Our destiny concerning the domination over these lands has been foretold by the clan mystics for hundreds of years. Having risen from the mire of swamps and marshes, the Orcish hordes have swept across this domain in the fulfillment of that destiny. Many ages passed as our influence slowly spread, causing pain and darkness to follow in our wake. Be they in lush plains, hidden in thick forests, or at the rocky crags overlooking the seaside our armies rolled over what pathetic resistance our enemies could muster. Their crops died on the stalk and their fields lay fallow, for we left none alive to tend them. Using the arcane powers of our Warlocks and Necromancers, not even the mightiest of our foes could long stand against our increasing onslaught. One by one our enemies fell, and we became stronger with each victory. In time, by subjugating all who would oppose our rise to power, and enslaving these weaker races to use as we pleased, we conquered both nature and creatures to finally rise to the pinnacle of this world.

Still we craved more, and decades of constant bickering between clans served to divide our race amongst itself. Soon factions arose, each seeking to control the Orcish domain for themselves. These petty arguments turned to armed conflict, and then to war as the need for conquest burned hot in out blood. If no lands existed that were ruled by enemies, then we would take the lands of our brethren.

The only clan to ignore these plays for power were the Warlocks. Secluded in their towers, they saw the danger that was present. Although it pleased the Necromancers that these battles fed the earth and underworld with rivers of blood, the Warlocks feared that no Orc would be left alive. This would serve to upset the delicate balance that allowed them to control the powers that they held in check and called upon to work their magiks. If this balance were to be maintained, the Orcish hordes would need to be supplied with new battles against a common foe.

It was during a period of research that the small tear in the dimensional fabric was noticed. Many years passed as the Warlocks sought to unlock the mysteries of this tiny rift. The undertaking of numerous trials and tests led to the conclusion that this phenomenon could serve as a portal to another dominion, if it could be controlled. The Orcish Warlocks began experimentation towards focusing the rift, gradually making it larger and more stable. Eventually, they were able to create a small portal, just large enough for one of their clan to pass through.

The stories that this subject returned with almost convinced his colleagues that the experience had left him insane, but the strange, unknown plants he held served as sure evidence of his claims. This allowed the sect to approach the strongest leaders of the splintered Orc clans and request that they cease their war for one year. At the end of that time, they promised the chance to accomplish the taking of a new world.

Controlling the rift proved to be easier as it grew larger, and within the passing of three moons, it stood ready to send a small detachment of troops to this new world. A blue circle of energy, roughly two and one half Orcs in width, was the sight that greeted the Orcish clan chiefs. Streaks of black and red raced across it as it crackled with otherworldly fires. Seven warriors were to enter the portal and return with a report detailing the type of lands and creatures that were to be found on the other side. As the Warlocks began their incantations to access the power of the rift, a howl began - low at first, then rising in pitch like a darkwolf baying during the bloodmoon. When the sound grew near to deafening, the warriors were motioned into the circle, now alive with a thousand colours intertwined and clashing in some cosmic dance. What awaited these seven was beyond even their wildest imagining.

The sack of the village was a simple matter, hardly worth the telling. Yet hundreds of times the tale was recounted, and a hundred more would be expected and relished. A group of strange, sharp edged buildings was the first sign of any true opposition they encountered. A rough dirt path lead into a trio of farms. The gray of dawn was lightening as the sun of this world rose over the hilltops. It was a bright, yellow orb that shone twice as brightly as our own, and made the days exceedingly hot. Then out of the odd little hut came what must have been a member of this lands true race. Small, pink and spare of muscle were these creatures. The warriors grinned wickedly at each other, knowing that if this represented the breed of stock they would need to pen in order to take this world, victory was but a matter of moments. Rushing out of their hiding place, they swarmed upon the village and slew every living thing they could find. The males offered some small resistance, but the females and children were like taking grok to the slaughter. Their homes held few values, but their field were full of a tasty grain. Their livestock, as little as there was, also proved excellent, and what they could not eat or pack was set to the torch. The trinkets brought back from this place were of a craftsmanship unknown to the Orcs, and were quickly taken by the leaders of the clans for their own treasure hordes. This new world, heavy with vast expanses and soft, weak protectors would prove a rich jewel to add the crown of the Orcs.

Our order of ascension is a simple one - only the strongest survive. All matters of politics or dispute are settled in open debate. This can lead to hostilities in many cases, but it is the fastest and simplest way to come to a conclusion on most matters. Each Orc has the right to make heard his arguments, as long as he can back them up with fact - or steel. To gain the upper hand is a sign of strength, and strength is counted highly among the hordes. A decisive victory in battle raises the commander and his warriors to a place of honor and control. This hold is tenuous, however, for the higher one climbs, the farther - and more deadly - the fall.

By this time, we had learned much of this new domain, and those who dwelled here. While difficult to understand in many ways, they proved similar enough to us in many ways. A sharp blow to the head resulted in death. Lack of food led to starvation. Pain also affected them in the same way it had all of our enemies, and proved to be an effective means of extracting information.

To learn that the name of this place was Azeroth, and the inhabitants here were called Humans, was among the first bits of information we gathered. We began the taking of Azeroth by moving out cautiously, and learning what we could, but all too soon rash judgment prevailed as the taste of greed tainted the palettes of the Orcish clan chiefs. After many arguments ensued, it was decreed that an assault upon the tall castle in the north would serve to crush our enemies and place the Orcs upon the throne of power. More and more warriors were brought through the rift, and with them seemed to come the essence of our world. The Warlocks claimed it was some effect of the portal, but the lands about our entryway soon became as desolate as those of our home.

Entry into the castle was a simple matter, for the prosperity that had made this land so attractive to us had also bred weakness in the Humans. Their guards were unprepared as our forces poured through the gates and over the walls of their stronghold. Their males did well to stop us for as long as they did, but our numbers and strength soon tilted the battle in our favor. Victory would have been assured, but for the arrival of their great, mounted soldiers. These fiends rode atop beasts of muscle and sinew that crashed through our ranks and dealt as much damage to our troops as did their riders. These knights, as we have come to know them, rallied what few soldiers remained, and began driving us out of the castle. Our every turn was countered as we were forced to retreat towards the gateway back to our world. Some trick of magic had them always at our back, sides, and in our path. We barely reached the edges of the swamplands that now surrounded the portal and eluded our pursuers in its murky depths.

It has been some fifteen years since this costly decision altered the course of our destiny. Many called for the closing of the gate, while other factions fought for another attack upon the Humans with all of our forces. Out of this chaos arose a single Orc with a cunning and guile that few others possessed. Careful manipulations and the use of what support he could muster made his voice ever stronger as time passed. After key opponents were dealt with, few could offer any opposition to his plans, and the rule of the great Orc War Chief Blackhand was upon our people.

His cruelty and dominance in battle is only overshadowed by his lust for power. He has studied the means with which Human armies are able to defeat overpowering numbers of Orcs through strategy and guile. From these tactics he has learned to bring organization to the scattered attacks of our raiding parties. He sought assistance from both houses of the arcane arts, searching for other weapons to add to his arsenal. The culmination of these plans will involve the uniting of all the Orcish clans - Armies, Warlocks and Necromancers alike - to bring about the eventual destruction of the Human race. The Age of Chaos is now at hand.