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Player: Krent

Character Full Name: Corlmitz Lostblade

Character In-Game Name: Corlmitz

Nickname(s): Mitz, Mit, Corl.

Association(s): Horde (Exiled), Steamwheedle Cartel (associate)

Race: orc

Class: hunter

Age: 28

Sex: Male

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Weight: 438 lbs

Height: 6'8”


Corlmitz goes for practicality over fashion. He chooses to garb himself in whatever feels both comfortable and maneuverable. His armor is composed mostly of light metals and leather that emphasize mobility over protection. Though, being 400+ lbs, he's not exactly the most dexterous of fellows.

Has a very visible brand on his neck. It marks him as an exile of the Horde, a warrior who fell from honor and is now considered worse-than-dead. Any 'True Horde' members are expected to either shun or harm him.


Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Jovial, crude, very direct and abrasive--Corlmitz is a jolly ol' brute. Often saying whatever is on his mind regardless of social convention, Corlmitz is very honest in his meeting with people. He'll often say things that are not at all appropriate for the social situation. Corlmitz doesn't care much what others think of him, doing little to hide his true nature from view.

For most of his life, Corlmitz was a tried and true sociopath. His turbulent past made the orc cold and indifferent to the more brutal aspects of the world. Killing came easy for the orc, his view of the world shaped from his upbringing in the orc internment camps. Centered on survivalism, Corlmitz used to operate on a strictly 'me or you' philosophy. As a mercenary Corlmitz would take any job, not caring much as to what it is.

Corlmitz's personality has undergone some change since his mating with Orvisha. Slowly, the orc is learning about the value of companionship and trust. He still maintains the streak of a cold-hearted killer, but recent events have pushed him to 'mellow out,' as it were. Corlmitz no longer openly accepts contracts with fel-users, slavers, or otherwise 'evil' employers. While he still has no love for the Horde, being the son-in-law of a High Warlord has pushed Corlmitz not to antagonize it so.

Still, he won't hesitate to put a bullet in any grunt looking to honor themself by killing an Exile.


Corlmitz's first memory of life was that of a slave. He did not know his family, he did not know his clan, he did not know anything prior to a life in chains. Not knowing how he got there, Corlmitz worked in the claypits in a camp called Tranquility. For reasons unknown to him, Corlmitz could not remember anything of his life before the age of seven.

Tranquility was under the control of a very interesting human by the name of Marse Galloway. Mr. Galloway was a true visionary amongst his people, believing that the enslaved orcs could be used for something more than simple imprisionment. The human believed that with the right discipline, harshness, and control, the orcs could be turned into a profitable labor force for which to build an economy. Tranquility was to be used as a means of testing Mr. Galloway's theory, the human doing everything he can to break down and study the orcs for productive benefit. A master of manipulation, Marse Galloway twisted the camp into a place that pitted orcs against each other, enacting a strict risk / reward system that slowly nudged them into being complicit slaves.

As a result, Tranquility became its own special brand of cruelty. Corlmitz was exposed to all sorts of brutality during his developmental years. He was malnourished, beaten, and abused--most often by his own kind. Orcs who fought against their own kind and obeyed human orders survived. Those that clung to the old ways of the Horde and resisted, were given fates worse than death. Such an environment had a profound effect on his development. The violence of the camp taught him a very specific world view. To Corlmitz, this was the way the world worked. A violent, cruel place without honor or humanity, dictated only by those with power and those without. He grew to become used to it. Cold. Hardened. Indifferent to the atrocities committed before him.

This was the only way for the child Corlmitz to rationalize the brutalities of Tranquility. 12 years passed in the camps, and before Corlmitz knew it he had grown into an adult in his chains. The camp turned him into a violent, cold-hearted orc. He hated his human masters. He hated his weak, fel-withdrawn kin. He hated the circumstances. But, most importantly, he hated the lack of identity he had for himself. He did not know his ancestry, had no idea where he came from, and was unable to develop a sense of personal pride. All he had was his identity as a slave; one he came to begrudgingly accepted. Corlmitz dealt with his emotions by silencing them, concentrating only on what he needed to do to survive. Corlmitz, having to constantly fight other orcs for his own survival, began to view them as the enemy.

Marse Galloway was pleased with the steady results coming out of Tranquility. But eventually, the liberation came--the profitable sociological experiment crumbling into a burning ruin. Corlmitz, alongside many other orcs, massacred the humans on the camp, sparing no one. The orc had fantasized about it many times in his youth. Yet when the time had finally come, and when the act was done, Corlmitz felt...nothing. There was no joy in the slaughter. It didn't bring him any pleasure. It didn't bring him any closure. All it did was create a giant void of nothing. Having become so accustomed to his role of a slave, the young-adult had no idea what else to be. Without even knowing it, Corlmitz had become institutionalized by the internment camp. His liberation brought upon more problems than it fixed.

One such problem was the strangeness of the world outside. All through out his developmental years, Corlmitz had only known cruelty and dominance. Now the orcs around him were preaching about strange things like honor. Duty. Kinship and glory. These words were so alien to Corlmitz. He had seen no honor in the ways that the humans treated orcs; why should they extend the same courtesy? He had seen no glory in his elder's acts, only weaklings suffering from fel-addiction. He saw no kinship amongst the starving slaves, only brutes who would tear each other apart for the smallest of morsel. Self-preservation and dominance were the only truths of the world.

So, the young Corlmitz had more than a few difficulties in adjusting to his new life. Grunt training was hard. Having spent a life doing menial labor, Corlmitz was qualified for the physical demands the training called for. Yet the mental demands proved to be impossible. While Corlmitz was intellectually capable enough to grasp certain aspects of a warrior-honor, he could never understand them. Again, the terms of honor, loyalty, humility, and virtue were strange to him. The only thing Corlmitz knew was violence, domination, and self-preservation. In his mind the only rule was 'might makes right'.

This translated poorly into his training. While Corlmitz grasped the intellectual merits of war, tactics, and military conduct, it did not carry over into his actions. More often than not he regarded his comrades with a sense of cold indifference. In duels, he would fight aggressively and use any advantage he could to attain victory. During hunts, he was more prone to sacrifice the well beings of his comrades in order to claim a beast for himself. Despite being free from Tranquility, Corlmitz could not move away from it. Due to his complete lack of empathy and victory-at-any-cost attitude, he proved to be a liability in his superior's eyes.

Still, there were many who were sympathetic to the young orc's plight. Corlmitz was not alone in his difficulty to adjusting to the new life; it was a struggle his entire race shared. This made the elder who oversaw his training sympathetic. Yet in the long years of the orc's training, Corlmitz could not shape up. Instead of humbling himself to learn the ways of traditional shaman-warrior orc culture, Corlmitz lashed out. He rebelled, protested, argued that the orc's natural place was that of the conqueror. Show no mercy, for the enemy will do the same. Destroy all who stand in your path. Declare war before others can make it on you. Enslave. Dominate. Destroy. Attain strength and victory at any cost. Without knowing it, Corlmitz was walking the same mental path that damned the generation before him. And because he did not experience, or witness, the dangers of fel-addiction, he could not see the folly of his thinking.

In a final effort to show Corlmitz the hubris of his ways, the elder who oversaw his training came up with an idea. Because the young orc could not see the value of group efforts, he would need to experience it first hand. To teach Corlmitz the values of humility, loyalty, and fellowship, the elder assigned him to the role of a peon. It was not a role that would be permanent, only one Corlmitz was expected to do until he finally understood the value of having a place in the community. Calling the young grunt-to-be out, the elder presented Corlmitz with a lumber axe, and informed him of his new role. What happened next changed Corlmitz's fate forever.

Without any warning, Corlmitz flew back into Tranquility, mentally. He heard the rattling of chains. The darkness of shadows. The smell of the wet earth. Clay. For the second time in his life, Corlmitz was being told to do menial work he couldn't see the value in. Once again, he would be forced to submit to someone else's will instead of his own. And while the orc was comfortable in the role of a slave, it was something he never wanted to admit consciously. The resulting clash stirred up all sorts of conflicting emotions. Before Corlmitz knew it, he ripped the axe from his elder's hand and attacked him. The elder lost an arm in an instant.

...but even with one arm, an orc war veteran is no push over. Corlmitz was swiftly tackled to the ground and beaten into submission by the one-armed elder. Others joined in, and Corlmitz was subdued with little resistance. The elder, although now missing an arm, came out of it alive. Corlmitz, however, would be sentenced to a long period of imprisonment for committing one of the worst tabboo's in orcish society.

As orcs revere their elders and ancestors to the highest degree, what Corlmitz had done was considered an atrocity. He was a liability to his comrades in the field, unable to humble himself to the duties required of a Grunt. Nothing about this bode well for Corlmitz. Perhaps in more modern circumstances, Corlmitz would have faced execution. But during this transitionary period of time (this was sometime while Orgrimmar was still under construction), while the ravages of the Third War were still going on, many thought that enough orc blood had been shed. The decision was ultimately left to the elder who had lost his arm.

The elder decided on exile.

While what Corlmitz did was inexcusable, the elder made the case that he was not killed. Therefore, in his mind, Corlmitz should be spared execution. Yet some argued that the decision for exile was far worse. For the rest of his life, Corlmitz would be banished from the Horde. He would be an outcast, one who could never attain honor, one who would die without remembrance, one who could never attain a surname or gain personal glory. He would have to bear a mark of exile to the end of his days.

Once the sentence was passed, Corlmitz was taken to a separate room. There, he was held down and branded with a hot iron. The mark was a simple character, the word 'exile' in orcish, but it was made right in the upper part of his neck. All who saw it would know exactly what it meant, and there was little he could do to hide the mark of shame. After he had been branded, Corlmitz was given a rusted axe, and was banished to The Barrens. Many assumed he would die in the sun-drenched fields.

And he nearly did. Although he was used to surviving great physical trials with little sustenance, nothing could properly prepare him for banishment in The Barrens. There was nowhere he could go. Wild animals stalked every corner, and no member of the Horde wanted anything to do with him. Corlmitz spent the next few weeks of his life struggling for it. He ate the half-rotted carcasses of dead animals, drank hallucinogenic cactus water, and slept where ever he could.

As luck would have it, Corlmitz wandered close enough to Ratchet territory to be discovered by a goblin caravan. They wasted no time in dragging the orc back to the city, nursing him back to health, and then charging him a ridiculous amount of money for 'services rendered'. Once again, Corlmitz was forced into submission by people far more powerful than him. What made it different, this time, is that he found work he actually enjoyed.

The goblin way of life made more sense to Corlmitz. Goblins operated on mostly an objectivist philosophy, one that valued the individual over all else. Corlmitz took to this philosophy like a fish to water. Eventually, Corlmitz met a goblin by the name of Beranz Grilnoz, owner of Grilnoz Financial. The old goblin business owner took Corlmitz under his wing, giving the orc a job as a debt collector. Corlmitz's job was to kick down doors, break knee-caps, and collect money owed to Grilnoz Financial however he could. His coin purse grew, and soon Corlmitz settled. He learned to love the insanity that was Ratchet.

No one cared about his past here. It was the melting pot of scum and villainy. He brushed shoulders with people like him, sustained himself through violent acts, and lavished in all the intoxicating pleasures the city had to offer. Most importantly, Corlmitz found a sense of identity. People came to fear and respect him. The orc gained a reputation--though not a particularly notorious one--as an individual who could get any dirty job done. Another cold-blooded killer for hire in a city of many.

The years went by. Corlmitz climbed up the social ladder. The city life was rough, every contract bringing in more conflict and violence, but the orc thrived in it. Under Beranz's tutilage, Corlmitz had learned how to manage his own finances and mercenary work. Eventually, Corlmitz moved away from an employee of Grilnoz Financial and became an independent mercenary. Beranz and Corlmitz still remain close to this day.

Corlmitz took up up goblin engineering as a side project, learning the very basics of demolition. The pride of his work came when he learned how to maintain and operate a firearm. Guns represented the next logical evolution of warfare, and Corlmitz pushed himself to learn them. Eventually he came to learn how to set up traps, arm explosives, and shoot. His weapon of choice ended up being shotguns, because they were powerful weapons that excelled at close-ranged combat; the distance Corlmitz loved. Although he'd never admit it, his favorite fights were always the ones that brought him to near death, where he'd have to forgo his technical prowess and rely on his axes. Perhaps this is why Corlmitz has never been able to become a marksman or advanced-level engineer.

Corlmitz made a comfortable living for himself as a professional bastard-for-hire. He earned enough of a reputation to be considered worth-while by the many shady goblins of Ratchet. Though, as much fun as he has as a dirty-job merc, Corlmitz yearns for a real war. He secretly craves a chance to prove himself in actual combat and transcend the mark of shame that was burned onto his neck. Whether he wants to do this to prove himself to his people, or spite them for forsaking him, he doesn't rightly know.

Corlmitz took many jobs from many people, ranging from fel-addicted warlocks to the Argent Crusade. Blurring the line of hero and villain, Corlmitz fought the good fight and the bad fight, making a nice pile of coin.

And then, one night, he got absolutely shit-faced in a bar and hit on a High Warlord's daughter, Orvisha Lorewolf.

Somehow, the two fell in love. The fact that someone like Corlmitz could feel love was a revelation in of itself. The fact that it was Orvisha, of all people, was another one. She was the polar opposite of everything he stood for. While Corlmitz spat on the past and blasphemed his ancestors, Orvisha honored and studied orcish history. While Corlmitz was a dishonored exile, Orvisha was a respected shaman. She was one of the few orcs who wanted to know Corlmitz beyond his mark of Exile.

Without knowing it, Orvisha introduced Corlmitz back into the fold of the Horde. Orvisha even gave him an unofficial surname, 'Lostblade.'

Although he hasn't officially gone back into the fold of the Horde, Corlmitz had made an odd peace. Orvisha's family hasn't directly confronted Corlmitz over his mark--though he is aware that their union is frowned upon in most circles. While Corlmitz hasn't made any close bonds with anyone other than Orvisha, the fact that he's no longer shooting grunts for fel-addicted noble women is remarkable progress.