<br/>To the orcs, Grummsh is All. He is One- Not among many, not amongst equals- Just One.<br/><br/>Coincidentally, as that's about how high most orcs can count to, it's a convenient number. Still, the importance of worship can't be denied in typical orc society- Every last one of them, without reservation, fears and loves their cyclopean deity. It's not, as scholars say, as if they have any other choice.<br/><br/>The ceremony of the Wounding of One-Eye is a landmark, almost a coming-of-age, for the Orcish clerics *everwhere*. The idea is simple; The orc noviate, usually after a good night of revelry and feasting, is brought before his elders. Then, without warning, a sharp, pointy and *hot* blade is stabbed into his eye, with varying degrees of accuracy; This, of course, results in an unusually livid scar- And an unusally angry orc. Often, the orc isn't told in advance of his elevation to the priesthood; For an odd reason, this often results in a startling number of stab wounds.<br/><br/>Still, the Wounding of One-Eye is an accepted part of orc culture, long and entrenched, with its roots in history- Up to its roots in myth, when Grummsh tries to sucker-punch Corellon Lantern, or whatever his name is, and gets a rapier in the face for his troubles.<br/><br/>Of course, like all traditions, all it takes is for one- Just one- orc to ask, "But why take Nbox's eye? Nbox sees *better* with two eyes!"<br/><br/>-------------------------<br/><br/>Nbox Gutterstomp, lately of the Gutterstomp tribe, fidgeted in his fancy steel clothes, tugging at the collar with one fat finger. It was a peaceful day, nice and warm, with only the clanking and stomping of the orc to break the silence...<br/><br/>-He still didn't understand *why* he had to go. After he'd said that, ol' Skarthlax Sicklesnick had bundled him off, and told Nbox that he was right! They didn't need to put out his eyes! In fact, there *was* a job for him, somewhere over the mountains and far away...<br/><br/>Actually, the elder orc had said, "See 'ere, Nbox. Look ovva there!". He'd looked, and unaccountably gone to sleep. When he woke up, well, they'd only gone and dumped him in the woods, spinnin' him a coupla times so he couldn't find his way back. Still, he dimly remembered being told to go where Da Big Red Eye went in the dark-time, so he'd squared his shoulders, and followed.<br/><br/>He'd been lucky. A fat merchant had seen him, and fled screaming, flogging his horse mercilessly- Good thing for Nbox, too, considerin' how he'd been lugging all kinds of shiny junk...Spikey junk, and pointy junk, and shiny metal clothes. Nbox had picked out what had suited him, and continued on his merry way...<br/><br/>Now, though, he had absolutely no idea where he was. It was woody, and growin' bright over the treeline; That didn't help the orc, as he blundered along. Still, he bore it philosophically- After all, Grummsh wanted him to be here, right? Surely he'd send Nbox a sign...