Heart of Iron
Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 3:22 pm
Everyone on Northeros knows and fears the Black Orks - savage warriors clad in iron armor that's blackened by the smokes of their ever-burning furnaces. This is an old orkish tale about how that clan was forged, way before it splintered and part of it joined the great campaign against the Empire.
Back then, the Black Orks were no different from any other orks - they were landless nomads scouring the Great Western Wastes, seeking a place to settle. They split up into smaller warbands to cover more ground. One of these parties found a rough, but well defendable mountain pass - ideal spot for a fortress. There was only one obstacle in the orks' way:
The canyon was the home of a Primal Fury.
Primal Furies are as ancient as the lands themselves. They are manifestations of the elements - rough, powerful, chaotic.
The orks knew such forces are ones one could not negotiate with, therefore they chose to assault the living mountain and take its habitat by force.
Suffice to say, they underestimated not only the creature's cunning...
... but also its ferocity and speed.
The fury swatted one after the other like insects. This was when the warband leader realized a way to turn the tide.
Tossing his weapons aside, he began to improvise, leaving his comrade to face the ancient behemoth on its own...
... at least until he finished putting together a hasty cudgel! With a thunderous roar, he challenged the fury.
The creature got complacent - after all, it had slaughtered many of these petty whelps, what difference could one so bold to meet its fate make?
What the fury forgot in its hubris was the fact that the ork wasn't alone - like a well-oiled machine, him and his ally worked together, catching the elemental off-guard...
... and delivering a fierce and fatal blow to the only chink in its rocky hide!
Wounded, the Fury gazed upon its assailants. Hatred burned in its eyes - to be defeated by such insignificant pests. But the living mountain knew that with one spiteful act, it can take them along to the afterlife as well.
Realizing this, the warleader shoved his friend away; he himself couldn't dodge the upcoming explosion. The fury's final hateful cry thundered through the mountains.
After the dust settled, the surviving ork surveyed the battlefield. Many had died, but they won the battle and slew the primal elemental! Much to his suprise though, he coul hear faint mumblings from what he presumed was the charred corpse of his commander.
It turned out that despite severe burns and his armor being welded to his flesh by the blast, the warband's leader survived! He defied the fury's dying breath!
This ork would become known as Grimkor Ironheart, leader of the clan to this day for his heroic deeds. Grimkor learned much from that fateful encounter. He inspired his clan to harness the fury of the mountains by extensive mining and mastering how to tame and forge ores into the best armor and weapons an ork could ever equip itself.
To this day, the Black Orks are feared and revered throughout the Western Wastes, for whoever angers them, shall face the fury of Grimkor - and that of his Iron Will.
Back then, the Black Orks were no different from any other orks - they were landless nomads scouring the Great Western Wastes, seeking a place to settle. They split up into smaller warbands to cover more ground. One of these parties found a rough, but well defendable mountain pass - ideal spot for a fortress. There was only one obstacle in the orks' way:
The canyon was the home of a Primal Fury.
Primal Furies are as ancient as the lands themselves. They are manifestations of the elements - rough, powerful, chaotic.
The orks knew such forces are ones one could not negotiate with, therefore they chose to assault the living mountain and take its habitat by force.
Suffice to say, they underestimated not only the creature's cunning...
... but also its ferocity and speed.
The fury swatted one after the other like insects. This was when the warband leader realized a way to turn the tide.
Tossing his weapons aside, he began to improvise, leaving his comrade to face the ancient behemoth on its own...
... at least until he finished putting together a hasty cudgel! With a thunderous roar, he challenged the fury.
The creature got complacent - after all, it had slaughtered many of these petty whelps, what difference could one so bold to meet its fate make?
What the fury forgot in its hubris was the fact that the ork wasn't alone - like a well-oiled machine, him and his ally worked together, catching the elemental off-guard...
... and delivering a fierce and fatal blow to the only chink in its rocky hide!
Wounded, the Fury gazed upon its assailants. Hatred burned in its eyes - to be defeated by such insignificant pests. But the living mountain knew that with one spiteful act, it can take them along to the afterlife as well.
Realizing this, the warleader shoved his friend away; he himself couldn't dodge the upcoming explosion. The fury's final hateful cry thundered through the mountains.
After the dust settled, the surviving ork surveyed the battlefield. Many had died, but they won the battle and slew the primal elemental! Much to his suprise though, he coul hear faint mumblings from what he presumed was the charred corpse of his commander.
It turned out that despite severe burns and his armor being welded to his flesh by the blast, the warband's leader survived! He defied the fury's dying breath!
This ork would become known as Grimkor Ironheart, leader of the clan to this day for his heroic deeds. Grimkor learned much from that fateful encounter. He inspired his clan to harness the fury of the mountains by extensive mining and mastering how to tame and forge ores into the best armor and weapons an ork could ever equip itself.
To this day, the Black Orks are feared and revered throughout the Western Wastes, for whoever angers them, shall face the fury of Grimkor - and that of his Iron Will.
as always, man.
Was Hammerman inspiration?