Dranorga

Greetings, Skullcrushers! I'm a new face who's run with some of your members before quite some time ago, back when I was under the colors of the Sublime Order of Discord. Unfortunately that wonderful thing known as Real Life decided to interfere with my time in Azeroth, and so I took a leave of absence from it in favor of professional concerns. Coming back to the game, I'm seeing a decided lack of good guilds (including but not limited to guilds whose names have proper capitalization, a good balance of cool people and a moderate amount of RP, not to mention the capability of running dungeons without having to scour all continents and the Outlands to find willing souls). This brought me back to Clan Skullcrusher, that plucky bunch of souls that I met while under SOD's colours, and I looked up the first Clan Skullcrusher member I could, being elevated to Kalea, who suggested, as I'm looking for a sponsor, that I put a post in here. The specifics were left up to me, so I'd like to stress that I am not looking for a sponsor just for the sake of being a sponsor. I'm looking for someone who is willing to get to know me, chat with me, do a few runs with me, and then possibly represent me if they think I'm a good fit for the guild, because I want to make sure I don't make anyone feel I'm taking advantage of their generosity. I want to make sure that I'm a good choice for the guild on the guild's terms, and not just my own. I would very much appreciate an in-game tell or mail to follow up with this, or even a message on the board, as I'll make sure to monitor this topic. In game, you can reach me as Dranorga, the level 70 troll hunter, or Tieradal, the level 41 troll rogue. Thank you! Dranorga

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."