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Can I just say....
Right... XD

My hand was itching. I'd had to cut the palm as I worked on Sadok's face, and now the bandage was chafing at the skin. Well, at least it made me feel something that was me.

Ever since I was a young boy I'd been able to feel things. When I began the path of shamanism this became stronger. When I enter a room where bloodshed has occured or someone has been intensely happy, I know it. When I touch an object with strong emotional attachments, I feel it.

I sat there watching over the thur'ruk and trying not to feel the history of the hall of the brave. His mate, Kyrazha, had left to be alone a while before, almost demanding I watch over Sadok. Not that I would wander off anyway.. This reminded me that barely anyone knew me here though. I was an unknown, like I always wanted to be. The familial connection to Steelheart wasn'tgoing to help though, that's why I always disappeared. Why I always wore a wolfmask. I didn't want them to see me for who I was. The son of her uncle. I wished to be treated as the person I was, not who people thought me to be.

Sadok was still sleeping soundly. The sleeping potion Kyrazha had given him seemed to work pretty well. I looked him over for a moment. He was no fighter, just like me, but he looked positively frail right now. The bruises were not something I'd waste my blood on, but the breaks had been healed. The next day  would be the biggest job, fixing his teeth. Replacing an entire jaw worth of teeth was a long and painful job, and Sharptongue had already suffered so much... The other side of my ability: empathy that stretched to people's pasts. Sadok was a guarded soul, but the pain of his life was etched on him nevertheless. He was lucky to have found Kyrazha, in my opinion. I'd felt the feelings they shared through her. They were bonded strongly already.

I sat back down to wait for Kyrazha's return, grabbing the axe that had been my father's. Skar'lok, a shadow council enforcer who'd tried to raise me to dark shamanism. When that failed, he'd turned to Rhonya. Eventually he met his fate while trying to deal with a dreadlord, I'd been told. Idiot. The axe in my hands, far too heavy for me to wield effectively, was dripping with pain and sorrow. Not just the victims' but my father's as well. All the stupid mistakes he'd made, all the regets, every last bit of suffering as he'd slowly died, blinded and half flayed..
I carried the axe with me as a reminder where I'd come from, and to warn me against screwing up.

I set the heavy weapon aside again, settling in for the rest of the long watch of the night.

Your characters in-character name: Srelok
Your in-character class: Shaman
Your level: 32 and climbing.

Abit about -yourself-, we like to know our applicants abit:
I'm Edwin, some of you might know me as Dien's (Rhonya's) IRL Husband. *waves* I'm 29 years old and have been playing WoW since TBC. I picked up RP in Cata, first as a DK in the Cult of Shadow (Drazhk) and later on in SGE (So'lin). Recently quit for a few months, and now I wanna get back into RP with a new challenge: Orcs.

Abit about your character:
A rather physically weak orc with a connection to the spirits, uses his powers to mend, not for battle.

Background story:
Born 30 years ago Srelok was raised by only his father until he was 8 years old and left the care of his father, Skar'lok, who was trying to raise him in the ways of the Legion, being a devoted follower and Shadow Council flunky himself. Srelok never wanted this and even tried to escape the internment camp no matter the consequences. He had to abandon his infant cousin, a little girl that had just been orphaned behind even though it broke his heart.
Eventually he managed to get away from his father and lived hidden for a while until he managed his escape though that was more luck then anything. He lived in the wilds until word reached him of the liberation of the orcs by Thrall. He joined the nascent new Horde on their journey to Kalimdor. There, he heard the call of the elements. It took him a while but he managed to find a teacher to show him his path, the path of the mender.
When he was about 25 he returned to Orgrimmar. He never participated in the war against the Lich King, which was by then raging, but he chose to lend aid when the Cataclysm struck. This aid was in the form of healing the injured and caring for the sick and dying.
He watched in growing resentment as Garrosh perverted the noble goals of the Horde, and when people started disappearing he decided to leave the city and find a way to fight against the Warchief.