Morka Moa

Warlord Baresark
Grachukk (Great Orc)

Real Name
Morka Moa

Known Aliases
Dreaded Hunter, Usurper.

Distinguishing Features
Buried behind deep sockets are dark green eyes. There is an unnatural scar over the pair, a mark – his mark.

Items of Note
Morka Moa wields a hammer-forged blade that was crafted by an unknown clan of Barbarians in Sil-Sakramoor. He has been known to cut warriors in half, cleaving through their armor with the blue-black blade.

A Galemren Scalp Headdress sits atop Morka Moa’s head, the mere site of it strikes terror in the hearts of those that dare approach Morka Moa.

Items of Power
None known.

Known Abilities and Disabilities
Morka Moa has tremendous strength, speed and fortitude. He has the uncanny ability to stay alive under extreme situations in battle. It is said that this is the doing of the Baresark spirit that resides deep within his soul, a spirit that will not let him die. He is equally and exceptionally capable with blades and bludgeoning weapons, but he is just as dangerous empty handed.

While it is a great asset, the Baresark spirit within him is also a disability, coloring his judgment and endangering his allies.

Known History
Upon the Great skins of Abrol-Arkul, written in blood, is the tale of the Usurper, Bringer of Wars and Dust. Morka was born in the far northeastern region of Turanghem, the spine of Asunda. Not far from the warring states of Zalador and Ujoa. Morka was born a bastard in the tribe of the Stone Arm Clan, his father having fallen victim to the wars that his people waged against the Selvanu of Turanghem. Morka was raised by his three older brothers who beat him constantly and never let him eat. On occasion, a meal would come from his mother, but for the most part, Morka had to fend for himself. As he grew older, the beatings and the hunger forced him into the woods, where he learned the art of hunting from the Ragatt of his tribe. Hunting was no job for a Grachukk, and being one of the great orcs, he knew only shame as the bonfires raged. Morka was ridiculed and cast down, but hunting came to him naturally, in fact, he was the best the Ragatt had ever seen. Night after night, while the tribe ate his kill and ridiculed him, he sat in stoic silence, stewing in vile hatred for all he looked upon. He cursed them all. He cursed them by his own malice and unto no god.

Time passed for many seasons and Morka grew large, towering over many of the other Grachukk. Just as the wars of the Selvanu reached their peak, the elements unleashed their wrath upon the Stone Arm Clan. Winter came one morning and did not leave. The icy rage of Kruss had been unleashed upon them. The clan began to starve. With the ground blanketed in white and the prey disbursed to greener pastures, there eventually came a day when even the great Morka returned empty handed. His brothers reveled in his failure. Even though they starved for meat, they took great pleasure in taunting Morka. His sorrow was enough to fill their stomachs that day.

The largest of the brothers rose to his feet and spat at Morka, demanding a feast. Morka looked upon him with a death stare that gave him no pause. And it was without pause that Morka turned his back on his brother and approached his mother’s tent where she lay sick and dying. Morka dragged her out by her leg and before his brothers and clansmen, he tossed her into the fire.

Legend says that he roared at them with such hatred that their souls knew death had found them. In fear, they charged him and took him to the ground. They beat upon him with stones, but the rage within Morka was a dark spirit that had now been unleashed. Fist over fist came down upon them in the dust and earth. Bones broke and flesh burst in a torrent of blood. As if in a dream of utter euphoria, he raged until his bones rattled him back into reality.

Morka found himself standing over the twitching mass of his older brother, beaten beyond recognition but somehow still living. The other two were not so lucky. Morka ordered his brother to sit near the fire and wait for his meal to finish cooking. In great shame, his brother complied. But his arms were broken and could not make the smallest of movements. Like a nursemaid, Morka sat next to his brother and fed him pieces of their poorly-cooked mother. The starving tribe watched as the two feasted alone, none daring to approach the great spirit of the Baresark that lingered within the fire pit.

Morka and his brother ate well that winter as the Stone Arm Clan drifted into the earth. One by one, their skulls returned to dust, and their flesh fed the Baresark. By spring, only Morka and his brother remained. With his brother’s wounds healed, they departed from the mountains and the territories of Turanghem.

Some say that Morka let his brother live that day so he could bear witness to the great and terrible things that Morka would do in his lifetime. Others say Morka wanted him to share in the brutality that Morka knew as a young orc, giving him a life of servitude and pain. Undoubtedly, there is truth to both, for Morka gave his brother a new name, Hunjik, which means “slave” in orc. And in return, Hunjik gave his brother a new name… Morka Moa. It means, “Morka, Hunter of All.”