Grogloki

Information

Player: Grogloki

Character Full Name: Grogloki Deathweaver

Character In-Game Name: Grogloki

Nickname(s): Silent Bear, Little Bear, Blood Bear

Association(s): Warsong Clan, the Horde

Race: Orc

Class: Spirit Champion

Age: 33

Sex: Male

Hair: Reddish

Eyes: Green

Weight: 450 lbs.

Height: 8'6”

Appearance

Grog may be seen wearing his battle armor (mostly made of hard leathers and hide) of the Horde and carrying his trusted axe which he named "Korgrom". However he does not always wear his war gear, he has been seen in the basic attire that the Orcs are known for. He will sometimes wear furs or hard leathers in place of his armor; this is usually when he is attempting to relax. It is easy to spot Grog, he is one of the largest members of his race and his face is well known on battlefields and among members of both the Alliance and the Horde. This has been a problem in the past for him especially when traveling around and through Alliance territory. But for those who travel in the circles of the spiritual and enlightened Grog is known for his profound deep thinking and ability to learn from all types of people.

Other: Grog has many scars on his body, which he wears with pride. When asked he treats them like badges of honor, each one with a story to be told. He also has a worg pup named "Krull" which he often plays with and tends too. Grog is also a skilled story teller; he enjoys the mystical shroud behind the campfire legends of his people.

Personality

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Grog is an honorable Orc, he takes this rather seriously even to the point of his own death. Grog will go out of his way to help those he sees as allies, and he will stop at nothing to destroy those who seek to harm them in anyway. Grog is always seeking knowledge about his people and their dark past, he feels the more he knows the more he will be prepared when the Legion surfaces again. Grog is always at war with his hot temper, and fights daily to control it. Although Grog may be seen as brash or sometimes intimidating he will be the first to apologize for this and offer you a formal greeting. In battle Grog will fight fairly, weapon for a weapon, fist for a fist. Grog will bring no dishonor to his name by allowing such things as chance to earn his victories.

History

Grogloki was born into a violent life of death, honor, and destruction. As a child in the Warsong Clan he was forced into a life of blood and battle, although his family loved him. His Father tried to teach his son the warrior's code and his Mother taught him the same. Both were accomplished warriors in life and on the field. His Mother had battled a rare sickness and won and his Father lived with only one eye. They lived a simple life, but a good life. The truth is that Grog's life did not truly begin until he became trapped on Azeroth, after being tricked along with the rest of his clan by Ner'zhul. After passing through the portal his Mother and Father were never seen again. Something that haunted his dreams for years to come.

It was a hot summer day in the swamps of Stonard, Grog was just refitting his axe head upon its handle when another Orc spoke "Grog!.. Come, we have business." Grog wasted no time in slamming the axe head on the rest of the way and driving a placement pin into it. He stood to face the other Orc, "What's going on?" Grog fitting his axe on his back and strapped the holding belt across his chest, the other Orc spit "Got a tip that an Alliance tradesman should be passing by our way." Grog wet his lips, "Delicious. Let's go." The two headed out towards the target but were stopped by their company commander "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Grog always snapped to it when the commander spoke, Grog held him in high regard and had a great respect for the powerful warrior. Grog stood straight, "We have intel that suggests a tradesman would be headed this way, we're going to cut him off and jack his load." The commander perked a brow, "Oh you are?" with a hard backhand he sent Grog to the dirt, "You don't think unless I tell you too!... GOT THAT?” He roared pointing at the other Orc "Get back to your work grunt!" Grog began to stand, when a heavy foot came down on his back "Grog... you will learn your place in this war band, or I will end you here and now... understood?" Grog nodded, "Yes Sir." Grog was a young Orc and full of vigor, the commander saw potential in Grog but would show him no special attention to do so would have gone against all that they stood for. He removed his heavy foot from Grog's back, and stamped off towards the patrolling guard. Grog came to his feet slowly, he wiped the dust stained blood from his lip and went about his duties as normal.

For many years Grog fought with the Warsong clan, and tried to survive in the wilds of Lordaeron. Times grew difficult for the Orcs that is until they met another clan by the name of "The Frost Wolves" and the Orc they called Thrall. Thrall offered a solution for the Warsong clan, a joining of the two. Most were hesitant but Grog believed with his heart that it was for the best, Thrall proposed that the band of Orcs travel to a strange new continent called Kalimdor. This made Grog nervous, he hated the water, drowning did not sound like an honorable death to Grog. He vowed to never leave his clan so of course Grog traveled with them to this new strange continent of Kalimdor, where his clan moved into Ashenvale territory after a dispute between the Alliance and the Horde.

It was a warm spring morning; Grog was chopping wood for the construction of the new Ashenvale basecamp. Grog was about half way done with his current pile and was preparing another pile in reserve when an Orc came running into the camp shouting, "We were attacked!" The company commander demanded to know what was happening, "Speak grunt, what happened? What attacked you?" With heavy breathes the grunt described tall dark figures that seemed to blend into the forest. The company commander shouted to the working members of the camp, "Prepare for battle, we march to find the rest of the scouting party." Grog rose in a blood crazed rage along with the rest of the Warsong clan, they shouted rage and hate filled songs as they took to the wooded forests of Ashenvale in search of the shadowed figures. The shadowed figures turned out to be Nightelves, this sparked a war between the two races for territorial rights in Ashenvale on one side you had the Orcs who wanted to expand and grow as a people, and no the other sat the Nightelves who were trying to protect their forest from being cut down. It was during this time that the Nightelves Demi God Cenarius awoke and began to slaughter the Orcs, the Orcs needed a solution and Mannoroth was more than happy to give it to them. The help came in the form of the blood fountain, with the drinking of the demonic blood the Warsong clan grew in strength and they were able to kill the Demi God Cenarius.

Thrall having seen what was happening banded together with Grom Hellscream leader of the Warsong Clan, after a show of force, and together they fought to free the Orcs from this demonic ruler. The battle was long fought and hard but together they defeated Mannoroth. In the battle Grom was killed, Grom is still seen as a hero of the Horde to this day and Grog celebrates him as nothing less.

Sweat ran freely down Grog's green back as he helped empty the supplies from the shipping crates at the lumber mill in Ashenvale, the foreman shouted, "Let's go dogs!... I want this shipment unloaded within the next two hours!" Grog saluted back with a pound on his chest as he picked up the pace, along with the rest of the Orcs. War was in the air and the battle of Mount Hyjal was near, a threat had swept across Azeroth with force. The threat, which turned out to be a combination of the Legion and Prince Arthas with his undead scourge, required both the Alliance and the Horde to overcome. The final march on Mount Hyjal was a bloody one, and one that Grog would never forget.

After the battle of mount Hyjal and treaty talks with the Tauren, a new ally gained during the war, Thrall immediately constructed a solid stronghold that would eventually become Orgrimmar.

It took Grog a few years to come to terms with what had happened to him and his people, but after a long explanation by Thrall's representatives Grog along with the others in the Warsong Clan was able to deal with and face the reality of what had happened to them. It was at this time that Grog stepped back to look at his life, where was it heading? And what would be there to greet him upon his death? The thought of a life filled with death and pain being his only legacy frightened him. Grog heard whispers long ago of warriors that walked among the spirits in peace. He had never really thought of himself as a spiritual Orc but in a way he was dedicated to the way of his axe; bound to the steel much as shamans bind themselves to the elements. What if he could seek out one of these “Spirit Champions” and pledge himself to their teachings? Could he then leave a mark among his people worth remembering? Only time would tell.

Grog traveled the face of Kalimdor for many moons in search of the great Spirit Champion known as Korgrom. Upon Grog's fifth week of searching he stumbled upon a hut, the smell of incense and herbs filled his nose. His eyes fell to the smoke plume exiting through the top of the hut, “Hmm…” He thought to himself perhaps this mystic knew of the mighty Korgrom's whereabouts. A massive green hand pulled back the flap of the hut as Grog poked his head inside, “I am Groglo-..” A voice came, “I know who ya be mon.” The Orc was taken by surprise. “You do?” The voice came again, “Ya. Ye Be a lost soul searchin for dee answers ta life.” Grog scratched his head as he entered. A look of frustration gracing his face, “I am –not- lost.” Fire danced bright in the pit centered near the middle of the hut, “Sure ya be mon. Ya not lost ya way in ya travels. Ya lost ya way inside.” A Troll stood from a seated position on the other side of the fire. He rose to meet the massive Orcs gaze, “I be da Korgrom ya be seekin mon. Ya need look no fur'dur.” Grog staggered at words, “I-.. F-forgive me wise one. I did not know.” Korgrom chuckled, “Of course'ya d'in. Come sit by me fire mon an tell me'o de'z troubles.”

Grog sat for the Troll for what seemed like several hours just recalling his life story and the feelings he had along the way fear, sorrow, rage, hate, death, life, hope. The Troll listened and conversed on certain matters offering profound advice on life's hardships and outlooks. Grog was stunned at how deep the Troll's mind went. The longer they talked the wiser the old Troll seemed. Morning had come and the rays of the sun raced across the plains of the Barrens like wild steeds of light. The Orc nodded to himself satisfied with what he had gathered from the old Troll, “Korgrom. I Grogloki seek your guidance in life; I wish to walk among the spirits as you do. I tire of a life based around simply my axe and will. There is more to me… I was meant for more.” He sighed at the thought of what he allowed himself to become so long ago. Korgrom took some herbs and mashed them into a pottery bowl; he stood with a grin “Well… Grogloki'O da Warsong… Let's see just wha da spirits be wantin ya ta do…” A large hand passed him the now smoking bowl of dark liquid. The Troll grinned wide, “Careful mon… it be havin a kick…” Grog slowly drank the crushed herb. Lights raced through his vision as his mind seemed to dance among the stars. Korgrom watched as Grog's eyes rolled backwards into his skull. The huge Orc was out like a light.

Time passed slowly with the Troll. Grog remained by the graces of the spirits and learned all he could from the wise Korgrom Deathweaver. The training was not easy; Grog had to silence the monster that slept inside. Warsong Orcs were born for violence and he needed to calm that violence within his soul. Grog struggled greatly with this at first but in time his mind opened to the spirits and his body as well allowing him to learn their ways. Korgrom watched with pride as the young Orc soaked up all he could about the spirits and blended his abilities in combat with those of the world beyond. For the first time in Grog's life he had found peace, a center in his being. The training was coming to a close and Grog had one final test. Grog needed to contact his own Spirit Companion, a true test for the Spirit Champion.

Korgrom lay near the fire in the center of the room, his long life was coming to a close soon and he only wanted to live his last few weeks in peace. Grog stayed with his old friend until the end. Sadness touched his heart as he watched the only friend he ever really knew, the only mentor he ever really had slip from this life to the next. The Orc shed a tear as he set the dead Trolls body on a pyre for the burning, “Farewell Korgrom. You will never be forgotten. And I will finish my training in your honor. Your legacy will be a good one old friend.” He smiled.

Grog meditated on the matter and remembered his friend over the next several days before packing his things and heading out. He had a long journey ahead of him but was excited to hurry towards the sunrise. Months flew by as Grog traveled Azeroth's many spiritual sites in hopes of contacting his Spirit Companion, months without answers. Until, one evening around dusk Grog had stumbled across an old grave. The stone was unmarked and grass had grown over it. He cursed grabbing his shin, “Wha-what?” His hands tore at the long overgrowth to reveal what lay beneath. As he uncovered the stone he found it without a name. He thought to himself “How could anyone just leave someone in the ground unnamed?” Grog sat there for many hours pondering as to how he could help when he heard a voice call to him, “Aye mon. I E'ar ya be havin troubles?” His eyes sprang open at the familiar voice. “Korgrom?!” Grog stood whirling around to see his old mentor. He saw nothing. The Orc dropped to his knees as the voice came again, “I speak to ya from da o'da side. An what I be sayin is important so listen.” Grog perked up, “I am old friend.” The Troll laughed a haunting laugh “Good. Dis be da last par'O yer training. Da family ya left behind calls to ya Grogloki'O da Warsong. Ya need'a listen.” Grog closed his eyes nodding. The meditation was long and stressful. His family spoke with him for many hours about what they had watched him do and become. A Father spoke with a son and a Mother with her baby. Grog was overwhelmed. How could such a dull place as this hold the key to his final steps towards becoming a Spirit Champion? There in lied his lesson as his Father spoke to him “Son. This thing you are seeking to become is nothing more than a title. What you are seeking truly is absolution for your deeds done. You need to let go of the past Grog, and look for the future. You are no longer a warrior, and you are not to become one of these Spirit Shamans. Grogloki that is who you are, your purpose and heart are your own in this life. Make sure you do not waste those chasing false hopes and frail answers. To become truly wise you must forget all things. I leave you with these words my son. Honor is not something earned, it is something lived. Wisdom is not learned, time gives it freely. Kindness is something all should share yet few do. You seek perfection of your soul, when the perfect soul lacks perfection. Life will treat you harshly… but you will live it well my son.” Grog snapped from the dream. The sun set high in the sky at midday's height. A tear fell from Grog's cheek as he rose. Something stirred in Grog that had not stirred before, a fire. Not of hate or rage. The fire was of determination; it was time to live his life. Grog placed a simple hand atop the head stone and smiled, “And you will always be remembered by at least one soul.” With a new drive Grog headed home.

Since then Grog has served the Warchief honorably in many battles, and takes great pride in his people along with the hardships they have had to face over the years. Grog climbed in rank through the Horde becoming a well-known warrior and Spirit Champion throughout Azeroth, with honor in his heart Grog serves the free people of his world viewing them all as worthy lives. The warrior hopes that one day his services will no longer be needed and that he may start a family but until that day comes he would gladly give his life to protect any of his brothers or sisters in battle.

Abilities

Ancestral Knowledge:

Ancestor spirits whisper into the champion's mind. As the spirit champion is a being of combat, many of these ancestors were mighty warriors, perhaps spirit champions themselves in their time. They speak of tactics and maneuvers to do accomplish them, of feints and cleaving blows, and their murmurs seep deep beyond the normal means of understanding to the depths champion's consciousness. A few times a day, he can focus all this to temporarily learn new abilities that he wouldn't otherwise have or comprehend. These insights do not last long, though, and are limited to the scope of these warrior ancestors' knowledge (so he couldn't apply this to cast a mage spell).

Spiritual Companion:

At the pinnacle of his training, a Spirit Champion begins to transcend the coils of the mortal planes. He is able to reach out into the realm of spirits, finding guidance from one of his relatives that have fallen prior to him. These guiding spirits take a representation within the realm of reality in the form of a Spirit Companion. These companions could possibly take any shape or form, though most prefer to take the form of what they were in life. Even still, the companion is one that is anchored to the Champion, and should they become too far separated the companion will fade back into the realm of Spirits. Should the Companion be wounded by means of magic, they are once more forced to the realm of spirits in order to heal for a day before the Champion could call upon them again.

Commune with Spirits:

The champion can contact the spirits and ask a question of them. The spirits usually answer, but often do so in cryptic riddles meant to at once improve the spirit champion or atleast teach him something about himself.

Meditative Strength:

A Spirit Champion reveres the spirits in every sense and often takes it upon himself to remain in near constant contact with them. Through meditation, they are able to accomplish such feats. Most prefer to meditate in the early hours of the day amongst peaceful places where they cannot be disturbed. They often make secluded locations amongst the mountains and forests, preferring the natural beauty. It is through these meditations and only through these meditations that a Spirit Champion can be blessed with the Spirit's blessings. Meditations must be renewed on a daily basis or else the Champion would face the day's challenges without the Spirit's guidance.

Calm Mind: The spirit champion's thoughts are tranquil, and difficult to disturb. For this, he is resistant (not immune) to invasive mind-influencing effects, such as control.

Weaknesses:

The spirit champion is only blessed after a minimum of an hour-long meditation upon each day. If the meditation is not performed or is interrupted, then the spirit champion will have to go without the spirit's blessings until he does.

The spirit champion rejects heavy equipment in favor of lighter clothing, viewing plate armor as insulting to the spirits' guidance.

The spirits' will might coincide with the champion's own, but the champion may on occasion feel impelled to embark on a journey for reasons not entirely clear to him, and do so with blind faith that the spirits will point him in the right direction.