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(Not this was written during the spirit world event held the 8th of january. Dragath sorta got left behind after the group passed into the spirit world, so I just went with it and made this story Its pretty short and perhaps not all that well-written. I was tired/half sick when I did it. Hope you enjoy).

A faint shimmering sound caressed the warrior’s ears as he felt consciousness return to him. He opened his eyes as lazily as he would when waking up from his usual naps. However, he was met with something he’d never seen before. He found himself in an odd-looking cave which seemed to have had all life drained from it. Its white and greyish colours all faded together in shimmering ethereal mess. He scratched his head as he pondered but found that he felt no hand. He blinked in confusion but finally remembered what had happened.

“So... This is the spirit world then?” He thought to himself, looking around to find the other orcs he remembered taking the journey with. But he was all alone in the cave. A rush of frustration crept through him as he started to make his way towards the exit of the cave.

He felt so light. Never before had he felt this sensation. It was so relieving to be set free of your body, not feeling the old injuries bundle up. He smirked slightly until he found himself outside the Pools of Vision and was met with a white brightness of a hundred suns. He grunted as he shielded his eyes, but heard no sound coming from his lips. “Perfect… Apparently I am a mute now.” He grumbled in his mind as the world phased around him, letting his eyes adjust to the light.

He looked around and found himself still in the village of Wor’gol. It looked so different in this world. Everything seemed to be in constant movement â€" and yet not, for all the buildings and rocks stayed in place. “Is this what the trolls experience when smoking on their damned pipes?” He thought as he waded through the village.

The whole place seemed empty. When exploring the huts he found nobody either. “So this is soul-searchin’, huh? What the fel am I supposed to look for?” He thought as he continued around the village.
Suddenly he felt a pull at his soul. Almost as if he was gently guided towards one of the few remaining tents he had not checked yet. As he got closer to the tent he moved a hand to the hilt of his axe (a warrior’s habit) before peering inside.

In the middle of the tent, an old orc stood gazing into a fire that gave off no heat. Dragath gently pushed aside the curtain and walked inside with confident steps. As he examined the orc sitting with his back to him he saw what had most definitely been a warrior in life. On his back an old banner sprung up past his tall body and flapped lazily. On the banner was a snarling wolf’s head all in white and Dragath realized what sort of warrior stood before him.

“I heard what you said when you pledged your spirit like the rest of your lot.” He heard the orc say as he slowly turned around. His lips did not move and his shape flickered slightly when he spoke. “I see into you and I find a fire burning with a wish to grow. Why do you feel the need to prove yourself so, mm?”

Dragath’s mouth was wide open as he heard the question, finding this orc’s insight of him puzzling. “I.. Wh-… How do you know any of that?” He thought, somehow hoping the message would reach the spirit. The spirit did not answer but only stared at Dragath expectantly. After a while of mild confusion, Dragath answered with spite in his voice. “My clan was once proud and strong. The bane of our enemies… But circumstances have destroyed its honor. I wish to restore it.” He said, gritting his teeth without sound.

“And you wish to do so though battle, Other-Worlder? I have heard of your kind coming to our world as well as the trust the Frostwolves place in you. You come to destroy our common enemies?” The old orc asked with a raspy voice. Dragath nodded slowly. That was exactly why.

“And you wish to grow as a warrior to raise your clan’s honor once more.” The spirit says with a nod. “The path of the greatest of orc warriors is one of hardship and trials… If you truly wish for the power to destroy your enemies you must become the paragon of orc prowess on the battlefield.” The spirit closed his eyes and sighed. “Become a Blademaster. Only then can you hope to raise your clan up to the pedestal from which it fell... Warsong...”

Dragath watched the blue banner in awe as it swayed slightly from the orc’s back. He had always admired those select few who had proved themselves countless times over in order to carry the clan-banner into battle. He had never hoped to ever reach such status. Was it even possible?
As Dragath opened his mouth to question the spirit’s words he felt a pulling in his spirit once more. With a quick jerk the world seemed to fade around him and for a moment he saw that he was back in the Pools.

And then he awoke, gasping loudly for air.

“A Blademaster, eh?..” He coughed with a dry voice.

Sounds good. I assumed you were all off to Dreanor

I'll stand by untill then.

Name: Dragath
Class: Warrior
Level: 100


Tell us something about your (role)playing experience:
Well. I started roleplaying in WoW... 2... 3.. years ago? I am not sure at this point. I started off my roleplay experience in Second Gurubashi Empire and stayed there for the majority of my time roleplaying. Some people may know me as Volek. I've also been part of a few other guilds on Defias.  After being fed with the game for a bit I hopped off to Elder Scrolls Online and stayed there for some time untill I realised it wasn't something for me. Some time after I snaked my way back in WoW, and here I am


And finally, please write a short story and/or IC introduction about your character:

((I was pondering how to make the application for a while and decided to make a "recent history" one, focusing on his current motives. If its needed I can add stuff to it if you feel it is not enough ))

With what seemed like the greatest of efforts, the green-skinned warrior forced his eyes open and stared blankly into the foreign sky with a foggy mind. For how long he had lied here he could not say, but he was slowly beginning to remember how he had ended up here.

He remembered how he was dragged to the stockades during the late rule of Garrosh’s Horde. The savage beatings he received there had a special place in his head too - The crack in the back of his head that to this day still hadn’t healed right to be specific.

It had all been so ironic though. When Garrosh had first come out as the new head of the Horde, he remembered having cheered his lungs dry in excitement. The Horde’s reform had meant lots of changes to the way things were done, and he had accepted it all with open arms.

Loyalty was a trait Garrosh had praised, and it had shown when certain orcs suddenly rose up past others, like how the weed would cut from the rest of the garden. He himself had been guilty of finding a more comfortable place in the ranks as Sergeant due to his former loyalties.

It was then that the extremism of the Horde escalated past his own boundaries of honor, which lead to his own failure to carry out commands. As quick as Garrosh had been to raise orcs up on pedestals, as fast was he to tear it all down under you once you proved too difficult.

It was then that he found himself in the stockades, surrounded by other “war criminals” and “enemies of the Horde”. Here he would endure until the siege finally came which brought the Warchief’s rule to an end.

It was during the freedom cries that showered the city that he had thought he would prove himself to the next chapter of the Horde. The shame of having assisted in carrying out the cruelties of the dead Horde had weighted down on him, and it was time for redemption.

A new threat had then shown itself on the horizon. Yet another corrupt Horde was thirsty for blood, and he had been among the first to volunteer to take the vanguard against this new threat. His honor was at stake, and only victory or death could heal it.

When the charge through the Dark Portal came, his chance had come. He fought along all the warriors of the Horde while their leaders brought down the portal which had brought all of them here. He could only assume he had been struck down shortly after.

He growled in pain as he pushed off the corpse of a tauren that had fallen on top of him. It had likely saved his life too. He slowly stood, grunting all the way as he finally got to look around. Around him was only the echo of the battle that had been fought. Corpses upon corpses as far as the eye could see. A light breeze blew, letting him remember he was still alive as he felt it. He sighed, nodded his head in respect of the fallen, and turned around to carry his beaten body to safety.

“What the Fell now…?” He mumbled to himself.

I hope you like it!

I made an account for the page long ago and for some reason I have a strange account name. Would it be possible for me to have it changed at some point?

Dragath out.