Omyn
Orc Male
Through the smoke emerges a figure. A figure that has been torn apart, rises from the chaos. The scars in his mind match those of his body. Victory, it was not. Defeat, perhaps. Through the decimation of what was, comes the birth of what shall be. No longer does the fear of loss manipulate his destiny. He has not returned to dominate, only to decimate. To see into his eyes, is to greet death. Only through death, can we truly live. His armour, coated with the blood of his fallen bretheren. Patience, we have all the time in the world.