There is a nameless place hidden from the sight of every living being; no matter how good, evil, beautiful or horrible, whether it has lived, still lives or will be born, in this world or some other. This place cannot be seen and yet surround us. Invisible strings to which we are bound, lead our lives and deaths, these are ancient forces as the gods themselves. Many realities that we cannot perceive coexist with ours, but it is only one of them that has terrified my brothers and me the most. Its inhabitants have always been at rest, silent, minding their affairs. Like a hanging portrait decorating any home, it seems that these figures want nothing from us, they only stare, and it is disturbing.
Many years have passed since the Orc’s clans stood together against a common enemy for the last time. My brothers and I, Ghak’Var, have reached the highest communion state with the spirits of the elements. We all have seen the same, now divided and scattered in order to buy time, we urge to reach the chiefs of each clan and the leaders of the other races. It will be hard to explain what has never had a name. Perhaps they will understand that the next fire will not fall from the sky or erupt from the depths, it will come from a void that surrounds instead; a place where nothing has form. Out of lack of responsibility we will end up exposing ourselves to those whom must never be called. Time and place for this to happen remain unknown.