Moby_Derp

A lonesome Uruk, clad in pale-red steel. Once youthful, vibrant, and naive. Now weary, tired, and wise. Though he had met many enemies throughout his long life, he knew that time would always be his greatest challenge. He made his way down the winding path towards Krugmar, having once again decided to return home - just to visit one last time. Though he could not call himself the most loyal of Orcs, he still knew - deep in his heart - that Krugmar: a land of blood, combat and death, would always be where he came from and where he would return to no matter what. Though his vision faded, and the world around him continued to turn black, he urged onwards towards the gates of Krugmar. Lifting his helmet, now just a bucket of rust, off of his head: he dropped it to the dirt beneath him. Onwards he stumbled. Unclasping his trusty chestplate, he allowed it to fall behind him like a snake would shed its skin: feeling free for the first time in many years. Onwards he stumbled. His back would bend no more; he could not find the strength to remove the rest of his broken, fragile armour. So, onwards he stumbled. He gazed around at the many heads decorating the bridge to Krugmar: his eyes matching their petrified gaze, with their mouth agape - serving to remind him of the life he had led, like many other Uruks. He coughed once, blood seeping onto his red skin as he tried to cover his mouth: attempting to keep any remaining vitality inside his wretched body from leaving. His ears perked at the sound of a roaring forge, not far from the gates he had just entered. Onwards he stumbled, his gaze and mind affixed upon the open forge: its smoke rising into the night sky. Making his way down the steps, slowly, he found himself looking around for any fellow Uruks: perhaps intending to rely on his brothers for once in his lonesome life, but found only the comfort of cawing crows and the call of the fire ahead. Onwards he stumbled, finally finding himself where he had spent much of his time. Kneeling down before the soothing orange flames, his arm resting on the anvil beside him to support his aged bones. He stared deep into the flames, as he had many times before, but for once he thought not of crafting; not of steel; nor of blood. His mind raced as he instead thought back on his companions. His teacher, Shagarath. His friend and respected warrior, Wud. His first and most respected Rex, Kharak. He frowned as the faces he conjured in his mind faded: struggling to picture those who had grown alongside. “I’m sorry, brothers.” He could feel his heart beginning to slow. His eyes begged to rest, but he continued to vigilantly stare into the fire of the forge. His back slumped, but his head continued to face forwards as it had always done. “I’m coming… To reunite with you all at last.” His heart slowed and performed its final symphony: one last slow beat. The colour in his eyes had now faded, overtaken by the bright orange of the forge. Gukdan was finally home.

Where's the bit about how Leydluk was gifted with a mighty hammer by Gukdan.

Gukdan would sit back within his home, pondering over his name, as it did not seem to quite fit in with the classic Raguk culture.

mmmm, yes. Playable?

Gukdan would saunter over to the front desk, coughing loudly to gain their attention: "Ahr zpirid itemz allow'd?"

Gukdan would ponder over the parchment within his cave, snickering to himself "We choose good, or we choose evil? Hmph, what dictates the right and wrong? Spirits. Not only this but we certainly do not deem what is the 'authority of Krug'." Gukdan would scrunch up the paper, tossing it within the flames of his forge, reasserting himself at his anvil...

Orcs already have sick chest gains, and as I stated: Horns are a sign of strength, and correlate to nature I suppose.

I believe the focus is saying that you need a Lutauman to take you to said Greater Ancestral to prove yourself.

I imagine that they decided horns were a sign of strength, similar to tusks. We've got mounts like Rhinos or Myrzym, both with strong and tough horns or tusks. Mounts in the Orcish race are extremely important and praised. So i'm sure the Ancestrals, going off of nature and the way that different animals fought with their horns (Like a Stag with their antlers), they thought that horns would be a suitable sign of strength and prestige... Just like how the Alpha male would probably be the biggest in the pack, or at least the strongest.

So all the Raguks

not wrong

Silence infidel, I already have enough edgy spirit items as it is. Go back to your back flipping scree

I refuse

Thanks ang ;) You'll be the first target <3