Orcs of the Red Blade


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Topics - Razaron

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The Campfire / A Family at War
« on: August 11, 2018, 09:26:38 AM »


The tallest hills of Tanaan Jungle were now a plain of lifeless dirt with swirling winds that picked up the dusty surface making it difficult to traverse. The only signs of life on these hills were to the very pinnacle, Rylak’s still nested here and Razaron would have to climb his way to the top and kill an adult to complete his om’riggor. Gorgush had given his son Razaron an almost impossible task to complete especially at his age but Razaron wanted to show his father how much he had grown, he had always longed for his approval and acceptance. So now here he stood at the foot of the dead hill, there was no going back, he either completed his Om’riggor or died trying. During the Om’riggor Razaron was removed of his armor and clothes and was only allowed one weapon, navigating the hill with no tools to aid him was a struggle.  The dead dirt would crumble under his grasp and securing a footing was challenging at best but somehow Razaron persevered to a credible height, he had something to prove and that determination would keep him going. He some how neared the summit, the wind was much stronger the higher he climbed and now dust was being blown from the dirt which made it visibly harder to see. Suddenly a monstrous roar reverberated at top the hill and before Razaron could react he was knocked off his feet and lost his grip off his axe. The rylak now stood on his back legs with his gigantic wings in full display trying to intimidate his prey, Razaron quickly rolled away ignoring the pain of being ambushed as the two-headed rylak now snapped at him trying to finish him off quickly. Razaron’s life was now in jeopardy, the impossible task looked all that impossible, he was defenseless and was doing all he could to evade against a much larger beast. If only I could get to my axe? Where is it? He thought, he couldn’t see far because the dusty earth had created a cloud, he tried to peer through but it was too late, the Rylak had recovered and had knocked him to the ground and was a bout to finish him off.

Abruptly a female cry came rushing out of the clouds which caught the Rylak off guard, it was the Matron, she must of followed Razaron on his om’riggor. With one flash strike she had slashed at the Rylak in the back with her polearm, the Rylak screamed in pain knocking the Matron away with a beat of it’s wings. “MOVE RAZARON!” howled the Matron, she had given him time, time he used to get to his feet and tried and search for his axe. The rylak's two heads and four eyes now stared directly at the threat in hand, it scurried towards the Matron biting and growling. The matron slowly walked backwards jabbing with her polearm trying to keep the beast at bay when she tripped over a rock and landed on her back, the Rylak took no hesitation this time as it started to gnaw away at the Matron’s abdomen. “No!” cried Razaron now armed with his axe he charged over and landed a fatal blow on the Rylak that severed both of it's necks beheading the creature, it's gigantic body went limp and fell to the earth.

Razaron cradled his grandmother as blood was pouring out of her midsection, “I can save you, let me use the-the techniques you’ve shown me!” The matron put a finger to Razaron’s lips stopping him, “No, this wound would kill you trying to save me.” The Matron coughed with blood now coming out of her mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me you were my grandmother?” Razaron sobbed trying in vain to stop the bleeding with his hands. “Because if anyone knew they would of stopped me seeing you, your father never forgave me for not saving you both. Your mother Kazraka had a difficult pregnancy, when you were born something went terribly wrong and I only had the power to save one of you. She begged me that I saved you, that I did.” The Matron coughed once more with even more blood. “When Gorgush looks at you Razaron all he is seeing his the killer of his beloved mate, this is why he is cold with you. But I could never be..” The Matron put her hand on Razaron’s cheek, “Oh young Razaron you take after your mother.” The Matron said looking at him deeply. “You wanted to know my name did you not? Well you were named after me young Razaron, I was named Razara.” Razara let out a small smirk as remaining life drained from her face and body, Razaron clutched at his grandmother and let out all of his emotions with a cry that would wake the ancestors.

Razaron arrived at the bottom of the Tanaan hill, Razara’s body over his shoulder and one of the bloody heads of Rylak clenched in his hand. To Razaron’s surprise there was a welcoming party, Gorgush was there with some of the other Bleeding Hollow clan. “What do we have here? You’ve performed your om’riggor no doubt about it.” Gorgush said eying the rylak’s head. “But what is this?” he looked at the corpse on Razaron’s shoulder. “She’s dead? The Matron is dead? You sort help in your om’riggor? ARE YOU INSANE?” bellowed Gorgush. “This is meant to be a solo kill to prove yourself and that witch killed herself so you could complete your task?” Razaron had heard enough, he carefully lay Razara’s body to the floor and dropped the head of his kill and walked with a purpose towards his father. “My boy couldn’t even complete his task by himself..” Before Gorgush could get anymore words out of his fel mouth he has been struck by Razaron’s fist as he fell backwards on his arse. “I don’t know who you are anymore, but you’re not my father!” Razaron had said with a dead eyed stare, Gorgush touched his lip and checked his hand to see if he was bleeding. “So I’m not your father? Then you’re not my son! I will accept your om’riggor kill but for now till the end of days you will be known as Razaron the Insane.” Gorgush got to his feet “You are not worthy of Gul’dan’s gift!” Gorgush said spitting in Razaron’s face, Razaron brushed away the bloody saliva, he didn’t care anymore nor did he want this gift. He walked away listening to the Bleeding Hollow orcs cursing him from behind, it was time to light a pyre for his grandmother Razara.

The Campfire / Tanaan Hell
« on: August 10, 2018, 04:59:00 AM »

Tanaan Hell

One year had passed since Razaron last saw his father Gorgush and in that time he had trained under the guidance of the old orc woman known as the Matron. Razaron who had little insight in to the skills of combat had mastered the Zeth’tar which translates to Dance to Victory in orcish, the Zeth’tar is a rare fighting form that combines elements of tribal dancing with agile footwork, acrobatics, stealth and sudden savage attacks that leaves the opponent off-guard. The Matron is a master in this weapon based martial art but it was scarcely practiced amongst the Bleeding Hollow clan. Razaron was also educated in potion making and blood magic and his swift grasp on both was impressive to behold, he hoped that if his father would next see him he would be proud to see the orc he had grown into. Gorgush had been conscripted under the banner of the orcish Horde led by the new Warchief known as Blackhand, they had laid waste to all that opposed them and little did Razaron know his father was returning home.

Razaron stood atop the hills of the Tanaan Jungle and was deep in thought, recurring words of wisdom from the Matron echoed through his head, “Everything in your life is a reflection of choice.” She was right, the choices the orcish people had made had led them to this. “The land of Tanaan Jungle is dying.” He said with a heavy heart. Razaron surveyed the land and saw the ancient jungle trees withering, the long lush green grass had started to turn to a dying yellow pigment and the rich potent soil was nothing more than sand and clay. Vast rivers and lakes had dried up and a myriad of animal corpses scattered the land which accompanied an eerie silence. “We’ve abandoned who we are Razaron.” Said the Matron climbing the hill and putting a arm around him, “This land was rich with life and now it’s dying all around us!” The Matron frowned, “We’ve chosen the easy path with this wicked new fel magic and the spirits have deserted us for it!” Razaron let out a deep sigh as he then nervously scratched at an itch on his chest, to his horror it started peeling but it didn’t just end there, under the dead surface the new skin was turning green! “Strange isn’t it? Look.” Said the Matron as she revealed to Razaron her arm, the skin had started to shred and underneath was a green tint. “It seems like this fel is corrupting even us!”. Razaron’s head dropped and all his thoughts could muster was, why?

Razaron couldn’t dare lift his head to look at what his world had become in till a sudden noise sprung him to life, a horn blew in the distance. The sound reverberating through Razaron’s bones and as he looked up he saw the banners of the Horde, “They’ve returned!” Hope rose through Razaron’s body as he rushed down the hill, “Stop Razaron!” Shouted the Matron but her words fell on deaf ears, he was racing home to Heartblood to welcome back the heroes of war. If anyone would know how to fix this it would be the orcish champions he theorized in his head. Razaron arrived at his hut out of breath, he was panting hard but he had to be quick and prepare to honor his father’s return. He grabbed all the bottles of alcoholic beverages he could muster, “Tonight will be a celebration like no other!” he said out loud bursting with pride. The march of the Horde could be heard miles away, the heavy drilled footsteps of thousands of orcs would scare the life out of any soul. The Horde reached the centre of the dying jungle and then splintered off in to different areas, Razaron stood at the entrance of his village waiting eagerly for their return. His hand high in the air grasping a alcoholic bottle, his face that was full of hope had suddenly turned to despair in a heartbeat, the orcs had returned alright but not how they left. They were bigger, green and their eyes burned red. “WHERE IS MY SON?” Bellowed a voice, “RAZARON!” Gorgush screamed, Razaron’s father was back and he too was like the rest of them. “No!” Razaron yelped dropping the bottle in shock as the glass smashed all over the hard earthen floor, Gorgush alert to the noise veered his head, his sight locked on to the cracked glass and then his eyes climbed in till they were locked with Razaron. “OM’RIGGOR!”

The Campfire / The Long Lesson
« on: August 04, 2018, 02:45:21 AM »

The Long Lesson

The landscape of Draenor was changing, the Horde had secured many victories against the traitorous draenei and brutish ogres. These triumphant stories would trickle back to young and old at Heartblood, Razaron was proud to be apart of the Horde and more so proud to be the son of Gorgush. It had been many months since they had left for war and Razaron had been under the tutelage of the orc known as the Matron, she had demanded that the boy Razaron would meet her where they first met on the hills of the Tanaan Jungle atop the Bleeding Hollow Monument. Razaron was impressed by her wisdom and skill so did as she asked, when the first glimpses of the sun rose to the west Razaron would start his journey, every day would be the same. The Matron would always be there first and not say a word to Razaron, she would nod and throw him a stick and a battle would commence. Day turned to night and Razaron would be back at his hut nursing a new sprain, bruise or wound. This would go on till eventually Razaron snapped one morning, this day the Matron tossed a stick at Razaron and he watched it fall to the floor. “This is pointless! I can’t beat you! Every day I wake up more sore then the last!” “This is not about winning or losing boy!” snarled the Matron, “Some times in life your situation will keep repeating itself until you learn your lesson! Everything in your life is a reflection of choice young Razaron, if you want different results then make different choices!” Razaron listened on and nodded, she was right, of course she was. Razaron picked up the stick but this time he was completely focused.

The Matron took a step forward stick in hand and glided towards Razaron, her movement was impeccable despite her age. Razaron watched closely, his gaze like a hawk studying her every move and he did as she did and moved like the breeze to face her in combat. Sticks clashed but this time for Razaron it was going to be a different outcome, as he fought the Matron his attention drifted towards a memory of his hunts with his father in the Zorramarsh. He remembered watching the raptors and how they would be patient and sudden, Razaron would wait like the raptor stalking his prey and then strike at the precise moment. Just then the Matron overextended her staff and Razaron was quick to react, he parried the staff with the inside of his own and with one fell swoop he had disarmed the matron and pushed her to the floor. She was beaten, the Matron grunted in praise, “Well done, well done indeed! You see, you are learning but remember this, today you’ve won the battle but..” The Matron abruptly swept Razaron from his feet and he fell to the floor in a heap, the Matron continued, “Not the war, there is always more to be learned.” She chuckled, this was the first time he had seen her laugh. They both helped each other to their feet, “You’ve done well today, come I shall give you something for all the pain I’ve inflicted.” The Matron waving her hand for Razaron to follow.

The Matron led Razaron through Tanaan, Razaron and his peers never knew this route through the jungle and it showed as it felt like the foliage of the jungle itself was fighting him back. “Come boy, you really going to let the jungle beat you?” Razaron snarled at the Matron and pushed his way through the vines. Eventually after hours of walking they arrived at a magnificent tree, it rose above others in the area and atop was a small hut, “This is my home young Razaron. We will discuss more inside.”

Razaron was sat on some furs nursing his wounds by a campfire, “I really beat you up didn’t I?” the Matron chuckled. “Matron, what is your true name?” asked a inquisitive Razaron. “Does it matter?” the Matron snapped, “I am the Matron to you, no more.” Razaron was confused, he thought he was getting along with the old orc better but perhaps he was wrong. “Sea scorpion..” Mumbled the Matron, “Done, drink this healing tonic it shall speed up your recovery and for the ancestors sake don’t be sick!” Razaron was handed the tonic and then placed his nose against the end of the bottle, he gagged and said alarmed, “You want me to drink this?” The Matron snapped back, “For the love of Kilrogg quit whining, drink it or are you a big dumb ogre in disguise? If wanted to poison you you’d be dead by now.” Razaron thought of his father fighting for the Horde, risking it all for his people. “You’re right.” Razaron held his nose and after what felt like an eternity drank down the potion. He gagged some more, his hand to his mouth but he managed to keep it all down. “If you cut the right parts off a sea scorpion, here and here and grind down the segments then its know to make for some potent healing tonics.” The Matron said holding up a dead scorpion by his claw and pointing at various parts of it’s body. “You can make many tonics out of almost anything young Razaron, even your blood.” Razaron slanted his head in a confused state, what did she mean by even your blood? “Your father took you on his vision quest did he not?” the Matron said, her eyes fixed on Razaron waiting for a answer. Razaron merely just nodded his head, “Then he has shown you one of the steps of being a Bleeding Hollow, I will show you another!” The Matron pulled out a rusty knife and before Razaron could react she had slit her palm, a pain expression rose across her face but she bit her lip not to scream. “The life blood of our bodies is a powerful source of magic. It can help mend wounds..” A red bolt of blood shot across from the Matron’s palm to a wound on Razaron’s arm. “It can also be used to heighten your abilities, but at a cost. The cost being yourself!” The Matron fell to her knees weakened by the lesson, the wound on her palm slowly closed as the blood in the air dissipated. “In time, you shall learn these techniques.” Razaron looked on intrigued but also scared, today had been a long lesson.

The Campfire / Matron Knows Best
« on: August 03, 2018, 10:25:05 AM »

Matron Knows Best

Heartblood was a shell of it’s former self, the Bleeding Hollow Clan had gone to war under the banner of the Horde and all that were left in this once thriving village were the young and old. Razaron would spend most of his time a top a nearby monument overlooking the Tanaan Jungle wishing he would be out there in the world bringing honor to his clan, “Why do I have to be so young and weak?” he scolded to himself “Don’t wish away your youth young one, the flowers may bloom again but a orc will only be young once!” Razaron turned around to see a old orc female with a walking stick. “What would you know you old crow-crow?” scolded Razaron in a childish manner before turning his back on the orc. “No matter how far you look the horizon will always separate you from your father, Razaron.” Razaron froze for a moment at the mention of his name, how did this old hag know my name he thought? He clenched his fists and prepared to get face to face with the old orc but to his surprise she was already behind him. “I know your father so I know you. Now!” her voice demanding respect, “You will learn from this old crow.. and perhaps you’ll survive the next fall.” Razaron was puzzled, “Who are you?” Razaron asked. “Me? I’m your new trainer, they call me the Matron.”

“So-So my father told you to watch over me?” Razaron asked cautiously. “Yes, yes he did but enough with stupid questions boy!” snarled the Matron as she suddenly hurled a long training stick at him which he clumsily let slip through his fingers and fall to the floor. Razaron looked at the stick and retorted, “Why do I need stick? I have my fathers axe!” Which he took from his back, struggling to grasp it even with both hands. “That is why boy! You will grow in to that axe but for now it is worthless!” Worthless? Thought Razaron, worthless? The anger built up inside Razaron and he charged straight at the Matron floundering forwards with the axe ready to reclaim the honor of his ancestral axe. The Matron raised her stick and at the last moment changed stance and let Razaron stumble straight past her falling over with the axe sliding out of the way and off the monument. “Aka’magosh to the axe boy, thankyou.” Razaron felt humiliated, he was beaten with ease by a old woman. “Get up!” grunted the Matron. “Like most orcs” tutted the Matron, “All brute strength, no finesse. Those that are trained by me have the best of both worlds.” Razaron got to his feet brushing the dirt off himself. “Now catch.” The Matron had reclaimed Razaron’s stick and it was launched towards his face, this time however he snatched the stick and grasped it with both hands. “Better! Now we will begin the dance!” proclaimed the Matron.

“This is the Bleeding Hollow dance, embrace the spirits of air, be swift and strike suddenly.” The Matron starts to swirl the stick around elegantly and to Razaron’s eyes it looks like she’s gliding. “But-but I’m not a shaman Matron..” Gasped Razaron. “No, not yet anyway.” The Matron eyes piercing at Razaron searchingly. “But they will answer your call eventually, you will do it over and over again until it becomes who.. you.. are!” Razaron nodded in agreement and for the first time in his life he felt like he had direction. “Now come boy, lets continue!” the Matron had spoken.

The Campfire / The Last Dance
« on: March 23, 2018, 01:04:52 PM »

The Last Dance

Heartblood was a small Bleeding Hollow village in the eastern side of Tanaan Jungle and the atmosphere this night was was reaching fever pitch. The clan were celebrating a great hunt in their usual spirited way, they were drinking, dancing and wrestling in front of a large fire. The drinks they were all consuming were highly potent concoction of alcohol, blood, herbal stimulants and pretty much anything else the shamanic cabalists could get their hands on. This left the orcs in an intoxicated state, some could handle it better then others and Gorgush was one of them. He was sitting beside his only son Razaron, Razaron was admiring the joyful antics of his clan, this was indeed a great night to be apart of the Bleeding Hollow clan or so Razaron thought. Gorgush had a face of concern, something was troubling him greatly.

Razaron looked up and noticed the conflict within Gorgush, “Father, don’t you enjoy this anymore?” Razaron said with a edge of caution. “Do you even know why we do this?” Gorgush grunted. “For fun-fun?” Razaron quipped and was quickly slapped across the face, Razaron didn’t know if it was what he said or if it was because he stuttered. “NO!” yelled Gorgush, “We honor the spirits, this be a spirit dance! Those drinks they devour loosen the path to the spirit realm as we show our respects to our ancestors and those that watch over us as close as possible!” snapped Gurgush. Razaron began to rub his face where is father struck him, a bruise was already starting to appear. “But-but, I didn’t know.” Razaron cautiously remarked. “You don’t know enough, this is why I am sad.” Gorgush frowned with a heavy heart.

“Change is coming son, I warned you before and it’s nearly time. You are seven now and soon I will not be here.” Razaron worriedly watched as his father continued to speak. “The vision I was granted has warned me of future events that will occur, I do not know how they end for you but I know that my time with you is running out.” Gorgush stare was fixed on Razaron, it was as if he was looking into his very soul. “I will be heading to war with the Orge kingdoms soon and then there will be a even greater war, but for now you will be left here to continue to grow of age.” Gorgush looked his son up and down and sighed. “You are still too young to accompany me to war, but I have friends here who will watch over you.” Gorgush was a respected elder of his clan and could pull a few strings when needed. “But enough of that, I think it’s about time you got use to this!” Gorgush reached around to his back and grabbed a hold of his fearsome axe and held it out for Razaron. “This axe is a heirloom passed down from our bloodline, it is now time you have it!” Razaron looked in awe of the axe and then back at his father with a concerned face, “But father, what about you-you?” Gorgush frowned, “I will make do, you need to practice with our ancestral axe.” Razaron reached out and took a hold of the axe, his father then let go and the weight of it nearly made Razaron drop it too the ground. The axe was far too heavy for Razaron, but he tried to hide any weakness in front of his overbearing father and used both hands to grip the axe before resting it too his side. Gorgush smiled, “Name it whatever you want, the secrets of this axe are long forgotten but for now it’s yours till it’s passed on again.” Gorgush put his large hand on Razaron’s head and scuffled his black hair, this would be the last time they witnessed a Bleeding Hollow celebration together.

The Campfire / Balance of Zorammarsh
« on: March 21, 2018, 02:17:21 PM »

Balance of Zorammarsh

To the south of Tanaan Jungle was Zorammarsh, it was a savage habitat that was abundant with life. The continuous chirp from the smallest insect to the largest bird could be heard night and day, the damp marshlands produced a rich earthly essence in the air, that with the aroma from the never-ending exotic plants it was quite a pleasant experience on the nose. Yet your nose can fool you, venomous man-eating spiders hid in the twisted weeping trees, twenty-foot long swamp pythons resided in the the shallow murky waters and agile scaleclaw raptors hunted within the bog. Poisonous plants that would produce toxic vapors were all too common and carnivorous plants that would use their sticky glandular leaves to lure and trap their unexpected prey. Zorammarsh was just as deadly as Tanaan Jungle, perhaps even more and this was a common place for the Bleeding Hollow clan to hunt.

Gorgush had taken his cub Razaron on his first hunt, he was a budding six years old and probably still too young to be taken on such trips but Gorgush didn’t think so. In the darker side of Gorgush’s mind he would love to see his only child be killed by the dangers that lurked within the marsh, he has never gotten over the fact that in his mind Razaron killed his love, his beloved mate. That mindset would change as he looked closer at Razaron, he observed his features and they would remind him of his dearly departed, his relationship with his son was a love hate affair.

“Father!” Razaron took the courage to speak up, “What was that?” Gorgush was kneeling over some dead remains. “This would be an older scaleclaw male raptor, to preserve our hunting grounds we hunt in different locations in different seasons to ensure that they remain prosperous.” Gorgush pulled out his knife and started slash away at the recently deceased. “We kill the older males and leave the females alone, we let them reproduce so we can take vast amounts of eggs. The scales of the male raptors are skinned, the meat is smoked and dried to use for food all year round. The bones can be used for trinkets or for stews and the blood is drained in to vials for the shaman to use for their every desire.” Gorgush looked at Razaron with a piercing stare, “You will remember all of this, this is how we survive, this is balance. ” Razaron nervously nodded a few times and began to help his father prepare the raptor for the long travel home.

Gorgush walked close to his son on the way back to Heartblood and whispered in his ear, “Change is on the horizon, you will need to learn quickly or be left behind.” Razaron was thrown off guard, he didn’t understand what his father meant but he would remember his words and was thankful for the forewarning. “Father, I will do my best-best.” Razaron stuttered. Gorgush frowned at his son noticing the stammer and shook his head disapprovingly. “Come little pup, hurry up! We must preserve this meat before it goes off, by Deadeye you wouldn’t want to eat this otherwise!” Gorgush grunted. “It would turn your guts inside out and you would vomit blood till you would eventually die an agonizing death!” Razaron looked uneasy at the thought and duly hastened his footing.

The Campfire / The Neglected Child
« on: March 19, 2018, 11:55:31 AM »

The Neglected Child

It would be ten years before the orcs ventured through the Dark Portal when Razaron was born in the savage jungle of Tanaan. Razaron had always been a frail child, this was partly due to malnutrition as his mother died delivering him early into this primitive world. Gorgush was an elder in the Bleeding Hollow clan, he was also Razaron’s father. He blamed Razaron for the death of his mate, he cursed the day he was born and gave him up for another family to raise. This family saw Razaron as nothing more then a outcast and neglected him to the point that it had affect on Razaron’s physical and mental state.

Razaron non the less survived and was now a very reclusive child and more barbaric then the other cubs his age, that was saying something for a Bleeding Hollow Orc. Time had passed and it was only when a fleeting look from a five year old over burning fire that Gorgush took an curiosity in his son. Gorgush seeing him grow of age had softened the hatred he once had for his cub and started to take more of an interest in him, eventually he took back his responsibilities as a father and held young Razaron under his wing. Gorgush would now teach him the ways of the Bleeding Hollow clan, but this was no kind act, Gorgush was rough with Razaron, he still held his cub to account for the death of his mate. He was a stubborn old orc who had seen battles with the arrakoa, the arrakoa were a humanoid bird race that nearly wiped out the whole of the Bleeding Hollow clan. That was was in till Kilrogg Deadeye became chieftain, they fought back under the leadership of their new chieftain and once again prospered in harsh Tanaan Jungle.

Gorgush took his only child out of the Bleeding Hollow village of Heartblood as they carefully ventured inside the unforgiving jungle, Razaron perked up, “Where are we going father?” Gorgush grunted, “I will be performing a ritual today, a ritual of significant importance to our clan.” Razaron looked bemused, he did not understand and he certainly didn’t expect what was too come. They had been walking for hours and finally they had arrived at the Bleeding Hollow hunting grounds, as they hazarded deeper through the unending jungle a strange mist began to appear. Razaron also noted many Bleeding Hollow monuments, mostly they were sticks with skulls that were twined together with fiber to hold them upright. Suddenly Gorgush spoke, “We are here.” Razaron had felt like it had be an eternity in silence, Gorgush pointed in to the distance, some torches were clustered in a circle. “Where are we father?” Razaron asked. “We are at the Bleeding Hollow Cave, we will venture down and it will be there where I perform the ritual cub, now follow me and less questions!” Gorgush retorted.

The cave was a gaping hole in the ground with a spiral path descending downwardly, Razaron followed Gorgush as he was lighting torches that had be allocated on the walls. Faint whispers in the air could be heard, this had shocked Razaron so much that he grabbed on to his father’s leather harness from behind. Gorgush proceeded to shove Razaron to the floor, “Get off me!” Gorgush grunted. “These be your ancestors, they mean you no harm!” Razaron using the wall slowly got to his feet, then he came face to face with an orcish skull that was merged within the wall. Razaron jumped out of his skin and rushed as close to his father without physically touching him, obviously worried of another backlash if he did. The skulls on wall had increased, bones were adorn to the ceiling of the cave as they entered a wide circular room, on the floor lay a strange symbol with dried old blood splattered all around. “This is where I shall perform the most sacred ritual a Bleeding Hollow orc can do, it will show me glimpses into the future and even my own death. One day when you are ready you will perform this very same ritual and so will your son and so on.” Razaron gulped at the thought of what was to come. Gorgush knelt down in the center of the room and adorned a sharp knife in the air, he thanked the spirits and his ancestors and drove the knife in to his face. The screams echoed around the cave as blood poured from Gorgush’s face, Razaron watched on horrified, today he found out what it meant to be a Bleeding Hollow orc.

Red Blade Records / Razaron Madeye
« on: December 20, 2017, 03:39:00 AM »

Razaron by ShadowPriest
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Name: Razaron Madeye
Title: The Primal, Champion of the Red Blades, the Insane
Rank: Varog'Gor

Born: -10
Age: 50's
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Clan: Bleeding Hollow Clan (MU)
Class: Shaman
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral/Chaotic Good

Family: Gorgush (Father, deceased), Kazraka (Mother, deceased), Razara (Grandmother, deceased)
Known Friends: Kozgugore
Known Enemies: Unknown

Razaron is middle aged, average height and his lean green body is slightly underweight for an orc. You notice his scraggly long black beard is filled with fangs from a wolf. He has a long necklace which adorns the tusks of orcs and memories of his past. His left eye is a piercing crystal blue and a battered brown eye patch covers up his right eye. His face has scars that have seen many battles across the years and on his chest, back and arms are some tribal tattoo markings. Madeye adorns a shamanic fur mantle over his shoulders, a bulky brown belt with underlying fur that covers his abdomen and his upper legs end with some lightweight mail. His knees and wrists are wrapped with some stained bandages as he walks across the land with wrapped leather boots.

His attire is quintessentially the bare minimum.

There is still some debate amongst those closest to Razaron that question if he truly is insane? There is a fine line between madness and genius and at times either can be easily mistaken. Razaron has lived a life of loss, grief and torment and this has left him outwardly coming across as cold and uncaring. But deep down this is a safeguard to protect himself from forming close relationships and prevent himself from further pain and sorrow. In actual fact when Razaron does form a close relationship he is overly protective to the point that he would risk his entire life to maintain it, his emotions are often at the extreme ends. Razaron is often a recluse and tends to watch the orcs rather then join in, this is a behaviour he developed as a child when he was seen as an outcast amongst his clan. If pushed however he will join in but he usually won’t be the one to initiate any sort of interactions. Razaron has a odd sense of humour, he often tries to find the funny side of any situations and has been known to make a joke at the most inappropriate moments. Internally he does this as he wants a sense of camaraderie and belonging, he often feels he is out of place.

Razaron can often be chaotic and those who know him best still can’t predict what he’s going to do next. His methods are often very unusual but the orcs can never ignore the success that comes with it. Razaron holds the value of tradition highly as long as it benefits himself and he has been known to hold unfashionable views on the current state of the Horde. Razaron’s faith in the spirits is unquestionable, as a shaman the elements have now become a second skin to him. In time this faith has spread to the greater spirits of the clan and he has formed a spiritual bond with the one known as Sharguul.

Spoiler: Coming of Age • show

Razaron was born in the savage Tanaan Jungle on Draenor as apart of the Bleeding Hollow clan, his mother Kazraka died during childbirth so he was briefly raised by his father Gorgush. Razaron was a weak and frail child, malnutrition played a part because of his mothers death. Gorgush blamed Razaron for the death of his mate and cursed the day he was born. Gorgush was an Elder within the clan and gave up his only child, he wasn’t interested in his only child and forced another family to raise him. This family saw Razaron as nothing more then a outcast and neglected him to the point that it had affect on his physical and mental health, he even developed a stammer.

At the age of five Gorgush had started to show a interest in his son again however Gorgush was deeply conflicted. He saw Kazraka inside of his son but he could never forgive him for her death, nonetheless he started to take Razaron with him on hunts and teach him the basics of survival. Their relationship grew stronger and it was at this point Gorgush started to show Razaron more and more about the ways of the Bleeding Hollow clan. On one unforgettable night, Razaron was taken to the Bleeding Hollow cave to bear witness to a special ritual that culminated with Gorgush losing an eye. A war like no other was on the horizon and every orc of fighting age was drafted to go fight. Gorgush would depart leaving his son behind, Razaron was far too young to go with him but before he parted ways he left his son a gift, it was a gigantic axe that had strange markings alongside the cheek of the head. This axe was a family heirloom that had been handed down over several generations.

All those battle ready were sent to a bloody war with the Draenei, the elderly orcs were left to bring up the young. This was when Razaron met a strange old orc, she called herself the Matron. She scolded him because of his immaturity and taught him the ways of fighting intelligently. The style of fighting he learned was based on a dance, instead of relying on just his orcish brute strength, he would glide and strike swiftly. Razaron was a quick learner and it wasn’t long before yearned to learn more, this was when the Matron exposed him to blood magic.

The world around them started to to die, the rich green jungle had started to wilt. The Matron informed Razaron that she had heard stories of the orcs forming under a banner known as the Horde and feared something terrible was happening. It was shortly after that the Bleeding Hollow clan returned victorious but they weren’t the same orcs anymore, they had drastically changed, they were bigger, green and their eyes burned red after drinking the demon blood. Gorgush returned and demanded that Razaron perform a Om’riggor, a rite of passage for an orc to reach adulthood. Gorgush rage had magnified due to the demon blood and he took out his anger on his son who could never live up to his own high standards. An Om’riggor at Razaron’s age was unheard of, he was far too young but Gorgush’s rage couldn’t be sated, Razaron would either succeed or die. The only life left in the barren land of Tanaan now lived at the highest peaks, he would have to hunt a Rylak.

Razaron climbed to the highest peak and squared off against a gigantic Rylak with only an axe in hand, this would be a challenge for even an experienced orc warrior let alone a child, the Rylak was too much for him. The Rylak was poised to make his final assault on the orc child when suddenly a scream bellowed, it was the Matron, she had engaged the Rylak distracting the beast. She defied her age and battled the beast when she slipped and the Rylak didn’t hesitate to land a fatal bite. Razaron howled with horror, he lifted his axe, his body filled with adrenaline swung the axe down-wards severing both it’s heads in a devastating attack. The Matron was dying, Razaron caressed her in his arms. She revealed her true self to a shocked Razaron, she was named Razara and was his grandmother, the mother of Kazraka. Gorgush and Razara’s relationship had broke down when Razaron was born, Gorgush had threatened Razara to stay away from his son. Razara heeded his warning but it was only when Gorgush left for war she finally introduced herself to her grandson.

Razara had died, Razaron carried her limp body in his arms and a decapitated Rylak head as proof of his kill. Gorgush was far from pleased, he accused Razaron of cheating in his Om’riggor and sort the aid of the Matron, he hurled abuse at his child whilst mocking him and calling him insane. He then named brought a close to the Om’riggor and named his child, he now would be known as Razaron the Insane. Gorgush also informed him that he wasn’t worthy of Gul’dan’s gift and spat in his face, Razaron walked away to the mockery of his clan but he didn’t care, he had a pyre to build for his grandmother. Razaron’s status was never high amongst his clan, especially with his physical prowess being slightly thinner and his occasional stammer. He was always an outcast but even more so after the news spread of his dishonor in his Om’riggor. Even though Razaron never drank the demonic blood it’s affects were spreading, his skin had started to slowly turn green and the Tanaan Jungle had turned in to a barren wasteland. It’s new name now was the Hellfire Peninsula and at the far reaches stood a humongous Dark Portal.

Kil’rogg Deadeye, Chieftain of the Bleeding Hollow clan led the orcs through the portal to a new world, they were some of the first to venture to the other side. They would be used as scouts for the Horde to explore this new alien world. Their explorations would lead them to the Stranglethorn Valley, another jungle, the Bleeding Hollow would be ideal scouts for this terrain but they ran into a problem. The Gurubashi trolls called this jungle their home and they had been watching the orcs closely and had not taken kindly to them entering their territory. Without hesitation the Gurubashi trolls ambushed the Bleeding Hollow orcs, it was a massacre! Razaron was there, fighting side by side watching his clan being decimated by the onslaught. He then veered over and saw his father, he had taken a fatal blow. Razaron rushed over to speak to his father one last time, the demonic blood started to wane and as it did his rage and anger depleted. Gorgush with his last breaths apologised to his son and told him to be his own orc. Gorgush had died and the Bleeding Hollow were broken, they were in full retreat.

As the clan marched back towards the Dark Portal Razaron quickly slipped away, he had lost everything near and dear to him and would rather live a life of a hermit then fight for this fel Horde. He traveled for days to escape from any form of civilisation, he was alone and would be his own orc like his father advised.

Spoiler: Broken • show

Coming soon!

Spoiler: The Return of the Spirits • show

Coming soon!

Spoiler: The Curse • show

Coming soon!

Spoiler: A New Home • show

Coming soon!

Stories & Events:

Coming of Age
(Timeframe: Year -10 to 0)
(Timeframe: Year 0 to 10)
The Cursed Axe
(Timeframe: Year 39)
Varog'Gor in Training
(Timeframe: Year 40)
Whispers in the Shadows
(Timeframe: Year 40)
Tides of Madness
(Timeframe: Year 40)
Eye of Gorgush
(Timeframe: Year 41 to 42)

Things you may know about this character:
  • He can occasionally come across as cold and uncaring.
  • Has a flamboyant way of fighting, often seen dancing in the midst of combat.
  • His methods maybe unusual but you can't ignore his success.
  • Has an odd sense of humour.
  • Is a known spiritual dancer.
  • Enjoys his wine.

Things you may not know about this character:
  • He's from the Bleeding Hollow clan that came to Azeroth through the dark portal during the first war.
  • He's not completely insane.
  • A curse was been placed upon him.
  • He has dabbled with dark rituals and blood magic.
  • Takes all sorts of unusual intoxicating narcotics.

Spoiler: Gallery • show

Carbot Razaron by Razaron

Razaron performing a ritual by ShadowPriest

Razaron by Acro Winter (Manata)

Razaron in-game art at the Battle of Lordaeron by Nina Ward

Young Adult Razaron by Maja McGowan

Game Related / Hey
« on: September 27, 2011, 09:19:22 PM »
I'm contemplating returning to wow, how is everyone enjoying the recent changes?

How is the guild doing? :)

Game Related / Motivation for playing WoW - Questionnaire
« on: January 07, 2011, 10:00:40 AM »
As part of my uni computing degree, i am researching what motivates players to play WoW.

If you've got 2 minutes to spare, can i ask you to complete my questionnaire, it's simple it's online and completely confidential.



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