My name is Gork, and Gork is of proud, noble orc-kind. Gork the Orc, he is called by his fellows. Not the most fortunate of names, but orcs have an odd custom in that regard. All orcs name themselves. Their title in life is taken from the first sound they rasp when coming into being. Phonetic pronounciation, of course. This is long before the orc whelp learns any true words in the common tongue. As far as names go, there are worse than Gork. Come to think of it, Gork is a fairly common orcish name.
Gork feels orcs have always gotten bum rap. Sure, orcs were once members of the Fallen Legion and tried to conquer all the Free Peoples of the world, but that was a long time ago. Nearly 250 years have passed since the Dark Lord fell during the Last Great Battle. From the looks Gork gets out on street, you’d think it was only yesterday.
Gork never cracked the whips over the enslaved peoples, never forced them to keep the furnaces of war burning. Gork never plundered or pillaged or murdered. Gork never even held a sword in his large, brutish hands. Well, not real sword anyway. Play swords, mayhaps, but what orc whelp hasn’t been seen running around playing ‘Brutes and Thieves’? But Gork digresses. Gork never tried to conquer the world. Gork’s parents never tried to conquer the world. Gork’s great grandparents never tried to conquer the world! World needs to move on.
All Gork’s ever done with his life is work in this office. He barely remembers a time before he worked here. Gork collates files, fills out progress reports, pushes pencils, changes out toner- you get the idea. Gork is honest, hard working guy.
Gork just happens to be an orc.