Name: Ukhalaag "Stormsnake" Freemaul
Level: 110
Tell us something about your (role)playing experience: I've had a fair amount of RP experience with stuff like DnD and such (playing and hosting), but I've had more limited experience with in game RP. In terms of game experience, I've been playing for at least a decade on and off, and have a huge love for the lore of Warcraft.
And finally, please write a short story and/or (IC) introduction about your character: I have spent a long time clanless, too long truly. The concept of an Orc Mage is usually enough to turn many off from accepting me, it certainly was in the old days. Perhaps you think the same, that it is not the Orc way or that I am as bad as the Warlocks and Dark Shaman. You think I turned my back on the spirits of my ancestors or the Horde by learning the ways of the Arcane? No. I learned of the Arcane before I learned anything of the Horde, or even the ways of the Orcs. I learned it all the way back on Draenor itself, before we even came to Azeroth.
How? Well, I was born a slave to the Gorians, as many were. I grew up in Highmaul in service to an Ogre Sorcerer, a cruel and ambitious beast. I served him closely after he killed my parents for daring to speak out of turn, waiting for a moment to turn on him. It was not until Cho'gall started to gain support amongst the common Ogres of Highmaul for his magical prowress that I finally found my chance. My "master" hated this exiled upstart, and schemed day and night of ways to undermine him. I offered a piece of advice - the Ogres lived with the belief that all other races were lesser than them, and if one of these lesser races were to beat Cho'gall at his own game he would lose all favour. My master liked that plan, and set about it immediately.
I was taught magic and bathed in power until I thought I would die. My body broken, my mind nearly shattered under the weight of the power - but never my spirit. I took the power in, all of it, every piece of knowledge that I could use to throw off my shackles. I knew I would die, but for the sake of my family and pride it was worth it. Before I could do so, however, the Horde made their attack on Highmaul. My master was slaughtered before I could even get close to him. I resented the Orcs for denying me my revenge, and took no part in their new clan. The Shattered Hand were not my clan, and my home in Highmaul was gone. Other clans shunned me, but one group chose to accept me.
Here's where I might lose you, I understand that even mentioning this will turn off even the most patient Orc, but... I served under Gul'dan and his allies.
Now, before we jump to conclusions, I never became a Warlock or touched anything to do with the fel beyond tasting the blood that we all took. I summoned no demons, sacrificed no Dranei. I was looked down upon for it, but it didn't matter, Gul'dan took no interest in turning me. I feel like the power of the Gorian magic I had learned was of much more interest to him than just another Warlock.
No matter. My time with the Gul'dan, and the Stormreaver clan he founded, ended when they attempted to abandon Doomhammers Horde to go searching for their demonic tomb. I took no interest in their prize, and had long ago decided that their way was not aligned with the Horde that I had grown loyal to over the years. It cost me dearly, as I spent years in Human internment camps for my troubles. It was during that time that I saw the best of the Orcs. With no war to fuel them, no hatred or influence of Gul'dan, they returned to their true ways. Shamans and spiritualists accepted me at last. I practiced my magic only in secret, keen not to be shunned again. Clans lost their meaning in the camps for the most part, at least until Thrall and Hellscream led their liberations.
I joined the new Horde and made the trip to Kalimdor, but I must admit I was likely more hinderance than help. I still hid my power and I was no warrior. In the end, I ended up as a hermit and nomad. I loved the Horde and my fellow Orcs, but I had no place amongst them and nothing to offer them. That was until Garrosh nearly destroyed the Horde that I knew and loved, and I returned to the fold. I returned magic in hand to reassert the Orcish ways that I knew and kept to.
Now I come to you, my Orcish friends, to seek a new life. I have returned to the Horde, but I am tired of being the outsider. I hope my story has told you I am no Warlock. I hope you see that I turned my back only on the dishonourable or the oppressive and tried to be a good Orc. Perhaps you cannot, but you would be willing to help me find the way that was taken from me by the Ogres.
Or perhaps this Orc has simply rambled for far too long. People rarely show an interest beyond wanting some fast travel!
Level: 110
Tell us something about your (role)playing experience: I've had a fair amount of RP experience with stuff like DnD and such (playing and hosting), but I've had more limited experience with in game RP. In terms of game experience, I've been playing for at least a decade on and off, and have a huge love for the lore of Warcraft.
And finally, please write a short story and/or (IC) introduction about your character: I have spent a long time clanless, too long truly. The concept of an Orc Mage is usually enough to turn many off from accepting me, it certainly was in the old days. Perhaps you think the same, that it is not the Orc way or that I am as bad as the Warlocks and Dark Shaman. You think I turned my back on the spirits of my ancestors or the Horde by learning the ways of the Arcane? No. I learned of the Arcane before I learned anything of the Horde, or even the ways of the Orcs. I learned it all the way back on Draenor itself, before we even came to Azeroth.
How? Well, I was born a slave to the Gorians, as many were. I grew up in Highmaul in service to an Ogre Sorcerer, a cruel and ambitious beast. I served him closely after he killed my parents for daring to speak out of turn, waiting for a moment to turn on him. It was not until Cho'gall started to gain support amongst the common Ogres of Highmaul for his magical prowress that I finally found my chance. My "master" hated this exiled upstart, and schemed day and night of ways to undermine him. I offered a piece of advice - the Ogres lived with the belief that all other races were lesser than them, and if one of these lesser races were to beat Cho'gall at his own game he would lose all favour. My master liked that plan, and set about it immediately.
I was taught magic and bathed in power until I thought I would die. My body broken, my mind nearly shattered under the weight of the power - but never my spirit. I took the power in, all of it, every piece of knowledge that I could use to throw off my shackles. I knew I would die, but for the sake of my family and pride it was worth it. Before I could do so, however, the Horde made their attack on Highmaul. My master was slaughtered before I could even get close to him. I resented the Orcs for denying me my revenge, and took no part in their new clan. The Shattered Hand were not my clan, and my home in Highmaul was gone. Other clans shunned me, but one group chose to accept me.
Here's where I might lose you, I understand that even mentioning this will turn off even the most patient Orc, but... I served under Gul'dan and his allies.
Now, before we jump to conclusions, I never became a Warlock or touched anything to do with the fel beyond tasting the blood that we all took. I summoned no demons, sacrificed no Dranei. I was looked down upon for it, but it didn't matter, Gul'dan took no interest in turning me. I feel like the power of the Gorian magic I had learned was of much more interest to him than just another Warlock.
No matter. My time with the Gul'dan, and the Stormreaver clan he founded, ended when they attempted to abandon Doomhammers Horde to go searching for their demonic tomb. I took no interest in their prize, and had long ago decided that their way was not aligned with the Horde that I had grown loyal to over the years. It cost me dearly, as I spent years in Human internment camps for my troubles. It was during that time that I saw the best of the Orcs. With no war to fuel them, no hatred or influence of Gul'dan, they returned to their true ways. Shamans and spiritualists accepted me at last. I practiced my magic only in secret, keen not to be shunned again. Clans lost their meaning in the camps for the most part, at least until Thrall and Hellscream led their liberations.
I joined the new Horde and made the trip to Kalimdor, but I must admit I was likely more hinderance than help. I still hid my power and I was no warrior. In the end, I ended up as a hermit and nomad. I loved the Horde and my fellow Orcs, but I had no place amongst them and nothing to offer them. That was until Garrosh nearly destroyed the Horde that I knew and loved, and I returned to the fold. I returned magic in hand to reassert the Orcish ways that I knew and kept to.
Now I come to you, my Orcish friends, to seek a new life. I have returned to the Horde, but I am tired of being the outsider. I hope my story has told you I am no Warlock. I hope you see that I turned my back only on the dishonourable or the oppressive and tried to be a good Orc. Perhaps you cannot, but you would be willing to help me find the way that was taken from me by the Ogres.
Or perhaps this Orc has simply rambled for far too long. People rarely show an interest beyond wanting some fast travel!