Orahk was born into a tribe of orcs that are trained from youth to be disciplined warriors. The battlefield is their crib, victory their lullaby. Being second son to the chief of the tribe meant he was drilled harder and demanded more of than most. His mind and body were tested each day until his movement in combat became instinctual, second nature. While his father raised his older brother to lead an army, he raised Orahk to be a weapon to be unleashed. The pride and glory of the tribe depended on their ability to overpower their opponents. Strength in battle determined where authority was held and killing an enemy was seen as an act of worship to the so-called gods of battle.

Fueled by an old blood debt, a rival chief allied himself with a group of monstrous mercenaries and attacked Orahk's tribe. The foes struck at night, catching his people by surprise. Orahk's father and brother organized the men. Orahk streamed into the fray, taking on whichever enemy made the mistake of confronting him. For hours he fought back against a slaughter. He was left bloodied, exhausted, and nearly alone. Behind him his father lay dead and his brother grasping at gashes in his chest being tended to by their mother and sisters. The commander of the mercenaries, a towering ogre, stomped forward towards Orahk, most the rest of the village in flames. Orahk stepped forward to meet him in battle. The clash was titanic. His sword met the ogre’s club again and again until steel shattered. He was thrown to the ground, his ribs crushed, his vision fading. Around him, he saw his people — not warriors now, but children, mothers, elders — fleeing into the woods, hunted. Something within him refused to die. As the ogre prepared to make his killing blow, a voice spoke clearly into Orahk's mind. "Strength protects, or it destroys. You must choose which." As the club swung down Orahk felt his axe in his hand again, unbroken and gleaming yellow. He met the ogre's club and split it in two. He continued his swing and sliced open the ogre.

He still has a rather unknown relationship to this mysterious voice, but he owes it his life.

...so yeah... that god, whoever he was, was not nearly cool enough for Orahk who discovered Blood the blood god in a temple to the forgotten gods in Bannen. He has since resurrected the church of the blood god. After the league rid the Blood Pits of a particularly nasty vampire, Orahk took over and claimed the site as the new holy meeting place for Blood. Finding eager new members among the previous frequenters to the Blood Pits, the congregation of the blood god found quick footing and an easy transition. Now known colloquially as the "Blood Pope," Orahk continues to serve his new god by collecting "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

After learning that Monty's axe can ascend one to godhood by using the weapon to slay your parents, Orahk sent a letter to his mother. The letter in plain words explained his goals of becoming a god and how that would need to happen. She responded "I knew that someday you would do something as great as this." She came to Ghee. With Orahk, they went to Elmore Limonas' office, where the axe was residing. Orahk was granted the opportunity to use the axe for a few minutes by Elmore mostly out of morbid curiosity. Touching the axe caused intense pain as he wielded it. The battle lasted longer than one might expect of a holy warrior versus his mother, but she was of a warring orc tribe and was a veteran of necessity herself. She was of course, however, outmatched. With touching last words, Martuul was bested by her son. The axe's effect of pain shifted to power. Orahk is now a burgeoning god ascending to full power slowly. As he is rising he has claimed the new title "Lord of Blood."