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[Azolg Firebrand]

Azolg Firebrand

Self View:

Azolg feels in a strange place currently. He is a part of the Clan, and has taken his oath - But he still does not feel entirely part of the Clan. Perhaps it's to do with his recent long absences and the fact he still is grieving for his brief, but intensely cared for mate. While he has friends, he doesn't feel extrodinarily close and despite being welcomed back; something just doesn't sit right with him within himself. At it seems whenever he attempts to be an energetic or fun-loving Orc, he doesn't get a good response; having been told several times he's an embarresment. Having taken on students to train as Pyremasters, he hopes this will bring some purpose to his life in the Clan once more.

Azolg's View On Others:

[spoiler=Kozgugore Feraleye] Holds immense respect for the Wolfking. Having read his deeds and tales in the annals and knowing he is a resolute and steadfast Orc even after all these years in his duties. Certainly enjoyed watching the Wolfking get drunk after Kosh'arg and just kick back and relax for a change.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Kyrazha Throatrender] Azolg considers Kyrazha one of his few true friends in the Clan, but even that is confusing for him at best. They are close perhaps and as a Varog'gor he trusts her with his life but still there feels to be something missing. He gets the impression she doesn't trust him entirely, and thus hopes one day to earn it - Because he'd die to protect her.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Meri Soulwalker] An orc whom he likes immensely, Despite her concerns being around him at the start, they quickly became firm friends. After his initial concerns with her void usage, he has come to accept and trust she will have a firm hand on her abilities. He just hopes the great friendship he feels with her is also felt in return.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Noshmarak Ironclaw] Azolg thought things were good - Until he had the stupid idea to announce his love for the Orc back when Sargeras stabbed the world. When they all didn't die it was .. Awkward to say the least. Now with recent events and, strange interactions Azolg has just come to the conclusion the Orc despises him and just gives him the respect his status as a Rrosh'tul demands.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Urzoga the Unbroken] An Orc of conflicting feelings. On the one side she has expressed desires, on the other he is somewhat curious himself. But with his heart still heavy from Gaisha's death and major concerns about the darkness harboring inside her he is rightly cautious. He hopes with the Pyremaster training she will eventually learn to conquer what rests inside.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Tagrok Valorwind] Another orc whom Azolg is unsure whether likes him or not. Being treated wit disdain and dismissal the entire time he's known him, Tagroks demeanor has changed somewhat since his healing ritual - And perhaps a little bit before with Azolgs stern but truthful words. Maybe now he will treat Azolg as a friend, rather than just an Orc who he sort of respects. Perhaps the training will change things.[/spoiler]

[spoiler= Tahara Beastgrin] Smple minded and not a deep thinker, but a heart of gold. He does enjoy her simple-minded view on things however and it's refeshing to hear a viewpoint that doesn't overthink things.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Nakobu] Azolg likes him. A lot. He just thinks Nakobu doesn't like him very much. Always seems uneasy around Azolg no matter what he does. [/spoiler]

[spoiler=Zitani Steelstorm] He likes her. Shes energetic, bubbly and quite frankly sociable like him. Bit concered she's going to kick his ass when they eventually have their rematch.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Srelok Grimtide] Knows that beanth the grumpiness is an orc who feels too much and just doesnt know how to handle it. Feels sorry for his empath abilities - As it must be such a draining thing to experience. Hopes to help ease his pain of losing Azguh as he knows how it feels to lose a mate.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Gashuk Bloodmoon] Likes the Orc, but sure as heck wishes he wasnt alive. Still holds deep reservations on Gashuks ressurection. If it were up to him, he'd have thrown him on a pyre right there and then.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Verzan and Rykana Skywise] Enjoyes the sisters sharp minds and curious nature. Wishes he was the one to tutor them to the end, but is just glad to see they've still stuck around after all this time.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Zakarah Sporefang] Hot-headed and quick to a temper. Doesnt trust her and certainly thinks she can't control her emotions. But gets the feeling she's loyal. Does far too many drugs though.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Gulrok Ragehowl] Needs to stop trying to fuck anything that moves.[/spoiler]

[Gaisha]

Gaisha

It was quiet later in the evening and Azolg had a chance to reflect on himself after the Clan meeting. Quite a good one to return to in all honesty, he mused to himself as he settled down on one of the nearby hillocks in the Crossroads. All in all, his return to the Clan had been a successful one after such a long time away, well over a year infact; and he’d been accepted back into the fold almost instantly. Having recounted why he left in the first place and explaining what had happened, no Orc had a single word to say against his reasoning. It was a higher calling he had to fufill - His most important work as a Pyremaster.

The bone before him was laid out next to a whittling tool ready to be carved. A simple gift for a not so simple recipient though, it would be quite the talisman to keep said Orc safe. Azolg hummed softly as he began the slow and arduous work of whittling the bone into the shape of a rough talisman. As he worked, his mind wandered back to the previous year. Of her. Gaisha.

~

“You know, you really shouldn’t wind me up so. I’ll rip your ears off if you're not careful.” The female Orc cackled softly as she leant up next to Azolg, the pair of them as naked as beasts in the night.

“Pah. You’d be bored if I didn’t. Thats what makes me so entertaining, surely?” Azolg growled in return and pulled the female into his embrace, kissing her deeply and powerfully.

Gaisha cackled as he kissed her, pushing the lean, but small male onto his back and crawling on top of him, pressing herself against his naked rough skin. She pulled back briefly, staring into his grey eyes “I think I love you.” She murmured softly.

~

Azolg lifted himself from the memory briefly, thinking back to the feeling of her skin on his. He paused his whittling briefly, wiping a tear from his eye as the memory continued on while he worked on the gift.

~

“Remember .. You have to show no fear at all. Even the slightest bit of fear the Fire will know you aren’t ready!”

“I know! I’m not afraid!” Gaisha snapped, growling as she focused and prepared herself. Even now she showed small signs of fear; the twitch of her fingers, the shudder in her thighs and even the slightest quiver of terror in her voice. All these things would not be ignored by Fire. But Azolg remained silent. This was a fear she had to overcome herself.

Gaisha stepped a foot into the fire, and screamed as the flames burned her flesh. Falling back into his arms she both growled and whimpered “I don’t understand .. I’m trying to force myself to not be afraid. I want to be like you, unafraid .. In tune with Fire .. Strong!” She held onto him, her own yellow eyes staring into his desperately.

“You think im not afraid? I’m afraid of many, many things Gaisha. Afraid of losing you for starters.”

~

He returned to reality once more to study his work. The talisman was coming along nicely, a circle outline with the mark of the Clan starting to engrave into it. It would be a fine gift, and once fully blessed and enchanted will serve as a great protective enchantment. As he smiles at the piece, his thoughts wander once more back to that which he found most painful. Her.

~

The pyre burned strong and brightly in the light of the moon. Azolg tried his hardest to fight back tears, but watching her body turn to ash on the pyre was too much to bear. He stood back, finishing the final words of the Pyre speech and allowing his tears to flow freely now. Too short their time had been together, not but a few scant weeks; two months at most, but their love had been a whirlwind of intensity. Fate however, was a cruel mistress.

“I won’t ever forget you, Gaisha Ironwind. Not as long as I shall live.”

Azolg looked down at the small pendant. A simple, small bloodied Ogrehorn. He closed his fingers around it, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could.

~

Azolg signed softly, and paused once more from his whittling. He untucked the Ogrehorn pendant from underneath his robe and held it in the palm of his hand, looking at it sadly. She’d been a special Orc, and had changed his entire view on whom and what he found himself attracted to. Had she lived, they’d have been mated by now.

“In another life, my heart.” He whispered softly to the pendant, raised it to his lips and kissed it gently. Then, tucking it under his robe once more, he returned to the whittling of said talisman.

[The Book of the Dead: Red Blade.]

The Book of the Dead: Red Blade.

~
The names inscribed in this book are gone, but will never be forgotten. May their spirits soar in the Eternal Plains.
~

Mal'garr Firefist, Gosh'kar of the Red Blade Clan: Sacrificed himself to protect the Clan in the battle of Lordaeron, by inhaling blight fumes and erupting them with felfire. Succumbed to his wounds during the escape.

Kargush, New Blood of the Red Blade Clan: Died when the Clan was attacked in the Barrens by would be assassins. Killed in the line of duty, with -honor-, fighting for a Clan he wasn’t even part of yet.

Grogona Marshfang, Rrosh’tul of the Red Blade Clan: Died sometime before the Legion Invasion - Circumstances unknown.

Sadok Sharptongue, Thur’ruk of the Red Blade Clan: Died during the Legion Invasion. Crushed by a collapsing building. Spirit finally released during the cleansing of the Shaman-kings scepter in a joint effort ritual by Rhonya Steelheart and Azolg Firebrand.

Krogon Devilstep, Nag'ogar and Champion of the Red Blade Clan: Killed on the Alternative Draenor, having defeated Akesh the Poisoner's champion. Shot by a poisoned arrow. Killed by the Chieftain as a mercy, rather than a slow death by poison.

Makaroth Bloodaxe, Gul'thauk of the Red Blade Clan until Exile: Was killed by the Clan after drinking demon blood and commiting himself fully to the Burning Legion, then murdering a clansorc by the name of Keishara Wildeye, an alternative universe version (Similar to alternative Draenor).

Orok Felbane, Oathbound of the Red Blade Clan: Killed by unknown former Orc of the Clan. Circumstances hazy.

Mar'nosh Ragescar, New Blood of the Red Blade Clan: Died during the fight against Akesh the Poisoner in the Alternative Draenor. Remembered with honor.

Azguh, New Blood of the Red Blade Clan: Died during Pandaria visit. Killed by Urzoga the Unbroken, a mercy killing after succuming to Void induced madness.

[Filth]

(Artwork was found here.https://mrnepa.deviantart.com/art/Cave-sketch-396499507)

Filth

I feel dirty.

A grunt escaped Azolgs lips as he emerged from his cave once more. Hidden high deep in the mountains near Garadar, it once had become his hideaway back when he’d been Mag’har. It was good to revisit old havens once more. The cave itself was unimpressive; a few furs scattered across the floor, a jug of water and some scraps of food. Perhaps the most impressive feature of said cave was the carving on the wall - Identical to the brand across his own chest.

I’ve been used.

Daylight crept into the cave as he lifted the enchantment to hide it away. To all other unsuspecting eyes, the entrance was simply part of the cliff-face, no more no less. But place a hand on the rock and you’d soon find it fall into the cave. Stepping outside the illusion he breathed deeply, standing naked in early morning light. It was freeing, to live like a beast once more; all the time in the world to meditate and spend time with his favorite companion - the warmth of fire.

Taken advantage of.

He was sure the Skywises would handle a week or two without him around. They were a capable duo, bull-headed and with a good set of common sense between them both. They’d easily pass the trials ahead and be offered the oath. But he wasn’t entirely sure they’d take it if he was honest with himself. They were old heads on young bodies; tried and tested in their methods and inspired by the old ways of doing things. Truly a pair to look up to in all honesty.

Wasted. Left behind like cheap meat.

Azolg sighed and looked back at his things. Perhaps it was time to return afterall, even if it meant finally dealing with the consequences of what happened. Besides, he hadn’t really been in the wrong per-se - The other party had been the one to avoid all contact. He strode back into the cave, casting one last look to the Pyremaster staff leant against the wall.

“I have a duty to fufill.”

Prove he doesn't.

Poster below me identifies as a German Apache Attack Helicopter that is vegan, does crossfit and vapes.

[Name:]

(Art done by ElizaLiv!https://elizaliv.deviantart.com/)

Name: Azolg Firebrand
Alias: "Pyremaster."
Rank: Gosh'kar

Age: 35
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Clan: Bleeding Hollow (Not known to him, has been Mag'har since a small child.)
Class: Fire Shaman
Alignment: Neutral good.

Family:
Father: Drakkuth
Mother: Keira
Siblings: Not known

Known Friends: Rhonya Steelheart, Nosh'marak Ironclaw.
Known Enemies: None specific.

Appearance:
Azolg's appearance is certainly striking, to say the least. A set of red and muddy brown robes garner is form with a large rolled up what looks like a tied up rug on his shoulder. Scrolls are attatched to his robes and a medium sized tome hangs from his belt by a chain; black leather bound with the red blade insignia inscribed into it in red. His once brown skin is now tarred green, having decided to forsake his purity to fight the Legion; such an act shading his skin that shameful green all Orcs hold. Grey, deep-set eyes in a rounded shape belay years of constant critical thought, what with the endless crows feet and wrinkles that have set in at such an early age. The dark red hair hands behind his head, creeping around to the beard that shares the same color. Both are clearly well groomed in their appearance; tied off neatly and with purpose. The brilliant red hairs however, have started to fleck grey with age it seems.

His frame is somewhat intimidating. Despite being an Orc of the spirits he certainly isn't a weak-looking Orc. His muscles are toned, solid and quite strong; evident that he works out and keeps himself in shape. While no hulking warrior type - If push came to shove he could handle himself in combat. The garb he tends to wear is dark in color, either reds or blacks, and usually made from cloth. He keeps a blade near his belt seemingly for ritualistic purposes. And finally to finish off his visage - The Pyremasters Staff; Rahk'lokar.

Such a staff is grisly, but quite the artifact he holds. It is clearly aged, yet made of such a fine wood that it has only got stronger with age. The centre-piece of the staff is a Rylak skull - Clearly from back when Rylaks existed in Draenor. There are three male Orc skulls that hang from the horns of the Rylak; all with their own inscriptions etched onto them.

Personality:
The first thing one could say about Azolg, is he is certainly a reserved Orc. Fond of critical thinking and absolutely dedicated to the Spirit of Fire, he's an Orc that thrives on solving issues and giving advice. Certainly he is kind, and has a great deal of empathy to his fellow Orc. Partly due to his nature, but partly due to his training also; being a Pyremaster is a path that requires patience, reason and a gentle spirit. Such roles usually aren't chased by Orcs whom seek glory nor recognition in battle. As such with Azolg, he much prefers the solace and muse of his rituals, spending quiet time thinking about the deceased and enjoying the company of fire.

Such a path however doesn't offer him his own inadequacies. He is prone to periods of preferred seclusion; occasionally finding the noise of Clan life too much. Such is the way with Pyremasters however - That they prefer the company of the dead from time to time. But even when seeking refuge from the vibration of life, he will still find time for his Clan-orcs in need.

[spoiler=Things you may know about this character:]
- Has been a Pyremaster for the majority of his life, learning from his father back in Garadar.
- Held the funeral for the following Orcs: Sadok Sharptongue, Grogona Marshfang, Kargush.
- Cleansed the Scepter of the Shaman-King, Mruthgor, with Rhonya to free Sadoks spirit; and others trapped inside.
- Through the aforementioned cleansing process, discovered the first Varog'gor; Drag'nash the Devourer, trapped inside the Scepter.
[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Things you may not know about this character:]
- Has a large brand on his chest - Depicting a fire rune.
- He collects some of the ashes from Orcs he burns in the Clan. So far he has the following; Sadok, Grogona and Kargush.
- Used to be brown-skinned before he fought on the Broken Isles. The eventual exposure to Fel caused his skin to turn green. It's the reason his eyes are still Grey.
[/spoiler]

Other content and stories
Azolg's Book of the Dead: Red Blade.
A Collection of Experiences: Azolg's Travels

History:

[spoiler=Early History: Life Before The Clan]

Birth: The Flames of Destiny.

Azolg's story really does begin at his birth, and what a birth it was. A horrific scene befell his mother as she went into labor and by the clumsy hand of the attending young Shaman, the hut went up in flames. As the flames spread hard and fast it became evident and obvious that they weren't going to make it out alive. Heat licked at his mothers skin, and in her desperation and fear she called out to the only thing she could think might help - The Spirit of Fire. Begging, screeching at the to of her voice she pleaded that while he own life couldn't be saved, if only her child could be spared such a death before it even had a chance to breathe the air.

And fire heard. And it responded.

When the flames died down, and the hut was a smoldering ruin the Mag'har managed to get closer inside, find out just what was left. Azolg's father Drakkuth cleared the half-burned wood to find the embers of his mates bones, and in it a screaming cub completely unharmed. A brand etched across his chest, seared into his flesh, depicting the sign of Fire.

And it was on this day that Fire claimed Azolg. It had heard his mothers cries, and decided that if it was going to keep Azolg alive, then he'd serve it for the rest of his life.

Youth: Life as a Mag'har.

Azolg's life was quite uneventful as he grew up living with the Mag'har. He kept a close relationship with his father, mainly to help with Drakkuth's own grief at the terrible accident. They became close, far closer than most father and son relationships, and Azolg would soon desire to follow in his fathers footsteps as a Pyremaster himself. Growing into his maturing years, he was around when Thrall came to visit Garrosh in Garadar. Seeing Green Orcs for the first time, and this supposed 'New Horde' intrigued him to no end; but there would be no time for him to leave until he was a fully fledged Pyremaster.

With Garrosh's departure to join the New Horde, time passed on and soon he had finished his studies, and even surpassed his father in his Pyremastery. His connection to Fire gave him an advantage that hadn't been seen in an age; such a boon was perfect for a Pyremaster. And as time went on he replaced his father, whom retired from most of his duties as age caught up with him.

The Rebellion: To Oppose A Tyrant.

When word reached the Mag'har that Garrosh had lost his mind to power, Azolg decided that he could stand by no longer. He had a power that could be used to fight, and Garrosh had come from the Mag'har. With his fathers blessing, he joined the Rebellion and helped overthrow the reign of Garrosh. After spending a little time in Orgrimmar, exploring the New Horde and the diversity it bought found the Red Blade Tribe. Deciding that he'd like to see just how different Tribe life is he joined up as a New Blood.

Back during this time, he kept his face covered by a skull mask, and stayed on the fringes of the Clan. Never interacting too much to get attached and more of an observer than anything else. He never took the Oath, but he held two pyres during this time - Sadok Sharptongue and Grogona Marshfang. The Tribe had come to trust him despite his distance and caginess; and to hold pyres for Orcs of such high standing was an honor he could not turn down.

It was during this time, and the Legion invasion that his father fell deathly ill. Abandoning all pretense, he returned home to be by his fathers side for Drakkuth's final days. The pyre he held when his father passed was perhaps the hardest one yet.

[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Current History: Joining The Clan For Good]

Legion Invasion: Returning To The Fold.

After his fathers death and with the Legion invading the Broken Isles, Azolg decided that he could no longer stand by idle. Too long the Mag'har had stayed hidden in Garadar, and he wasn't going to do nothing. He remembered the friends he'd made during his short time with the Tribe fondly, and decided that through fire and flame he'd stand by them against the Legion. Though when he searched for the Tribe, he could not find them at all as it was during the time of dispersal the Tribe faced.

Instead, Azolg threw himself fully into the Horde efforts against the Legion. He fought in several battles across the Broken Isles and after exposure to such a Fel rich enviroment, eventually his skin turned green. It had been a great personal choice whether to do it or not - But in the end his purity was not worth it, it was better to fight to protect a world he called a second home that hide away and remain pure.

The Clan Calls: Returning To The Fold.



It was some months later that he received the mysterious summons


[/spoiler]

I see you also, enjoy taking dramatic pictures of us your orc staring into the distance :3

Curious Hellbrew thinks that way, the face he presents is just drunk 24/7!

[The Pyremaster At Work]

(( Thanks for the kind words! Makes it all the more worthwhile for me. ))

The Pyremaster At Work

It had been a hell of a few weeks.

Azolg was exhausted and it showed on his persons now. Both the physical of the constant fighting and the mental exertion of having to burn so many dead Orcs - The strain was taking a toll on Azolg’s very spirit. Sleep once again had evaded him this evening, despite the herbs that Rashka had loaned him, and in the early hours of the morning he found himself sat by the sea’s edge - Watching the sun come up as he reflected on the events of the past ten or so days.

The ambush at the camp was the first of such events; a multitude of faceless, skilled assassins sought to butcher the Orcs in their sleep. The attack had been thwarted with courage and martial skill, but it had left a great many questions unanswered - And opened up a horde of new ones. Who had the assassin's been and why were they after us? Was the Chieftain alive? Were they safe at all?

Azolg allowed himself a small smile at the memory; all those questions had been answered in the coming days, but the uncertainty at the time had caused great unrest among the Orcs.

His memory now swirled to the pyres at the camps; sixteen bodies in total they’d felled. He’d never held a mass pyre before, but was aware they had to be done when the body count was simply too high. They may have been their enemies, but it was his duty to ensure they reached the judgement of the Ancestors. He could feel the Orcs disapproving gazes, their sneers - But they knew little about the lifestyle of a Pyremaster. Azolg had to be above passing judgement, lest he be unable to do his task.

He looked down at his feet, the waves lapping at his ankles gently. With a wiggle of his toes he found himself sinking slowly into the wet, matted sand and the feeling was pleasant indeed. Some days he wished he could stand here and allow the waves to take him out to sea - Never to be seen again.

The memory of the mountain peak stuck out in his mind now - A truly horrible scene had awaited them at the top of the ritual site; and four more bodies for Azolg to burn. Such bodies had been drained of their very essence; hollow empty husks that had aged the bodies far beyond their years. Truly, it was dark and devious magic at work here, and he’d felt such sorrow at the terrible end the victims had found. The pyre that evening had been one of the most heartbreaking ones he’d held. At least, until they rescued the Chieftain a few days ago.

Kargush.

He’d barely even known the Orc. Aside from a small couple of conversations, and fighting with the Orc as travelled, he shouldn’t have been so cut up about the Orcs death. Perhaps it was the combination of an Orc dying for what they truly believed in, or just the simple fact he’d fallen fighting for a Tribe he wasn’t even part of yet. Whatever the reason - Azolg despaired. Perhaps if there hadn’t been so much death prior to this, he’d have handled it better. But the endless pyres seemed to be wearing him down now. Back in Garadar they’d consider a bad month to be five pyres, and yet here the contrast was completely stark. Rubbing his face with his free hand, he sighed softly.

“Ancestors, I hope he is thriving up there.” Azolg murmured softly to himself. He wiggled his toes once more in the sand, the wet gritty feeling was certainly a comfort.

And now the faces of the tortured spirits once more wouldn’t leave his mind. That cave had been foul, filled with the stench of decomposition and death. What had happened to those Orcs had flashed in his mind as they traversed through the cave knee-deep in gore; and the fate had been a grisly one. Torture, ritual sacrifice and runic branding. The fight that occurred in the cave had been a close call too - Had the Wolf Spirit not empowered them the Blades may well have fallen that day to the traitor Torash. Still, once it was all done and dusted, the task fell to Azolg to handle the dead - As he always did. It hadn’t been an idea send off, but with so many bodies in a various state of rot; moving them would have risked befouling the corpse which was even more disrespectful. It was with a heavy heart that Azolg held one more mass pyre, lighting the cave on fire.

He grasped the staff as his memories went full circle to the most recent one, letting loose a gentle sigh. The skulls attached to said piece clattered gently as they moved, all Orcish in origin. The grey living eyes fixated on the empty black sockets of one skull in particular; his fathers.

“I wonder if I made the right call, leaving Garadar father .. I am no longer Mag’har, my skin green with corruption. And I have burned more dead than I dare count. I fear what I will become.” Azolg seemed to muse, though the question clearly was directed at the skull - Even if no answer would come.

A few moments passed, and the silence did not lift. He smiled weakly to himself and shook his head. “As if you could answer.” His gaze shifted to the rising sun again.

“You have made me so proud.”

Azolg smiled.

Dont mind me just testing if my forum sig works.

WHY CANT SADOK EVER BE HAPPY. EVEN IN DEATH HE IS MISERABLE.

*Flips tables*

The fire elemental gets funnier everytime I see it. It's sooo dope <3

Quickly becoming my favourite orc (sorry Koz)

Consider yourself scratched from my will. My pogs will go to Makaroth now instead!

I have been chosen!

[New Beginnings]

New Beginnings

Malaka’jin was utterly unimpressive as a holdout in of itself, yet it’s quiet seclusion bought Azolg some much needed time to consider the future. The dust swept across the camp at the behest of a smooth wind that gave the view a somewhat red tinge to things. Inhabitants went about their daily business of gathering food, skinning and some leatherworking here and there. It almost seemed reminiscent of Garadar; albeit on a much smaller, confined and inherently red coloured scale. It had become the temporary stopping point of the Red Blade Tribe, and while many Orcs did small day to day tasks to keep busy; others found themselves wandering the lands to hunt, scout or even just get away from it all. Azolg was one of the latter this day and leaning upon his staff he swept his gaze across the camp once more from his own peak of serenity.

He’d certainly changed quite a substantial amount since he first joined the Tribe, a couple of months before the split. Back then he’d been somewhat of a Garadar Orc still; both in appearance and his mannerisms, and even his tradecraft as a Pyremaster. He’d worn simple garb not suited for fighting back then, adorned with a sacred skull mask when meeting strangers outside the Clan - a tradition that had been reinforced by his father, and but a simple sword to offer the most basic of protection. Those times he still identified as a Garadar Orc and had taken a somewhat outsider's view on the Tribe - never really getting to involved with proceedings and taking far too long to earn his Oath. All that however had changed in recent months.

Breathing in slowly his gaze cast briefly to the hand that gripped the staff. He still wasn’t used to it, some ten months after he’d decided to fight on the Broken Isles. The green skin was a sickly colour to his eyes, yet it was no different now to nearly every Orc that resided on Azeroth. But for Azolg, this skin had been a deep, pure brown when he’d come to Azeroth. Uncorrupted, he’d taken great, if foolish, pride in being what was considered a “True” Orc. And for many years he retained that pride, wore it like armor against those who would speak out against him.

Now however his pride as a Mag’har had all but gone. It certainly had not been an easy decision to make for Azolg; the choice really boiled down to a pair of options. He could have headed back to Garadar, abandoned Azeroth and to it’s fate and waited out the oncoming storm. Or he could use the gifts and powers he’d been entrusted with; stand and fight with the world of Azeroth and perhaps maybe influence the outcome in even the smallest way possible; knowing that fighting on the Broken Isles, in such a fel-steeped area, for a prolonged period of time would eventually turn his skin green. It had happened to the Frostwolves whom had never drank the blood, there was no reason to believe he would be exempt from it either.

And thus with a heavy heart he’d done the right thing and taken the fight to the Demons on the shores of hellfire. Casting aside his skull mask and dull blade, he turned his back upon being a Mag’har to truly join the Horde of Azeroth, garbed in his impressive new gear and finally taking up the mantle of his father's staff - A relic that had been passed down his family for generations. The staff had been in his possession for some months now after his father's death; though he did not feel ready to use such an artifact until he’d earned it. However the time had long passed for that luxury; and with a heavy heart he’d resigned himself to “Earn it on the go”, so to speak.

Drawing his memories back to a more recent time, Azolg paused briefly as his gaze flickered back to the camp. A familiar face was up and about; Rhonya Steelheart, and he offered himself a somewhat sad smile at the sight of her. Just over a year ago, he’d performed the funeral rites for her mate; Sadok. A desperately sad time it was and even though Azolg had barely known Sadok; he knew that the orc was held in high esteem by the Tribe at large. It had been an honor to send his spirit soaring.

It was at this thought that his hand strayed to his satchel, feeling the contents clinking around. No Orc knew, but Azolg held several jars on his person at all times; each jar filled with a handful of the ashes of a Tribes-orc. Since his time during the Tribe he’d performed funeral rites for two Orcs; Grogona and Sadok. When the pyre had finished he’d taken a handful of the ashes; as is a Pyremasters duty to do so. The final jar he held was of one named Makaroth, an Orc whom had lost his mind to fel and been murdered by the Tribe for it. While he had not travelled with the Tribe at that point - he was in the vicinity of the fight and eventual pyre. Long after the others had left he’d snuck by and stolen some of the ashes. A smile crossed his lips briefly - the orcs most certainly would not understand why a Pyremaster would need a portion of the ashes, but it wasn’t for them to know; somethings would always stay secret.

His gaze now swirled around the camp once more - And he found himself thinking of the future this time. Where did he stand with the Tribe now he no longer was a Mag’har? While the Clan had never officially rejected him; he knew he could not be welcomed back in with his green skin; Mag’har in the common tongue meant “Uncorrupted.” and those who were corrupted no longer held a place within the Clan. Despite his best interests or desires - he was an Orc without a Clan, as he had no clue of his former Clan before the red pox. Whether this meant for a future as a true Red Blade Orc was up for debate; his first port of call was to head to the meeting this evening, and see just what lay in store.

A final gaze skyward to the sun in the sky; it’s rays warm on his skin. A smile crossed his lips gently as he closed his eyes, straightening his back and stretching once more. A whisper escaped his lips like a thief in the night, but it’s words carried a weight with them.

“For the blood of the Tribe.”

I MADE YOU A DND CHANNEL ON DISCORD WHY ARENT YOU USING IT D:

Idd. I was like "Woah bro what you saying"