Mountain Ork

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Are you a mountain ork?

MountainOrkJoshCarpuz85.jpg

Mountain Orks are a blueish grey in color. They stand about same height as humans and are a range of body types. They are exceptionally strong both physically (ogres disagree) and mentally (maybe). Their weakness is in their knees which are rigid and brittle. According to legend the fragile knees is a result of the mountain orks distaste for kneeling - a thing they never do. Like their lesser cousins, the Valley Orks, mountain Orks possess a legendary short temper. They tend to get things done with a business like demeanor - however, if killing isn't involved they lose interest. Their patience is also incredibly thin and are prone to throwing a fit if they don't get their way. Mountain Orks also have a dry and morbid sense of humor. Most punchlines involve some sort of dismemberment.

Mountain Orks live in the mountains (duh) particularly in high altitudes above the snow line. They wear furs and hides to keep warm. They mostly live off of mountain goat, yak, and other creatures which they are able to hunt. Sometimes they live in small hovels but more often they live in naturally occurring caves, or dwarven mines if they can find them. When Orks are not fighting they are very lazy, staying at home near the fire to conserve energy. Some mountain orks are especially drawn to fires due to a lifetime of seeking them out for warmth.

Mountain Orks live in chirocratic (governed by the strongest) tribes whose chieftain is often the best warrior among them. The chieftain may be challenged at any time and is expected to be challenged. Among the orks it is your duty to rise against those above you and, if you are occupying a position of power, to fight off the challengers. In times of legend, challenges were decided by combat to the death. These days mountain orks are rare so these death matches are rare, losing popularity to wrestling matches which end with somewhat less bloodshed.

Needless to say, there are no old Orks. They all die in challenges, in battle, or because of slippery steps. Don’t ask about mating. IT NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS! Orks are born capable of walking and with sharp teeth. So even newborns are deadly. From an early age Orks are taught that being better than everyone else is the most important thing. To ween out the weaker orks, new borns or thrown into a glacier crevasse with sticks. Those who can fight and climb their way out are accepted into the tribe. The others are either bludgeoned to death, starve, or freeze. Once orks are old enough to pick up a sword they start training with the older orks. This training can last as little as a few hours since they are born the greatest warriors on the planet making training a bit redundant. To graduate they are given a challenge like outsmarting goblins and out powering ogres. Every ork able to hold a weapon is expected to fight and hunt. Young orks are taught that they are superior to all other races, including the Valley Orks who are weak in comparison.

Their favorite sport activity is Dwarf tossing. The goal is to see who can through a dwarf farthest down a mountain before it hits the ground. Needless to say Mountain Orks and Dwarves do not get along thanks in part to their close proximity. Mountain orks and dwarves often struggle over resources and space. Orks consider dwarf a delicacy and their homes very warm and cozy which also encourages their wars (although dwarves taste awful but the orks are too stubborn to admit it and just say lower species can't appreciate the higher things in life).

Unlike other Monsters Mountain Orks care about how their food and encourage culinary prowess with pinkie cook offs. Tribes gather ever summer under peace agreements for a great pinkfolk roast. Their best cooks compete for prizes like shiny things and weapons. The last winner made mango habanero pinkie chili.

Mountain Orks don’t care for gods. They used to worship some of them but they turned out to be more trouble than they are worth so they killed them. The story goes that after Gruumsh had an eye gouged out he avoided Ork kind. Rightfully so “Orks would fuck him up” as they like to say. After banging on the drum for a minute a group of Orks got fed up with waiting and went to hunt down Gruumsh. They found him on a mountain. They demanded to know why he didn’t respond. Grummsh got out “I was abou” then the group of Orks attacked. With his last breath Gruumsh cursed them to make their homes in the mountains for 5 generations and their skin is now blue grey so other Orks can know what they’ve done. It’s been more than 5 generations and the Mountain Orks can leave the mountain but they are intent in their stubborness to keep spiting the fallen god by living there and claiming to like it. They also point out how their skin tone better suits their environment thus showing how foolish the god was anyway. Mountain Orks are proud of their blue skin, their mountain homes, and their god killing history.

The Beginning: A Short History

One day a group of orks wanted to kill some elves however they had no idea where any were. They already killed all the ones that they could hear singing and listening for their obnoxious singing was the only way orks knew how to hunt those annoying wastes of space. The group of orks lead by Srag decided it would be a good idea to call on Gruumsh the One Eyed to help them find some horrible pansy elves. Asking the guy with one eye to find something wasn't the best idea however they thought it a good idea and once they got that in their head there is no convincing them different. They went off to find the snake skin drum. They went to the keeper of the drum Kor.

Kor told them that the drum went missing when two orks got into an argument about who could roll it the farthest. They over heard some pinkies they were hunting talking about drum rolls and decided that they be the best at it but unfortunately they both couldn't be the best so they had a competition. The first one took all the strength he had a rolled the drum an impressive distance across a field. The next ork thought for a little bit then climbed a mountain with the drum. He tossed it over the side of the mountain. The other ork felt cheated and said he is no better than a pinkie. Naturally a fight broke out. Why they were rolling on the ground they didn't take the time to see where the drum went. So they had to declare it a draw because they couldn't measure how far the roll went. Kor explained he let them take the drum because it's not like they couldn't see who could roll the drum farther. They all nodded in agreement and Kor sent them in the direction of the two drum rollers.

Srag and his group of would-be elf hunters found their ork prey arguing over who's teef where sharper. They asked Sraf his opinion and he punched them in the face. Demonstrating how little he cares about their competitions. Srag demanded that they show him where they rolled the drum and lost it. They both blamed each other for losing the drum and started to bicker. Srag lost his patience and stabbed one. He bled profusely but then insisted that he be the one to show him the way, and would not accept any help. The other ork decided that now was not the time to argue because getting stabbed was not on his to do list.

Off the party went into the mountains to find the drum. As their guide pointed to the ledge off which the drum was thrown he dropped dead of blood loss and stubbornness. Some members of the party suggested that they climb down the ledge and search that way. Srag had a better idea. He gathered that if something else was to get thrown down there that was a similar size it would land near the drum. Their late guide was too big so they had to find something else. They were trying to decide what rock is best when they heard a wonderful sound. It was the sound of mining. A pick axe striking a rock. They were intrigued by this noise so they followed it.

As they closed into the source of the noise they heard something they didn't like. Singing. It wasn't nearly weak enough to be elves but it certainly wasn't orks. What they saw was a human but shorter, hairier, and bulkier. The strange creature bid them a friendly hello and introduced himself. The orks didn't understand what he was saying so they just kind of looked at him trying to figure out what to make of him. Without saying anything to each other they decided that he was most certainly drum sized. They lifted the dwarf in the air and tossed him off the mountain.

The group eagerly watched him bounce down the mountain from rock to rock. When he stopped they investigated where he landed. The plan worked perfectly. The dwarf lay twitching on the drum. They moved the dwarf to the side and picked to the drum. They didn't bother killing the dwarf because it isn't like they'd ever see another dwarf anyway. They decided that was enough fun for the day and they went back to their tribe and called it a night.

Early next morning the tribe got together to hunt elves again. This time they had the drum to summon Gruumsh. They banged on the drum as loud as they can. A minute passed and no god showed. They decided then that Gruumsh broke his deal and needed to be dealt with.

They came upon him resting in the mountain he is known to rest in. When they saw him they demanded to know why he didn't answer. As he was trying to yell at them for their impatience, Srag grew tired of the talking and attacked. The party attacked the giant and put out his other eye. Srag decided then that since they've gone this far might as well finish the job. Though he would never admit it he knew Gruumsh was bigger than him and therefore capable of revenge. Srag killed Gruumsh that day but with his dying breath Gruumsh cursed this group of orks. He sent them to live in the inhospitable mountains and painted their skin blue so other orks would know of their shame.

What Gruumsh didn't count on is the stubbornness of this group of Orks. They decided they actually like living in the mountains and being blue is superior because fuck that guy.

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