The adventures of a small tribe of feral orks as they rise up from from humble beginnings to achieve the ultimate goals of all living beings - to reach those twinkly things in the night's sky and punch them for being so damn smug.
Reach Da Stars Through Hurtin' Stuff - Ork "Civilisation" Quest
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Arrival
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.
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.
"Civilisation" Sheet
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?
| Trait | Level |
| Boyz | Not Enuff |
| Grotz | Hardly Any |
| Stuff | Mushrooms An' Not Much Else |
| Teef | Wot Do You Mean, Spendin' Teef Gets You Stuff? |
| Kultur | Absolutely None |
| Teknology | What's Dat? |
- Sharp sticks
- Rocks
- Nuclear Fission Criticality Accidents
- Fire
- Cooking
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The Forest
As it turns out, the lure of eating new stuff was an alluring and perhaps even zogging good prospect, and the as-yet-unnamed tribe wandered towards the place where the big light in the sky went down when it got dark. Some confusion promptly arose when first one, then a second smaller and less bright shape showed up in the black sky. The confusion was both theological and also rather more navigational, as the sudden loss of light led to several of the boys falling down ravines which was widely acclaimed to be well funny, but also a tad inconvenient.
The fact that after a period of darkness, the brighter light in the sky then came back was a radical discovery, and the tribe celebrated by eating several of the grotz.
After countless cycles of light and dark - countless because no one bothered counting them, and really it was only about two - the tribe arrived at their new forest home. Once this area had been a fertile floodplain, where the regular insinuations had layered thick coatings of sediment. When men had come to this world, they had turned it into farmland, and the floodings had been an obstacle to the efficient use of the land. The river had been dammed, and serried fields planted. Of course, this had caused its own problems without the yearly inundations, but copious use of fertiliser had fixed that. And so the area had become a place where poorly paid workers had grown cash crops for the lords of these lands, interspersed with chemical plants that took advantage of the tamed river to ship their products to the cities.
Of course, when the rok had crashed, the shockwaves had shattered the dam, and the long-restrained waters had torn their way across the land with a vengeance. The released waters had carved up the floodplain and turned it into a morass of ever-shifting waterways separated by raised land where the radiation-mutated descendents of the orchards grew as thick and gnarled trees. And their fruit carried the mutagens that seeped from the destroyed chemical plants, twisting the beasts that lived in this forest. Flies the size of a man's fist fed off the rotting fruit, spiders as big as wolves spun their webs in the trees, and orkiforms like squigs hopped around the landscape eating whatever they felt like.
So, all on all, this forest was pretty much what the orks wanted.
"Oi! Look what I found, ladz," hollered one of the orks, holding an oily-looking fruit that was descended from an apple. Its juices sizzled when they dripped on the ground, blackening the wiry grass. "It's some kinda mushroom growin' on that tree." He took another bite. "It don't taste half bad," he opined through his mouthful of heavily contaminated fruit. "It goes well good with them spiders," he added, referring to the giant eight-legged things that had eaten some of the grotz before getting torn limb from limb and eaten by orks who had also been planning to eat said grotz.
Naturally, the discovery that the fruit was edible led to the other orks wanting to try it, and when there wasn't enough to go around, a fight.
After a few light-and-dark cycles wandering through the forest, punching the wildlife and each other, the loose conglomerate had found a few places that looked to have what the orks were looking for in a new home, vis a vis 'having stuff to eat' and 'having things to fight'.
To the north, there was a towering stump of some giant broken rock that had been tossed up by the rok's impact which rose up from the surrounding forest. The orks knew nothing of this, of course, but to their simple minds it looked like a giant tooth sticking up from the earth, something only reinforced by the orkish mushrooms that grew around the base. The very primitive proto-theologians among the boyz had devised something akin to the doctrine of signatures, which was to say, if the orks dwelt by a giant rock that looked like a tooth, their own teeth would grow big and they would be tough, strong, and other similarly desirable things. Other less theologically inclined orks contributed that given its height, they could climb the Big Toof and see anything was coming near their settlement that needed a good krumpin'.
To the east some wandering boyz had found a glade where, as well as a few sprouted grotz, they found strange blue fungus sprouting from the spoil. Naturally, they ate it, and made the discovery that eating the strange blue fungus gave really really distracting visions. Some of them were less than constructive, such as seeing one's hands turn into grotz or thinking that the world was upside down and so having to stand on one's head to stop yourself falling into the sky. But some of the boyz saw other things, like the location of some tasty squigs that turned out to really be there when they came down from their mushroom-induced trip.
To the south west, the landscape had formed a shallow bowl, and there the water pooled. Unfortunately, the area had previously been home to great chemical plants and while time and a big rok smashing into the planet had levelled them, it had not removed the toxic chemicals and radioactive substances that had been worked with there. The swampy area there was full of strange trees that moved even when the wind didn't move, and the creatures that lived in that area were particularly large and mutated. Which, to the orkish mind, implied that they were particularly tasty.
Ah, such difficult dilemmas. The only way to choose was, of course, a scrap - and scrap they did, until a conclusion was reached.
Which place do the orks choose to settle?
[ ] The Really Big Rock Wot Looks Like A Toof
[ ] The Glade Where There's Blue Fungus That Gives Visions
[ ] The Polluted Swamp Where There Are Mutant Monsters
The fact that after a period of darkness, the brighter light in the sky then came back was a radical discovery, and the tribe celebrated by eating several of the grotz.
After countless cycles of light and dark - countless because no one bothered counting them, and really it was only about two - the tribe arrived at their new forest home. Once this area had been a fertile floodplain, where the regular insinuations had layered thick coatings of sediment. When men had come to this world, they had turned it into farmland, and the floodings had been an obstacle to the efficient use of the land. The river had been dammed, and serried fields planted. Of course, this had caused its own problems without the yearly inundations, but copious use of fertiliser had fixed that. And so the area had become a place where poorly paid workers had grown cash crops for the lords of these lands, interspersed with chemical plants that took advantage of the tamed river to ship their products to the cities.
Of course, when the rok had crashed, the shockwaves had shattered the dam, and the long-restrained waters had torn their way across the land with a vengeance. The released waters had carved up the floodplain and turned it into a morass of ever-shifting waterways separated by raised land where the radiation-mutated descendents of the orchards grew as thick and gnarled trees. And their fruit carried the mutagens that seeped from the destroyed chemical plants, twisting the beasts that lived in this forest. Flies the size of a man's fist fed off the rotting fruit, spiders as big as wolves spun their webs in the trees, and orkiforms like squigs hopped around the landscape eating whatever they felt like.
So, all on all, this forest was pretty much what the orks wanted.
"Oi! Look what I found, ladz," hollered one of the orks, holding an oily-looking fruit that was descended from an apple. Its juices sizzled when they dripped on the ground, blackening the wiry grass. "It's some kinda mushroom growin' on that tree." He took another bite. "It don't taste half bad," he opined through his mouthful of heavily contaminated fruit. "It goes well good with them spiders," he added, referring to the giant eight-legged things that had eaten some of the grotz before getting torn limb from limb and eaten by orks who had also been planning to eat said grotz.
Naturally, the discovery that the fruit was edible led to the other orks wanting to try it, and when there wasn't enough to go around, a fight.
After a few light-and-dark cycles wandering through the forest, punching the wildlife and each other, the loose conglomerate had found a few places that looked to have what the orks were looking for in a new home, vis a vis 'having stuff to eat' and 'having things to fight'.
To the north, there was a towering stump of some giant broken rock that had been tossed up by the rok's impact which rose up from the surrounding forest. The orks knew nothing of this, of course, but to their simple minds it looked like a giant tooth sticking up from the earth, something only reinforced by the orkish mushrooms that grew around the base. The very primitive proto-theologians among the boyz had devised something akin to the doctrine of signatures, which was to say, if the orks dwelt by a giant rock that looked like a tooth, their own teeth would grow big and they would be tough, strong, and other similarly desirable things. Other less theologically inclined orks contributed that given its height, they could climb the Big Toof and see anything was coming near their settlement that needed a good krumpin'.
To the east some wandering boyz had found a glade where, as well as a few sprouted grotz, they found strange blue fungus sprouting from the spoil. Naturally, they ate it, and made the discovery that eating the strange blue fungus gave really really distracting visions. Some of them were less than constructive, such as seeing one's hands turn into grotz or thinking that the world was upside down and so having to stand on one's head to stop yourself falling into the sky. But some of the boyz saw other things, like the location of some tasty squigs that turned out to really be there when they came down from their mushroom-induced trip.
To the south west, the landscape had formed a shallow bowl, and there the water pooled. Unfortunately, the area had previously been home to great chemical plants and while time and a big rok smashing into the planet had levelled them, it had not removed the toxic chemicals and radioactive substances that had been worked with there. The swampy area there was full of strange trees that moved even when the wind didn't move, and the creatures that lived in that area were particularly large and mutated. Which, to the orkish mind, implied that they were particularly tasty.
Ah, such difficult dilemmas. The only way to choose was, of course, a scrap - and scrap they did, until a conclusion was reached.
Which place do the orks choose to settle?
[ ] The Really Big Rock Wot Looks Like A Toof
[ ] The Glade Where There's Blue Fungus That Gives Visions
[ ] The Polluted Swamp Where There Are Mutant Monsters
A New Home
It was not easy for the tribe to decide on exactly where to live in this heavily polluted forest. Not because they were picky - of course not - but because there were many places that seemed good. The bust-up between the Toof-ists, the Fungus-ites, and the Swampians seemed like it would never end, and perhaps the tribe might have fractured or wiped itself out with the violence.
In the end, however, a miracle occurred. Later on in the tribe's history, it was definitely agreed to be so. The gods had decided that the boyz should survive, so sent a giant mutated deer to gallop right through the middle of their fight, and it was just lookin' for a krumpin' by being so big and tall and existing. Most of the orks immediately gave chase, following it into the swamp. And given they were there and had all this raw deer meat to eat, it was sort of a fait accompli that they settled in the swamp.
Of course, at the time they neither had the theology nor the inclination to interpret it mythologically, and instead they just wanted to beat the shit out of the zoggin' big deer and take its horns.
In the end, two thirds of the tribe followed the deer to the swamp. The rest either hadn't survived the vigorous debate, got lost along the way, or weren't going to go live in a swamp when they had a big toof-like rock to climb or blue fungus to eat. But the new swamp dwellers had no regrets. They had a lot of giant mutant creatures trying to kill them, yes, but no regrets. Unless regrets were a kind of mutant creature. That was something up for debate.
Regardless of whether the things trying to eat them were regrets, though, they had a new home and a lot of wild animals who didn't get that orkz were the best and the strongest and needed a good krumpin'. And in the end, wasn't that what mattered?
What were the apex predators in the area (before the orks showed up)? (pick 3)
[ ] A nest of particularly large and vicious swamp boars who are gonna need a lot of zoggin' killin' to keep down and have a skull thicker than an ork's.
[ ] Vicious grot-eating mutant ants (or mut-ants, as the boyz call 'em) that spit acid, and live in tar pits.
[ ] Giant floating air-jellyfish that dangle paralysing tentacles down from their gas-bags. Also, their immature forms live in the water and aren't a good day if you step on them.
[ ] Snakes in the many rivers. So many goddamn snakes. All of them poisonous. Some of them also constrictors. Some of them bigger than the tallest trees.
[ ] Up in the tall trees, there's nests of black crow-like toothed birds that eat dead bodies, steal anything shiny like the teef out of a sleeping ork, and are smart. Prob'bly smarter than the orks, honestly.
[ ] Spiders for days. Spiders that hide in the water, spiders that spin cable-thick webs, spiders that dig holes and jump out of them. Spiders.
What terrain feature that isn't trying to eat them do the orks find?
[ ] All the rivers flow down to a zoggin' big lake that's so big you can't even see what's on the other side of it and tastes salty. Lots of birds and stuff to chuck rocks at and then eat.
[ ] There's these weird path-things that are half-sunk into the swamp and all smashed up. They're made of this black stuff that doesn't taste all that good to eat. You can walk along those paths way faster than wading through the swamp, though.
[ ] There's a pit that glows at night and which is surrounded by rusty metal shapes that are kinda oozy and sludge-y. It's probably a place of honour. Or zoggin' good luck 'cause there's water at the bottom an' it glows blue.
In the end, however, a miracle occurred. Later on in the tribe's history, it was definitely agreed to be so. The gods had decided that the boyz should survive, so sent a giant mutated deer to gallop right through the middle of their fight, and it was just lookin' for a krumpin' by being so big and tall and existing. Most of the orks immediately gave chase, following it into the swamp. And given they were there and had all this raw deer meat to eat, it was sort of a fait accompli that they settled in the swamp.
Of course, at the time they neither had the theology nor the inclination to interpret it mythologically, and instead they just wanted to beat the shit out of the zoggin' big deer and take its horns.
In the end, two thirds of the tribe followed the deer to the swamp. The rest either hadn't survived the vigorous debate, got lost along the way, or weren't going to go live in a swamp when they had a big toof-like rock to climb or blue fungus to eat. But the new swamp dwellers had no regrets. They had a lot of giant mutant creatures trying to kill them, yes, but no regrets. Unless regrets were a kind of mutant creature. That was something up for debate.
Regardless of whether the things trying to eat them were regrets, though, they had a new home and a lot of wild animals who didn't get that orkz were the best and the strongest and needed a good krumpin'. And in the end, wasn't that what mattered?
What were the apex predators in the area (before the orks showed up)? (pick 3)
[ ] A nest of particularly large and vicious swamp boars who are gonna need a lot of zoggin' killin' to keep down and have a skull thicker than an ork's.
[ ] Vicious grot-eating mutant ants (or mut-ants, as the boyz call 'em) that spit acid, and live in tar pits.
[ ] Giant floating air-jellyfish that dangle paralysing tentacles down from their gas-bags. Also, their immature forms live in the water and aren't a good day if you step on them.
[ ] Snakes in the many rivers. So many goddamn snakes. All of them poisonous. Some of them also constrictors. Some of them bigger than the tallest trees.
[ ] Up in the tall trees, there's nests of black crow-like toothed birds that eat dead bodies, steal anything shiny like the teef out of a sleeping ork, and are smart. Prob'bly smarter than the orks, honestly.
[ ] Spiders for days. Spiders that hide in the water, spiders that spin cable-thick webs, spiders that dig holes and jump out of them. Spiders.
What terrain feature that isn't trying to eat them do the orks find?
[ ] All the rivers flow down to a zoggin' big lake that's so big you can't even see what's on the other side of it and tastes salty. Lots of birds and stuff to chuck rocks at and then eat.
[ ] There's these weird path-things that are half-sunk into the swamp and all smashed up. They're made of this black stuff that doesn't taste all that good to eat. You can walk along those paths way faster than wading through the swamp, though.
[ ] There's a pit that glows at night and which is surrounded by rusty metal shapes that are kinda oozy and sludge-y. It's probably a place of honour. Or zoggin' good luck 'cause there's water at the bottom an' it glows blue.
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The Gift of the Pit
Fortune had led the orks to a miserable, constantly-raining, polluted, radioactive swamp full of mutant monsters set among a dismal forest, and there they built their new home. On a slightly-drier rise, they built something that could charitably and generously called a village under the shade of narrow-needled trees. With all the care and attention one might expect from orks, they procured wood and branches - often by headbutting down other trees - and built crude shelters which kept something of the rain off them.
It was quite necessary. The other occupants of the swamp proved quite willing to try to eat the orks. The boars were as tall as an ork at the shoulder, and had similarly impressive tusks, vile tempers, and thick skulls. The orks made the deeply discomforting discovery that charging boars could and would win headbutting contests. While that didn't stop the orks from trying, it did result in concussions, fractured skulls, and frequent death. Then there were the snakes. The little ones were as small as a grot's finger, and highly poisonous. The medium-sized ones could crush an ork in their coils, and were even more poisonous. The large ones were so big that one knocked down the village and left a trail of destruction in its wake. Admittedly, knocking down the village was easier than it would have been if it had been more than some piled up branches, but it was still not great. Oh, and the large ones were probably also poisonous, but that was secondary to the fact that their fangs were large enough to impale an ork.
Worst of all, though, were the black-feathered toothed birds who perched on the trees and directed insulting comments at the orks and their ability to build nests. They had learned orkish remarkably quickly, and used it mostly to swear at the boys. It wasn't entirely clear whether they were intelligent in their own right or just copying what they heard, but in fairness, the same could be said for the orks. Sometimes they carried off gretchin to their nests and tore them limb from limb which did provide some levity. Other times they picked up rocks and dropped them on orks.
Between the giant snakes, angry boars, and asshole flappy bird-things, things were not exactly easy going for the orks of the tribe. Also, things were cold and wet, and getting colder. The snakes were showing up less, which on one hand meant fewer people were getting bitten by poisonous snakes, but on the other hand meant there was less to eat. And on top of that, white flakes fell from the sky. This was strange and scary and new, and so the orks punched the white stuff. After a few days of punching, it melted and things warmed up, so clearly they'd frightened it away.
But it was during this period they found the lucky pit, because the white stuff didn't settle around the lucky pit. That alone was reason to call it lucky, but it was also surrounded by once-bright-yellow metal barrels, and it glowed green at night. Green was, of course, the orkiest of colours, so it had to be a sign. The water at the bottom glowed blue, and that was obviously a good sign too.
Orks being orks, they of course tried tasting the water at the bottom of the pit. It caused nasty bowel cramps and left the boys feeling rotten for days. The general consensus was that this was a sign that the water was lucky, and was using its luck to stop people drinking it. So rather than irk the hole in the ground more, they looted a bunch of the rocks from the area, many of which were cylindrical, and retreated.
Shortly afterwards, the ork Modek made a monumental, astonishing discovery when he started hitting the cylindrical rocks together. The twilight was broken by a sudden blue flash that lit up the glade, and every ork in the area turned his way.
"What was that?"
"I dunno," Modek said, blinking away the flash blindness. He tried hitting the rocks together again, and got a second flash.
The orks had discovered nuclear fission through the deliberate inducement of criticality accidents for their own amusement.
"Ha ha ha! Do it again, do it again! That's zoggin' great!"
Another blue flash lit up the night, and the orks fell about laughing.
"Hey, my hand's getting kinda hot," said Modek, considering the lump of sub-critical nuclear fuel rod he'd been using to hit the other lump of sub-critical nuclear fuel rod.
"Don't be a grot, y'weak arse," said the bigger ork Gotta, cuffing him over the back of the head. "Do it again!"
This time, the blue flash was even brighter and Modek dropped the lump of slag, cursing. His hand was blackened and charred. The lump dropped to the ground, and rolled into a patch of slightly drier plants. Which first steamed, then browned, then caught alight.
The orks, who were engaged in much merriment watching Modek suffer from the burns only slowly noticed that there was another source of light in the clearing.
"Oi, mates?"
"Wot?"
"Wot is dat orangey-yellow flickery stuff?"
"I dunno! Make a grot eat it!"
The discovery of nuclear fission was followed shortly afterwards by the discovery of fire. And the discovery soon after that fire was not edible, but made other things tastier.
The keen orkish scientific mind relatively quickly discovered that the lucky fire-making rocks only got hot and made a blue flash if they were large enough. This was an intuitive outcome that might be expected by any feral ork sitting in a swamp, and testing revealed that the larger the rocks and the harder they were hit together, the brighter the flash and the hotter they got.
The secret of fire radically changed life in the ork settlement in the swamp. Now anyone could create their own flames by taking two large lumps of the special rock from the lucky blue pit, and hitting them together until they got hot enough to set things on fire. Quickly, the village was alight with blue flashes, and very shortly afterwards alight with being-on-fire.
Things had never been better, especially once they'd rebuilt the village and were no longer being rained on. And so they started to call themselves the Blue Flash Tribe, in honour of the mighty phenomenon which had granted them control over nature in this way.
Oddly enough, the use of the lucky rocks resulted in some nasty burns to the hands of the individuals doing it and lingering illness if overdone. The orks more concerned with personal comfort just got the grots to knock the lucky rocks together. The others weren't prepared to sacrifice mastery of fire and also mastery of making attention-grabbing blue flashes.
Still, such a discovery radically changed the balance of power within the swamp. With the power of fire in their hands, the orks were eating better than before and were much more comfortable when they could huddle around fires for warmth. They could set fire to trees to get prey down from them, and set fire to each other when bored.
With the extra free time, the tribe had a brawl to work out what they were going to do next.
Choose a Major Project
[ ] Get More Fungus Growing
[ ] Hunt Down Replacement Grotz
[ ] Beat Up Those Damn Boars
[ ] Throw A Big Party In Honour Of The Lucky Pit
[ ] Smash The Nests Of Those Stupid Birds
It was quite necessary. The other occupants of the swamp proved quite willing to try to eat the orks. The boars were as tall as an ork at the shoulder, and had similarly impressive tusks, vile tempers, and thick skulls. The orks made the deeply discomforting discovery that charging boars could and would win headbutting contests. While that didn't stop the orks from trying, it did result in concussions, fractured skulls, and frequent death. Then there were the snakes. The little ones were as small as a grot's finger, and highly poisonous. The medium-sized ones could crush an ork in their coils, and were even more poisonous. The large ones were so big that one knocked down the village and left a trail of destruction in its wake. Admittedly, knocking down the village was easier than it would have been if it had been more than some piled up branches, but it was still not great. Oh, and the large ones were probably also poisonous, but that was secondary to the fact that their fangs were large enough to impale an ork.
Worst of all, though, were the black-feathered toothed birds who perched on the trees and directed insulting comments at the orks and their ability to build nests. They had learned orkish remarkably quickly, and used it mostly to swear at the boys. It wasn't entirely clear whether they were intelligent in their own right or just copying what they heard, but in fairness, the same could be said for the orks. Sometimes they carried off gretchin to their nests and tore them limb from limb which did provide some levity. Other times they picked up rocks and dropped them on orks.
Between the giant snakes, angry boars, and asshole flappy bird-things, things were not exactly easy going for the orks of the tribe. Also, things were cold and wet, and getting colder. The snakes were showing up less, which on one hand meant fewer people were getting bitten by poisonous snakes, but on the other hand meant there was less to eat. And on top of that, white flakes fell from the sky. This was strange and scary and new, and so the orks punched the white stuff. After a few days of punching, it melted and things warmed up, so clearly they'd frightened it away.
But it was during this period they found the lucky pit, because the white stuff didn't settle around the lucky pit. That alone was reason to call it lucky, but it was also surrounded by once-bright-yellow metal barrels, and it glowed green at night. Green was, of course, the orkiest of colours, so it had to be a sign. The water at the bottom glowed blue, and that was obviously a good sign too.
Orks being orks, they of course tried tasting the water at the bottom of the pit. It caused nasty bowel cramps and left the boys feeling rotten for days. The general consensus was that this was a sign that the water was lucky, and was using its luck to stop people drinking it. So rather than irk the hole in the ground more, they looted a bunch of the rocks from the area, many of which were cylindrical, and retreated.
Shortly afterwards, the ork Modek made a monumental, astonishing discovery when he started hitting the cylindrical rocks together. The twilight was broken by a sudden blue flash that lit up the glade, and every ork in the area turned his way.
"What was that?"
"I dunno," Modek said, blinking away the flash blindness. He tried hitting the rocks together again, and got a second flash.
The orks had discovered nuclear fission through the deliberate inducement of criticality accidents for their own amusement.
"Ha ha ha! Do it again, do it again! That's zoggin' great!"
Another blue flash lit up the night, and the orks fell about laughing.
"Hey, my hand's getting kinda hot," said Modek, considering the lump of sub-critical nuclear fuel rod he'd been using to hit the other lump of sub-critical nuclear fuel rod.
"Don't be a grot, y'weak arse," said the bigger ork Gotta, cuffing him over the back of the head. "Do it again!"
This time, the blue flash was even brighter and Modek dropped the lump of slag, cursing. His hand was blackened and charred. The lump dropped to the ground, and rolled into a patch of slightly drier plants. Which first steamed, then browned, then caught alight.
The orks, who were engaged in much merriment watching Modek suffer from the burns only slowly noticed that there was another source of light in the clearing.
"Oi, mates?"
"Wot?"
"Wot is dat orangey-yellow flickery stuff?"
"I dunno! Make a grot eat it!"
The discovery of nuclear fission was followed shortly afterwards by the discovery of fire. And the discovery soon after that fire was not edible, but made other things tastier.
Article: Teknology Discovered: Nuclear Fission Criticality Accidents
Teknology Discovered: Fire
Teknology Discovered: Cooking
Tribe Name Chosen: The Blue Flash Tribe
The keen orkish scientific mind relatively quickly discovered that the lucky fire-making rocks only got hot and made a blue flash if they were large enough. This was an intuitive outcome that might be expected by any feral ork sitting in a swamp, and testing revealed that the larger the rocks and the harder they were hit together, the brighter the flash and the hotter they got.
The secret of fire radically changed life in the ork settlement in the swamp. Now anyone could create their own flames by taking two large lumps of the special rock from the lucky blue pit, and hitting them together until they got hot enough to set things on fire. Quickly, the village was alight with blue flashes, and very shortly afterwards alight with being-on-fire.
Things had never been better, especially once they'd rebuilt the village and were no longer being rained on. And so they started to call themselves the Blue Flash Tribe, in honour of the mighty phenomenon which had granted them control over nature in this way.
Oddly enough, the use of the lucky rocks resulted in some nasty burns to the hands of the individuals doing it and lingering illness if overdone. The orks more concerned with personal comfort just got the grots to knock the lucky rocks together. The others weren't prepared to sacrifice mastery of fire and also mastery of making attention-grabbing blue flashes.
Still, such a discovery radically changed the balance of power within the swamp. With the power of fire in their hands, the orks were eating better than before and were much more comfortable when they could huddle around fires for warmth. They could set fire to trees to get prey down from them, and set fire to each other when bored.
With the extra free time, the tribe had a brawl to work out what they were going to do next.
Get More Fungus Growing - the Orks have discovered that more fungus grows around where they've been taking dumps and tossing out their food waste. Some of the more insightful members of the tribe are wondering if they dig some holes and dump their waste in them, they might get more mushrooms growing. Which means more food, right?
Hunt Down Replacement Grotz - the tribe's supply of smaller orkoids is growing rather thin, between the self-inflicted casualties, the ork-inflicted casualties, and the predator-inflicted casualties. Without grotz to do all the hard, unpleasant, and/or boring things, the boys will have to do them, and that means they won't be happy. Yeah, it'd be a good idea to always keep plenty of grotz around.
Beat Up Those Damn Boars - the boys have fire now. And sure, the boars might be able to win headbutting contests, but now they have fire, they can probably trap those damn boars using the fire and then repeatedly headbutt them and prove orks are better than them.
Throw A Big Party In Honour Of The Lucky Pit - the lucky pit gave them fire, and cooking, and fun blue flashes. Obviously it is a thing they need to respect and venerate, so it'll give them more of its luck and its learning.
Smash The Nests Of Those Stupid Birds - Consider this - they have fire, and the birds live in trees. If they burn down every tree with a bird nest in it, they'll have to zog off and won't go and say those real mean things about the orks.
Hunt Down Replacement Grotz - the tribe's supply of smaller orkoids is growing rather thin, between the self-inflicted casualties, the ork-inflicted casualties, and the predator-inflicted casualties. Without grotz to do all the hard, unpleasant, and/or boring things, the boys will have to do them, and that means they won't be happy. Yeah, it'd be a good idea to always keep plenty of grotz around.
Beat Up Those Damn Boars - the boys have fire now. And sure, the boars might be able to win headbutting contests, but now they have fire, they can probably trap those damn boars using the fire and then repeatedly headbutt them and prove orks are better than them.
Throw A Big Party In Honour Of The Lucky Pit - the lucky pit gave them fire, and cooking, and fun blue flashes. Obviously it is a thing they need to respect and venerate, so it'll give them more of its luck and its learning.
Smash The Nests Of Those Stupid Birds - Consider this - they have fire, and the birds live in trees. If they burn down every tree with a bird nest in it, they'll have to zog off and won't go and say those real mean things about the orks.
Choose a Major Project
[ ] Get More Fungus Growing
[ ] Hunt Down Replacement Grotz
[ ] Beat Up Those Damn Boars
[ ] Throw A Big Party In Honour Of The Lucky Pit
[ ] Smash The Nests Of Those Stupid Birds
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Grot Grabbin'
As the white sky stuff - called 'snow' on the grounds that they had snow idea what it was - built up on the swamp and the surface of the water turned hard and fun to smash, the orks ran into a problem. Namely, they wanted more mushrooms, but the gretchin hangers-on of the tribe had been sadly depleted due to the local predators and the actions of the orks
Some things in the world are just too cruel to easily be encompassed with words. One of them which so afflicted the orks of the Blue Flash tribe was the necessity to do things other than exactly what you feel like doing at any present moment. Among humans, the requirement to do things you don't want to do is considered to be part of growing up. Among orks, gretchin exist to handle those things.
This can be considered to be one of the major differences between the two species.
Rather than doing anything foolish like considering how they had wound up in the current situation, the orks instead had a punch-up over whether to try to grow more mushrooms or hunt down more grotz to do it for them. A particularly vicious elbow drop from an ork named Bludrok was widely agreed to be the most convincing argument they heard, and so the orks set out into the frozen landscape to engage in grotnapping.
As nothing in life can ever be easy, they ran into three main problems. Firstly, gretchin were frankly smarter than their big brother-species, and so better at hiding. Secondly, the white covering the land confused the orks and gave the grotz plenty of places to hide under the snow. And thirdly, when they did find some grotz, the orks were by that point understandably irritable and tended to hit the grotz hard enough that the subdual was decidedly non-non-lethal. Add that to the inevitable casualties inflicted by tired, hungry, cold orks carrying grotz back to the village, and it really wasn't proving all that effective.
As the saying went, necessity was the mother of invention. Orks, of course, never said so because they didn't have parents. However, the orkish equivalent was perhaps less pithy, but more honest, being "If ya need somefing, you're gotta find a way to get it". And under these pressures, some of the orks learned and developed in a way they never had before. Which wasn't exactly saying all that much considering how young their fledgling society was, but it was still something.
By the depths of winter, the society of the little tribe had undergone some notable changes. Some of the boys had proven to be a lot better at tracking down grotz and grabbing them. Another associated skill was the ability to resist the urge to eat more than a few of them when trudging back to the village. As a result, the boys who were best at this had started to describe their profession as 'grabba'. As no orks wanted to clean the middens or have to pick their own fungus, the grabba boys had swiftly grown powerful.
Two figures from the grot huntas stood out from all the others.
The first of them was Nasha the Snatcher. A head taller than most of the other orks around, he was a lanky specimen of an ork, with a strange stretched-out posture that meant his head sometimes rose above shoulder level. Keen-sensed and with an uncanny ability to get into the heads of his prey, he somehow could track a trio of fleeing grots across rivers and through snow and snatch them up. More than that, too, he was widely liked in the tribe. Or at least admired for his affable way of beating people around the head with his big club studded with stone shards and his mastery of eye-gourging. He cut an imposing figure with his untanned boar skin wrapped around his shoulders and his large collection of lucky trophies hanging from plant-fibre cords.
The second was Zorbag the Trappa. Where Nasha found the trails of his prey and chased them down, Zorbag was always fiddling with swamp plants, cording them into ropes, and digging pits. He stabbed trees to get their sticky sap and mixed it with boar blood to get something that he spread around the mouth of grot holes and waited for their screams when they found they were stuck. He wasn't the only one of the grot huntas who were playing around with them, but Zorbag had an intuitive eye for how the things lying around the swamp could be used to trap grots. Much more squat and broad than his rival, his hands were usually stained with things from the swamp and even by ork standards, his hygiene was appalling.
Both of them were letting things go to their head. They'd give orders to other orks, and expect them to be followed - and not just because they'd beat someone up if it wasn't done right now. No, they'd use their successes at getting grotz as a leverage. If someone didn't do what they said, they weren't going to be getting any of the grotz they dragged back. And then that poor ork might have to do their own work.
"I's the Big Ork!"
"No, I is!"
Naturally this put the two of them into conflict, and so as things were slowly starting to warm up the tribe found the two of them facing off against each other around the fire. Zorbag was flaunting he'd captured more grotz over all, but Nasha had the counter-argument that some days Zorbag got nothing while Nasha nearly always came back with a few grots in his grabby sack. More than that, he had more boys on his side. This was a little hard to ascertain because neither ork was any good at counting, but the fact he was considered more likeable by the rest of the tribe meant he was probably right.
And then there was the flip side. A whole bunch of the boys didn't actually want to listen to someone. The tribe had always resolved all its arguments by having a big brawl until one argument won out. Why should things change? They just needed to fight over every decision. Both Zorbag and Nasha had no time for that argument, because it'd stop people listening to them. And - from the rumbling - one or more of them might leave and take their boys with them if the others said they were never ever gonna listen to them.
The Blue Flash tribe was faced with a dilemma over this new and revolutionary idea of a single 'Big Ork' that had the potential to upheave their whole social structure. Such as it was.
Who does the tribe back as the 'Big Ork'?
[ ] Nasha da Snatcha. He's cunningly brutal, broadly liked by the tribe, and his boys are good at runnin' after things over long distances, trackin' them, and smashin' things over the head when they're all tired from running. ['Big Ork' position created]
[ ] Zorbag da Trappa. He's brutally cunning, good with the gizmos, and his boys are good at settin' traps, fiddling with stuff they find, and hitting things over the head when they're looking the other way. ['Big Ork' position created]
[ ] Neither - they beat up both of them for thinkin' they can give orders. The Blue Flash tribe is gonna decide what to do based on old fashioned battle royale brawls over every single decision, no matter how small. It's worked for them so far and they ain't changing. [Reject 'Big Ork' position]
Some things in the world are just too cruel to easily be encompassed with words. One of them which so afflicted the orks of the Blue Flash tribe was the necessity to do things other than exactly what you feel like doing at any present moment. Among humans, the requirement to do things you don't want to do is considered to be part of growing up. Among orks, gretchin exist to handle those things.
This can be considered to be one of the major differences between the two species.
Rather than doing anything foolish like considering how they had wound up in the current situation, the orks instead had a punch-up over whether to try to grow more mushrooms or hunt down more grotz to do it for them. A particularly vicious elbow drop from an ork named Bludrok was widely agreed to be the most convincing argument they heard, and so the orks set out into the frozen landscape to engage in grotnapping.
As nothing in life can ever be easy, they ran into three main problems. Firstly, gretchin were frankly smarter than their big brother-species, and so better at hiding. Secondly, the white covering the land confused the orks and gave the grotz plenty of places to hide under the snow. And thirdly, when they did find some grotz, the orks were by that point understandably irritable and tended to hit the grotz hard enough that the subdual was decidedly non-non-lethal. Add that to the inevitable casualties inflicted by tired, hungry, cold orks carrying grotz back to the village, and it really wasn't proving all that effective.
As the saying went, necessity was the mother of invention. Orks, of course, never said so because they didn't have parents. However, the orkish equivalent was perhaps less pithy, but more honest, being "If ya need somefing, you're gotta find a way to get it". And under these pressures, some of the orks learned and developed in a way they never had before. Which wasn't exactly saying all that much considering how young their fledgling society was, but it was still something.
By the depths of winter, the society of the little tribe had undergone some notable changes. Some of the boys had proven to be a lot better at tracking down grotz and grabbing them. Another associated skill was the ability to resist the urge to eat more than a few of them when trudging back to the village. As a result, the boys who were best at this had started to describe their profession as 'grabba'. As no orks wanted to clean the middens or have to pick their own fungus, the grabba boys had swiftly grown powerful.
Two figures from the grot huntas stood out from all the others.
The first of them was Nasha the Snatcher. A head taller than most of the other orks around, he was a lanky specimen of an ork, with a strange stretched-out posture that meant his head sometimes rose above shoulder level. Keen-sensed and with an uncanny ability to get into the heads of his prey, he somehow could track a trio of fleeing grots across rivers and through snow and snatch them up. More than that, too, he was widely liked in the tribe. Or at least admired for his affable way of beating people around the head with his big club studded with stone shards and his mastery of eye-gourging. He cut an imposing figure with his untanned boar skin wrapped around his shoulders and his large collection of lucky trophies hanging from plant-fibre cords.
The second was Zorbag the Trappa. Where Nasha found the trails of his prey and chased them down, Zorbag was always fiddling with swamp plants, cording them into ropes, and digging pits. He stabbed trees to get their sticky sap and mixed it with boar blood to get something that he spread around the mouth of grot holes and waited for their screams when they found they were stuck. He wasn't the only one of the grot huntas who were playing around with them, but Zorbag had an intuitive eye for how the things lying around the swamp could be used to trap grots. Much more squat and broad than his rival, his hands were usually stained with things from the swamp and even by ork standards, his hygiene was appalling.
Both of them were letting things go to their head. They'd give orders to other orks, and expect them to be followed - and not just because they'd beat someone up if it wasn't done right now. No, they'd use their successes at getting grotz as a leverage. If someone didn't do what they said, they weren't going to be getting any of the grotz they dragged back. And then that poor ork might have to do their own work.
"I's the Big Ork!"
"No, I is!"
Naturally this put the two of them into conflict, and so as things were slowly starting to warm up the tribe found the two of them facing off against each other around the fire. Zorbag was flaunting he'd captured more grotz over all, but Nasha had the counter-argument that some days Zorbag got nothing while Nasha nearly always came back with a few grots in his grabby sack. More than that, he had more boys on his side. This was a little hard to ascertain because neither ork was any good at counting, but the fact he was considered more likeable by the rest of the tribe meant he was probably right.
And then there was the flip side. A whole bunch of the boys didn't actually want to listen to someone. The tribe had always resolved all its arguments by having a big brawl until one argument won out. Why should things change? They just needed to fight over every decision. Both Zorbag and Nasha had no time for that argument, because it'd stop people listening to them. And - from the rumbling - one or more of them might leave and take their boys with them if the others said they were never ever gonna listen to them.
The Blue Flash tribe was faced with a dilemma over this new and revolutionary idea of a single 'Big Ork' that had the potential to upheave their whole social structure. Such as it was.
Who does the tribe back as the 'Big Ork'?
[ ] Nasha da Snatcha. He's cunningly brutal, broadly liked by the tribe, and his boys are good at runnin' after things over long distances, trackin' them, and smashin' things over the head when they're all tired from running. ['Big Ork' position created]
[ ] Zorbag da Trappa. He's brutally cunning, good with the gizmos, and his boys are good at settin' traps, fiddling with stuff they find, and hitting things over the head when they're looking the other way. ['Big Ork' position created]
[ ] Neither - they beat up both of them for thinkin' they can give orders. The Blue Flash tribe is gonna decide what to do based on old fashioned battle royale brawls over every single decision, no matter how small. It's worked for them so far and they ain't changing. [Reject 'Big Ork' position]
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Da Big Ork
Tempers had flared in the camp as the followers of Zorbag and Nasha got in each other's faces, swore a lot, and generally postured. The instrumental moment in the formation of a hierarchical proto-state, however, occurred when Zorbag dug a big pit near where Nasha usually relieved himself in the morning, filled it with snakes that he'd caught, and then covered it in leaves. When Nasha shuffled out one morning with a full bladder, he promptly fell down the pit and was so badly bitten that by the time one of his boyz helped pull him out, his arms were so swollen and inflamed that they looked like balloons.
This made him the target of much mockery and ribald laughter, and the wavering boyz decided that they just couldn't take someone seriously when he couldn't even pick up a spear.
To general acclaim, reinforced by the fear of others who were worried there might be more snake pits waiting for them when they went to piss in the morning, Zorbag was proclaimed to be the biggest and 'ardest ork in the Blue Flash Tribe. And - it is said - he grew three inches that day.
With a crude hierarchy in place, the Blue Flash Tribe survived the winter with only minimal cannibalism. And they didn't even need to eat each other; they just did it for fun. With both fire and a regular supply of both trapped animals and grots, the radical innovations of this crude tribe of orks meant that life was vastly better than it had been back when they set out for the swamp. Better yet, as the snow started to melt, under the layers of whiteness they found the first new one of the boyz, pulled hollering from the hollow under a rotten tree stump he'd grown in.
He was promptly taken before Zorbag, sitting upon his throne of— well, it was mostly rocks, but in fairness he'd covered it with some wild boar skins so it was at least slightly more comfortable. He had his sacred smasha stick resting against the throne, a wooden club with a lump from the sacred pit on the end. A snaggle-toothed black bird perched on the back, its beady eyes locked on the newcomer; from wooden cages snakes hissed. As he took the new ork in, Zorbag casually reached into one of the cakes and pulled out a snake, biting its head off thoughtfully while tossing the body to his crow.
"Oi, fanks boss, you're da best," said the crow, swallowing the body whole. The crows had taken well to orkish as a language. "Wotcha thinking, mate?"
"I fink," Zorbag said, brow creasing with the weight of leadership and more importantly the burden of cognition, "if da snow is meltin', dat means…"
"What does it mean?" the crow asked, after Zorbag trailed away.
"It mean the snow ain't gonna be here anymore."
"... yeah?"
"Nah, ya burd. Get it? Dere's gonna be more boyz bein' found if the snow is meltin'."
"Yeah?"
"Wot if them boyz don't fink I'm da boss? Dat git Nasha might try something."
"Wotcha gonna do, boss?"
This made him the target of much mockery and ribald laughter, and the wavering boyz decided that they just couldn't take someone seriously when he couldn't even pick up a spear.
To general acclaim, reinforced by the fear of others who were worried there might be more snake pits waiting for them when they went to piss in the morning, Zorbag was proclaimed to be the biggest and 'ardest ork in the Blue Flash Tribe. And - it is said - he grew three inches that day.
With a crude hierarchy in place, the Blue Flash Tribe survived the winter with only minimal cannibalism. And they didn't even need to eat each other; they just did it for fun. With both fire and a regular supply of both trapped animals and grots, the radical innovations of this crude tribe of orks meant that life was vastly better than it had been back when they set out for the swamp. Better yet, as the snow started to melt, under the layers of whiteness they found the first new one of the boyz, pulled hollering from the hollow under a rotten tree stump he'd grown in.
He was promptly taken before Zorbag, sitting upon his throne of— well, it was mostly rocks, but in fairness he'd covered it with some wild boar skins so it was at least slightly more comfortable. He had his sacred smasha stick resting against the throne, a wooden club with a lump from the sacred pit on the end. A snaggle-toothed black bird perched on the back, its beady eyes locked on the newcomer; from wooden cages snakes hissed. As he took the new ork in, Zorbag casually reached into one of the cakes and pulled out a snake, biting its head off thoughtfully while tossing the body to his crow.
"Oi, fanks boss, you're da best," said the crow, swallowing the body whole. The crows had taken well to orkish as a language. "Wotcha thinking, mate?"
"I fink," Zorbag said, brow creasing with the weight of leadership and more importantly the burden of cognition, "if da snow is meltin', dat means…"
"What does it mean?" the crow asked, after Zorbag trailed away.
"It mean the snow ain't gonna be here anymore."
"... yeah?"
"Nah, ya burd. Get it? Dere's gonna be more boyz bein' found if the snow is meltin'."
"Yeah?"
"Wot if them boyz don't fink I'm da boss? Dat git Nasha might try something."
"Wotcha gonna do, boss?"
Article: The Trials of Leadership
What does Zorbag do to try to reinforce his grip on power?
[ ] Big festival in honour of the Blue and the secret of fire. More food an' the blessing of the Blue will show everyone Zorbag's the best.
[ ] Find the biggest snake in the forest and kill it. You gotta respect Zorbag if he goes an' traps an' kills one of dem snakes that's as tall as a tree.
[ ] Go pick a fight with some of the boyz that didn't follow them to the swamp. Orks iz always up for a brawl so they won't question him if they're fightin' others.
Snek
One cold late-winter morning where the ice was still crackling on the surface of the swamp, the Big Ork Zorbag crawled through the undergrowth accompanied by a few of his most loyal fellow trappas. They had seen a giant snake sleeping curled up in the ruins of an old factory near their camp, and his logic was clear; it was necessary for him to kill a zoggin' big snake so that the boyz would respect his authority.
The old growth swayed in the wind, icicles falling like knife-rain as they broke from the boughs. The breath of the orks steamed in the air. This was the plan; sneak up on the giant snake when it was asleep, hit it over the head with rocks and stab it with sharp sticks, and then they'd have showed it good.
The giant irradiated snake, Serpentes irradicus gigantes, continues to grow throughout its life, which can reach multiple centuries. As a result, within the squalid polluted swamp that the orks had made their home in, these snakes were the apex predator and just kept on getting bigger.
"Oi, Zorbag, are you sure dat hitting it over the head will kill it?" asked one of his underlings.
"Nah, I'z too kunning for that." Zorbag hefted the weapon he'd brought with him, a viciously barbed spear. "That's why I'z going for the eyes. You gitz back off. This is my kill."
Sneaking up, spear held in both hands, eyes gleaming red with kunning brutality - or possibly brutal kunning - Zorbag got close. And then he struck.
Unfortunately for the Blue Flash Tribe and Zorbag in particular, the weakness of the orkish brain had made a catastrophic mistake in failing to understand that the snake was in fact in the distance. And — though this didn't seem entirely natural to the orks — the fact that it was further away meant that it looked smaller than it was when one was up close. While the snake was in no way happy about being stabbed in the eyelid by a spear, it didn't even successfully blind it.
Zorbag, first Big Ork of the Blue Flash Tribe, was promptly eaten by the giant snake, which without noticing then rampaged over the top of the ork's village, crushed all their ramshackle huts, and crushed a bunch of orks.
As the orks pulled themselves out of the ruins, they considered what had just happened.
"Dat Zorbag."
"Yeah?"
"He was a zoggin' cool ork. Dat's how I wanna go!"
"Being eaten by a giant snake?"
"Yeah! Exactly! Fink about it." The ork's thick brow creased with the pressure of attempted cognition. "If you get killed by sumfing that's all huge and dead killy, that's like… that's like the world sayin' that it gotta send a huge snake what are as tall as the trees to kill you." He thumped his chest. "Dat's respect, dat's what it is."
"Huh." His companion nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I can see that. And if it took dat huge snake to kill ol' Zorbag, he must have been well 'ard."
"Now you're gettin' it."
"Fing is…"
"Yeah?"
"Where do you think Zorbag went?"
"After the snake ate him?"
"Yeah."
"Into the snake."
"Yeah, but… like. That's where his body went. All dat meat and bones and stuff. But that stuff don't talk, right?"
"'Cause it's dead? No, it don't."
"So, if the bit what the snake ate ain't the bit what does the talking and stuff, where did that go?"
That opinion caused widespread mutual frowning, because philosophy was not an orkish area of skill even during good times. "Shut the zog up, ya git," one of the other orks opined, and hit the overly abstract one over the head. "Zorbag's dead, but the big snake showed us all that he had the right idea. So the next big ork oughta be the one who hunts and kills the biggest thing in the swamp."
This was acclaimed by general consensus as a solid, well-grounded principle for leadership, on multiple levels. Not only was killing some big thing a sign that the ork was well 'ard, but also all the other boyz could eat the meat.
And when it was done, Kublan the Trappa had caught a whole family of giant wild boars in his pit lined with spiky sticks. It hadn't killed the boars who had been large and angry, but he throw rocks at them until they died. Over a large celebratory feast of wild boar meat, he was acclaimed the new Big Ork.
And his first degree was they needed some kinda memorial thing so everyone could look at it and go 'remember the time dat Zorbag got krumped by a giant snake and it was zoggin' cool'.
But the subject of the following brawl was what the memorial should entail.
The old growth swayed in the wind, icicles falling like knife-rain as they broke from the boughs. The breath of the orks steamed in the air. This was the plan; sneak up on the giant snake when it was asleep, hit it over the head with rocks and stab it with sharp sticks, and then they'd have showed it good.
The giant irradiated snake, Serpentes irradicus gigantes, continues to grow throughout its life, which can reach multiple centuries. As a result, within the squalid polluted swamp that the orks had made their home in, these snakes were the apex predator and just kept on getting bigger.
"Oi, Zorbag, are you sure dat hitting it over the head will kill it?" asked one of his underlings.
"Nah, I'z too kunning for that." Zorbag hefted the weapon he'd brought with him, a viciously barbed spear. "That's why I'z going for the eyes. You gitz back off. This is my kill."
Sneaking up, spear held in both hands, eyes gleaming red with kunning brutality - or possibly brutal kunning - Zorbag got close. And then he struck.
Unfortunately for the Blue Flash Tribe and Zorbag in particular, the weakness of the orkish brain had made a catastrophic mistake in failing to understand that the snake was in fact in the distance. And — though this didn't seem entirely natural to the orks — the fact that it was further away meant that it looked smaller than it was when one was up close. While the snake was in no way happy about being stabbed in the eyelid by a spear, it didn't even successfully blind it.
Zorbag, first Big Ork of the Blue Flash Tribe, was promptly eaten by the giant snake, which without noticing then rampaged over the top of the ork's village, crushed all their ramshackle huts, and crushed a bunch of orks.
As the orks pulled themselves out of the ruins, they considered what had just happened.
"Dat Zorbag."
"Yeah?"
"He was a zoggin' cool ork. Dat's how I wanna go!"
"Being eaten by a giant snake?"
"Yeah! Exactly! Fink about it." The ork's thick brow creased with the pressure of attempted cognition. "If you get killed by sumfing that's all huge and dead killy, that's like… that's like the world sayin' that it gotta send a huge snake what are as tall as the trees to kill you." He thumped his chest. "Dat's respect, dat's what it is."
"Huh." His companion nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I can see that. And if it took dat huge snake to kill ol' Zorbag, he must have been well 'ard."
"Now you're gettin' it."
"Fing is…"
"Yeah?"
"Where do you think Zorbag went?"
"After the snake ate him?"
"Yeah."
"Into the snake."
"Yeah, but… like. That's where his body went. All dat meat and bones and stuff. But that stuff don't talk, right?"
"'Cause it's dead? No, it don't."
"So, if the bit what the snake ate ain't the bit what does the talking and stuff, where did that go?"
That opinion caused widespread mutual frowning, because philosophy was not an orkish area of skill even during good times. "Shut the zog up, ya git," one of the other orks opined, and hit the overly abstract one over the head. "Zorbag's dead, but the big snake showed us all that he had the right idea. So the next big ork oughta be the one who hunts and kills the biggest thing in the swamp."
This was acclaimed by general consensus as a solid, well-grounded principle for leadership, on multiple levels. Not only was killing some big thing a sign that the ork was well 'ard, but also all the other boyz could eat the meat.
And when it was done, Kublan the Trappa had caught a whole family of giant wild boars in his pit lined with spiky sticks. It hadn't killed the boars who had been large and angry, but he throw rocks at them until they died. Over a large celebratory feast of wild boar meat, he was acclaimed the new Big Ork.
And his first degree was they needed some kinda memorial thing so everyone could look at it and go 'remember the time dat Zorbag got krumped by a giant snake and it was zoggin' cool'.
But the subject of the following brawl was what the memorial should entail.
Article: What is chosen to memorialise Zorbag?
[ ] Sacrifice Lotsa Stuff To The Pit. To honour Zorbag and how good he was at hunting, clearly they need to hunt a bunch of animals (maybe somewhat smaller than that snake) and throw them into the glowing pit. That way, Zorbag's luck will pass to them.
[ ] Kill Stuff And Make A Big Pile of Bones Shaped Like A Snake. The orks agree; that snake was zoggin' cool. Bones are also shaped like snakes. Therefore, if they make a pile of bones shaped like a snake, that's like doubly-snake-like and they might get the snake's powers.
[ ] Pile Some Rocks Up In A Vaguely Orkish Shape. Maybe if they get rocks and bits of fallen masonry from the ruined factory and pile them up into a shape, that'll be like Zorbag is still watching over them.
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