Lakal

Lakal, or "Beginning," is an orcish myth about the beginning of the Waste and of the orcish people. Below is a translation of the myth told by an orcish storyteller.

Long ago, before you, or me, or anything else, there were two things. The sky, and the sand. Within each of these lived many powerful spirits, each with a job in the world. There were spirits who blew the wind, or shook the earth, or light up the heavens. Everyone stayed in their place, and everyone did their jobs, but for one spirit this wasn't enough. Lahi, the spirit of storms, was not satisfied with the way things were. He had tasted the ground whenever he struck it with lightning, and it tasted good. It tasted like adventure. So Lahi did what no other spirit had ever done: he descended to the sands.
It was pleasant, at first. He took in everything he had only been able to witness from afar, felt everything he had never felt. But that only lasted so long. The spirits of the sands were cruel, hateful beings, and they found the idea of a sky spirit walking along their land abhorrent. They rose up against Lahi, molding bodies out of sand and stone, and he was forced to defend himself. Lahi was among the most powerful spirits of the sky, and no matter how many beasts threw themselves at him, he struck each down with a thunderbolt, and soon their corpses littered the sands.
All day Lahi fought wave after wave of angry spirits, for he was stubborn and refused to retreat, but as night began to fell he grew tired. He looked to the sky, and called for help from one of his closest friends, the moon. Lahi lay down to sleep, and the moon watched over him with its great round eye. The moon had incredible eyesight. In fact, it was so good that it could see Lahi's enemies approaching him before they even began to move. Every time a vengeful sand spirit approached the sleeping Lahi, the moon saw it long before it arrived and warned him, so that he was always ready. This happened every night, for a single long month.
Unbeknownst to Lahi, however, the moon was getting tired. Constantly watching over him had taken a toll on it, and its eye began to slowly droop. At the end of the month, it was totally closed, and that night a great beast of sand and stone snuck up on Lahi while he slept. Larger than any other spirit he had fought before, the beast lifted a massive claw and struck Lahi a grievous blow. He awoke at once, but the damage was done. An injured Lahi and the beast fought all night, until as the dawn broke he struck a final blow with a lightning bolt that pierced its shell and stopped its heart. Lahi was victorious, but seriously injured.
As his blood spilt upon the sand, Lahi knew his time was coming to an end. The desert had finally been victorious over him, though at great cost. As his life faded away, Lahi looked down at the bloodstained sand, and an idea came to him. He picked up a handful of bloodied sand and molded it into a shape like his, then struck it with a bolt of lightning, giving it life. He repeated this many times, each time giving a little bit of his own life to his creation. When the end came, Lahi faded away into a passing wind, and a new race of people were born. The orcs, our people, molded from sky and sand, and set to live on the back of the very creature that had killed our father.
As recompense for letting Lahi down and allowing him to be killed, the moon swore to always watch over the orcish people, protecting them from danger. In exchange, however, we were to make sure it never fell asleep again. And so, the Ton'On festival was born, where every year we make as much noise as we possibly can in order to keep the moon awake and protecting us. This was Lakal, the beginning of our people.