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Name: Gorr “Brighteye” Grimwolf (In-Game: Gorrulk)
Level: 120

Roleplaying Experience:

I've been roleplaying now in one form or other for like, 15 years. Started off on a Lord of the Rings forum, and since then done various MMO's, tabletop, spent about a year doing LARP, you name it I've probably attempted it (within reason...). A few years back, before taking an extended break from WoW roleplay, I was a member of this here fine guild over on Defias. Most recently I've been part of a year long D&D campaign set in Azeroth, playing as Gorr. But the new(ish) expansion dragged me back, and with all the changes in real life over the past few years, I'm finally at a place where I have the time to dedicate to WoW RP again.

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

(Sorry for the poor formatting/wording. This is a badly transcribed version of the events of Gorr retiring from our TT campaign.)

"For the three weeks, we had been waiting on an alliance supply caravan that was reported t' be carrying Azerite weapons to the frontlines, wherever they was. Nothing new, we'd been raiding these things ever since they started shipping 'em."

The old Orc swigs off the last of his drink and waves his empty mug at the bartender.

"This one though, this one never seemed right. No word on what sort of troops t' expect, only a rough idea of what path they would be taking... Needless t' say, it felt dodgy."

Taking his refilled drink, the Orc lifts his hood slightly, revealing a fresh cut running down from his scalp along his face.

"We were set up t' fail. Easily three of 'em for every one of us - it really was glorious! Rek raised 'em back as they fell, Kagh was like an elemental unleashed..."

He laughs, and wipes his palm against his left eye absentmindedly, lost in the moment for a second. Reaching into a pouch on his belt, the Orc pulls out several small, metal Insignia, and drops them infront of him on the bar.

"None of 'em made it, not a damned one. Not even the grukkin' Death Knight! And I know they died well, but.. They were all I had. That, and this swill!"

He slams his drink down on the bar, scattering the metal disks across the floor. With a sigh, he turns to look at the Orc sat beside him.

"I can't do it any more, Murse. I jus'can't. I need t' belong to somethin' again. And this ain't it.”

The orc sits up in bed, and looks around. The tavern is dark, and aside from the goblin sleeping by the entrance, empty. Shuffling around, he leans back against the wall. Despite what the troll Barkeep had said, the beds were anything but excellent and comftable. Atleast it was warmer than the outpost.
For three nights sleep had eluded him - instead of dreams of glory, his head was filled with thoughts of the past few weeks. Even the drink refuses to grant him the darkness he desires, instead just seeming to make each thought and memory hurt like an arrow through flesh.

"He talks like a knight, he acts like a knight. Almost like a paladin."

He blinks, starring into the darkness. His mouth forms a slight snarl, though he stays silent.

"They speak not of your grimness, but of your song. You are an orc of old, part of something that died out of the hands of those careless, those led into darkness. We miss you, brother, and would wish that you leave your shame behind, and join us once more."

"His song."

The orc laughs, the sound echoing into the night. His song was one of cowardice, dishonor and lies. He carries his shame, displays it for all to know, if they took the time to care.

"You have a family, your tribe. Why not ask for help, rather than running off alone? Would you leave me fatherless again?"

No, he would not. He would stay around, even if it meant standing in shadows, and watching from the darkness. He had told the pup he needed to find his own path, but he can see it already. And he will take his first steps on this path, even if it means sacrificing he believes in. But first, he will have to get help, sort out the mess he has found himself in. Help, but not from his family, his tribe. They could not help him now. He needs to look elsewhere, and he knows just where to start.

Reaching into the darkness, the orc takes hold of a bottle, left by one of his tribe, one of the few who mattered, and pops the cork.

"Enjoy.."

He will.



OOC: Just a quick IC reasoning behind Grim not being around for many events, and not staying from start -> finish on others for the next couple of days, possibly weeks. Got some new late shifts, so Im not sure how much time I'll be able to spend on WoW after about 6pm. Sorry for my poor story writing skills, meant this to be more of an Explanation then a "Omg, Storeee!"

Just wondering, seen as how I just hit 43, and quickly closing on 45, and every group I've been with so far has either had a rogue or a feral Druid naffing it.. Anyway, Just wondering if anyone would be able to help me with a few runs into ZF to grab myself a nice Carved out dead wolf's head, so i can fit in and look more as-one with the tribe 

If not for me... *Plays Solemn music like in some Presidential election advert* ...Do it for the tribe.

Yeh, im going on holiday for two week starting tonight, just thought i'd let you all know i havent abandoned you over the holidays or anything... Not like i would  But i'll still be at the tribe meeting, I asked the nice people im staying with if i Can borrow their computer for that one, im sure they wont mind me installing WoW to do it 

Anyone know if a DB version of this is taking place?
http://forums.wow-europe.com/thread.html?topicId=1905701960&sid=1&pageNo=1
Saw it on the Wow-europe community thingy and seems it happening on other servers, wondering if its happening on ours, couldnt see any mention of it, or if i'm just gonna have to alt up and dive into some other servers battle 

(( Little story i wrote when wandering around Orgrimmar on Kagh (My cousins orci) Cause my Paid time is up on Grimwolf.))

The wolf sat by the aged orc, just outside of Orgrimmar, and looked about himself. Fighting. Even in supposed times of piece, among supposed allies there was conflict. "Again?" a tall troll wearing heavy plate asked, whiping some blood from his tusk, and flexing his arm as the nearby shaman worked his wonders. "No, You noob..." The wolf let out what could of been a sigh, and wandered through the great gates of the warrior city. "Orcs these days," he thought "Making up stupid words, jumping around like..." the wolf stopped, his ears pinning back against his head, and with a small flash the wolf was gone, an Orc standing in its place. "Much better.." Kagh muttered, and continued towards his destination - the roaring fires and loud conversations of Morag's place.

Later that night, in a inn far from Orgrimmar, with alot quieter patrons but roaring fires all the same, Gorr laughed. He also looked around himself. Flames. Even in these times of relative peace, in lands only partly owned by the horde, he could Stir up trouble. The recently burnt inn on the borders of the Barrens burnt brightly once again, and soon the Theramore guards would come awandering. Everything was beginning to fall into place.

((Its not done like, but my Temazepan is kicking in, and if i don't wander off to bed soon i'll most likely pass out on me keyboard.))