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Kharnnath the Destroyer, a history.

Prologue:

In the night they came, 'neath the starry skies of early spring on a barren ledge somewhere in the Spine of the World. An orcish tribe, a couple hundred in number, slept in their huts while guards watched into the inky night. Dicing, fornications, and booze were the primary passtimes of the overnight guards, the warriors confident in their cliff-side fortifications. A palisade of sharpened spikes painted with the blood of fallen bounties marked the edge of the camp, beyond which the light of bonfires and torches failed to pierce.
The gate manned only by a pair of drunken, squabbling orcish fighters, the creatures failed to notice an encroaching band, masked by shadow and stealth. Fifty in number, the raiding band of orcs were led by a female with a gouged out eye, who wore leathers stained black with the blood of many enemies. On her breast was a crude symbol, that of a golden eye, unblinking against the blood-soaked leathers. Her staff too carried the symbol, the wicked blades along it's length stained with ichor of hundreds of slayings. This was the Shaman of Gruumsh the One-Eye, and this tribe had been deemed unfit in the eyes of Her God.
A spell cast rendered the band silent, and to the gates they crept, the Shaman of the One Eye leading the band. Grunts and growls filled the air as the gate was opened, the squabbling pair within too focused on their own disagreement. She strode in, and without a word, approached the pair, and smiled a toothy grin, speaking only thus.
“You haz failed da One Eye.” Her smile was evil and dripping with ichor, blood-stained teeth sharpened to points. In the flickering light, her blood-shot red eyes glinted, and before the hapless fighters could say a word, a hand shot out, digging deep into the chest of one of the fighters. His scream was silenced by an arrow to the throat, the other managing a gasp before he fell backwards to the ground, the band swarming inside of the camp behind the Shaman's ritual.
She pulled the hand out of the chest of the hapless orc who stared out at her in horror, arrow sticking from his neck and blood pouring out of the gaping wound. In her hand she held his still beating heart, grinning her wicked smile. As his vision faded, his last sight was of the Shaman crushing the organ in her hand, where it burst into black and golden flames, consumed in the conflagration.
The assault began in earnest, and the swarming band of orcs, each bearing the symbol of the Unblinking Eye, rushed into the camp with a great shout. Massive blades, axes, and bows were wielded to great effect, cutting down the few awoken guards long before their drunken minds were able to react. Gouts of flame spewed from the hands of the Shaman, as each hut was set aflame, it's inhabitants left to burn alive as the flaming structure collapsed around them.
As the screams of the dying and burning orcs filled the air, a great should erupted from the largest hut, that of the chief, and he emerged onto the battlefield naked. He carried in one hand an axe of jagged metal, and the other, a wicked sword serrated along it's length. He rushed toward the shaman leading the attack, but a spell held him in place before he could reach her. Limbs frozen and movement halted, a great burning tore through his form as the magic of the Shaman held him in place. Lifted of the ground, he remained frozen, forced to watch his village being slaughtered around him.
“Garngul da Coward, Garngul da Stupid, Garngul da WEAK.” The shaman taunted as she moved toward him. “Gruumsh know you no worthy of youz tribe. You run from da stinking faeries, and hide in da mountains. You 'tink these walls and rocks be saving you, but no. Da One-Eye demand you be destroyed.”
Pointing to the hut, she nodded to a pair of nearby warriors who eagerly rushed inside.
“Let's see what you got in there, hmm? Let's see how you be punished.” A scream from a female rang out from inside, and the warriors pulled into the light of the flames an orc of low birth, obviously far along with child. The chieftan could no more react than speak, could only watch as the female was brought into his view.
“Youz haz a mate, and a child on the way, hmm?” She walked over to the female being held by the pair of orcs, looking at her closely. “Hmm. Da One-Eye wants your child.” She smiled evilly. “But not youz.”
The bound chieftan watched with a horrified gaze as the glint of a metallic blade flashed in the firelight of his burning camp, wielded by the shaman. Jagged and cruel, the old crone brought the metal down in an arc toward the she-orc held prone by the waiting guards. A gout of blood and a scream were all he could bear to witness, and after the blade had done it's grisly job, the shaman held in her hand a bloodied baby. The mother lay prone, blood flowing from her expired body.
“Da One-Eye takes your child in payment for your failure.” It was then the spell expired, and the chief fell to the ground. The pair of warriors set upon him, blades and flesh making a visceral noise as their bloody work concluded.
Taking the child and wrapping it in a cloth, the shaman grinned evilly to herself as she whispered a quiet word.
“Kharnnath.”

(OOC: It is so awesome that people made images as props. I'm proud of you all, for really making art out of the game.)

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