers of battle, they oft times complemented such brutal opponents. But Morgash, makes Gorhak into a demigod of Orcish literature, recounting his victory as in the epics of any human titans of the early lore. He tells of the warchief nearly meeting his death but winning stunningly in the end. I think however, it is important to remember we are speaking about a cold and calculated move by one of the most ruthless tyrants of antiquity. Somehow I feel that embellishing or recounting his battlefield glory will sour in the mouths of many. Therefore, I will simply say he won his death match with mighty Hof, and his united horde was the start of the great orc empire.

The Unification of the Hand: Gorhak came first into the hold of ancient Slogosh. The city of the first hunters, Slogosh-Gul-Mar was an expansive fortress. The walls were piled carved boulders, each one megalithic in scale. These were strewn end to end except in the areas where the orcs wanted an entry/exit path. Three concentric rings of these massive block walls encircle the keep and town. Directly inside the first wall there is a narrow running path that ends in the second wall, two gate openings are on either side but heavily guarded. This is usually where all human armies of the old stories die. Only one led by Bordel ever made it into the city, and he burned it to the ground as he left it. Today the capital is sprawling again, and eager warlords try their hand daily in becoming a new emperor. Trouble with that is that Gorhak gave this idea to every chieftain throughout his empire after his own death, and none would humble themselves to submit to another's rule. Not all can lead all, but orcs are the slowest to learn civilization. However, in the day when Gorhak rode his boar to the gate of Black Hide Keep, he was that unquestioned, feared, and revered master of all he saw. The orcs there were humbled beyond measure, and from this northerly base he ranged with his hordes in the barren Stoneland's, the Boarland Bog's, and the Amiskili lands. The wicked of the half fiends he took as guards, and captains of his hosts. The weak/godly he burned out, and sent fleeing across burning sands to the north to find their Ruthelii allies. With the Boarland the black orc nation also fell under his yolk of power, and he pushed east into the wilds of Klawlf.

First Contact: The orcs first met the feral tribes of the woodland races in the wilds, butchering all they could, and blocking the refugees from fleeing east to give warning of their advances. The outriders gave report to Gorhak that a monkey beast tribe like the Jam and Hon were well settled in the lands fertile ranges beyond the forested hills of Blankoo. They also told of meeting the watch of the local Wolven clans, but were not attacked by them. The wise emperor sent emissaries to them to invite them to a moot. They said they'd take league with them against the wicked monkey people who had sailed the seas and invaded where their people were from. The memory of orc kin was short after the darkness for the Wolven. For hundreds of thousands of years they lived as hunters in the woods and had not seen other races beyond hyned's, boar's, stag's, and elves. They knew that men had killed some of them over livestock, and the free roam of their hunting ground. Not even having a word for 'lie' the simple clans were deceived by Gorhak into warring with men. Man's first true wars began with Wolven. The orc hound legion given hard orc steel and irons to guard their guts. The fierce Gwart worshiping thanes on the Plain of Horses were no match for the surprise attacks and powerful arms of the hound men. The death of hundreds and letters to Timroa opened the way for human settlement through the conquest of the orc kingdom. Old agreements with elves to leave the Gwartallanii in peace to progress their independent culture were no longer binding, and the Timroan League, backed by every office in the Republican Senate emptied its weight in soldiers onto the shores of Korjin. Korjarora's harbor became the first provincial state allocated settlement by the republican army. The war with the hound would rage only seven years, ending with the near inhalation of the Wolven race in Blankoo, and the total eradication of the boar-men tribe. Gorhak left the round up of their betrayed hound ally to his cruelest general, and made them slaves to the hordes moving north onto the plain, cutting off the highland routes into Bel-Jah-Dorn. While he himself, led a massive army back west down the coasts to the keep of Slogosh-Gul-Mar.

Sieging The Karzanz: Orcs had never forgotten the failure of their dark mother, nor the defeat of the Drall who stood the field with Xethos against Thorgrim White Beard, and his Mighty Twelve. That defeat had caused them to war one with the other, to root out the weak, to gut the boil that had stained the honor of the Orc Mother. They never would forget, and even as they threatened to invade Elkwood, and Drutopia as far east as they'd ever been led, they roared for the sent of Delver's blood as the west called them home. The army Gorhak took north from Black Hide Keep, was the most powerful force the orcs have ever sent against one foe. Perhaps the hordes of the Dark Era's were as large and well led, but few in recent memory compare to the horde under Gorhak. His first siege was at Zodan Burad, then Tul Bardan, and Yemgull Hall, the lowland halls in the root of the mountains. In the fall of Tul Bardan he'd lost near half his black orc legions, but his prizes then after were a quintet of Karzanz-Ka-boom's, massive delve crafted cannons. His orogs took charge over hefting the mighty weapons over the mountain paths, and it was one of the few times in history when orcs gleefully went to the task of backbreaking labor. As they wheeled them before Burgedan's walls, the orcs chanted his name as a war hex, their cry interspersed with the blasts from the thunderous cannons. In moments its great capstone was powder, and the great hall exposed to the air. "Like so many ants the dwarves brimmed from the hole! Angry and spoiling to get in close with us!" The warlord writes.

Death of the Legend: That was his last notation. The mighty Putrid, was slain a few days later by the hammer of Glonvyr, son of Gondulon, a thane in the fast if king Helfax the Bold. Clan Kazdorn led the geld of Karzokeran behind Helfax, as the first of twelve hammer legions. These were backed up by berserker clans from over the ranges, and nearly four thousand Aver skirmishers. Clan Blood Eye met Kazdorn in the fray, as the two masses of warriors pressed in a bitter life or death struggle. Great towering dark hero's and low bearded thanes of light. The charge of Jarls came in at a late hour for the orcs. The dwarf ram rider cavalry rode many thousands to the ground. Then a blare was heard. Out of the hiding mists of the lowland rolled the mighty emperor upon his great battle platform, his gift from Hulndlub, his size towering over the horde who gave a great cry to see him. The worg packs tossed chains about the many jarl rams, and soon the sight was the bloodiest since the battle of Mt. Primus in Dwarf Lore. Hundreds of brave avers stormed in to fill gaps in the infantry lines, as those left to the bolters picked off green skinned demons by the dozens. Helfax found himself alone on the earth in a great press of orcs, each ten feet tall and drooling to be the one to claim him, but the devilry was far from done. Gorhak paused to wave his standard, and the cannons high on a ridge burst to life killing twenty dwarves every volley. Helfax fought like a true titan of war, and Gwart put a thunderclap in every swing, as he battled through the gaggle to be shielded by his brave wall of thanes. They were forced deep in the mine entrance by hill swarms of many orc. But not before Glonvyr had thrown hammer a great distance by an uncanny feat. The hammer struck the celebratory chieftain in the back of the skull. He fell dead without ever having wet his legendary twin blades. When he fell into the dispirited arms of his elite orog grunts, they whisked him from the fight to the army shanties. There he blacked out and spat blood a few times trying to recover, but in the end the heavy dwarf hammer had done its work. This throw, Glonvyr's Throw, would later be celebrated in songs and sagas in every hall of dwarfdom.

Ruin of the Hand: Now the horde didn't move off directly after this tragic event. They tooled around for weeks besieging the hall, but if they made a push they were gutted at the doors after an exhausting march uphill. There were many would be leaders who rose, but none could craft a strategy, and none had the entire backing of the horde. They soon blamed one another for the debacle at the gates, and took to fighting. Every gang dividing after bloody brawls to different regions. Most Orogs went east across the fringes of the deserts, as the dwarves librated the walls of Thereghat. They'd never penetrated the walls, and in spite of the huge guns they simply rolled them past the city carrying them deep into the human held frontiers, to eventually build and then use them to keep fabled Bronze Tower.