Rippling muscle and towering height, darkest eyes shine as midnight blue shrouded in shadow. Lengths of ebony hair cascade down wildly to his broad shoulders. Twisted and pointed ears are ringed with silver piercings. Overall, he is lean compared to most of his pure blood kind, but he also holds a fair bit of strength and power to him. Wearing little clothing, what he does have covering his ash and green hued flesh show him to be a shaman of whatever tribe he belongs to.  Strangly enough, covering his face looks as if he had skinned the skull of a small creature down to its teeth and spread it over his mouth and nose like that of a mask to cover his mouth and nose cavities. It is a mask of death in appearance over all.

Amongst most Orc tribes that hail to the far south, they would hear tale of a large tribe that settled and thrived between the barrier worlds of a necrotic wasteland and a flourishing forest that gave them food and materials for tools and clothing as much as shelter. Over the course of prosperity and growth under the guidance of their ruling leader, their village grew immense to the point it was as a small city of wood and stone. Unfortunately, to go there now, all that would be granted in sight would be the decaying remains of the city. Bones of dead orcs lying strewn out everywhere as if they died in the middle of simple tasks without a second to flee from whatever cataclysm warped life to death in the city. Those who are not dead slowly shamble around, minds rotted leaving them walking corpses of former orcish life. Lastly, the hut of their great shaman that communed and ruled with the guidance of their worshipped deity Hades was nowhere to be found with no signs of his demise.

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