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Rukgar
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« on: January 17, 2009, 07:42:56 PM » |
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Name: Rukgar
Class: Warrior
Level: 66
Playing experience
Began playing WoW in summer of 2005. Very varying activity ever since, quite a lot of hard core raiding during days of old, loads of much more casual things ever since.
Most of my playing experience is as a warlock(also my sole lvl 80 char)
I also have a mage and rogue at 70, and several other chars somewhere between 60 and 70. Rukgar is my only established character on Defias Brotherhood.
Roleplaying experience
Not much in WoW, much more in Ultima Online in early 00's. I suppose I have pretty solid understanding of what RPing in WoW is/can be about. Language barrier causes occasional more or less clumsy mess ups(English isnt my 1st language) but mostly I'll do fine i hope!
a short story and/or IC introduction about your character
A worn pickaxe cuts it's way through for one more time and then everything is much more silent again.
Hands that once crafted the pickaxe are those of Grontar. A foreman of the modest Shatterstone mines, smith of modest Shatterstone forge and a chieftain of equally modest, dying clan named in identical fashion.
Hands currently wielding the said pickaxe belong to Rukgar, motherless bastard son of Grontar and one of the remaining five slaves of the clan.
Blood and brain tissue dripping from the pickaxe belongs to a carcass that only a moment ago was Grokkdar, oldest son of Grontar and would-have-been chieftain of the clan.
Why would Rukgar slay his half brother?
Details of it make a pretty long story I guess. a Story you have heard many times before, surely. It is one of the oldest in the world. In most worlds.Among most races. Religions.
So I trust we can skip through that one and take a brief look into events that follow instead.
Pickaxe lets out a muffled and irrelevant *clunk* as it falls on the floor of the tunnel. It has lost it's wielder. Rukgar does what most who realize their standing isn't high enough to wash off the newly gained blood on their hands do; he runs.
He runs until the long shadow of Blackrock mountain is no longer cast on him.
Trying to outrace his past, guilt, slavery and fears he keeps on.
Eventually he would run head first into large formation of mountains foreign to him. To the tunnels inside and underneath them.
Then through forests and plains.
He ran.
Not an uncommon fate or a road for an orc to have.
Escaped slaves, exiles, refugees,murderers,nomads. They make a bannerless and utterly scattered clan of restless, scared and dangerous.
There is always a war, revolution, rebellion, crime or a famine happening somewhere that keeps feeding new souls for the road. And what an eternally hungry road it is. Many get eaten right away. Some survive on it because of their cunning and strength. Some because fool's luck smiles upon them. Some survive because they stumble upon another soul with similar fate. Some stop surviving for the same reason.
Eventually they do always seem to start running into one another.That much is certain.
They all have their own reasons to run and places to run away from but in many ways they are kindred spirits.
You might often find a couple of them in same distant cave not too far from poorly patrolled road. Not that you wanted to go take a peak.
Or from the same restless harbor town, emptying mug of shitty and watered down ale in same rugged inn, sitting in same corner. And often, eventually in same table.
Often warbands get formed. And joined. That's what Rukgar eventually does as well.
Soon Rukgar learns that killing isn't such a big deal as long as one remains in delivering end of the axe.
Warbands also get irritating to people and authorities trying to make a living nearby. Warbands get wiped out.
Again fool's luck is with Rukgar. When dust settles and both his companions and pursuers are turning cold Rukgar realizes he still has his life to save and pair of legs to escape with.
More running happens. Perhaps eventually a new warband...tribe or a clan is found.
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cant wait!
