Shazdrakk Khan snarled at the war council as he dashed his clawed hand across the map scratched into the dirt of the yurt’s floor. Grunjir Khan, the ultimate ruler of the Crimson Wastes watched him impassively. “Yaaah!", Shazdrakk continued. "This talk of dwarves and elves and men and their strength, is just gas passing from the back end of a boar! The Orcs are the great strength in this land! We have the strength, the cunning and the tools of war! When I hear the whining of the weak ones in our ranks, I hear only the crunch of their bones, the sound of their flesh passing my lips as they feed my belly and my strength. Their flesh shall feed us as we go to war. And as we march there shall be blood and flames and the screams of our enemies. And we shall have their lands for our own!"
Much later, an illustrious sage of an as yet unknown empire would write “......and the orcish hordes poured from the Crimson Wastes to lay waste to the kingdoms around them. All trembled with fear as the larger and smaller goblinoid kin marched to war, with beaten iron weapons, armour, and brands of fire held high. Their number innumerable, the orcs swallowed settlement after settlement with violence in their hearts. A time of devastation had come to all……."