Name: Oznack
Class: Rogue
Level: 70
Been playing WoW since the early days. Moved to DB as soon as it was launched.
Used to be a member of ORB, even led it for a while, but decided to leave some time ago (I was about to leave the game).
Then I joined TOG as core PVE seemed a better choice with limited gametime, and after a week or two I left WoW.
Now I am back for a bit, although I will try to keep my gametime to a minimum
Tell us something about your roleplaying experience:
Used to play all kinds of RPG games, such as RuneQuest, Elfquests, ShadowRun, Stormbringer, Call of Cthulhu and you name it.
Been RP:ing since day one on this realm, and on the previous RP realm too.
--
The Drag was never this dark.. Surely they must have set up new sunshades on top of the ravine or something? And what kind of earthquake had made nearly all streets uphill all of a sudden? And why, oh why, were there more loonies, orclings and riffraff yelling in shrill voices that hurt Oznacks ear all about?
Oznack thought back some days, to the day of days.. The day he had managed to stay sober all morning to ready himself for the big hurl. The world did not need his blades any more, so Oznack had wanted to get an early start on his Lok'vad'nod and hurl himself off a suitable cliff in Mulgore to land less gracefully on his daggers.. Atleast that was his grand plan.. But the spirits wanted it otherwize.. After each attempt the spirits ressurected his old bones and he was left with a few new dents in his armour as the only reward for his efforts.
"Just friggin let us go, aye?" Oznack pleaded lots and many times, but the Spirit Healer just softly led Oznacks spirit back to his body.
On the four-and-then-some attempt, just as Oznack was to step off the cliff anew, a messenger arrived.
"Yer Oznack?" the messenger asked.
"Fer a few meters more, aye!" Oznack responded.
"Got a message fer ya" the messenger responded, handing over a brown and ordinary purse or small bag made of soft skin, tied together with some very strong thread of a sort Oznack could not emediately place.. A bowstring! Oznack gasped.
"Yer allright there oldie?" the messenger asked.
"Yeh, nevah been better!" Oznack replied, giving the messenger a good pat on his back which sent the messenger screaming over the cliff-face.
Oznack studied the fabric of the purse.. It was far from pretty, but soft enough to lie upon without it disturbing you. The seams were tripple-stiched, each stitch exactly at the same distance from the other.. Very, very strong.. Must be a hunters bag!
Oznack slowly opened the purse and peered inside.. Some kind of grain.. Wheat? Oznack wasnt sure.. Picking up a few grains to study them Oznack noticed that they were frostdamaged and were rotting away.
"Heh.. Reh yer ol bastird... What this mean eh?" Oznack chuckled to himself. "This riddle calls needs beer-key!". Oznack carefully put the bag inside his punctured shirt and turned to walk home.. A sharp pain from his thigh told him he had turned to quickly and his old bones had no intention of letting him get away with that.
"Oh fuuuuu.." Oznack screamed as his leg gave in and he found himself falling to his death once more.
..
After lots and many beers Oznack decided that he had no clue what the message ment, except that it came from his old brother-of-choice Rehbande who had retired to an farm some time ago. Clueless to where this farm was hidden Oznack decided that his best bet was to go back to Orgrimmar and track down the Red Blades to get a trace on Rehbande.
Once Oznack had made his way to Orgrimmar, he ran into the invasion while looking for a Red Blade to question about Rehbande. A few hours later he stumbled upon Kargur and Akesha, the former Matriarch of the Red Blades. Too drunk to do anything but sleep, Oznack decided to do just that.
Waking up, Oznack decided it was time to try and get back with the tribe and face the new threat wearing the true colors.
--
Im sorry, time to investigate WoTLK, cant focus on writing a story with everything installed and ready to go
I'd love to continue online.
Oz
cant wait!
