Mork is one of the two savage gods of the Orks, the divine embodiment of guile and low cunning who, alongside his brother Gork, presides over the endless wars of the greenskin race. Where his brother favours the honest smash, Mork is the god of cunning brutality — he prefers to hit the enemy when they aren't looking, to lay the ambush, to bring a bigger choppa to what the foe expected would be a fair fight. To an Ork this is not cowardice but wisdom, for a dead enemy cannot complain about how they were done in.
The two brothers are inseparable in the Orkish faith, and no greenskin can ever quite agree on which god is which — whether Mork is the brutally cunning one or the cunningly brutal one, and whether that even makes a difference. This confusion is itself considered a fine joke, and any Ork who insists too firmly on one answer is liable to be corrected with a fist, which the Orks reckon settles the theological matter well enough.
Mork's influence shows in every Ork who thinks to sneak, to trick, to bodge together a rickety contraption that somehow works through sheer belief, or to win by any means loud and messy. When a Waaagh! rolls over a world, it is Mork's cunning that guides the sneakier greenskins to victory. Together with Gork he forms the whole of the Orkish divine — two gods of war for a race that lives, laughs, and dies for the fighting.
The pantheon continues
