(This is a story told by Tulkas, son of Gorgas, wardrummer of the clan Kalthas-Kor. He is a half-orc bard that I play in a D&D campaign in a homebrew world)

Benighted Ur’alek beyond the sea,
whence orcs of old did keep their ancient seat,
before the orcish lives of piracy,
before the gods of old did taste defeat.

O, Ur’alek of war-cursed, night-locked coast
where no orc e’er so brave would stand to post,
How dark against your former glory bright
Beyond the southern sea on shores of blight.

When glory in your old environs shone,
when Malor sat the honored coral throne
when Malor held the silver spear of kings
when orcs knew not of deep and maddened things.

When Ebir, son of Malor, sought his fame
when Nabak, and Ibakae with him came.
With Adiok, and Dolzayeh, and Kurr;
with Vozrid, and the traitor Raldanur.

All seeking trophies from the goblin-horde
all seeking glory from the goblins gored.
Each one an orc to kill the goblin theives
and crush the vermin skulls ‘neath leathern greaves.

A cave three days from Ur’alek did break
and hearing howls from darkness, orcs did quake
yet, spurred to boldness by Ebir they went,
to darkness and to madness boldly sent.

Two days they searched the cave til Nabok shrewd
did spot a loosened stone within the gloom.
Together, all the orcs pried loose the way,
and at the stench-foul darkness all did sway.

“Come orcs,” cried Ebir, “No dark shall master me.
Orcs, orcs, masters of the land and sea.
What orcish youth, eater of bonemeal bread
would quake to step where goblins bravely tread?

“My spear I’ll red, with blood of dead
while fainter hearts tremble a-home, a-bed.
Or did you think the battle a thing so clean,
or yourselves above a task so foul and mean?

“With strength, we’ll haul the denizens of dark
to searing light of sunlight’s cleansing spark.
Our rivers ours, my homestead mine,
when thieving goblins dead upon the brine.

“Come arrow,” cried with beating of the chest,
“Take blood and bone, and carve ye at the breast,
I won’t be held by barbs and stinging bites,
but brush away the broken goblin-mites.

“For Ur’alek, the capitol so strong,
we’ll charge a slaughter days and evenings long,
and when our wounding game leaves blood-slick stone,
we’ll know ourselves the heroes of our home.”

His boasting cried, the orcs resounded back,
no goblin-might enough to force them slack,
they stepped into the odor-haunted dark
lighting torches by a peer-shared spark.

Down the depths, and through the cavern-night
the orcish party sought their proof of might,
and at a sound all turned to see their prize,
and hearts all melted at the sight upon their eyes.

A mass of twisted flesh and nonsense shape
gibbering foul blasphemies from mouths agape,
a hunter of an age forgotten long
a thing of darkest lore and unsung song.

The terrible and twisted bulk of ages
kept worshipped by the darkness maddened sages
a god of shape unlike the mortal beasts
a-bed in bony evidence of feasts.

Abandoned by the coward Raldanur,
Nabak and Kurr were killed by tendril skewer
the rest were left to flee before the might
of such great power couched in wicked night.

Their flight to Ur’alek could not them save,
when wakened evil broke free from its knave.
And to the sea, orcs fled the darkness foul,
and vowed revenge on that immortal howl.

And so, the war ‘tween orcs and gods began
when from our precious shores we swiftly ran,
and still the orcs avoid the cursed wreck
of land and stone we once called Ur’alek.