Name: Druzgor
Level: 110
Tell us something about your (role)playing experience:
I've been playing World of Warcraft on and off since about Wrath of the Lich King. In that time, I've role-played a bit of everything, but probably mostly Humans and Elves. I've had time to help moderate a few RP guilds, and even run some of my own. I've never role-played an Orc before though, but the Red Blade seemed like the place to go if one was interested in getting into it - so here I am. As well as RPing on WoW, I've role-played a bit on SWToR and GW2, and I'm an experienced tabletop RPG dungeon master and player, mostly with Dungeons & Dragons.
And finally, please write a short story and/or (IC) introduction about your character:
Druz'gor boarded the zeppelin and, straight away, made for one of its deeper corners below-decks. It was not the first time he'd boarded the Goblin contraption, but that did not mean he trusted it. And, though he would not admit it even to himself, the heights it climbed to unnerved him. No. Better to find somewhere out of the way and rest. He was tired. He had been on the road a long time. And though long treks did not used to faze him, the truth was that he was getting old. He found a dark corner, leaned back against the wall, settled his axe in his lap, clutching it tightly and soon he'd drifted off to sleep to the dull, erratic vibration of the zeppelin's engines...
Ten years. Ten years. Kept in chains. Like an animal. Like cattle. His human captors taunted him. Beat him. Pit him against his brothers and sisters. To his captors, he was powerless and stupid. He'd kept quiet and followed orders only to the exact letter with which they were given. He'd learned struggling was futile. So he'd wait, and bide his time, and nurse a slave's secret hatred until their guard was down. Until an opportunity presented itself. When it did, then he'd strike. He'd claw at their eyes, crush their skulls, and spit on the corpses of his tormentors.
When the day of liberation came, it was not because his captors let their guard down. Druz'gor woke up to the sounds of violence, clashing steel and wordless screams. Orcs, none of whom were familiar to him, clashed with human soldiers, to the familiar and steady thump-thump-beat of drums of war. Before realizing what he was doing, Druz'gor ran towards one of the broken and battered human corpses. He picked up the sword lying in the mud, scraped it clean of dirt, and charged into the fray. He screamed, and his words were echoed by a chorus of voices from around the internment camp, some of them strangers, others former prisoners.
"Lok'tar ogar!"
Druz'gor woke with a start as something prodded him in the face. A Goblin. "End of the line, pal. Get outta my zeppelin." Druz'gor's response with a wordless grunt. He pushed himself to his feet, slung his axe over his shoulder, and wandered out into the cool Durotar night air. As he disembarked from the zeppelin, he did not look down, and he did not look back.
--
Druz'gor was a member of the Bleeding Hollow clan, who fought against the Alliance in a violent bid to claim Khaz Modan as the Dark Portal first opened to Azeroth. He was later imprisoned and languished in an Alliance internment camp until his liberation at the hands of what would go on to become the New Horde (or the New New Horde, as the case may be). Like most other members of the Bleeding Hollow, Druz'gor relinquished much of his clan identity with his assimilation into Thrall's Horde - in large part thanks to the brutal and savage nature of their customs, which seemed increasingly out of touch with the rest of the Horde.
Despite his age and relative experience, Druz'gor, like many Orcs, still struggles with reconciling the savagery of his past with his present. Despite his best attempts at becoming something better, he remains violent, temperamental, and bitter. He clings to codes of honor and loyalty as a way to rein in his worst instincts without having to confront them, and he sees the Red Blade - with his strictures and codes - as a easy route to self-imposed discipline.
Level: 110
Tell us something about your (role)playing experience:
I've been playing World of Warcraft on and off since about Wrath of the Lich King. In that time, I've role-played a bit of everything, but probably mostly Humans and Elves. I've had time to help moderate a few RP guilds, and even run some of my own. I've never role-played an Orc before though, but the Red Blade seemed like the place to go if one was interested in getting into it - so here I am. As well as RPing on WoW, I've role-played a bit on SWToR and GW2, and I'm an experienced tabletop RPG dungeon master and player, mostly with Dungeons & Dragons.
And finally, please write a short story and/or (IC) introduction about your character:
Druz'gor boarded the zeppelin and, straight away, made for one of its deeper corners below-decks. It was not the first time he'd boarded the Goblin contraption, but that did not mean he trusted it. And, though he would not admit it even to himself, the heights it climbed to unnerved him. No. Better to find somewhere out of the way and rest. He was tired. He had been on the road a long time. And though long treks did not used to faze him, the truth was that he was getting old. He found a dark corner, leaned back against the wall, settled his axe in his lap, clutching it tightly and soon he'd drifted off to sleep to the dull, erratic vibration of the zeppelin's engines...
Ten years. Ten years. Kept in chains. Like an animal. Like cattle. His human captors taunted him. Beat him. Pit him against his brothers and sisters. To his captors, he was powerless and stupid. He'd kept quiet and followed orders only to the exact letter with which they were given. He'd learned struggling was futile. So he'd wait, and bide his time, and nurse a slave's secret hatred until their guard was down. Until an opportunity presented itself. When it did, then he'd strike. He'd claw at their eyes, crush their skulls, and spit on the corpses of his tormentors.
When the day of liberation came, it was not because his captors let their guard down. Druz'gor woke up to the sounds of violence, clashing steel and wordless screams. Orcs, none of whom were familiar to him, clashed with human soldiers, to the familiar and steady thump-thump-beat of drums of war. Before realizing what he was doing, Druz'gor ran towards one of the broken and battered human corpses. He picked up the sword lying in the mud, scraped it clean of dirt, and charged into the fray. He screamed, and his words were echoed by a chorus of voices from around the internment camp, some of them strangers, others former prisoners.
"Lok'tar ogar!"
Druz'gor woke with a start as something prodded him in the face. A Goblin. "End of the line, pal. Get outta my zeppelin." Druz'gor's response with a wordless grunt. He pushed himself to his feet, slung his axe over his shoulder, and wandered out into the cool Durotar night air. As he disembarked from the zeppelin, he did not look down, and he did not look back.
--
Druz'gor was a member of the Bleeding Hollow clan, who fought against the Alliance in a violent bid to claim Khaz Modan as the Dark Portal first opened to Azeroth. He was later imprisoned and languished in an Alliance internment camp until his liberation at the hands of what would go on to become the New Horde (or the New New Horde, as the case may be). Like most other members of the Bleeding Hollow, Druz'gor relinquished much of his clan identity with his assimilation into Thrall's Horde - in large part thanks to the brutal and savage nature of their customs, which seemed increasingly out of touch with the rest of the Horde.
Despite his age and relative experience, Druz'gor, like many Orcs, still struggles with reconciling the savagery of his past with his present. Despite his best attempts at becoming something better, he remains violent, temperamental, and bitter. He clings to codes of honor and loyalty as a way to rein in his worst instincts without having to confront them, and he sees the Red Blade - with his strictures and codes - as a easy route to self-imposed discipline.