Name: Jar'nakh
Class: Warlock
Level: Leveling. Most likely, will boost to lvl 90.
Tell us something about your (role)playing experience:
Been role-playing a Dark Iron dwarf in the TTH for more than a year. Experienced RP'er and mostly always IC in-game.
IC introduction about your character:
Valiantly shrugging and wiping at his robes in an attempt to dust off the ashes clinging to him, a lone dwarf stumbles out of Blackrock Mountain, coughing and spitting out dust from his mouth onto the red soil under his tired feet. Glancing back over his left shoulder, his gaze falls on the gates to the mountain before he turns and trudges down the winding path, clutching tightly at a satchel extracted from within his robes.
Limping ferociously down the curved stone path towards the mountain gates, Jar'nakh ignores the profusely bleeding and darkening blood from his disfigured burnt left arm. Reaching the gates, his body battered and screaming in pain, he falls to his knees, head bowed, clutching at his arm. Hideous rage in his young Orcish blood, Jar'nakh, out of breath and heaving, summons all his strength to look up across the shadows of the gates, blood spewing from his mouth. His eyes fixated on the running dwarf.
"Urrrrggggghhhh!", Jar'nakh hisses in burgeoning pain.
"In … In time, Gimzad", he spits. "Our paths shall crossâ€, he swears harshly.
Peering at the disappearing dwarf form, Jar'nakh seems to collapse, as if in slow motion. His last thoughts are of his young bride being hurled across the chasm into the disappearing darkness below, screeching his name.
<<15 years laters>>
A grey haired Orc, both arms completely marked in fierce tattoos, limps across the cobbled and broken stone pathway into Orgrimmar. At his shoulder, a black raven flaps its wings, keeping in tow with the Orc. A low hoarse grunt, with every step, Jar’nakh, walks towards the Valley of Wisdom.
Now, a successful merchant by trade, Jar’nakh spends most of time travelling to different trading posts across Azeroth. Away from peering eyes, he continues in the practice of dark magic. No longer an apprentice, Jar'nakh is a battle-hardened warlock and spends his free time to master and refine his skills in fel magic; in preparation for when his path crosses with his sworn foe.
Making new connections, building new relationships in his travels, his ears ache for any whispers leading to the Dark Iron dwarf . The very thought of him bringing stinging pangs of hate, anger and brooding to his being.
Class: Warlock
Level: Leveling. Most likely, will boost to lvl 90.
Tell us something about your (role)playing experience:
Been role-playing a Dark Iron dwarf in the TTH for more than a year. Experienced RP'er and mostly always IC in-game.
IC introduction about your character:
Valiantly shrugging and wiping at his robes in an attempt to dust off the ashes clinging to him, a lone dwarf stumbles out of Blackrock Mountain, coughing and spitting out dust from his mouth onto the red soil under his tired feet. Glancing back over his left shoulder, his gaze falls on the gates to the mountain before he turns and trudges down the winding path, clutching tightly at a satchel extracted from within his robes.
Limping ferociously down the curved stone path towards the mountain gates, Jar'nakh ignores the profusely bleeding and darkening blood from his disfigured burnt left arm. Reaching the gates, his body battered and screaming in pain, he falls to his knees, head bowed, clutching at his arm. Hideous rage in his young Orcish blood, Jar'nakh, out of breath and heaving, summons all his strength to look up across the shadows of the gates, blood spewing from his mouth. His eyes fixated on the running dwarf.
"Urrrrggggghhhh!", Jar'nakh hisses in burgeoning pain.
"In … In time, Gimzad", he spits. "Our paths shall crossâ€, he swears harshly.
Peering at the disappearing dwarf form, Jar'nakh seems to collapse, as if in slow motion. His last thoughts are of his young bride being hurled across the chasm into the disappearing darkness below, screeching his name.
<<15 years laters>>
A grey haired Orc, both arms completely marked in fierce tattoos, limps across the cobbled and broken stone pathway into Orgrimmar. At his shoulder, a black raven flaps its wings, keeping in tow with the Orc. A low hoarse grunt, with every step, Jar’nakh, walks towards the Valley of Wisdom.
Now, a successful merchant by trade, Jar’nakh spends most of time travelling to different trading posts across Azeroth. Away from peering eyes, he continues in the practice of dark magic. No longer an apprentice, Jar'nakh is a battle-hardened warlock and spends his free time to master and refine his skills in fel magic; in preparation for when his path crosses with his sworn foe.
Making new connections, building new relationships in his travels, his ears ache for any whispers leading to the Dark Iron dwarf . The very thought of him bringing stinging pangs of hate, anger and brooding to his being.