Volk stood among the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, his voice resonating with an intensity he had just discovered but couldn't fully grasp yet.
"This skin," he said, lifting his arm for all to see, "this is the skin of a true Orc."
The Orcs exchanged stunned glances.
Their light-colored skin shimmered in the faint glow of the cave, and Volk's declaration sent ripples of shock through the group.
Grok'Thar was the first to react, his eyes wide. "True Orcs?" he muttered under his breath, trying to wrap his mind around it.
Grashk, usually stoic, couldn't hide his amazement. "We came from other dimensions?"
Volk nodded, his eyes dark and thoughtful.
"That's what the Warlocks did. They summoned us from other worlds. But our race was too strong for them. To weaken us, they took our horns—our source of power. Without our horns, we couldn't awaken our true form. And the proof of that was we are often called the Hornless Orc tribe."
