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Setting out on the plains of Nagrand felt refreshing. No armor to wear you down, no need to keep an eye on the orcs beside you. Just you, the wind at your back and your hunt. It didn't matter that Mazara didn't really have any idea of what she was hunting for, the whole point was the hunt itself. Unknown to her at the time, the spirits had deemed her worthy of a task that was to be hers. While she ran the plains, she headed further and further northeast, close to the elemental throne. As she came closer, she felt the calling of the elements, beckoning her closer. However, it wasn't further north, to the elemental throne that she was called. It was eastward. She new then what she was to hunt, and why. The spirits' motives suddenly came clear to her. She had been lead here.

Further up the hill, Mazara started to feel the smell of ash. Of burnt things. Not much smoke rose from behind the hill, but enough for her to know what was going on. Finally, when on top of the hill she could see what task the elements had before her. A furious fire elemental raged around the area. Appearantly, the recent encroachment of the Saberons had riled this elemental up and caused it to go berserk. Trees were burned (but not burning) and trails of black had been made in the grass. Critters lay scattered, burned to crisps. There was hardly anything to hide behind, so Mazara was forced to lay on her stomach in the grass.

The elemental sizzled and crackled with fiery rage, it's "muscle" bulging with power and it's claws as sharp as flames lashing upward in a bonfire. This was not going to be easy.
Grasping her axe tightly in her hand, she waited for the elemental to get close. Sure enough, it's chaotic raging eventually lead it straight in front of her. Rising with a yell, she struck at the fiery body of the elemental. The axe hit it's mark and for a moment the elemental had to stop to hold itself together. But she had done nothing but stirr the flame. Now the elemental had something to focus all it's rage on, and waited no further to lash out at the she-orc that had dared invoke it's wrath. Blow after blow she managed to dodge or parry, but only barely (if she had worn her armor she would have been hit multiple times). Calling upon the elements of water for aid, she had to turn some of her focus from the elemental to communing with the spirits. She succeeded, but not before the raging being struck her across the chest, causing a wide charred gash straight across from her right keybone to her lowermost left rib. Unleashing the power the element of water had given her, the fire was pushed back. Struggling through the sizzling pain, she doused the elemental in water and raised her fire-enchanted axe to deliver blow after blow to the elemental's unstable body. After every hack and slash, the fire calmed and staggered, it's body being torn piece by piece until at last, there was but an ember holding the charred plates that once was it's "muscles" together.

Panting heavily and weary with pain, Mazara looked down on the struggling elemental. It no longer fought back. It was too consumed in trying to keep itself together, to not implode upon itself. With the swift stroke of her axe, the elemental let out a howl that could only be described as a massive fire being drowned. At the end of the shriek, when the smoke cleared, there lay a single piece of hardened ash. Picking it up as her trophy, she scanned the scene. The land would heal, and soon there would be no testament to this rogue elemental but the charred clump in her hand. In pain, but proud, Mazara turned to journey back to camp. Her task to the spirits was completed, and she would return to her tribe with a tale to tell.

She would be given a name.

Ah yes, the Twilight "paladins"... *Shudders*

Oh boy, how silly of me. I actually had no idea about that, still I wondered why the shamans became warlocks in Warcraft III during the scenario where Grom drinks from Mannoroth's blood! I'll have a look at it right away.

Edit: I edited it to exclude the Dark Shamanism and rather have the elements abandon him, and rejoining him later. He took up no warlock magic inbetween.

Also doing some googling there seem to be Fel Orc Dark Shamans in Hellfire Peninsula. I suppose these surfaced later then, during TBC/After Draenor was torn apart?

[-Details of your Orc character-]

-Details of your Orc character-
Gal'Rash is a venerable veteran from the first and second wars. His white hair and beard has grown long, and so to keep them from getting in the way he has braided them (rather than shave, since he takes some pride in his long hair). His body speaks of conflict through many years with scars both from blade and magical residue, though none seem to adorn his face save for a single long white cut from one end of his face to another, straight across.

-Name-
Gal'Rash Stormscream

-Class-
Far Seer / Farseer

-Level-
25+ (planning on boosting to 90 once I reach 60)

-Tell us something about your (role)playing experience-
I don't really know how long it's been since I first started roleplaying on WoW, but it's been years. I first started on private servers dedicated to hardcore roleplay, and I learned all the steps from there. I find great joy in building a roleplay setting and enjoy even more the company of great roleplayers to play with. I hope we will all get along!

-And finally, please write a short story and/or IC introduction about your character-
Gal'Rash was born on Draenor into a shaman's family. While his life remained uneventful around his childhood and early youth, his destiny started to take shape when the Orcs were united into the ferocious Horde to invade the world of Azeroth. Though Gal'Rash had been a noble shaman most of his life, and quite an accomplished one at that, when the Burning Legion corrupted the Orcs he too fell for the bloodrage.
Carrying over onto the second war, Gal'Rash continued to wield the elements to reign devestation upon the humans of Azeroth and Lordaeron. In one particular battle, Gal'Rash earned the name of Stormscream as he whipped the spirits of air to conjure up a raging thunderstorm upon the humans, paving the way for the Horde's troops to launch their next assault.
Eventually, the rampaging horde is defeated and the survivors is rounded up into internment camps. It is not until now that Gal'Rash realizes the errors of his ways. In captivity, Gal'Rash is forced to face the errors of his ways. Not until now does he realize what terrible deeds he has done upon the elements, and through them, to others.
Suddenly, with Gal'Rash's realization, the elements stopped answering his calls. They no longer wished to be wielded for evil purpose.
Then, Thrall and Grommash broke free the Orc survivors and lead them across the sea. Gal'Rash was stationed with the Warsong Clan in Ashenvale to gather lumber. He thought the forests would bring him calm, to reflect on things. Oh how wrong he was.
When Cenarius came, Grom lead the Warsong and all Orcs under his command, including Gal'Rash, to drink from the blood of Mannoroth. Once again, Gal'Rash fell into a bloodrage more powerful than ever, and even though the elements did no longer answer him, being an accomplished melee fighter he still slew many a Night Elf with his axe.
Suddenly, freed from the blood haze, Gal'Rash comes to his senses. Thrall has freed Grom, and then they both had slain Mannoroth. The Orcish race was finally free of their demonic masters. But while Gal'Rash found comfort in this, little could take away the memories of what he had done. The Draenei children he had slaughtered back on Draenor, the Humans he had ripped apart by bending the elements to his will. The elements were silent. Gal'Rash fell into despair. For his entire life he had asked the spirits for guidance, but with the demon blood craze he had betrayed them. He saw it only fit for them to abandon him... But suddenly a vision came to him of his former apprentice, Arga. Back on Draenor, she had been a young shaman with potential beyond many, yet the invasion of Azeroth had cost her life in the second war. He sees then, in the vision, or maybe it was a memory, as he held her in his arms, and she was dying. She told him then of her son, and how she saw it a duty failed to have died before seeing him grow up. It would seem, what little blood haze she had left in her dying state had left her with the blessing of the elements. In the vision he hears himself say to her then, to never give up, never surrender. Lok'tar Ogar.
The words in the vision come to him like a punch in the face. He decides then that he shall take to exile in the wilds, to mend his broken bond with the spirits, and never to give up hope.
Years passed, and Gal'Rash found no place in Orgrimmar, Durotar, or even Kalimdor. Once the portal reopened, he traveled through it, thinking he would find his old homeland once again, but... Nay. The world had been twisted and destroyed, devestated, obliterated... He realized then that there is much work to be done to mend a broken world.

Through his years of exile and travel, Gal'Rash developed the gift of farseeing. Though at first the change came to him unknowingly, he soon became aware that the elements had rejoined him and that his power had grown ten-fold. He had become a Far Seer, and now travels the broken worlds (both!) in order to make amends with the spirits, calm the elements, and restore what was destroyed by his own race's folly, or Deathwing the Destroyer himself.