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Dranorga's Tale


Dranorga

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Dranorga swings her axe heavily against the rotting log, slicing a thick heft of clean and intact wood from what remains of the disposed tree's length. She tugs it in her gnarled hand up to the fire pit, looking at the other clan members as she takes a seat.

"So ahm guessin' you wonderin' how ah came ta be heah, are ya?" She says, her dialect rough and yet not distinctly trollish. It's an odd mix of human consonant patterns with an innate trollish lisp.

"Well, ya'd hafta know mah past ta know how ah ended up heah. Ah ewstah live on tha coast o' Hinterlands, in Revantusk village. Ah was only a youngin' when tha village was attacked by hew-man pirates." A snarl touches her lips, tightening around her short tusks as her eyes flash with hatred. "They came tah take ou' goods, and left wit' tha children as well. They raided ou' home and stol' meh away from ma tribe. Tha hew-man scum took meh away from tha laife ah used ta live, and befor' ah could rememba much o' ma fam'ly!"

She spits into the fire as she sinks her axe into the earth by the fire, the sharp blade descending readily into the warm earth. "They sold meh. Sold meh ta a man in tha milit'ry, under tha Proudmoore girl. A man o' war, who took meh into 'is home an' taught me ta hunt. Taught meh ta suhvive. And taught meh that hew-mans weh not ta be trusted."

A hint of sadness touches her gaze, and her arms settle at her sides, her axe a solitary obelisk sticking out of the ground, her mail armor brushing against the log as she leans back. "When ah was 15, they found ou' about meh. They sent mercen'ries ta kill him. Ta kill someone ah felt was as good as a fatha. 20 men set upon us, an' he fought well. A blade found him, and slayed him fro' behind. Ah realized mah heritage then and there, and burst into a blood rage. Ah yanked an axe from tha hands o' one o' tha men and, in righteous rage, killed the rest of them and buried my fatha's corpse in bodies."

A small glint of determination returns, "They found tha man who ordered ma fatha's death wit' an arrow through 'is skull, tha shot made from outside tha city walls, a dist'nce of no less than 500 yards. Killin' a milit'ry man made meh a wanted troll, as if ah wasn't wanted enough already. So ah left and found ma way to Thrall's king dum, allying maself with tha horde. I come to regain what wus lost, ma heritage, and ta learn about those who'r against tha hew-man way o' laife."

She hefts her axe, cleans off the edge, and slings it across her back. "Ah hope yu'll have meh."

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*scratching his black and silver beard, the old orc listens intently to the tale* Daz a honorable fing ya did, avengin ya papa lik dat. *slowly he rises, holding his back* Wez find a plaz fah yur stuff, an ta be reztin. Keep yur discipline an always uphold da honor ub da Crushas. Wurk hard, an meybe wez let ya stay around awhile.

*yells* Sumash start fillin da peetub agin! *sly grin slowly stretches across his jaw as he pats the young troll upon the shoulder*

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  • 3 weeks later...

BULA notices the young troll among the camp and instantly begins to crave a heaping bowl of troll stew. "Me tinks u am gud brudder, me invites u to me pile ub rocks to hab sum stew to welcome u to dah clan" the mighty ogre says as he begins searching through a pile of junk for his favorite cooking pot.

BULA

Ogre Warlord

BULAFORWEB.jpg

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