Server:Sentinels US/Grimgash

Grimgash Blackmane
Race: Orc Gender: Male Age: Mid 40s Affiliations : Horde, Bloodwolves, Bleeding Hollow Clan Relatives : Kazkah (sister) Class: Warrior (Spirit Champion) Languages: Orcish, Common Physical description: Broad-shouldered and tall, with arms thick like tree trunks, Grim Blackmane is an imposing figure even for the orcish race This orc has seen much of battle, having served through all three wars on Azeroth and, even to this day, he faithfully follows the orders of the new Warchief, Thrall. As a warrior, he dons thick plate armor of a black and crimson color, wears the Bloodwolves' tabard and wields a gigantic axe he names Ogrebane. His left bicep, and chest are scared deeply from battle. Personality: Grimgash is a true warrior at heart. The is no greater honor than fighting for his brethren, and for the Horde. To him, dying for the freedom of your people, against a great enemy, is not being a hero: It is being an orc. He is a strong-willed, devoted chieftain. Though he has a no non-sense attitude, it is not beyond him to be amongst his subordinates around a fire, drinking a brew and sharing laughs. He does not think himself superior to other orcs, but knows that he must be a strong leader. Despite his doubts concerning certain of the Warchief's decisions, he would obey young Thrall's words until his dying breath. Weaknesses: The beliefs of a warrior, to sacrifice yourself for your brethren, has brought Grimgash to commit very risky moves during battle, and it has not been without cost in the past, to himself and to his battalion. He strives to be a worthy warrior, and the loss of his wife and comrades, in past battles, while he stood a survivor, have left a scar on his heart. Pet Peeves: Arcane/Demonic magic. Though he believes in its powers, and allows members of the Bloodwolves to wield it, he remains weary of it. Grimgash was raised to the corrupting foulness of the Shadow Council's warlocks. Though arcane and demonic magic are in fact different, he's witnessed great beings lust and do terrible deeds to possess more of either powers. He finds it difficult to trust in wielders of either power. Special Possessions: Around his neck he wears a simple silk string tied to a rough silver ring : the wedding band of his fallen orc mate, the shaman Elenial. Origin: Born on the orcs' dusty homeworld, Draenor, to the Bleeding Hollow Clan, Grimgash was one of many orc younglings raised to adulthood magically through the Warlocks' ritualistic magic. This ritual had a single purpose : to amass a massive army of brutal strength to crush and annihilate the Draenei. (Source : Rise of the Horde, by Christie Golden) Decades upon decades, Grimgash remained a nameless grunt, trained to slaughter and destroy his opponents. He served through the final battles against the Draenei, and continued fighting for the Horde throughout the initial invasion of Azeroth and the fall of the first Horde. He followed the Bleeding Hollow Clan back to Draenor at the end of the Second War, and again back to Azeroth alongside the Warsong and Shattered Hand clans when Ner'zul opened the portals that destroyed their homeworld. Though they had saved themselves from Ner'zul's folly, their return to Azeroth was a disaster. The alliance defeated the Bleeding Hollow Clan rapidly and the orcs were herded into internment camps like livestock. It was then that Grimgash made a name for himself. The Alliance was still inexperienced at keeping the orcs imprisoned. While many of his brethren fell into a state of lethargy, Grimgash gathered those clinging to their lust for life, and through a short but effective break-out, they managed to regain their freedom. However, for most of his companions, freedom was short-lived. The Alliance hunted them down and as the assaults came, more and more fell. Grimgash finally eventually was left alone, gravely wounded. He hid in the forests of Azeroth, clinging to life in solitude. With time, he healed and for years, alone, he would strike out at alliance villages, caravans and their garison. Swift and fast, striking in darkness, he became known to the humans as Blackmane. Most believed him to be a simple folks tale. Eventually, word spread to him, as he spied on the humans, that a clan of orcs still remained undefeated. A clan who had begun freeing the orcs from the internment camp. Grimgash sought them out, finally rallying with Thrall, Orgrim Doomhammer, Grom Hellscream and their clans. A loyal soldier to the Horde, he followed their cause and obeyed their orders. To him, the time of clans was over. It was time fight as a people. The Burning Legion returned, the flight to Kalimdor came, finally after battle and death, Orgrimmar was founded. To this day, he fights loyally for Thrall, fights loyally to be worthy of his ancestors, as chieftain of the Bloodwolves.

A Memory
Desolace wore its name well. A deserted plain of rock and dried land. A broken land, forever tainted by Sargeras’ Burning Legion.

A lone orc, too, was broken and worn out, his ribs shattered and a deep bleeding gash spread across his chest. Grim Blackmane sat against the ruined remains of an ancient building. Each breath, heavy with exhaustion, was an agonizing torture. He lay his head against the wall, staring into the clouded sky, allowing the rain pouring onto him to cool his spirits. In his bloodied hands, he gripped the shattered remains of his axe, as if it were his life.

Not five feet away from him lay the corpse of Lord Azretoc, a Doomguard of the Burning Legion. His head lay, severed from the body, pupil-less eyes peering blankly into the nothingness of the void. A gigantic falchion blade stood tall next to the corpse, stabbed into the earth. The sickly green aura that had swirled around it had vanished with the life of its wielder.

Their meeting had been long in the coming. Young Grimgash Blackmane had begun hunting the creature in the far away jungles of Stranglethorn Vale, where even there Azretoc’s taint spread. Weeks, even months, had been spent seeking the help of wisemen and warlocks alike, in hopes that their expertise would guide his steps. Weeks more were spent on false trails and dangerous quests. Mislead, he had even braved Felfire Hill alone, cutting through Felguard, Infernals, Succubii and Felbeasts. He’d almost met his demise infiltrating the remnants of a Legion underground stronghold there, but had managed to escape with his life and many scars. Furious and hungry for revenge, he had found the fool gnome warlock whom had mislead him and crushed its tiny skull with a single meaty hand.

Time grew longer, his quest hopeless.

Even hopeless, eventually wind and time brought him to Desolace and it was by pure chance that he learned of Mannoroc Coven and the demonic forces there. With the aid of a Forsaken Warlock by the name of Sarasisa, they managed to confirm that the source of Grim’s taint was indeed rooted there.

" Your battle is a brave one, Orc, but I have nothing to gain in helping you further. I have already wasted enough time on such foolish personal quests, " was all that the Warlock had to say before she parted ways with the orcish warrior, leaving alone once more to face certain doom.

For his people, for the Horde, and for Warchief Thrall, Grimgash Blackmane gripped his axe and started for the Coven where he would smite the Doomguard and end the accursed taint. Victory was needed, at all cost, even if it claimed his life…



Grimgash flexed his arm, as he studied the battlefield before him. Wounds had been mended, his axe had been remade and the memories served as a reminder that nothing was hopeless.

Now he stood, proud and great, clad in the shiniest of plate armor. The great spiked pauldrons that he wore on each shoulder gave him an intimidating allure, like a demon ready to cut through flesh and devour souls. Still, he was none of that. He was a warrior of the Horde, a rider and commander of the Blackmyst Raiders. He raised his axe high and the troops behind him unsheathed their weapons, ready to charge against the outmatching odds of the Alliance before them.

"Blood for honor, Commander" whispered his Troll Captain Siaala, next to him.

Grimgash nodded, "Blood for honor, life for victory."

Reigning their mounts into a charge, the troops of the Blackmyst Raiders started down the flank of the mountain, into the choas of battle, howling in unison, "FOR THE HORDE!"