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1

The Campfire / A plan of action

« on: February 10, 2021, 06:35:41 PM »

The following is scribbled down in black ink inside Draz'hul's personal notebook.

Step 1: Aquire knowledge.

This realm holds many a creature whom are closely familiar with necromancy and spirits, perhaps they could be of use. Perhaps they have written tomes on it as well. Might aid in the ritual to free the spirit, or help with locating the staff.

Step 2: Aquire power.
Crude but neccesary. Can't pinpoint the staff with regular scrying. In need of more power or powerful spells, either works. Could sollicit help from the clan but might risk too many questions concerning the nature of my search and actions.

Step 3: locate and retrieve the staff.
Self explanatory.

Step 4: Free the spirit.
If the plan works out there'd be enough magical power and knowledge to safely extract the spirit from the staff, thus releasing it from it's prison. Help might be needed, may lead to being scrutinized by the clan.

Step 5: Free him.
A reluctant step, even with my own emotions set aside. Subject has vowed to kill me and hurt Bashul, several times. Proclaimed to kill Bashul before he was trapped. Will be troublesome, subject is hostile and can't count on clan support due to the nature of it's capture, even if capturing it was a accidental result of purging Bashul's lantern.

Risks

• Clears conscience but might incur severe punishments for breaking of clan rules.
• Might incur resentment with Bashul towards myself, I fear this the most.
• Hostile spirit might try and enact revenge towards me, I deem this unavoidable.
• Might get exiled as punishment, a fair and harsh punishment I hope to avoid.

Final thoughts:

I promised my parents to find Ralka and reunite her with them, therefore I have to do whatever it takes to do so. Freeing Gun'garom can prove dangerous, he might try to posses Bashul once more, a fate I'd rather spare her from by keeping him chained in the orb. Though, with the proper ritual that can be prevented. Regardless, I have decided to free his insidious spirit and face my highly probable punishment. I should talk to Bashul about all of this, difficult as it may be.

2

The Campfire / Shadows of Hope

« on: September 22, 2020, 01:14:53 AM »

The regular quiet atmosphere of Garadar returned as visitors, guests and all others who came to celebrate Kosh'harg slowly left, all turning their attention back to their own devices. Draz'hul had isolated himself after the closing ceremony. The seclusive Shadowmoon spent the next few hours quietly reading near the hut he had been sharing with Bashul. The two lovebirds made small talk for a little while and as she went to bed he mentioned that he'd come later, he wasn't tired yet. And thus his quiet and perhaps boring evening continued. There was little to be heard besides gusts of wind and the turning of the pages as night continued to fall. It wasn't until a few more hours that he'd start showing signs of movement again. Quietly he made his way to the furs, placing a few of his belongings in his travelbag. He weighed the marks he got from Bloodmoon in his hand before leaving them at the furs. The Clan wasn't likely to be noisy during the night, but they could be unpredictable, besides, he would want some resemblance of privacy tonight. 
The wind was moderately strong as it blew across the great plains of Nagrand, nothing impeding it's path save for a few trees and a cloaked orc travelling down the road. The clan had visited Oshu'gun during the past Kosh'harg, many had come to pay their respects to the spirits, their ancestors and Orcish customs as a whole. Draz'hul was one of them, partly to pay his own respects and partly to support Bashul. He offered a modest little offering to the spirits, his mind was a little preoccupied that night however. Spurred by his love for Bashul he decided that he'd ask her to become his life-mate that very same night. The proposal could have gone... smoother. For an Orc who was once known as 'Darktongue' he didn't seem that fluid speaking, his nerves were through the roof and part of him felt like a meek young pup, despite all of this however he still managed to properly ask her. She said yes and his heart made little jumps of joy, something he never quite imagined or experienced before. An unusual sense of warmth and comfort wrapped over him as he helped Bashul with the necklace. The necklace itself featured a piece of black ivory as the cornerstone, it was made in traditional Shadowmoon fashion and would aid as a conduit when communing with the spirits. Furthermore it had several runes inscribed in it, depending from what angle one would look at it one could see words like ''Destiny, Moon, Love.'' and more sappy natured words seemingly unfit for Draz'hul's vocabulary, naturally one of the runes also included his name. As a finishing touch he made sure to enchant the necklace with a ward against Void magic, just in case.

The future looks rather rosy right now, but he understood that things weren't always easy, or simple. One of the things that will be needed is a blessing from the spirits, for that reason he is travelling to Oshu'gun once more, hoping to see if there's anything he can do about that hurdle. There are all kinds of questions floating in Draz'hul's mind. Where are the spirits of his parents and sister? Would they answer? Would they forgive him? And there was still the case of Gun'garom, Bashul's father who had been partially locked in his mind as well as a small soulprison. He didn't intend to capture and hold him. Bashul's lantern, and later she herself were possessed by him, in a desperate attempt to save her he confronted her vengeful father in the inside of her mind. Through a gamble he managed to extract him and he didn't quite know what to do with him now. He didn't dare ask one of the Orcs for a fear of being exiled, or worse. He was reluctant to release him, as Gun'garom had tried to kill him twice before, as well as threatened to kill Bashul. Draz'hul shook his head as he crossed one of the bridges over Nagrand's chasms. He had been scouring through tomes to see if there wasn't a way to release Gun'garom and send him to the afterlife in a way that didn't leave his spirit lingering on Azeroth to exact it's revenge. The more he thought about it the murkier the situation became. He'd find a way to deal with it, first he had to deal with his own ancestors. 

A nervous tingle crept up his spine as he got closer to the holy mountain. Would the spirits welcome him? They didn't reject him a few days ago but considering his nature and past actions he couldn't help but to fear of rejection. He eventually made his way down into the passageways, continuing his path deeper into Oshu'gun. It was different yet eerily similar to the one on his Draenor. He hadn't visited the place for years, at least not until this past Kosh'harg for the reason as to why he hadn't even attempted to contact the spirits since turning to the Void. Fear, fear of being spat out, fear of being judged and fear of being rejected. Draz'hul lowered himself as he finally settled on a place to make his offerings. He laid out a pair of ivory idols, a star-map, a braid of talbuk hair and some incense. Resting on his knees he lowered his head, nearly touching the cold ground as he does so.
There wasn't anything as he said his prayers. For the first time since being a child he could feel tears well up in his eyes. His quiet sobbing eventually made way to genuine crying. He couldn't remember ever feeling this empty, hopeless even. Would there never be any redemption for him? The images in his head played over and over again, like a nightmare he couldn't wake from. He clutched at his temple as he witnessed the death of his sister, followed by his parents. They kept repeating and it broke his heart ever time. The guilt flooding his soul was overwhelming, the often malignant voices in his head were louder than they had been in months, they taunted him, blamed him.  He had to go, leave this place. He wasn't welcome. He tried to move but his legs felt like putty, he tripped. Draz'hul, who always carried himself with a certain air of strength, stoicism and even arrogance was now curling up on the cold ground like a scared whelp.

''Draz'hul.''

A faint voice pierced his veil of self-hatred and sorrow. He glanced up, disoriented as he tried to place the voice. It sounded vaguely familiar. Did Bashul follow him? Impossible, she was out cold, in fact the voice sounded much older. As his eyes darted across the room he lingered upon a blurry image of two Orcs, their incorporeal forms hovered above the ground. Draz'hul rubbed his eyes to make sure it wasn't his imagination. His father and mother were right in front of him. Why? After all he's done.. The Void is playing tricks on him surely! Ever trying to make him falter, to make him mad once more.

''Don't look so troubled, have we not lectured you about how to speak to the ancestors?'' his father said. ''I'd expect the son of Tar'nesh Soulmirror to know his rites.'' his mother added. They both had a smirk on their lips, not unlike the one Draz'hul would flaunt whilst being a wiseass.

''I don't understand.. I'm not deserving..''
The spirit of his father offered a meek smile before speaking. ''My son, it's true that you have made mistakes, both large and small. But we see your regret, your will to balance things out. We admire that, we still love you.''

Draz'hul stared at the two with awe. ''But because of me you're..'' he swallowed the enormous lump in his throat. ''..dead.'' He'd then avert his gaze once more, shame swelling in his heart.
''We never blamed you.'' his mother replied. ''In fact, you made the right choice. If you didn't do it they'd have killed you instead, and your father and I would've lost both our children. I would have blamed you for that, such a fate is much worse than what happened to us.''

Draz'hul nodded meekly, her words somehow made sense. He considered the consequences of refusing at the time but he never truly tried to look at it from their perspective. ''But what about Ralka?'' His father tilted his head with a puzzled gaze. ''I do not mean this in a demeaning way, but what would you have done against an Arakkoa raid? Sure you'd have taken down a few of those feathered beasts, but you would have perished as well.'' his father's spirit gestured for Draz'hul to stand once more. ''It is time for you to stop with the self pity, you're stronger than that, you're our son after all.'' 

Draz'hul rose to his feet and nodded, his body felt tired from his outburst earlier but it felt like the weight of the entire universe had fallen off his shoulders. His parents didn't hate him, there was still hope for someone like him. His mind raced at this sudden influx of positive emotions, but there was one question gnawing at his rapidly improving mood. ''Where.. where is Ralka?'' 
The spirits of his parents both offered an apologetic smile. ''We don't know.. for sure.'' his mother replied. ''We think she might not have crossed the veil, and is still lingering somewhere. Don't panic, we don't believe she's on our Draenor.'' added his father.
Draz'hul did consider her still being at 'home' which would have been problematic. ''..We can do little to find her spirit, but you can. We are happy to finally faced your past and came to us, we have waited long to ask this of you.'' his mother offered a warm and pleading smile after speaking. ''Find Ralka and grant her peace.''

''I-I will. I'll do everything I can to find her, this I vow.'' replied Draz'hul. He steeled his gaze and nodded firmly. He could ask Bashul if she knows anything about finding lost spirits, perhaps Vexri could be of help as well and if she couldn't be there's always still Meri and Bloodmoon. There ought to be enough spiritually inclined Orcs in the clan to get some pointers or answers from. ''Thank you for everything, I can’t express how much I owe to you both. I will do my best to find her and honour you.'' with that said Draz'hul respectfully bowed and started to leave.

As the spirits of his parents started to leave he could hear his mother leave a final message. ''We look forward to meeting your future mate.'' the words were followed by a faint giggle. They were enough however to invoke a light blush on Draz'hul's cheeks.

3

Red Blade Records / Nrak Ashmaw

« on: September 14, 2020, 02:27:54 AM »

Name: Nrak Ashmaw
Alias: Nrak, Burnedbub, Charredchump, Grilledgrin, Flamedface. Slayer
Rank: Lazy new blood

Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Clan: Dragonmaw
Class: Marauder. Dragon-less Dragonrider. Alcoholic.
Alignment: Chaotic Good/Neutral depending on drunkenness.

Family:

Father: Tarosh Bloodbane, also known as Tarosh Drakebane. Veteran of the first and second war, the siege of Shattrath and Kargath's genocide of the Arrakoa. Slayer of the Spires, Horror of the Highlands. Died in the battle of Grim Batol.

Mother: Shuk'la Ruinbringer, prized mate of Tarosh. Said to bring bad luck to her suitors, hence her 'honour'-name. Talented young warrior, killed by falling debree during the battle of Grim Batol.

Known Friends: A bottle of alcohol, Cripple.
Known Enemies: Hangovers.


Appearance:

Nrak was tall for an Orc, he has a muscular, hulking appearance. The ash-skinned Orc was covered from head to toe in a plethora of scars, cuts, scratches and even old bite-wounds. They littered almost everywhere on his body.

He probably wasn't considered good looking by most. The rough exterior of the Orc was etched across his entire physique. An almost permanent scowl marked his face and his skin was equally scarred there. A large burnmark covered his neck and predominately his lower jaw, engulfing it almost completely. Claw marks are etched into his face, barely missing his right eye and his left ear is partially missing.

On his back was a large red-coloured tattoo of the Dragonmaw clan, a traditional tattoo for those who've come of age. Around his neck hangs a simple necklace adorned with dragon teeth.

He stands at about 7'5' tall.


Personality:

Nrak comes across as easy going, uncommited and sometimes even uncaring. His only hobbies seem to be drinking, fighting and drinking some more. Drowning his true feelings and thoughts with copious amounts of alcohol. He enjoys teasing and flirting with women and will often make fun of everyone, himself most of all.

Whilst he enjoys drinking with others he mostly copes with his feelings by drowning his sorrows. Often sleeping trough entire days due to his bad hangovers, unable to soberly face his personal demons.

History:

Nrak grew up as the only child to Tarosh and Shuk'la, his mother was barely an adult when he was conceived and died only a few years later during the Battle of Grim Batol. He has few memories of his parents, but remembers his Father as a mountain of a man, he was loud, strict and in Nrak's eyes the strongest man alive. His mother was much younger than her mate but was regarded as stronger than many a man of the clan. A true Orcish beauty though he can't quite recall her appearance as much as he'd want.

Nrak was raised in the Highlands after the death of his Parents at Grim Batol. He was among the few of the clan who evaded capture and thus lived freely in the hills. Without parents Nrak's upbringing was generic, he did the same things week after week, month after month, year after year. Train, hunt, train, work. Anything to earn his keep and the elders' time. Grew up a fine young warrior, strong like his father. Some thought he even inherited his mother's good looks. Over the years scars and wounds slowly chipped away at his young unblemished physique. The lower half of his face got burned and scarred during his Om'riggor.
The drake's fire had left it's everlasting mark. Though older now. He'd always relive the hunt in his dreams, the pain, the smell of burnt flesh.. and the glory of his kill.

Eventually Nrak become one of the Dragonrider, like his father before him. A proud moment in his life, he was content for those years and was eager to join the Horde when Garrosh Hellscream came to the Highlands. As Garrosh went overboard in his ideology he found it worrying that Zaela seemed to join him on the path. Whilst Nrak felt that he should honor his clan he didn't think his parents died all those years ago just to see the clan kill themselves over a Madman and his equally madwoman who followed blindly.  Nrak however followed his orders and did as he was told, he even joined the Kor'kron, in fact.

But even the most loyal of dogs can break free from blind obedience. As the Horde plunged into rebellion. ''Warlord'' Zaela sticked with the Warchief. Nrak deserted from the Kor'kron, distanced himself from the clan and joined the rebellion, helping overthrow the Warchief. The Dragonmaw clan endured and the 'new' chieftain kept their pledge to the Horde. Nrak worked as a horde aligned mercenary for a while before eventually coming across the Red Blades in Nagrand

4

The Campfire / Sins in the Shadows

« on: August 18, 2020, 03:06:55 PM »

The water shimmered in the pale light of the moon, a lone orc sat upon the shore and idly peered at a silver orb hovering above his palm. The orb brimmed and shook with magic, it's inhabitant never accepting it's fate. Despite being quite used to malignant presences haunting his thoughts he couldn't deny the inhabitant of the orb was especially draining. It was the reason he took an absence from the clan and Bashul. He had to deal with this, but first he had to get a grip on himself. He had been alone for several weeks now, alone with his thoughts and his inner demons. Free to rebuild the mental wards that shattered weeks ago. The process was tiring, agonizing and almost maddening. They were strong enough now, perhaps, not as strong as he'd like but it'd have to do. He fashioned himself a loner but truth be told he could not bear to be away from his love for much longer.

Draz'hul took a deep breath and steeled himself, shadowflame flickered off his body as he opened a way into the orb. In the pitch black of the orb stood a single orc. He could feel the orc's hatred for him in the very air, it swirled around like a stormcloud. He approached the figure slowly, until they stood face to face.
''Finally found the courage to face me, Darktongue?''  the imprisoned spirit almost spat out the words, it's very presence antagonized Draz'hul.
''It's Dusklight, I gave up that name.''
A hollow laugh preceded it's response. ''Abandoned? You're that ashamed of your past, do you have no sense of pride, -Darktongue-?''

The mocking tone stung Draz'hul who sneered back. ''Like you? What pride is there in being a kinslayer?'' he realized his mistake as the words left his mouth.
''Hrah! How rich coming from you!'' the spirit cackled, it even seemed to be in a good mood now it's winning the little interactions with his jailer.
''Didn't you let your sister die? Didn't you give up your parents to die? I think I even saw you-'' 
''You know nothing!'' Draz'hul yelled out in anger.
''I was there! You keep forgetting -Darktongue- I. Was. There. I -know- the truth.'' the spirit leaned closer, a grin on it's lips.
''And sooner or later she'll learn too, and then what? You'll be alone Darktongue, you can't hide your true self forever, they'll see you for the monster you are, they'll see..''
Draz'hul swiped his hand towards the spirit but it dashed backwards with a mocking laugh.
''Tssk.. too easy. You're worse than me, the Light will tear you apart at the end, a fitting end for void-worshipping mongrel Hra-Guk!'' it's laughter stifled as magical chains wrapped around its neck. 

''You're forgetting your place, Gun'garom. I could send your spirit to the ancestors whenever I want.. But I won't give you that. I think I'll keep you and your damned Light here forever, lament away in your crystal prison, to be forgotten as the eons pass. Yes, that is a fitting punishment for your crimes. She'll be free of you, forever.''
The shadows around Draz'hul swirled and hid his entire being, save for the crude white skull on his face.
''Your father was a great man, your daughter a great woman.. you however? A speck of dirt on their bloodline. Unlike you I will repent for my sins, I will accept the ancestor's judgement when I die. I won't try to possess my own kin.'' 
Draz'hul moved backwards, gliding through the shadows towards the portal he created.
''The truth.. only we know it, and nobody else. Not Bashul, not even Vexri. But if you want the truth, I'll tell her myself, about me, about you, about everything.. Enjoy your prison Gun'garom, you'll be here for eternity.'' 

Draz'hul opened his eyes and found himself upon the waterside once more. The orb still levitated above his palm, he dispelled the magic and it dropped into his hand. The Light magic of Gun'garom sent a searing sensation through his arm, yet he gripped it tightly before putting it back into a locked box in his travelbag. He looked upon the moon with a weary smile.
''Perhaps I'll never be able to repent for my actions, but I'll be damned if I stop trying.''

5

Red Blade Records / Draz'hul

« on: November 07, 2019, 06:44:32 PM »

Name: Draz'hul Dusklight
Alias: Draz
Rank: Gul'thauk.

Age: 33
Gender: Male
Race: Mag'har
Clan: Shadowmoon (AU)
Class: Darkcaster
Alignment: Chaotic Good or Chaotic Neutral.

Family:

• Father: Tar'nesh
• Mother: Zarka
• Sister: Ralka

Known Friends: Vexri, Bashul, is on friendly terms with all the Orcs as of writing.
Known Enemies: None as of writing
Known Lovers: Bashul Starsong.

Appearance:

Draz'hul often looks weary, a little ragged and tired. His height is about average for an Orc, but compared to most he stood at a slimmer frame. The most notable thing about his appearance is the white-skull tattoo that covers his face. Partly for style, partly because he admired his former chieftain. He doesn't like wearing a shirt and is often seen wearing only a kilt and a belt to keep it in place. From his neck hangs an ivory idol fashioned in traditional shadowmoon style. The necklace it's self is a leatherstrap adorned with teeth. From his belt he keeps a few pouches and a bag, the bag itself is stuffed with scrolls and parchments. His staff is adorned with a skull and several bones hang from the ornament.

Ever since the clan's last return from the Kosh'harg he's had clear scorched skin on his neck. It doesn't look to be from natural fire, but magical in nature. It's pattern resembles two hands trying to choke him.


Personality:
Draz'hul has a rather closed personality. He doesn't seem overtly social and he isn't the most talkative of Orcs, preferring to listen to others instead. He isn't however introverted or opposed to chatting with Orcs, he can and will whenever he feels like it. He just comes across as a quiet Orc.

Other than that he doesn't get riled often, can come across as a little apathic and mostly occupies himself with scrolls, books, parchments and whatever else he can read. He is a bit of a bookworm. He can however be quite impulsive and enjoys challenging himself. He is also a bit of a showoff and can be quite sure of himself, sometimes a little -too- sure.

History:
Draz'hul was born on Draenor, altough the denizens of Azeroth would call it ''Alternate Draenor''.

As a member of the Shadowmoon Clan he grew up learning about the spirits and ancestors, dedicating his craft to communing with the spirits of the deceased. As the Iron Horde started pressurizing the Shadowmoon Clan he, among many others, started communing with the Dark Star, per Ner'zhul's instructions.

Whilst many of his fellow Orcs went mad he managed to maintain his sanity, but in the meanwhile he grew disillusioned with the state of the Clan. He abandoned the clan and eventually found his way into the Horde, offering his services and knowledge. In time he found his way to Azeroth where after a few years of wandering alone, he joined up with the Red Blades.

Things you may know about this character:

• He used to be a seer.
• He prides himself on his control of the Void.
• He gets frequent headaches
• He joined the Horde when they chased after Garrosh.

Things you may not know about this character:

• He is bald by choice.
• His original om'riggor name was Darktongue
• He hears voices
• He doesn't like the texture of talbuk meat

6

Applications / Application: Draz'hul

« on: July 26, 2019, 10:05:30 PM »

Name: Draz'hul
Level: 113 atm. Will hit 120 when I finally get flying on my main and power trough the last bits of questing (and my sanity)

Tell us something about your (role)playing experience:

Whew. I've been RPing since Cataclysm. Like the Red Blades I too used to RP on Defias-Brotherhood, in a certain guild that involved several different tusked-folks. In fact I've even been part of this guild on a few characters. However at the time I was either too strung up in OOC business or too burnt out from RP to really even want to RP. Which is a shame as I've always really enjoyed RP with you guys.

As it stands right now I've returned to RP after a prolonged break that kind of lasted since WoD. I've RPed sporadically here and there but the one guild that peaked my interest again in between then and now sadly fell apart because of low member numbers. (Still was fun though!) Since then I've just casually played WoW whilst RPing here and there. Currently however I have been RPing my main character: A Zandalari and am looking to reignite my love for Orc RP.

I think that now is a good time for me to step back into it. As of typing this Draz has already had some casual RP with the guild and it felt really good.

TLDR: RPed for a while, SMOrc'ed it up at some points too but IRL stuff and burnout stopped me. Would like to 'redeem' myself.


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

The wind howled softly as it swepped trough the trees. The starspotted sky of Shadowmoon shun brightly above him. Draz'hul walked it's hills and fields, peace and serenity. On the horizon he saw Shadowmoon village, his home. He picked up his pace a little bit. He was aching to come home.

After passing trough the gate he gazed around with a content look upon his face. Orcs were busy attending their daily lives. Some shaman praised the spirts. Others were paying homage to the ancestors, fetching water, crafting axes. It was a day like any other. He tried to enjoy the sounds of the village but they sounded a little off to him. As if they were submerged in murky water, and far away. He strained to perk his ears and hear them but to no avail.

The warmth of the sun tickled his skin as he awoke. He groggily rubbed his eyes and stretched himself. He hadn't been home in some years now. In fact it wasn't really home to him anymore at all. He stumbled to a nearby body of water and washed his face. Looking upon the reflection it showed. His weary face, forever painted with the white skull tattoo.

He has been on Azeroth for quite a while now. After defecting from his clan, and by extension the Iron Horde he quickly found himself picked up by the Horde forces in Talador. There he provided intel and knowledge of the land to the greenskinned Orcs and their allies. In time his usefulness there had run out and he travelled trough the portal towards Azeroth, believing Draenor was home to him no longer. Altough it still teased his dreams every now and again.

Perhaps he was more homesick than he'd like to admit. He closes his eyes for a moment and listens intently to the sounds all around him. Many things call out to him, they always have, some are good and others are not. Draz'hul shut out the noise before nodding to himself. It was time to journey once more. Curious to see where the call takes him.