Amarock

From the frozen edges of the world where the wind howls like a living thing and the ground itself fights for every step, the Amarock tribes descend onto the Blood Bowl pitch. Clad in thick pelts, bone charms, and frost-worn armor, these northern Amazons carry the strength of a people forged in blizzard and blood.
They do not fear contact. They welcome it.
Every player moves with the certainty of a hunter. Their footwork is deliberate, their strikes precise, their formations unbreakable. Years spent tracking prey across ice and snow have honed their instincts to something sharper than training—this is survival made into sport. When they close in, it’s not chaos… it’s the final moments of a hunt.
Their pelts are not for show. Each one is earned—taken from beasts that would tear lesser warriors apart. Those same beasts live on in their style of play: relentless pressure, sudden bursts of speed, and an uncanny ability to endure where others falter. You don’t outlast the Amarock. You endure them… or you fall.
Cold. Patient. Unforgiving.
The storm doesn’t rage forever.
But when it comes, the Amarock are already inside it.