A powerful force of nature, the Orcish Divine Fury wields sacred power with unbridled intensity. Their ancestry grants them might, while their belief fuels their strikes. A formidable opponent in battle, they can summon holy blasts of energy that pulverize their enemies. Their fury is unstoppable, and those who face them rarely survive the encounter.
This Blood & Blessing
The way ahead is blurred. A choice in the road, a daunting burden to shoulder. Will we find the blessing? Or will the blood be our destiny? Only destiny can tell.
- Mysteries linger in the shadows
- Courage is our only weapon
- Hope can transform mountains
The Orcish Priestess
She veneratess the dark spirits of warfare with ferocious fervor. Her chants echo through the desolate dungeons, instilling fear in even the daring of warriors. Her {rituals{ involve sacrifice and forbidden arts. She is a tremendous figure, respected by both friend and foe. Her knowledge into the practices of the infernal realm here is unparalleled.
Daughter of Two Worlds
She roamed between realities, a soul caught in the streams of two distinct perspectives. Born into one civilization and pulled to another, her sense of self remained a puzzle, constantly shifting. Her quest was one of exploration, a pursuit for acceptance in a world that often felt scattered.
Hammer of Gruumsh, Fist of Ilmater
The weapon of Gruumsh, the mighty deity of war, stands as a symbol of brute strength and unrelenting anger. Crafted from the strongest metal of a fallen beast, this fearsome warhammer is capable of shattering even the stoutest defenses. However, in the hands of Ilmater, the suffering champion, it becomes a weapon for comforting. A mystery that embodies the duality of pain and strength, the Hammer serves as a warning that even in the midst of battle, mercy can prevail.
Whispers from the Shadowfell
A veil sheer separates our world from the Shadowfell, a realm everlasting night. In this desolate expanse, souls decay, forever tormented by their past. Though the line between realms shimmers, we rarely hear their cries. Yet sometimes, on nights when the moon is obscured behind clouds, or a breeze sweeps through the land, their voices can be heard.
They share stories, of horrors beyond imagination, and hoards guarded by creatures of darkness. Some whispers are signs, foretelling disaster. Others are pleas for mercy.
To ignore these sounds is to invite threat. Listen carefully, and the Shadowfell may reveal its secrets, but be prepared for the terror that lies within.