Talos –

Mighty Talos was the God of strength and raw power. His rule was simple: might was everything, and brute force always triumphed over intelligence or skill. The other Gods both feared and scorned Talos. They feared his immense physical strength, for he was the strongest of them all and could defeat any opponent in contests of physical prowess. Yet, they also looked down on him for his perceived simplicity of mind, often using his blunt nature to manipulate him for their own ends.

When the Great Game began, Talos yearned to compete against the Titans, eager to test his might against these powerful creations. Many of the Gods would have relished such a spectacle, but it was forbidden. Talos was told that if he wanted to compete, he would have to create his own Titan to represent him in the contest. And so, Talos forged the mighty Colossus, a massive and towering figure that stood above all other Titans. The Colossus was unmatched in strength, feared by the Gods and Titans alike, and none dared to challenge Talos while his creation walked the earth.

Exile –

Humiliated and unable to accept defeat, the Colossus exiled himself to a remote and forgotten part of the world. There, he sat in solitude, brooding over his loss, unable to fathom how he had been defeated by someone physically weaker. He remained in this self-imposed exile as ages passed, refusing to take part in the War of the Titans, despite many of the other Titans pleading for his aid. The Colossus ignored them all, too absorbed in his shame and isolation.

The Birth of the Orcs –

During the War of the Titans, Talos looked upon the creations of the other Gods and sought to make something even stronger. Thus, he created the Orcs—a brutal and fearsome race of muscle-bound warriors who traded intelligence for sheer power. To balance their limitations, Talos also created the Goblins—a weaker but far more cunning race. His plan was for these two races to work together, combining the Orcs' strength with the Goblins' cleverness to create a perfect synergy of power and strategy.

Talos divided his new creations into ten original tribes—The Dark Sun, Broken Fang, Burning Moon, Thunder Strike, Green Tide, Black Skulls, Mad Dogs, Snakebite, Bonecleaver, and Fire Axe. He pitted them against each other, hoping that through constant battle, the strongest tribe would emerge as a hardened, elite force to lead the others in the War of the Titans. However, before his plan could be realized, the war was lost, and the Gods fled the world. Talos was killed in the final days of the conflict, leaving the Orcs and Goblins to continue their endless tribal warfare without guidance.

Near Extinction –

The Orcs’ tribal warfare raged on for generations, but their numbers only grew. As their tribes expanded, they inevitably clashed with other races. The Fire Axe tribe was the first to encounter the Ancient Forest. At first, they only logged its outskirts to build weapons of war, but the creatures of the Forest saw this as an act of desecration. They rallied their forces and attacked the Fire Axe tribe, catching the Orcs unprepared and driving them back.

The Forest’s armies did not stop there. They systematically assaulted each tribe, overwhelming them with their combined might. The Orcs, divided and leaderless, could not muster a defense. Weakened by their own internal battles, they fell one by one, and the race of Orcs teetered on the edge of extinction. The only choice was to abandon their ancestral lands and begin a great migration in search of a new home.

Dwarf Wars –

For centuries, the Orcs led a nomadic existence, roaming across the plains, always following their herds of wild animals. Although clashes between the tribes still broke out from time to time, the constant migration kept large-scale conflicts with other races at bay. They steered clear of forests, haunted by memories of their devastating battles with the creatures of the Ancient Forest. But as their endless journey carried them into the towering mountain ranges, they crossed paths with an ancient and formidable race—the Dwarfs.

At first, the Dwarfs were cautious but not hostile. They saw the Orcs as a new and untapped trading opportunity. To the Dwarfs, the Orcs were a curious but lesser threat, since the Dwarfs’ true strength lay in the fortified cities deep within their mountain holds. The Orcs, however, reacted very differently. Upon seeing the Dwarfs, something deep and primal stirred within them—a sudden, overwhelming hatred that could not be explained by mere territorial disputes or misunderstandings. This visceral hatred burned within every Orc heart, as if it had been etched into their very souls. Even the Shamans, who held sway over the tribes' minds and spirits, were baffled by this sudden fury. Though they sought to divine the cause of this loathing, they could not uncover its origins. But once unleashed, this hatred could not be quelled.

In the blink of an eye, what might have been a peaceful exchange devolved into savage warfare. The Orcs, united in a rare moment of tribal cohesion, launched a brutal and unprovoked assault on the Dwarven surface settlements. The Dwarfs, unprepared for such sudden ferocity, were caught off-guard by the sheer scale and savagery of the attack. The Orcs fought with an unmatched fury, laying waste to every Dwarven village and outpost they encountered. Their hordes swept across the mountain slopes like an unstoppable avalanche, overwhelming any resistance the Dwarfs could muster. Surface settlements that had stood for centuries were reduced to ruins in mere days, and the Orcs believed they had crushed the Dwarven race entirely.

As the Orcs pushed further into the mountains, they discovered the entrances to the vast underground Dwarven cities. What they had destroyed on the surface, they soon realized, was only a fraction of the Dwarven might. The true power of the Dwarfs lay hidden deep within their mountain fortresses—endless tunnels and vast caverns that stretched for miles beneath the earth. Rather than retreat, the Orcs, driven by their newfound hatred, doubled down on their assault. They laid siege to the grand Dwarven holds, battering down ancient gates and flooding into the dark corridors like a relentless tide.

Within the mountain holds, however, the Dwarfs were prepared. They deployed their fearsome war machines—massive cannons and steam-powered constructs that unleashed devastating firepower against the invading Orcs. These machines, crafted with generations of Dwarven engineering expertise, tore through the Orc ranks, leaving piles of bodies in their wake. But the Orcs were undeterred. Fueled by their fury and driven by their lust for battle, they pressed on, sacrificing countless warriors in their relentless drive to break the Dwarven defenses.

The Goblins played a key role in the siege, scurrying through narrow tunnels and crevices, using their cunning and agility to outflank the Dwarven forces. They sabotaged Dwarven defenses, collapsing tunnels and setting traps in the darkness. The Dwarfs found themselves not only fighting brutal battles on the front lines but also constantly dealing with Goblin guerilla attacks in the shadows of their own strongholds. The surface hold fell after months of brutal fighting, with Dwarven warriors forced to retreat deeper into the heart of their underground empire.

Victory was within the Orcs' grasp, but as they established dominance over the upper reaches of the Dwarven hold, their old tribal instincts resurfaced. With the spoils of war laid out before them—the vast riches of the Dwarven halls and treasures beyond imagining—the Orc tribes began to fight among themselves. Instead of pressing the attack further into the depths of the mountain, the Orcs turned on each other, their fragile unity shattered by greed. Each tribe wanted the largest share of the Dwarven plunder, and soon, fierce battles erupted between the tribes, turning the once-organized siege into a chaotic free-for-all.

The Dwarfs, though bloodied and beaten, took advantage of this Orcish infighting. Messengers were sent to neighboring Dwarven holds, and reinforcements were called from the depths of the mountains. Hammerfast, the greatest of the Dwarven cities, rallied its forces and prepared for a counterattack. As the Orcs squabbled over their spoils, a massive Dwarven army marched from the depths, armed with newly constructed war machines and bolstered by the rage of their kin who had seen their homes destroyed.

The Dwarven counterattack was swift and devastating. Driven by a burning desire for vengeance, the Dwarfs unleashed their full might upon the Orc invaders. They poured out of the deep tunnels with a fury unmatched, their berserker warriors leading the charge. War machines rolled forth, spewing fire and destruction, cutting down hordes of Orcs who had been too distracted by their own greed to organize a proper defense.

The Orcs, caught in the midst of their internal battles, were unprepared for the ferocity of the Dwarven assault. Tribes that had been fighting over gold and treasure were suddenly forced to defend themselves from a coordinated and relentless onslaught. The sheer determination of the Dwarfs, fueled by their desire to reclaim their lost homes, overwhelmed the Orcs. One by one, the Orc tribes were pushed back, their numbers thinned by both the Dwarven assault and their own self-inflicted wounds.

Realizing they were outmatched, the Orcs were forced to retreat. With their herds migrating once again, they had no choice but to abandon their siege and follow the animals that sustained them. Though they had won initial victories and claimed vast Dwarven treasures, the Orcs ultimately failed to maintain their foothold in the Dwarven holds. The Dwarfs, however, would not soon forget the devastation the Orcs had brought to their surface settlements, and the animosity between the two races was now deeply embedded in their shared history.

Finding a Home –

At long last, the Orcs discovered a massive canyon, a place unlike any they had seen before. There, standing like a living god, was the Colossus. To the Orcs, a people who revered strength above all else, the sight of the Colossus was awe-inspiring. They believed they had found a living god, a being of unmatched power. For the Colossus, this was the first intelligent life he had encountered since his self-imposed exile. He recognized the spark of creation within them, the mark of Talos.

The Colossus explained to the Orcs that they were the creation of Talos, just as he was. But the Orcs, revering only strength and the living, rejected Talos as a dead and weak god. Instead, they swore allegiance to the Colossus, the mightiest being they had ever known. The lands surrounding the canyon were wild and unclaimed, providing ample resources for the Orcs and their herds. They settled there and named their new homeland the Blood Lands.