The Smeag Lands

A towering half-orc barbarian with ash-gray skin and fiery red eyes, Fumentator wears a patchwork of charred leather and iron armor, adorned with the bones of his enemies. His hair is a wild mane of black, streaked with soot, and his presence is marked by an aura of dread that seems to darken the air around him. He carries a massive, jagged axe that crackles with residual magic, a testament to his brutal campaigns against Smeag users.

Fumentator’s laughter is a rasping, triumphant roar when villages burn, and he savors every scream as a symphony of victory. He studies his victims’ fears—kidnapping loved ones to force leaders to watch their families’ torment before public execution. Simply meeting his gaze can fracture the will of seasoned warriors; fear seeps into even the hardest hearts. He dreams not of conquest but of complete annihilation—of smoke, spores, and anyone foolish enough to breathe in mystic vapors.

Born amidst the blood-soaked forges of the Scorchebar Rift, Fumentator’s earliest memories are of fire and hatred. Rejected by both orc and human clans for his monstrous size and savage temper, he learned to love the taste of fear in his enemies’ eyes. When orphaned Smeag-worshippers tried to hide in a grove, he hunted them down one by one—leaving their ash-crusted corpses as warnings. He didn’t merely destroy Smeag; he tortured its growers, carving runes of 'purity' into their flesh before roasting them alive in their own fields. His blood-soaked vendetta against Smeag users is absolute: compassion is weakness, mercy is sin, and magic is a disease to be excised with violence.