Name: Vrogor Frozenflame
Class: Mage
Level: 39
***
Vrogor removed his sweat stenched robes and tossed them angrily on the cold, stone floor of the Undercity.
»Shame you can't muster same enthusiasm for your own magic.« Dethmold casually replied, seemingly uninterested in his failure.
For few moments, there was nothing but Vrogor's heavy breathing.
»That way you will never learn anything! Isn't that why you came here? Or would you rather die back at Hammerfall, or give your orcish friends satisfaction of stabbing yourself to death?«
...
He was strong, even for an Orc. He could easily wrestle down other children a head higher than himself. They said he would make a great warrior. Raised in captivity in the camp of Hammerfall, he was born and died that fateful day Thrall along with Doomhammer levelled the camp with the ground.
There were many things. Too many things. Pleas of dying orcs and men. Screaming. Fury of the elements. And uncertainness. He was able to wrestle any Orc in the camp but when the game became reality, he froze. The split second was enough for human knight to pierce through his thigh right next to the bone. The muscles tore and he could do nothing but scream and fall to the ground, beaten and helpless. What happened next he does not remember.
He awoke in the place he had never seen before . When he tried to move the pain like he thought couldn't possibly exist stroke within his leg and a single though crossed his mind: He would never be a warrior now.
He was weak for an orc now. Although the leg healed it was too slow for leg of a warrior, it would barely support his own weight. Though what hurt the most was his own kind looking down at him. »They killed themselves for lesser injuries,« they reminded him. But he barely started living, how could they ask such thing of him?
When the Warchief assigned Orcs to watch over Undercity, he knew he would come with them. Orgrimmar was never the city he felt welcome in.
He would cook for the Kor'Kon guard in the Undercity. The Forsaken needed no food to sustain themselves, but some lowlife would have to provide food for the Orcs.
As he was fixing the meal his eyes stopped on Forsaken arcanist conjuring up a being made of water with forces of unspeakable power. He has heard of orcish warlocks, but this was different. There was no evil in the power. It was just raw power that this frail creature made of bone and little rotten flesh wielded so skilfully. In few moments, the being took it's full watery form and dissolved into a pool of water mere moments later. The Forsaken arcanist turned abruptly and for longest time, Vrogor met a gaze that did not despise him for his weakness.
...
»Why do I need those? They don't fit.«
»By Sylvanas if you were as smart as you were big you would have rivalled Khadgar himself in magic. We will run out of cloth trying to tailor suitable robes for you.«
»But why?«
Dethmold sighed. »Come.«
He led him near the looking glass and ordered Vrogor to look himself into it. He forced himself to look up.
»What do you see?«
»An Orc wearing a pretty dress that doesn't fit.«
Deathmold allowed himself a grin. »Yes, among other things. Now look at me. What do you see?«
»Silly skeleton wearing robes that don't fit, but for entirely different reasons, » Vrogor replied, now getting irritated by these useless questions.«
»These are the robes of the Kirin'Tor.« He touched them almost affectionetely and profound sadness crept on his face. »When me and my brethren walked the very halls of this capital of Lordaeron, they feared and respected us. Because we were the mages of the Kirin'Tor. Because we could win wars that men with steel swords and shield could not and we could – by a mere wave of our hands ... They knew we could just because we wore these very robes. Do you understand now, Orc?«
***
Admittedly, I do not have much RP experience when it comes to guilds. I am freelancer RPer stationed on Argent Dawn, playing alliance warrior. In my heart, I am experienced PvE player that no longer has time to fully commit to raiding, so I turn to the other great passion of mine - the lore. I decided to roll uncommon Orc class who is trying to re-establish himself and his newly acquired powers to orcish society that rejected him. I'm aware that my story - despite giving some insight purposefully leaves many loose end that I hope to answer within the tribe - should such opportunity arise. I like to keep certain level of mystery when it comes to my characters.
Thank you for reading and your time.
- Vrogor Frozenflame
