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Thank you for all your kind words, I shall be honest, my times in DRS and Dark Sphere were short, but enjoyable and shaped my idea of WoW roleplaying ( Every evil cult needs it's stooges after all ) And I have felt a massive pull towards the Guild-focused roleplaying in years.

BFA seemed like the perfect catalyst to try out a very Honour-Bound Orc, One who is very Warcraft 3, if you get my meaning 

I'd be happy to roll on down to Silverpine Forest and introduce myself, following your Drums of War stories does give me a fantastic reason to do so.

[Name:]

Name: Kor Windsnarl (Windsnarl on AD)
Level: 110

Tell us something about your (role)playing experience: I've been roleplaying almost as long as I have been on WoW. I cut my teeth in roleplaying on AD, then I transfered to Defias Brotherhood. There I sort of flittered about guilds as I rapidly created characters on Alliance while trying to take part in as many events as possible, from Dwarven Rifle Squad to the Dark Sphere., around the end of WotLK I stopped playing and moved on, namely to PnP roleplaying with IRL friends. Sadly I don't even remember half my characters for they were so short lived, but the experience of all the events as soaked in ( I hope )

I saw your old Guild tag and it got me nostalgic, so I race changed my Dwarf Shaman to Orc and wanted to catapult myself over here, especially after reading a backlog of the story posts by Kozgugore.

And finally, please write a short story and/or (IC) introduction about your character: ( please excuse any grammatical errors, I am not the most deft of writer, especially on forums. )

I am the Thunder Wolf, and He is me.

The wind howled furiously around the bluffs of Orgrimmar, sending red dust in cyclones across the crags. Sat passively atop one of the apexes was a lone orc, a thick wolfen hide draped across proud shoulders. beside the Orc sat a brazier of dark scorched brass, filled with burning embers. The orc sat in repose, rigid, as if alert for any danger, the wolfhead focused intently on the flames as they danced in their container as to divine some truth from them. This would be a correct assumption, for the Shaman was looking to the flames for clarity, not for the future as some may try, but to reflect on the past. Kor Windsnarl, The Thunderwolf as he would be called, Was a Warcaller of the Warsong clan. No healer or prophet, he was a living pillar of elemental strength, a fist of the Ancients. He would cry to the storm and it would answer. But now he stares at the fire, pondering on his life.

It was not a long one, not like the Overlords, but it was eventful. Born into the Warsong clan as they evaded capture, he grew up a Bandit and a renegade like all of his clan, He cut his teeth taking down human patrols and hunting game in the rugged lordaeron highlands. When Thrall came, he sensed a kindred spirit, one who's path would bring his own into being. Kor did not know Thrall personally of course, but the Warrior-Shaman's ideals echoed deeply within Kor, he fought all the harder for this new Horde. Kor wet his blade on the grasslands of the Barrens, in the boughs of ashenvale and even on the slopes of mount Hyjal, following his Warchief, his Clan and his instincts to battle. When the realm of Durotar was founded, Kor learned Shamanism, for the spirituality Thrall ushered called to Kor as readily as the call to battle. Quickly Kor learned of the Storm, the heavenly force of Lightning and rain. Swift and strong, the Storm was the favoured aspect of Kor, and he earned the name Windsnarl for his quick tongue and quicker blades. It was this time when the fledgling horde was taking it's steps, did Kor meet his Spirit companion, the Thunder Wolf. A caparious Storm Spirit, the Thunder Wolf takes the aspect of a spectral beast with static sparks dancing among it's fur and a howl of thunder. With Spirit and Axe, Kor took out into the fringes of the Horde to fight as a Paragon of the ideals it had come to represent.

Windsnarl was there to fight back the Insectoid Horde of Silithis, He was there to cast down the floating Necropoli of the Scourge, He wandered across Outland and Northrend. His ideals have never flinched, his pillars of Strength, Honour and Spirituality never wavering. Even when Thrall left to don the mantle of the World Shaman, Windsnarl has stood, never compromising even as brother turned against brother.

So he sits now, staring into the embers for clarity, once more the War Drums have echoed out, the Alliance, the honoured enemy, strikes back after a blow has been dealt by the Horde, and although doubt creeps across his soul, Windsnarl looks to the elements to answer, for he does not wish to see his ideals bent once more.  The Thunder Wolf howls at his back once more, and he feels the tug of the spirits at his chest.