Sythegar Orthunk Snaggletooth had many titles, many names. He rode under Rend's banner when the first Orcish armies poured from the Dark Portal. Still a green whelp, Orthunk looked on the heroic feats of his superior officers with awe and became inspired to one day become a great warrior himself.

It was not long until the young orc's predilection for battle cast him above the ranks of his peers. He was assigned to lead a small company of soldiers on patrol through the Redridge mountains, their objective being to subdue any potential threat, as well as to be the eyes and the ears in that part of the world.

Orthunk and his company bravely survived in the red hills while the Alliance of Lordaeron slaughtered the Blacktooth Grin before the Dark Portal. The fall of their leaders was unknown to Orthunk, and so they continued their mission for many moons. As the Allied forces returned home, they captured Orthunk, beat him within an inch of his life, and left him for dead.

Orthunk did not yield. A battered idiot, he wandered south towards his comrades. Eventually, the beaten Orc was put onto a Zeppelin to Orgrimmar and sent to Durotar for recuperation.

Years passed and Orthunk's mind never fully returned. He was reduced to the state of a vicious beast, capable of only the basest desires. But, the Orc stood once more with blade in hand. He was no longer a young greenling, but now carried with him a scarred and weathered visage, terrifying to look upon. Orthunk worked as a brutish mercenary, aimlessly wandering through the desolate lands of Kalimdor, until one day encountering Gorfrunch Smashblade in the Crossroads.

Gorfrunch quickly recognized Orthunk as a member of the fallen Blacktooth Grin Clan. As the two defeated orcs clasped hands, the hammer from the nearby blacksmith rang out loudly, defiantly, forging anew the bond of Orcish Clansmen who had not been slain.

Flashes of Orthunk's past flooded back into his mind. He signed the charter of the Grin in his own blood, and then smashed many of his teeth out with a hammer he had confiscated from the blacksmith.

That night, as they camped out under the alien stars of Kalimdor, the Blacktooth Grin became reborn.

BLACKBLADE-

Orthunk stood before the Dark Portal in Hellfire Peninsula. Crowblackhoof had stepped down, and Orthunk had stepped up as the Ur'shok. Renovare, Utum, Xandru, Malifika, and Josugrall stood before him as the name Blackblade was hewed into his scarred face. Orthunk stood and cast the splinter of crystal back into the Dark Portal.

He was an old orc now, and the lands he had once called home were torn and forgotten to him. Through a cunning ritual performed in conjunction with the Lak'Gora, Orthunk had restored his mind and given him faculties superior to many of his clansmen.

As Orthunk looked out onto the path of bones, beyond the hordes of Demons eternally assailing the Portal, he looked back onto the history of the Grin he had reforged alongside Gorfrunch, who had vanished while on a mission during the Cataclysm. Hoober had been instated as the Warchief, and Orthunk had accepted the badge of an officer once more.

Orthunk looked at the young face of Josugrall, a novice warrior who had much to learn. He was glad to see so many elders from the first Grin returning, but it concerned him that none of the new bloods showed much worth, yet. Who would carry the banner and the blade after he had fallen? Orthunk grimaced and clenched a long gash along his side that he had received in combat with the Knights of the Dusk while on patrol. He did not heal as fast as he once did. He did not move as fast. He could not strike as strong. The honor of his position was clear, bu the old Orc was aging fast, the years brought on hard by the demon's blood in his past, the countless battles, and the incessant bloodshed.

To be a peerless warrior.

Orthunk sat on his black worg during inductions in Grom'Gol. He growled as a Blood Elf and a Goblin impudently mocked their ritual. The elf asked "Who is the greatest fighter amongst you?" Countless hands pointed to Orthunk.

"Why should I give you the honor of my blade, elf?" Orthunk asked.

"So that there is one less elf int he world," the elven monk said.

Orthunk grinned and heaved his axe from his back.

The elf died swiftly.

To be an unstoppable force.

Orthunk led the charge. "Fear the Grin!" they called as they fought their way inside the

Throne Room of Ironforge The Temple in Darnassus The Prophet's Rise in Exodar

The Allied leaders fought bravely and for a great time, but all eventually fell before the wrath of Orthunk and the Grin.

To complete the mission of his superiors who died before him.

Orthunk sat atop the mountains outside of Stormwind, thinking of how many times the city had been assaulted to no avail. They charged in with a group of thirty of the Dreadhorde. It was not long before the Alliance had them overwhelmed. Orthunk crawled away, defeated once again. He smiled and spat out blood. "It seems I am not done yet," he said.