The Orc

Orcs

"The blood of our gods runs through our veins, and it is a fire that burns eternal. We are the storm that crushes all who stand before us."
— Shaman Gruul, Keeper of the Flame

The Orcs are a race forged in the fires of survival and battle. Once humble beast folk, they evolved through consuming the flesh of their gods—Terran beings whose power now courses through their every vein. This transformation has granted them immense physical strength, unparalleled aggression, and an unyielding will to dominate.

Their bodies are monstrous, built for raw power. Muscles ripple beneath their green, leathery skin, and their hands are strong enough to rend stone. When they fight, they do not hold back. Every strike, every roar, is an expression of their primal fury. Their warriors revel in bloodshed, their rage fueling them to unimaginable heights of strength in battle.

Though their minds are not as sharp as other races, their instincts and unbreakable will make them formidable foes. Orcs fight with a ferocity born from centuries of hardship and sacrifice. In their eyes, there is no room for fear or hesitation—only the desire to crush all that stands in their way.

And while their strength is their greatest asset, their aggression is their curse. Their uncontrollable fury can turn the tide of battle, but it also blinds them to the wisdom that might save them. This constant balance between power and madness defines the Orcs, shaping their place in the galaxy as both a force of unstoppable destruction and a race seeking to find its own place among the stars.

For the Orcs, war is not just a way of life—it is their calling. And they will fight until the very end, leaving nothing but the ashes of their enemies in their wake.

Personality: Orcs are a highly adaptive, nomadic, and resourceful race, driven by an instinctual desire for strength and survival. They are focused on evolution through combat and the assimilation of traits from those they conquer or ally with. Unlike other races, Orcs view power not just as physical might but as the ability to adapt and incorporate the best aspects of those they encounter. They are fiercely proud of their traditions, which center on hunting, combat, and the absorption of genetic material from others. While outwardly savage, they have a deep respect for strength in all its forms and follow a rigid warrior code. They often have a single-minded focus on personal and collective improvement, both in body and spirit.

Physical Description: Orcs stand between 6 and 8 feet tall, with bulky, muscular builds typically ranging from 200 to 350 pounds. Their skin is usually a shade of green, brown, or gray, and their hair is typically coarse and dark, often in braids or messy styles. Their facial features are sharp and aggressive, with prominent tusks jutting from their lower jaws and long ears. Their bodies are often adorned with trophies from fallen enemies—bones, skulls, and the like—part of their tribal customs to signify strength and conquest. Orcs possess a distinctive, heavily muscled physique that reflects their warrior lifestyle. Though they maintain an aggressive appearance, many Orcs modify their bodies with cybernetic enhancements or biological modifications to improve their combat capabilities, taking inspiration from those they encounter. This ability to adapt and evolve sets them apart from other races, and it is a key aspect of their identity.

Relations: Orcs are generally insular, keeping to their tribes and clans. They do not typically engage with other races unless it serves their interests or survival. Orcs believe in strength through the absorption of other races' traits, whether through genetic or technological means. While they may forge alliances when necessary, they view other races as potential resources to be consumed, rather than as equals. Outsiders often see Orcs as ruthless mercenaries or warbands with no allegiance, but Orcs see themselves as evolutionary opportunists, always striving to improve through the absorption of the strongest traits from others. The concept of loyalty to one’s own tribe is paramount, but alliances of convenience can form when mutual benefits are apparent.

Morality: Orcs adhere to a pragmatic, survival-driven morality, where strength, adaptability, and growth are the highest virtues. Their code emphasizes respect for those who prove themselves in battle or through resourcefulness, and they view weakness as something to be overcome or eliminated. However, they also revere the traditions of their ancestors and follow strict codes within their tribes. Orcs' sense of honor is heavily tied to combat and the pursuit of self-improvement, which can manifest in brutal ways, but they are not inherently evil. They are simply amoral, guided by their evolutionary drive to become stronger. Orcs view the galaxy as a vast, untamed wilderness where only the strongest endure, and they seek to rise to the top by any means necessary, often embracing conquest, assimilation, and transformation.

Geck

Geck: The Hunger That Shapes Us

"We are the unseen fangs in the dark, the creeping death that strikes without warning. We take, we change, we become. The hunt is all that matters."
— Tracker Vek, Whisperfang of the Shadow Clans

Long ago, when the Orcs consumed the flesh of their fallen gods and rose as titans of war, the Geck did not follow. They remained in the wild places, lurking in the shadows, their bodies twisting and changing with every hunt. Where the Orcs became warriors of raw strength, the Geck became something else entirely—predators, scavengers, and shapeshifters molded by the flesh they devour.

Small, wiry, and covered in sleek, scaled hides, the Geck are a race of relentless survivors. They are rarely seen until it is too late, their large, reflective eyes cutting through the darkness, their clawed hands ready to strike. Unlike their brutish Orcish kin, the Geck do not rely on brute force. They are quick, calculating, and impossibly adaptive. Their bodies shift subtly over time, growing new traits from the creatures they consume—keen senses from a beast, armored plating from an insectoid, even the toxic bite of a serpent.

To the Orcs, the Geck are invaluable. They are the silent assassins, the tireless scouts, the unseen hands that strike before the battle is even fought. A single Geck can sabotage an entire enemy stronghold, slip through defenses unseen, and return with the knowledge that ensures victory. But their ways unsettle even their larger kin. The Geck do not fight for honor or glory; they fight because it is in their nature to hunt, to feed, to evolve.

Yet for all their savagery, there is a strange wisdom in the Geck. They do not waste, they do not hesitate, and they do not fear change. They know that to stagnate is to die, and so they embrace the ever-shifting chaos of the galaxy.

They are not just hunters. They are the living embodiment of adaptation. And when the Geck sink their fangs into the flesh of the unknown, they do not just consume—they become.

Personality: The Geck are a cunning and adaptive race, driven by an insatiable hunger to evolve. Unlike their larger Orcish kin, the Geck do not seek strength through direct combat, but rather through observation, patience, and consumption. Every hunt, every meal, is an opportunity for transformation. They are methodical and predatory, constantly analyzing the world around them for traits they can absorb and utilize. Their minds are sharp, filled with an instinctual knowledge of how to adapt and survive. While they lack the brute force of the Orcs, they make up for it with speed, intelligence, and an almost supernatural ability to change themselves based on what they consume. They do not engage in battle for honor or conquest; they fight because survival demands it.

Physical Description: Geck are small, standing between 3 and 4 feet tall, with lean, wiry frames built for agility and stealth. Their scaly skin varies in color—ranging from deep green to sandy brown—allowing them to blend into their surroundings. Their large, lidless eyes give them excellent night vision, while their clawed hands and feet allow them to scale walls and cling to surfaces with ease. Perhaps their most defining trait is their ability to rapidly adapt to what they consume. A Geck that feasts on the flesh of a winged creature may develop membrane-like flaps for gliding, while one that consumes venomous prey might gain toxic fangs or a paralyzing bite. This constant evolution makes no two Geck entirely alike, each one shaped by the environments and creatures they have encountered.

Relations: Though they share ancestry with the Orcs, the Geck have remained a separate and enigmatic force. They work alongside their larger kin, serving as scouts, assassins, and infiltrators, but they do not truly consider themselves part of Orcish society. Geck are independent and secretive, often forming small hunting packs that function outside of traditional Orcish warbands. They have little interest in politics or hierarchy, instead operating in loose networks of mutual survival. Other races view them with suspicion and fear, as Geck are known to adapt in disturbing ways—sometimes even incorporating the traits of intelligent species. This has led to whispers of them being parasitic or unnatural, though in truth, they are simply evolution given form.

Morality: The Geck follow no grand philosophy beyond survival and adaptation. They respect cunning, efficiency, and the ability to change, viewing stagnation as a slow death. While they do not share the Orcish love of combat, they do revere the hunt as a sacred act—an ongoing ritual of growth and transformation. They are neither good nor evil, but wholly pragmatic, taking what they need and discarding what they do not. While some may see them as ruthless or even monstrous, the Geck see themselves as the purest embodiment of nature’s law: evolve, or perish.

Crocs

Crocs: The Blood That Binds the Earth

"We are the scale and claw. We do not build, we do not change. We are the memory of the world before gods, before stars. The world speaks in blood, and we listen."
— Warchief Gor'takk of the Mirefang Brood

When the Orcs consumed their gods and rose into the heavens on fire-born titans, not all followed. Deep within the swamps, jungles, and ancient craterlands, far from the star-faring temples and machines of the Ascended Orcs, a primal kin endured. They did not hunger for power. They hungered for survival. For blood. For the old ways.

The Terrans would call them Crocs—a crude abbreviation born from ignorance and fear. To the Orcs, they are simply Orcs still bound to the old ways, unshaped by the blood of gods, unchanged since the world was young. But this simplicity belies their savage might.

Broad-shouldered, covered in thick reptilian scales, and towering over their cousins, the Crocs are beasts of the mud and stone. Their minds are slow, but not dull. Ancient instinct guides them—instinct older than language, older than memory. Where the Ascended Orcs wield Affinity and steel, the Crocs wield fang, claw, and bone. Their weapons are carved from the remains of star-beasts (the abandoned shuttles of the Old Ones) and sacred predators, their armor a patchwork of scales and hide, smeared in ash and blood.

What they lack in subtlety, they make up for in unrelenting brutality. A Croc warband on the march is like a living avalanche, a thunder of roars and drums that cracks the jungle in two. They do not plan. They do not negotiate. They descend. They devour.

They consume the flesh of their enemies—not to change, but to remember. In their lore, each beast consumed is a way of speaking with the spirits of the world. The heart of a Taurus might be roasted for strength; the brain of a Sovereign tactician split and shared to glean flashes of alien cunning. But unlike the Geck, they do not adapt or evolve in form. Instead, they honor the kill, absorb the essence, and pass its story through war dances and growled chants beside campfires of smoldering bone.

To the Ascended Orcs, the Crocs are a living relic—a savage echo of what they once were before the gods fell. Some Shamanic sects consider them sacred, emissaries of the star's original will. Others view them as dangerously unpredictable, useful only in times of war.

But the Crocs do not concern themselves with such labels. They do not seek the stars. They are the storm before the storm, the deep tremor before the quake. They are what the Orcs once were, and what they might become again should the fire of civilization ever die.

They are not just beasts. They are the memory of blood. The truth of the hunt. The wrath of a world never tamed.

And when the Crocs rise from the swamp, covered in muck and gore, you do not speak of gods or Affinity.
You run.

Personality: The Crocs are a feral and instinct-driven offshoot of the Orcish lineage, shaped not by cunning or intellect, but by raw, primal instinct. They are not philosophers, schemers, or manipulators—they are creatures of muscle, muscle memory, and the old blood. Their minds are simple, but not stupid. Crocs understand the world through the hunt, through the smell of fear, through the feel of flesh between their teeth. Their behavior is ruled by pack dynamics, dominance, and territory. What they lack in subtlety, they make up for in sheer savagery and animalistic tenacity. While they do not strategize in any traditional sense, they exhibit an uncanny battlefield awareness, reacting in coordinated, predatory fashion when acting as a pack. They do not evolve like the Geck, nor wield Affinity like the Orcs—they are what they’ve always been: living weapons of scaled fury.

Physical Description: Crocs tower over their Geck cousins, standing between 6 to 8 feet tall, with hulking, muscular builds and thick, scale-armored hides that range from swampy green to dull black. Their faces are long and snouted, filled with rows of jagged teeth, and their jaws can crush bone with ease. Their eyes are narrow and predatory, lacking the reflective sheen of the Geck but glowing faintly in low light. Each Croc is born with powerful claws and a prehensile tail used for balance, combat, or intimidation. Unlike the adaptable Geck, Crocs do not change based on what they consume; they were bred by nature as apex predators. Their resilience, strength, and regenerative ability make them terrifying shock troopers, especially in close-quarters combat. Their bodies are often marked by scars, trophies, and crude war paint daubed in blood and mud.

Relations: To the Orcs, Crocs are seen as savage cousins—blunt instruments of war that can be pointed at a target and unleashed. The Orcs consider them Orcs all the same, though most Crocs neither understand nor care for such distinctions. They obey Orcish shamans and warlords out of instinctual recognition of strength and dominance rather than loyalty. To the Geck, the Crocs are brutes—useful but predictable, loud, and lacking finesse. The feeling is mutual, with Crocs often finding the Geck’s ever-shifting bodies and twitchy habits unsettling. Other species view the Crocs as little more than monsters, and this perception suits the Crocs just fine. They are not here to make allies—they are here to eat, to smash, to dominate.

Morality: Crocs operate on primal instinct and pack law. Strength rules, weakness dies. There is no abstract morality, no good or evil, only survival, dominance, and the thrill of battle. They do not lie, scheme, or betray in the ways more “civilized” species do. Instead, their form of honor is rooted in instinctual truths: protect the strong, crush the weak, and never back down from a challenge. Crocs revere the old ways—the blood rites, the dominance duels, the sacred hunts—and they despise those who try to rise above their “station” through tricks or artifice. To them, there is no purer truth than the hunt, no higher calling than battle, and no greater blasphemy than cowardice. They are not evil. They are just ancient. And in their snarling, slavering hearts, they believe the galaxy belongs to the strongest jaws.

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