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Long ago, long ago,
In the lands of the snow,
Where the fires raged,
And the cold winds blow.

Ruled the Chieftain of the Frostwolves,
Who challenged the Warchief's claim
For he stood against the Iron Horde,
And Durotan was his name.

In the ashes of the land,
To the beaches made of sand,
Where the war took over,
And forced his hand.

Fought the Chieftain of the Frostwolves,
Who challenged the Warchief's claim
For he stood against the Iron Horde,
And Durotan was his name.

In the jungles wrapped in fel,
Our people walked through hell,
Where the heroes fought,
And the demons dwelled.

Led by the Chieftain of the Frostwolves,
We followed just the same,
For he stood against the demon horde,
And Durotan was his name.

Whisp'ring echoes in empty halls,
through the ages comes the calls,
though the enemy fell,
a new age falls.

And the Chieftain of the Frostwolves,
By the draenei he was slain,
For he stood to protect his people,
And Durotan was his name.

And the Chieftain of the Frostwolves,
Though death tore us apart,
He will live on for evermore,
He will live on in our hearts.

Nan'ka walked down the street, silent and cloaked. He paid no heed to those still lingering so late at night around the city. Soon, they would all know the wrath of his loa. Soon, they would feel the bite of the Venom Queen.
   Adjusting his cloak, he turned aside to head down a deserted alleyway. His mission was simple. He had been sent to make sure the prisoners that had been taken today were secure. That was all. His masters never said where the prisoners would go. Nor did they give him any reason as to why they still lived â€" only that they and their allies were getting in the way. This was their punishment.
   He allowed himself a small smirk. The outsiders deserved everything they got, and more. They had no place here. This Horde had no place here. The Queen was wrong to allow them here, of that he was certain. But it did not matter. Like them, she would die soon as well.
   So wrapped up in his thoughts was he that he never noticed the silent shadow that detached from the darkness of a nearby alleyway, and began to follow him. Traversing down the stairway, the tall troll moved with a purpose in his step. And that was what gained the attention of his new shadow.
   It remained at a distance, never coming too close for him to notice. It never occurred to him that anyone would take interest in his comings and goings. It would soon prove costly.
   He was not far from the prisoners now. He seemed to relax now, secure in the knowledge that soon his mission would be accomplished, and that he would soon be serving his loa in other ways. So it came to be that he never expected the strong, slender hand that grasped his throat and dragged him into the darkness of an unlit alleyway.
   Before he could so much as yell out, he felt the press of a blade against his throat. He went still then, knowing the wrong word could cause that blade to slip. He swallows hard, his eyes staring blankly into the darkness in an attempt to see his captor.
   â€œWhere are they?” The question was growled out. Female, he could tell that much. Not a troll â€" the accent was not there. An elf? No. The strength alone confirmed that much. Not a tauren â€" the hand did not feel right. An orc then? Whatever she was, he could only see a vague outline.
   â€œWhere....” His voice croaked as he broke his silence. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Where be w'o?”
   â€œDo not play games with me. Where are the people you stole?”
   Ah. Someone who came for vengeance. This was someone he could manipulate. He offered a gentle smile. “Iffen ja want dem back, killing me would rat'ah remove dem from ya reach, wouldn't it?” He asked at last, the confidence that had fled him at the feeling of the blade began to slowly return.
   â€œYou are one troll. You weren't so hard to spot.”
   He frowned. “Ya t'ink we awh b'lookin' da sehme? Ai'm offendahd. Well, I be t'inkin' awh you orcs look de same.” The blade pressed a little harder. He swallowed, and changed his tune. “Well, not awh. Some of ya can be quite loveleh ta look at. I imagine ya might be, ifen ya be allowin' meh ta see ya face...?”
   â€œYou will not see my face. You will tell me what I want to know. And then you will leave.”
   His eyes flicked from side to side, perhaps searching for a way out. “Ya'd just...Let me go? No messin'?”
   â€œI'll let you go.”
   He fell silent for a moment. This did not make sense. Why would she let him go? He could easily have her tracked down and killed. “...W'ai?”
   She took a moment to respond. “I just want my clanmates back.”
   He nodded â€" or at least he nodded as well as he could manage given the blade at his throat. He understood at least. The orcs were a strange bunch, all about honour and looking out for one another. This one was clearly no different. “Ai c'n tell ya den. Iffen ai b' 'avin' ya word dat ya'll let me go.”

   Zi'tani slipped away from the shadowy alleyway, leaving the body of the troll in the darkness. She had promised to let him go. She never said it was from the world of the living. She had heard of this Bwonsamdi â€" the loa of death that the trolls revered. The troll she had killed could go see the loa of death. She intended to send more after him.
   Stalking through the darkening streets, she never let up on her hunt. At one point, she took to the walltops â€" feeling it was easier to pass through unnoticed if she took the high road. She had not brought Razara with her this time. Instead, she had left the little wolf pup with Skint, trusting her to look after her. She had told her she simply wanted to explore, and did not want to risk the pup if anything should happen.
   She felt bad for the lie. But she could not risk anything stopping her now. He and the others were so close. Rage was what pushed her onwards, and temperament was what kept her hidden. Rage that her clanmates had been taken. Rage that he had returned recently, only to be taken away again. Rage that she was not there to stop it from happening.
   She would make up for it now.
   She stopped, watching down below. There was the building the troll said the prisoners were being held in. She did not know if he had spoken the truth or not. But it was a risk she had to take. She couldn't lose him again.
   â€œSpirits of the earth...Guide my footsteps. Grant me the strength to save those whose freedom has been stolen from them,” she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. It was time.
   Gripping her axe, she threw herself over the wall to slam into the nearest guard, taking off his head before he even knew what had happened. Whilst the blood spurted in a constant fountain from the stump of his neck, she was already up and laying into his companion, raking the blade of her axe across his stomach and cutting free his intestines. Another swipe, and his throat was torn open in one brutal swing of the axe. Footsteps could be heard, along with yells.
   It was clear stealth was something she still needed to work on. They had already noticed her.
   Throwing herself into the building, she cut through the first troll she came across before he could even rise from his seat. Her foot caught the stool he sat on, and kicked it straight into the face of another who came thundering into the room. Leaping over his fallen form, she ran into her first locked door.
   In a rage, she slammed herself against it. Over and over, until it gave way beneath her. She glared around for a moment, but growled. No-one was here.
   She stepped outside, ramming her axeblade into the face of a troll who was simply passing by. She yanked her axe out, leaving his face decimated as she stomped down the hallway to the next door. This one was locked as well. But it stood no chance against the young Frostwolf, driven by her wrath. It broke down before her, and her glare swept across the room. She was about to leave when her gaze caught something. Another door.
   She frowned, striding towards it. She did not even stop to look at it, but threw herself at it. It bounced her off, but it only served to anger her further. With a furious roar, she rammed into it, again and again. She did not know how much time had passed by this point, but desperation drove her onwards, the skin of her shoulder splitting under the impact of her flesh against the hardened wood.
   Finally, the door gave way â€" breaking off its hinges. She stepped in, bloodied and angry. She stared around, and then stopped. It was him.
   Vraxxar.
   Her instincts took over. Really, she wanted to hug him. At the same time, she wanted to scream at him, and punch him. But there was no time for any of these things. She did not even give him much of a chance to respond, but grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room â€" heading for the main entrance. She had no idea where the others were, but she needed him out and to safety before she could rescue them.
   Unfortunately, she did not realise how long she had taken. Outside, the way was blocked by robed figures. All trolls, she guessed. There was no way she and the Varog'gor could escape past them. They filled the very street, stretching for some distance. She had but seconds to make her decision.
   She turned to Vraxxar, and grabbed his hands. There was a lot she wanted to say, but this was not the time. Perhaps the time will never come. “Forgive me later,” she managed, giving him a grin. She tried hard to make it as natural a grin as possible. But her eyes said otherwise. They were the eyes of a woman who was not certain she would ever see him again.
   In the second that followed, she stamped down hard. The ground rumbled, and the earth broke through the stone to grasp hold of Vraxxar, and hurtled into the air â€" taking him with it. It drove him over the nearby wall onto the next level of the city, taking with him most of her strength. Seeing him soaring away to safety was the last thing Zi'tani saw as the trolls attacked and overwhelmed her, striking her with a small knife. Her vision grew blurry, and her head felt lightheaded.
   Gotta...Save...The others...Vraxxar...Her last thoughts trailed off as the darkness swallowed her up.

   Vraxxar sat with his eyes closed â€" seemingly calm â€" in his dark imprisonment. Only when the sounds of a commotion breaking out outside does he open his eyes, noting that the sounds were getting louder and closer.
   Banging resounded against the door, causing him to rise up onto his feet and into a readied stance â€" if he was to die, he would die fighting for his life. The door finally burst open, and the bright light blinded him. He could not see who stood in the doorway until his eyes adjusted.
   He registered that it was the newblood Zi'tani, but she grabbed him before he could even speak. Their journey back through the building was swift, only stopping at the sight of the robed trolls that blocked the way to safety. But he was an orc â€" and he held no second thoughts in fighting them all, preparing to fight his way through them. But before he could, Zi'tani grabbed him and spoke something, before sending him hurtling through the air by the very earth she called upon.
   His landing was not kind. He hit the ground hard â€" knocking the wind out of him. He scrambled onto his feet after a moment of respite, and looks back at the crowded street. At the trolls who covered his view of the newblood. His stare was long. Hard. Sad and angry at the same time. But it was too late. She could not be seen. Which only meant one thing in his mind.
   But he could not linger here. If he stayed, they would find him. And then Zi'tani's brave â€" and foolish â€" sacrifice would be in vain. The other Varog'gor needed to know what happened. They needed to know he was alive, and that it cost Zi'tani's life to return him to the clan.
   The moment he arrived in the Zocalo, his first instance was to seek out Razaron and Kyrazha, his stomach feeling like a pit had opened up within. He stopped, staring back at them.
   â€œI've failed again...” He managed, his breathing difficult.

        Orgrimmar. The capital city of the Horde. Here was where people of all races and creeds came â€" some to find work, others to answer the call for soldiers. Others still for trade. There was no real order to the city. Buildings were crammed in where they might fit â€" might being the operative word. The city was always alive, always buzzing.

   The scent hit you first. A mixture of sweat, blood, animals, excrement, death, chemistry...It all mingled in the air â€" occasionally with the smells of whatever people were cooking. The heat of Durotar made them that much more noticeable.

   Zi'tani walked quietly through the crowds of the city, ducking aside to avoid swinging beams of wood, or stumbling out of someone's way. It was clear to anyone that she was not from here. That she did not belong. She had been raised in the icy tundra of Frostfire Ridge, born to the clan of the Frostwolves. They did not build cities. Only a life and a culture that was near impossible to find anywhere else.

   Of course, navigation was never her strong point. And in this maze of a city, it was easy to get lost. The dusty streets turned to muddied waters and bridges, dirty coloured banners and tarps and all sorts of fabrics draped seemingly at random. Tents and rough huts made up the buildings here â€" inhabited by the small green creatures she had learned to be goblins. They seemed to come in one of two types; upbeat and swindling as always, or downtrodden and miserable. And now that she saw how they lived, she could understand why. This was not a life she could ever try to settle down to.

   The ground squelched beneath her feet, muddied water forming briefly in each print she left before it disappeared once more. Voices called across her surroundings, screeching about their wares, or money owed, or someone to do something. It was so very different from the village the clan inhabited, she reflected. Some trolls could be seen amidst the goblins, arguing, bartering, haggling.

   It was almost painful to see the life some had no choice but to lead.

   Zi'tani focused on her path, moving forward. Perhaps she should have gone back to the dustier streets. But her curiosity got the better of her, and her feet carried her onward. She should have brought someone with her, but it was too late now. Even if the clan had sent someone to find her, how could they? She had been lost to the crowds some time ago.

   More noise. More yells. Birdsong as well, strangely. The sound of weapons being forged and ground against whetstones. The bashing of metal upon metal. Heavy footsteps upon the bridges. Musical voices rising in song here and there. Her ears twitched with every new sound, her mind drifting towards fantasizing what might have caused it. Whether she was correct or not made no difference â€" her imagination ran wild.

   Until the sound of a howling wolf caught her attention.

   Instantly, she knew the howl was wrong. It was not a joyful howl. Nor was it a lonely one. No, this howl was of pain and fear. And it put her legs into motion before she even had a chance to register it. Swiftly, she pushed her way through the throng of people â€" her feet pounding upon the wooden bridges as heavily as hammers striking a tree.

   Another howl rang out. It spurred her onwards. She did not care that it was not her wolf. She did not stop to think that it might be a wolf that already belonged to someone. It did not matter. A wolf cried out, and her blood demanded that she answer the call.

   Around the corner she sprinted, her heart hammering in her chest as she looked around the area â€" seeking out the animal that seemed to call out to her. No sign of any wolves in pain. She stopped and listened, hoping for another howl to grace her ears, to give her a chance to hunt the wolf down. As if the spirits had heard her silent prayer, the howl of the pained wolf rang out once more. North.

   Once more she set off, shoving past any who dared to get in her way. Another wolfish cry rang out, but this was more of a loud whimper than a howl. Something had hurt the beast.

   Up ahead, she could see a crowd gathering, arguing among themselves. Some were jeering, others were yelling for the guards. Was this what the wolf called her to? She could just about see over the heads of the squabbling goblins to the large white wolf that huddled protectively against the cliff wall. And a fat goblin menacing her with a mace.

   Something in Zi'tani snapped. She let out a furious roar that thundered through the noise of the crowd, her hands curled into fists. It was like a wild animal had taken over â€" her throat burning as she bellowed wordlessly. The crowd fell silent, every individual turning to stare at the angry orcess that towered over them. It did not take long for them to quickly scramble to the sides, giving her a path through.

   As she marched angrily towards the goblin with the mace, her clouded mind observed the bloodied stump where the wolf's paw had once been. A deep gash stained her side â€" her white fur quickly turning red. Mud and dust coated whatever was not bloodied. The bestial matriarch let out a wounded howl, perhaps knowing help was coming.

   The goblin turned towards the orcess, brandishing his mace. “Whaddya want, brownskin?” He snarled, menacing her whilst keeping an eye on the wolf.

   â€œLet. Her. Go.” The words were growled out, barely containing her hatred of the small creature.

   â€œI ain't about ta do that. She's mine, see. I c'n do whatever I like. You best be pushing along, missy,” the goblin stated bluntly. The wolf growled in response.

   What happened next was a blur for Zi'tani. One moment, the wolf was growling. And then time seemed to slow down as the goblin turned and raised his mace to slam it down into the head of the wolf, which collapsed. Red clouded Zi'tani's vision.

   What brought her back to reality was the terrified screams of the crowd gathered behind her. She blinked, staring at the goblin â€" whose throat she was now crushing, his back pinned to the wall. He was knocked out, the skin split open across his cheek and his nose broken. The screams faded into a maddened hubbub as guards forced their way onto the scene.

   â€œWhat's going on here?” Demanded one, while his two comrades forcefully yanked Zi'tani away from the goblin.

   â€œShe jus' SNAPPED, sir! Laid him out wid one punch, den started STRANGLIN' 'im!” One goblin yelled, staring at her fearfully. She was still dazed, the edges of her vision still tinged with red.

   â€œThat true, orc?” The guard asked, moving to stand in front of her, glaring.

   She opened her mouth to speak. But her throat hurt. Her words came out hoarse. “...He hit the wolf...” She managed at last. The guard did not look convinced.

   â€œWoman, I dunno how they do things back on your old world. But here, y'don't just attack someone outta the blue,” he lectured her. His words sounded distant over the sound of her blood pounding in her ears, the sound of her deep and laboured breaths. “I ain't seen ya before, so I won't arrest you this time since ya ain't killed 'im. But next time, you won't be so lucky. Get that 'un to a healer!” He yelled as he turned away. Zi'tani was released, collapsing onto all fours. The two guards that had held her back now picked up the unconscious goblin whilst simultaneously shooing the crowd away.

   In small groups, the goblins drifted away, their entertainment now spoiled. Eventually, only she and the wolf remained. Tiredly, she dragged herself over to the fallen beast and reached down to touch the side of its muzzle. It did not move.

   â€œC'mon, girl. Get moving â€" let me know you're okay,” the orcess whispered, patting the dirty and bloodied wolf on its muzzle, then lightly smacking its shoulder. Still nothing. Dread rose in the young woman's chest, and she slumped down to press her head against the wolf's side, listening for a heartbeat. Though the wolf's body was warm, there was no sound of breathing. No heartbeat.

   The sounds of the city faded for her as the realisation crept through her like the chill of winter. The wolf still did not stir. She never would again.

   Leaning against the broken wolf's body, Zi'tani's vision wavered and swam before her as her eyes welled up with tears. Tears of grief, anguish, pain. Tears of blame â€" for not reaching the wolf in time. Tears of anger at the small, pointless creature that had stolen away the life of such a majestic creature. Tears for the loss of lives in this pointless war. Tears for her family, lost to another war on another world.

   No-one disturbed her as she sobbed breathlessly into the wolf's fur, letting out all of the emotions that had steadily built up since she first stepped foot on Azeroth. She wept for every loss she had suffered, and for the wolf who would never run and howl again. She wept until there were no more tears to shed, until her eyes reddened. She wept...Until a soft snuffle reached her ears.

   Hopeful, she sat up and stared at the wolf. Perhaps she had been wrong, perhaps the creature had lived after all! Upon seeing it had not moved, her shoulders slumped. She had been imagining things.

   Another soft snuffle. This time, she was certain it was real. But strangely, it came from the wolf. No, not the wolf. Behind the wolf. She reached to slowly pull the wolf's body towards her. Inch by inch, she managed to pull it away a little from the wall. Peering over the wolf, she spotted a small lump of fur â€" separate from the bestial matriarch. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she reached down to touch the lump of fur. It uncurled to reveal the sweet face of a pup. The dead wolf had been a mother.

   Zi'tani's expression became one of wonder at such a small, innocent little creature, and grief that it was an orphan. She reached down and grabbed the pup to lift it up. It stared back at her, its tail tucked between its little hind legs. It gave a small whimper, before snapping at her.

   â€œI'm not gonna hurt you,” she told it, before bringing it to her chest to hug it gently. It snapped at her arm and gnawed at her flesh for a moment. She did not even register any pain. After a moment, it stopped. Soon, its little snout came sniffling under her chin, followed by a tentative lick.

   Despite her grief for the wolf, Zi'tani smiled. “I'm sorry I couldn't save your mother,” she murmured, gently stroking the pup's side. “I ain't got parents either. But you got me now. I'll take care of you, I promise.” The tiny rough tongue licked her chin again, as if the pup understood her. She stared down at the wolf matriarch, still sad by her death â€" and grateful for the gift she had left behind. “I'll always take care of you.”

[Name:]

Name: Zi'tani Steelstorm
Alias: Zi
Rank: New Blood
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Mag'har Orc
Clan: Frostwolf
Class: Geomancer/Shaman
Alignment: Chaotic Good


Family: Kardoz Hellmight (Father, deceased), Erzar Tuskrage (Mother), Grok'nal Rocksong (Brother, MIA).
Known Friends: Kyrazha Throatrender, Vraxxar Wildmark, Throgann Grimcleave, Kran Twinaxe.
Known Enemies: None.
Appearance: Zi'tani is a typical orc female. Dreadlocks take up the lowest part of her hair - decorated with wooden and metal beads - whilst the rest is pulled back into a tight ponytail near the crown of her head. Her face holds nothing spectacular about it, other than the two nose rings connected by a thin chain, and her cinnamon coloured eyes.

Her body is muscular, built to withstand her preference for using the earth to fight with. Broad shoulders, chest and hips make up the stocky figure, with clearly muscled arms and legs brought about by years of hand-to-hand combat. There are also three piercings in each of her ears, and her belly button is pierced. There is also a tribal-style pattern based around the crest of the Red Blade clan carved into her skin on her right buttock, hiding smaller scars and silently declaring her allegiance for the clan.

Personality: Zi'tani is a bright and cheery orc, always looking for a challenge and often teasing others if she thinks she can get away with it. She is energetic, available for a sparring match at pretty much any time. She is also known to be passionate and fiery in her beliefs when she has cause to be â€" but otherwise remains steadfast and chill, like the earth she has command over.


History: Zi'tani was born to Kardoz Hellmight and Erzar Tuskrage, one of five children - sadly only she and her brother survived their first year. She was born into a world of strife, where the Lightbound had started fighting against the orcs. Her own mother - Erzar - joined the Lightbound. It is unknown if she willingly did so or was coerced into it.

When the time came for Zi'tani to take her own om'riggor, her mother attacked and disrupted the rite. Kardoz ordered Zi'tani to run before facing Erzar, and unfortunately was slaughtered. The war continued, and Zi'tani was unable to take her om'riggor for the rest of the time she was on her homeworld. She had grown up with an affinity to the earth spirits, and had been learning from the shamans as much as possible, and learning hand-to-hand combat. She helped fight against the Lightbound where possible - using traps for their caravans and protecting the others.

Then the time came when a representative of the Horde came to Draenor seeking her people's aid. In the last attacks of the Lightbound, her own wolf - Icefang - was slaughtered and her brother was nowhere to be seen. Zi'tani was teleported with the rest to Azeroth, where she grew lost and desperate until she heard of a Kosh'harg being hosted on this new world's version of Draenor, and that they would be offering an om'riggor to those who still wished to undergo it.

With hope in her heart, Zi'tani set out to attend the Kosh'harg, where she was finally able to take part in her om'riggor and earn the name of Steelstorm, and join the Red Blade clan.


Things you may know about this character:
   - She defeated Kargnar Bloodpaw three times in combat, one time with her backside in a misjudged backflip.
   - She is best with using the earth to fight.
   - She can heal.
   - She wishes for a new wolf pup of her very own.
   - She enjoys dancing!
   - Kyrazha has inspired her to try and become a Varog'gor in the future.

Things you may not know about this character:
   - She's pretty handy with leatherworking.
   - She enjoys singing.
   - She doesn't really like mushrooms very much.

Memorable Quotes:
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Other Information:
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Spoiler: Gallery • show

https://www.deviantart.com/danica-malbaski/art/Zi-tani-s-Scarification-793533148