Description
The island graveyard of the Orcs - called Duur’Khaz in their tongue. Its soil is cracked and dry, its sky choked with the dust of a fallen god. Black iron spires jut from the canyons like ribs from a corpse, and when the wind blows, you can almost hear them sing. Ash’Torak, the City of Bones, is their capital—a fortress built within the carcass of a Leviathan. There are no kings here, no thrones, only the War Circle. At night, the stars are their ancestors’ eyes. The Cradle of Cinders still burns with the heat of unborn souls. And far below, sealed beneath their capital, something ancient hums—a song too heavy for mortal ears. The orcs whisper that their gods are sleeping. The rest of us pray they are right.