Living through the craggy slopes of The Spine was never an easy task, and doing so through the winters was a death sentence for many. The Dwarves in their stout way had learned to circumvent the dangers of winter by making their homes beneath the earth, but the many Orcish tribes that called the forests of the mountain range home were not children of the deep.

When the winters came, so too did lady death. Her winds would still the flames crackling in the hearths of the tribesmen, and her chill would seep through the cracks of their wooden homes, freezing the children and babies in their beds while their parents slept.

The constant snowfall made hunting a near impossibility, and the vegetation would not return until winter's end. The shaman of these disparate tribes grew desperate, and began making sacrifices of what little food remained in hopes that such would please the spirits and their ancestors, and perhaps show them a path to salvation.

As legend tells it, that salvation came in the form of a stag white as the snow it strode through. The shaman recognized this creature as a spirit of nature, and prostrated themselves before it. It is told that the stag bowed in return, and when its antlers touched the brows of the shaman, the shaman were gifted with an understanding of the primordial forces of the storm. When they looked up to thank their benefactor, the stag was gone, replaced with the arrival of a howling blizzard.

Together, the shaman marched up the face of their mountain, splayed their hands toward the heavens, and spoke words they did not wholly understand. For the first time in months, the storm abated, though at the cost of several of the shamans' lives, their blood having frozen in their veins.

This sacred knowledge has spread throughout the Orcish tribes of the spine, its usage having been studied and refined for generations, and has even come into practices by some of the non-Orcish races as interspecies friendships have been struck. Even still, Stormcalling is considered sacred to many of the Orcs, and its secrets are usually closely guarded by the shaman that guide them.

Stormcalling, like most other magical disciplines, is an extremely dangerous art. In its most base form, it draws upon the natural energy of the user to lower temperatures of air currents, objects, living things, and most particularly water to whatever extent they wish, so long as it is within their power. In its more complex form, it is the manipulation of weather itself.

Stormcalling is generally regarded as a spiritual endeavor, being a path of magic gifted directly to the Orcish people by what they perceive to be an avatar of nature itself. Stormcallers particularly manipulate water and air currents, their magic having a foundation in the fundamental aspects of blizzards and violent thunderstorms.

A novice Stormcaller might conjure a jet of snow from his fingertips as a novelty trick. An adept might forge spears of ice crafted in such a way that they might withstand blows from forged steel. A skilled practitioner might fire bolts of electricity at their foes. A true master can summon the spirit of the storm itself, and direct the power of the elements at whatever target he so chooses. It is important to note, however, that utilizing Stormcalling without intense discipline and a source of energy to back it up can lead to a most painful death.

It only takes a few seconds of distraction for the Stormcaller's energies to cease flowing outward, and go inward instead. Freezing one's own internal organs is an extremely painful endeavor, and attempting to summon the power of the storm without having a strong font of magical energy to draw upon will see the storm draw itself from the very life force of the user himself, often leaving behind little more than a glittering statue of ice in the vague shape of the caster where the caster once stood.

Additionally, those Stormcallers whom would call themselves masters might harness the power of the storm's lightning to smite their foes and wreak devastation upon their enemies. Whilst lightning amidst the storms created is not uncommon, directing it takes a great deal of energy, and doing so is often regarded as a 'hail mary' as it will often lead to weeks of bedrest, if not death is utilized repeatedly.

To utilize the power of Stormcalling is to accept humility. One cannot utilize the power of the storm without first properly understanding their small place in a much wider world, and coming to terms with it. Rarely will the storm come to one with arrogance and great pride in their heart, as unlike other disciplines, the storm's power is a gift rather than something to be harnessed or tamed.

Once balance is found in the heart, one must simply think on the action they wish the storm to take. It is for this reason that using the storm is so dangerous, as even a passing thought can result in the magic manifesting whether the caster wishes it or not. For example, if the caster dislikes an individual severely and has a passing thought of violence toward that individual, the storm may very well manifest that violence in the form of an electric bolt or an ice lance flying toward the individual.

It is for these reasons that Stormcallers must remain extremely disciplined, and mindful of their own emotions. A Stormcaller out of balance, or gods forbid with a lack of care for the power he wields, is a truly monstrous thing.

Finally, the act of actually summoning a true storm, or warding one away, is by speaking words in the Stag's tongue. The words have no meaning and sound incoherent to the average listener, and the caster will not know of them until he speaks them, quickly forgetting them just after he's done so. To summon these words, the caster must draw from the depths of himself, and be filled with an absolute need to speak them. If the casters 'wants' to speak them enough, he will with the naturalness one might move their own arm.