What's an Ork?

“Whut’z an Ork?”
Urtylug passes a grimy hand through his equally grimy mohawk, dusting the area with green particles.
“Whut da zog iz dat suppose ta mean? An Ork iz an Ork. Datssit. Quit muckin’ about.”

“UV COURSE we know whut an Ork iz! An Ork iz not a grot! An’ we know dat ‘cause we iz an Ork uv course.” Threegrot sways in that weird way he always does, deflecting the question like he always does.
“I-I mean, dat’s ‘cause I iz an Ork! Not we.”

“As da gud book sayz, furst, Gork an’ Mork made a buncha stuff, den a buncha udda stuff, an' den made a whole load uv zog know wut so deir chozen onez had plenty ta loot and krump and stomp, so dey ken fight an’ win all day. An' deir chozen onez will be da Orks, da biggest an’ da strongest.”
Fizzgutz has his book open and his fingers tracing the lines of text, but he doesn’t look down once.
“Iz as simple as dat. An Ork iz a chozen one uv Gork an’ Mork.”

“AN ORK IZ DA BIGGEST AN’ DA STRONGEST AN’ DA GREENEST AN’ DA TUFFEST AN’ DA MIGHTEST FING DERE IZ.”
Boris booms overhead and gestures in a jerky manner, the railguns on his upraised arms misfire a little.
“AN ORK IZ NO HUMIE, NO PANSYBOY, NO POINTY ‘EADED GIT. WE IZ PROUD AN’ STRONG AN’ GREEN—“
“But Boris, you iz red an’ yellow alluva.”
“SHUT UP YE GROT. I IZ GREEN AS MORK AND GORK DEMSELVEZ ON DA INSIDE.”

“Whut’z dis? Blue iz muckin’ about? Dat ain’t da Blue I know!” Tinka slaps my back none too lightly, knocking me over from where I’m sitting. “Git back ta work before I krump ya.”
“Hey, Tinka, what’s an Ork to you?” I say as I pick myself up.
“Not like you ta ask alla dese filsoff- filly- fillis- big kwesshuns neither. Ya look like a grot made off wid ya fav’rite shoota. Sumfin’ da madder?”
It may just be my imagination, but the Big Mek has a slight look of concern. I shake my head, “It’s nothing, I guess I just wasn’t feeling very Orky.”
“Now don’t say dat, Blue. You iz plenty Orky.”
“Well, I’m not very green, inside or out, I’m not big or tough, and I’m definitely not very strong. I’m a Tau. I’m like the opposite of an Ork. What am I even doing here?”
Tinka shakes his head, “Soundz like some git got up onna wrong side uv da bedroll an’ got pissed on by a squig. Listen ‘ere.” He sits down next to me and puts an hand on my shoulder.
“An Ork ain’t just about bein’ big an’ strong an’ green an’ winnin’ an’ fightin’. Dose fings iz part uv it, yes, but da most important fing uv bein’ an Ork iz in ‘ere.” He jabs a finger into my chest, “Can ya feel the Waaagh inside you? Does it speak ta ya an’ tell ya ‘ow to fight an’ build an’ add even more dakka?”
“Yessir.”
“Den gud. You’z an Ork.” He gets up. “If dat part iz dere, I got no doutz about yer Orkiness.”
“Is that really it?”
“Da Waaagh is whut keepz da Orks tagedder. Da Waaagh iz whut drivez Orks ta fight an’ loot an’ krump. An’ Orks push da Waaagh fo’ward so it’z a cycle. If ya really got da Waaagh inside ya, yer as Orky as a Warboss I’d say.”

I vaguely remember someone else saying similar things, something about gue’vesa, and how they were to be treated with respect because they also served the greater good, or some nonsense like that. But that was different, the gue’vesa were not Tau and could never be considered Tau.
But I am an Ork. And everyone else here is an Ork. Or a grot, but that’s beside the point. Maybe that’s why they had so much trouble articulating the difference between them and me. Because they didn’t see a difference.

“Now, whut’s da Waaagh sayin’ ta ya now, Blue?”
“That I should stop muckin’ around.” I get up and brush off my overalls. I suddenly remember there’s a Power Klaw that I wanted to work on.
“Dat’s my Blue. Go get ‘em.”