Reach Da Stars Through Hurtin' Stuff - Ork "Civilisation" Quest

Once upon a time, the world of Xak II was a peaceful, happy, joyous place.

Well, actually, that was a lie. Actually it was a fairly anonymous so-called 'civilised world' in the Imperium of Man, which was to say it was a component cog in the cruellest and most brutal regime imaginable. But the evils of this world were none too imaginative in their own right. Yes, the rulers of the world were a calcified oligarchy where four great noble houses ruled their own technofeudal empires - so called because they had technology and feuded with each other all the time. Yes, there was brutal oppression of those unfortunate enough to be born into poverty, especially if they had the mutations common in those deeply polluted regions of the world - for proto-hives were starting to form in the eldest, most industrialised regions. Yes, the tithes from the Adeptus Terra only rose and rose, for in a galaxy of war where thirsting gods laugh callously at death, all people are reduced to resources to be spent by wicked and ancient men.

But relative to what was about to happen, it was peaceful, happy and joyous, at least if you lived in the upper… oh, twenty percent of society and weren't important enough in your House to be a target of assassinations.

Because then the orks arrived.

And being orks, they didn't exactly arrive with grace, dignity, or any semblance of steering. In fact, being orks, they completely screwed up their arrival because the lever which turned off the engines snapped off in the Big Mek's hands and so the rok performed an unplanned lithobrake at a velocity better associated with orbital strikes.

The white-hot detonation of a rok smashing into the south-eastern continent cast the world into a century-long nuclear winter, wiped out the once-great House Cupan, and - due to an omitted negative sign in the paperwork of the Administratum - led to a quadrupling of the planet's tithe to 'help it recover'.

But not all life on the rok had perished in the impact. Everything intelligent - with a generous definition of intelligence when it came to orkiforms - had died. But the spores survived. In the ruins of the continent, they started to grow.

From the spores, came mushrooms. From the mushrooms, came squigs. Then snotlings. Then grotz. And, just flies from maggot-infested meat, came their big brothers.

Shambling, wide-eyed, the first feral ork clambered out of the fungal cavern where he had gestated and stared up at the sun.

Then the second ork right behind him hit him over the head with a sharpened rock, and the third and fourth orks had a big laff about it.

Yes, all across the ruined continent that the humans called Cupankesvar, small tribes of feral orks were emerging. And then getting into fights, mostly with each other or with the grotz that already infested the place.

A fight was currently going on in a certain small tribe, because the latest headbutting contest had resulted in a victory of the orkish skull against its enemy, a wall. Unfortunately it had been a load-bearing wall for their cave system, and as a result much of the system had collapsed, driving the boyz up to the surface.

"Oi! We wuz born 'n 'da kaves an' we shouldn't leave 'em! We jus have ta find a new kave which iz bigga an' betta dan 'da last wun!"

"Wit' betta walls! added another ork, waving a somewhat sharp rock around having brained his rival. He then promptly went down to a solid roundhouse punch.

"Shut yer face," hollered his assailant. "Look at 'da forest ova 'der. Der's probably tasty stuff 'n 'dat place. I'z gett'n well sick uv mushrooms!"

This was a controversial point and would have stirred up more violence if it wasn't for the fact that everyone was already either busy with violence or busy watching said violence.

"I reckon," one of the boyz said thoughtfully, as he slammed an opponent's face repeatedly in the the ground, "maybe we'd 'av betta luck if we went to the place where 'der ain't any trees or hills. Der 'as gotta be new stuff to fight if we 'ed that way."

A radical proposition, and among more conservative elements of the tribe - insofar as such a thing applies to newborn feral orks with no existing culture - this promoted shock, outrage, and the desire to punch things.

Eventually, though, a conclusion was reached through constructive, destructive, and instructive violence. And as they set out on their way, one of the tribe looked up to the heavens and sees the distant twinkle of far off stars.

"Oi, Grobznik?"

"Yeah?"

"Dat stuff in the sky? Up there?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanna punch dem. Smug gitz, all glittery and stuff."

Where Does The Tribe Migrate To?
[ ] They find a new cave, regardless of whether someone else already had it.
[ ] They head to the forest growing in the ruins of long-abandoned fields.
[ ] They wander to the south, heading down into the grasslands, as nomadic wanderers.

The We-Ain't-Thought-Of-A-Name-Yet Tribe
The Blue Flash Tribe

"Civilisation" Stats

Orks aren't any good at accountancy and book-keeping. They are good at bragging, though, and like to talk a lot about their triumphs and their cunning. As a result, who knows how accurate some of these traits are, but if they go up that's surely a good thing, right?