Leader of the Grimhands and seemingly a spiritual leader for their people, little is known about him by outsiders, save that he carries his name sake well, with his righthand being a blackened and rotten limb.
Has proven a great leader in short and troubled history of his clan, leading them from one victory to another, keeping them safe from a world that would seek to destroy them. He a reserved individual even towards his closest followers, seemingly always in deep thought on what to do next, it a great burden upon one so young, and has made him a calculated and pragmatic young man, for he must be able to decern who in the tribe is ally and who would seek to take his place.
Mar'Amka was once but another orc amongst the others of the tribe, when the cursed chieftain led them to there deaths, it was him who heard the whisper The Midnight Father, it was him who sold their souls to him and saved them from the clutches of death and raised them from the murky depths, gasping for air and cursing the sky for it's negligance. Retreating away beneath the canaopy, where the moon nor sky would not seen the cursed form, hiding from the world, unsure of their place in it. Turning to the man who had saved them Mar'Amka now stood before them as messaih .Reserved to his position, he bears the weight of his choice, did he do right by his people, was it worth it?
He bears the very name-sake of their tribe, for after the pact with the The Midnight Father Mar'Amka would forever carry the reminder of their servitude on his left arm, it is a pitch black decaying limb, in a constant state of necrosis, though he does not feel pain from it's apparent decay, in fact it gifted limb, from which he can work the miracles of their god, and though it allows him channel the will of the The Midnight Father it is a constant reminder of what would have been their fate, if they had not followed him.
History
Mar'Amka was once but another orc amongst the others of the tribe, when the cursed chieftain led them to there deaths, it was him who heard the whisper The Midnight Father, it was him who sold their souls to him and saved them from the clutches of death and raised them from the murky depths, gasping for air and cursing the sky for it's negligance. Retreating away beneath the canaopy, where the moon nor sky would not seen the cursed form, hiding from the world, unsure of their place in it. Turning to the man who had saved them Mar'Amka now stood before them as messaih .Reserved to his position, he bears the weight of his choice, did he do right by his people, was it worth it?
The Grim Handed
He bears the very name-sake of their tribe, for after the pact with the The Midnight Father Mar'Amka would forever carry the reminder of their servitude on his left arm, it is a pitch black decaying limb, in a constant state of necrosis, though he does not feel pain from it's apparent decay, in fact it gifted limb, from which he can work the miracles of their god, and though it allows him channel the will of the The Midnight Father it is a constant reminder of what would have been their fate, if they had not followed him.
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