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Post your childhood/backround here!
((Post it here, folks, wether you wish to speak of your childhood or what. Explain what happened to you before you made it to where you are today.))

There are two things people notice me upon the first few minutes of our meeting: My robust build, and my perfect orcish dialect. Both are an odd sight in Trolls. These two oddities sprout from the same source.
It goes back to my childhood. I never knew my parents, or if I did, I have forgotten them. My earliest memories are from my early childhood, and even then I was wandering the streets of Orgrimmar. I managed to stay alive by the skin of our teeth. It was not a comfortable lifestyle, begging, but what is comfort when you have a life to fight for?
One day, when walking through a section of town I was not accustomed to, I ran into a sympathetic orc. He took one look at my thin frame and led my by hand to an orcish orphanage.
I must have been.... 7 at the time. I had not hit puberty yet. I remember fitting in well with the other students. Everyone thought I was just a blue orc. Hell, I thought I was a blue orc. Our young DO look alike. We were taught at that tender age how to wield a sword and shield, and how to use proper grammar. They even taught us to write. I thusly learned the finer arts of battle, and the finer arts of the language we call orcish.
I was 13 when things began to go awry. Everyone else began to get brutally muscular, while I remained lanky and awkward. It got worse when my limbs shot out at amazing speeds, and I stood half as tall again as any other student in the orphanage. And then, of course, my tusks sprouted (Which hurts like a bitch, by the way. Teething all over again.) It was then obvious that I was not like anyone else there.
I would be lying if I didn't meet some prejudice at the orphanage. Orcs, for the most part, are very rude until you prove that you are worthy of their respect. At that point, it was obvious to me that I wasn't nearly as strong as them (but still much, much stronger than most trolls,) so I had to find other means of beating my peers in the mock battles.
I ended up finding the answer in my troll heritage. I still know very little of the trollish language, but I was able to harness the ancient fury locked inside our blood. When I would find myself losing, my instinct would take over and I would go berserk. In this state, there is no thinking, just action. When I used this talent of mine, I would often win, and if not that, unleash a world of hurt upon my opponent while losing.
After proving myself to them, the orcs accepted me and I became the talk of the school. Although everyone wanted to stack their stuff against mine, I was well respected.
I graduated from the orphanage, and my young childhood training stays with me to this day. To hell with the throwing spears, give me that sword and let me fight alongside my bretheren-
The Orcs!
((Very nice history! =) ))
First and foremost I am relying on slightly patchy WoW info so if there are any mistakes I apolagize, I assume there would be a first meeting with night elves and humans and I assume it would have not gone well

It was a bright noon day, the birds were singing, not at all the kind of day you'd expect your world to come crashing down. I was a medic with an advanced scouting party. It came so suddenly, the devils came out of the bushes, they dropped out of the trees, a few of them even came out of the ground itself. The poiny eared devils, night elves *spit*. ....

Three years before I was well on my way to becoming a Lt. in the local dispatch of the army. I had a beautiful girlfriend and there was no match in my town for my skills with a dagger. Things were perfect, so something had to go wrong. My girlfriend, the very day she became my fiance, contracted what we thought was a rare disease. As it turned out had we a compatent doctor she would have easily lived. I locked myself in the celler for months, pouring over books. I think some small shattered part of me thought that if I could just find the right medicin, the right mix I could bring her back. In the end it was useless. After I recovered from the greif I had a newfound appreciation for the sanctaty of life. I started my training as a doctor. I allready had worked so hard in the military, I decided that I could do the most good as a medic with my old troop, my friends, my brothers. We quickly became known as "the lords dagger" We were quick, we were quiet, and we were efficent. Nobody could beat us. We were sent to a far off land for a scouting mission. I don't know where we exactly went, nor did I care, my job was to insure the safety of my friends.......

... A hail of arrows barraged my batalion. Shafts thicker than a mans thumb cutting though us. I was not worried for my own welfare, nobody fires on medics, there is no point. We just prevent death, we don't actually bring anybody back on to the battlefeild. Apparently this scum had no such convention. I took an arrow through my left humorus, they aimed right for the red cross armband I was wearing. I quickly fell due to loss of blood, they nicked the brachial artery. My last usefull medical act was to tie a tournaqit around my arm, probably saving my now worthless life. When I came to I had to pushe the bodies of my fallen comrads off of me. They were dead to the last man. It was then, woozy from loss of blood, I vowed my revenge on whoever did this, no matter the cost. As it turned out it was a hollow vow

To Be Continued.
It took me nearly 3 weeks to burry the men who had been my family for the better half of my life. I sustained myself on the local flura and fauna. Thistle Boars, Wolves, whatever I could find easily, fortunatly I was still compatent with a sling despite my now worthless left arm. I was in no rush to return home. I had no idea how to get there and when I did I had no more reason to be. My carrer as a doctor was dessimated with my left arm, No wife, no career, no hope. I must have survived there for at least 2 or 3 years, when you spend that much time alone you quickly loose track of the days and nights. From the information I gathered afterwards the humans and nightelves banded togeather around a common enemy, the night elves knew exactly where I was and lead a rescue party as soon as the alliance was formed. 3 years! 3 Years those hornorless scum left me without a soul to talk to, watching me the whole time. The second I returend home I started my petition against the alliance, but it was to no avail. They called me crazy, that the years alone had warped my mind, they were probably right, but the night elves have no honor, they warp nature to their own means, they are an abomination upon the land, I poured though their librarys searching for the answer, all I could find was vague hints at some ancient evil once let loose upon their land (See the first WoW book) Eventually I was shuned even among my own kind, my own home town turning their back on me. I spent my remaining years as a human being scraping by a meager living hunting animals and skinning them to make leather clothing.

...I awoke to screaming. Men, women, children, when the scourge comes everybody screams, everybody but me. As I lay in bed I awaited my chance for revenge.....

.... The pain was horrible, bone rending, flesh chaning, I was becoming undead, but something was different, I expected to be incoherent, a shambaling wreck. Sure there was a little bit of rot, and somethings were fuzzyer than others, but I knew who I was, I knew how all this happend, but most importantly, my left arm was as good as new. All my years of miltary training, all the years pouring over medical books, I knew anatomy inside and out. I could garrote somebody and pinch off their corrotid artery, I could blind them perfectly by gouging their eyes. My years in the woods had taught me to be stealthy, when offered my choices for training in the forsaken army I knew my choice, I would be a rogue, and my blade would be slipped between the sholderblades of any human night elf of alliance member I could find. My revenge came near, and I could taste it.

I apolagize for all the spelling/grammer errors, it is now 3 in the morning and i am super tired, but i've been thinking about this for a while and wanted to get it down and post it and hopefully get SOME action on this board. The writings a bit shakey, but at least it gets the story accross.
Vashu clears his throat, bends over his chalkboard, and begins to write.

My early childhood... I don't remember much of it. I lived in a small hut on the coast of Durotar, near the Echo Isles. It was a good life, my father was a sucessful hunter, and my mother tended to a small garden at the foot of the hill, so I always got enough to eat.

On one of the islands just offshore, though, there was a witch doctor named Zalazane. He was infamous among our community, because he would sometimes abduct young trolls and curse them, bend them towards his will. By the time I was eleven, he had amassed a small army of cursed trolls. He decided our tribe deserved to die. In a few hours, he tore through the village, and took no prisoners... except me.

Vashu holds up his chalkboard so it can be read, then erases it and begins writing again.

He took me back to his island, and placed me under his curse. I was a minion of his for many years, and all that happened during that time blurs together. I remember little from that part of my life as well.

Recently, he sent a small scouting party, with me as their leader, to Sen'jin Village. Without thinking, we attacked the village, with no thought as to how outnumbered we were. The Watchers of the village ripped through our numbers, and, once again, I was the only prisoner.

The authorities tried to get information from me, but I would tell them nothing. I was incredibly violent, and had no sense of reason.

Vashu holds his chalkboard up again, wipes it clean, and bends over it once more.

Once it became clear that they would not get any useful information from me, they decided to set me free from Zalazane's curse. The Watchers held me down, kicking and screaming, while Master Vornal forced a magical fluid down my throat. The solution released me from the curse, but burned my throat badly in the process. So badly, in fact, that I am now incapable of making the guttral noises required for the Orcish language.

After I came to, I was told to go to the Den to recover. After I was back up to speed, I shouldered my bow and hefted my axe, and slew Zalazane myself.
These are all wonderful! =) Especially Vashu.

as soon as i can preform a few background checks on my history (i DO like to be accurate....) i will be posting something as well
Once milliniums ago there were more or less a dozen founders of Human Warlockhood, I as an apprentice of one of the founders chanced upon a great treasure, a genie in a bottle. I was instrucked not to open it by my master, it had too much of a draw over me, i hoarded it and ran off to where i can no longer remember.

I was confident I could ensnare the denon inside the bottle, I was wrong. This demon quickly overpowerd me, eating my flesh. Later he disposed of me by hurling me in a vail into sea.

I could not escape for a roughly 800 years. I sailor of Booty Bay found me and sold me to Gnomes. These Gnomes studied me and tortured my spirit, of which they burnt, froze, and shocked mercilessly, such pain can not be expressed.

After they lost intrest i was put into storage for milleniums.

Alas then a strange chance occured, an apprentice of one of my torturers dropped the vail. My soul escaped, what was left of my bones diddn't.

Broken and tormented my soul fled to the one being that could help me, The Queen of the Dead. I begged her to revive me, she did on one condition; I server her faithfully as a forsaken. I had little choice. She asked my name, I could no longer rember it I told her. She replied, "You now shall be called Molotov and you shall serve me as a Fire Mage as best you can."

And now I continue to be her faithful servent.
Like all Darkspears aftah de splintering of de Gurubashi Empire, I was born into slavery. My daddy be thrall to de Bloodscalp Chieftain, and so fate havit' be dat so would I. I never be knowin my mom cause she be a slave to de Skullsplitters, and only "breed wit' me daddy for good stock purposes." :Confusedpits on the ground:: Me daddy was once a great warrior for a rogue band of Darkspears, but wit dere number so small, most were eventually slaughtered or captured. He taught me stories dat been passed down through our tribe. Stories of de honor of de Darkspears, and of de great Gurubashi Empire. I became obsessed wit' de stories and knew every detail by heart by de age of 11, every name, every symbol drawn in de dirt.

My daddy no longer allowed to wield a "real" weapon (one of de many tings we be denied, such as meat or even a name!), he be forced to help train de fledgling Bloodscalps how to fight. He taught dem to fight wit' honor, a concept foreign to de Bloodscalps. De chieftain did not like dis and me daddy quickly be "re-educated". It was not long before he became a broken troll. I /hated/ me daddy for not fightin' back, for losin' his honor. As he sat on his floor skins, wit his head sloped down and his spirit broken, I reminded him of de stories. I recited every one, but he did not move. He just heaved a sigh, layed down, an went tah sleep... I left dat night.

I was not familiar wit' de jungles of Stranglethorn as I had spent most of me life in de villiage. I followed de coast south, narrowly escaping a Bloodscalp Outpost to de south. As night be growin darker, and I be growin tired, I came across another Troll villiage, very small and "makeshift". Not wantin' to approach it, as it may be another Bloodsclap outpost, I decided to rest for de night. When de morning broke, I could see dat de banner was not dat of de Bloodscalps, but de Darkspear banner! Invigored by hope, I painted my face as dat of a Darkspear Warrior, and entered de villiage.

When I approached de guard, an old scarred veteran, he looked at me as though he be seein' a ghost. He quickly regain his composure though, and asked me my name. I faltered, not havin'a name of my own. It took me a second, but I gave me daddy's name, Mwarrik, if he would not be bringin' honor to it, I would. Now de guard looked baffled. He quickly apprehended me, muttering some'ting about a vile trick. My hands bound, I was taken to a dark tent wit a bubbling cauldron in de center. Dere were skulls and scalps adornin' de tent and behind de cauldron was a troll shrouded in shadows. Outta de corner of my eye I saw de veteran make a quick salute as he exited de tent.

Dere was a long pause before de troll spoke. "You do not be foolin' ME boy," as he spoke he looked up and I could see dat he was a good deal older dan de veteran was. "Mwarrik be a brave warrior, I be knowin' him well once upon a time. You, boy, walk wit' de way of one who never seen battle, much less be knowin' de touch of a woman." He chuckled, his voice sounded like dry old leather. "Now, who do you really be?" An unsettling feeling creeped ovah me as I had no idea how he be knowin' who I said I was...
"De Mwarrik you know be dead, he be me daddy," I said, "I don' be havin a name of me own." Another long pause...
"Den I suppose Mwarrik you shall stay. I be Sen'jin and I be de wisdom around here. Everyone do as I say, and if I let you stay here, dat means you too. Undahstood?" I nodded my head. "Good den! You know how to wield a spear?"
"No mon."
Sen'jin shook his head. "Go see Jor'jubi, de one who be bringin' yah here. He'll know why."

I trained wit de spear for several weeks, and learned many tings about my tribe. Since de settling of humans in de Vale, we had allied ourselves wit de orcs, and what dey calld De Horde! It was for dis reason dat de other tribes of de Gurubashi had not yet wiped us out. I also spent much time wit Sen'jin. I wanted to learn to be a witch-doctor like he be, but he said dat my herritage lie wit' de spear. He taught me a few simple enchantments though, dat he said would help me on my way. It was around dis time dat de maraudin' murlocks dat Sreng spoke of arrived. I remember dat battle all too well. And it was in dat battle dat Sen'jin fell. Our orc allies came to aid us, and if it werent for dem we would have surely perished, but it was de sacrifice of Sen'jin dat pulled us through and won de battle. It was for dis sacrifice dat Thrall vowed dat always Darkspears would be havin' a place in de Horde!

Wit' de help of de horde and our new leader, Sen'jin's son Vol'jin, we settled in de echo isles. De betrayal of Zalzane put an end to dat, and so we moved once more, and settled on de adjacent strand in Durotar. We called de strand de Darkspear Strand after our noble tribe, and de villiage Sen'jin. Shortly after de settlement I made my way to de Den, wit' de orcs to finish my training... to embody de honor of de Darkspear Tribe and repay our debt to de great Warchief Thrall!
My brothers and I were born after Thrall had made the "truce" with the Alliance. Our parents had started a small farm just south of Camp T because they were tired of fighting. My brothers and I had been sent off to The Den to learn the skills Orcs need to survive. We had only been there a few days and were still trying to figure out what to do when word came that Mom and Dad had been killed by Alliance raiders. Mom was cooking Dad's supper and Dad was putting his tools away. They had no chance to defend themselves.
I decided to become a Hunter so that I could track Alliance. I fought them for many seasons with hatred in my heart. I showed no mercy just as they had shown none. Then one day in One Thousand Needles a member of the Alliance saved my life when I was in a fight with Steel Snap.
I thought much about that event. I realized that not all Alliance are murderous scum. Because of that incident I no longer raid Alliance lands. But I do and will defend Horde lands. And when I do I show no mercy for the hatred comes back and burns higher and hotter than a mage's Pillar of Fire! But when I see Alliance just hunting or fishing it does not bother me. Only the Alliance who violate the truce make me revert. For they have no honor when they violate the truce.
My brother who became a warrior also follows my philosophy becasue of the kindness shown to me. Defend but do not raid. At least untill Thrall finally becomes tired of the raids and decides to once again unleash the Might of the Horde! But my other brother, who decided to become a rogue, still kills the Alliance in their own lands. He became a rogue for that very reason. And the Fire of Hatred burns deep within him. I can only hope that he lives long enough to learn the valuable lesson that my warrior brother and I have learned as a result of that incident in One Thousand Needles.
As a casualty of the plague, I awoke in Tirisfal Glades with no recollection of my previous life. I could not remember how I came to be in the Glades, and I had nothing that provided me a connection to my past life. As I lay helpless in my decay, a young Tauren Shaman came up to me. She reached out a hoof to help me up. She was drawn to my weakness and despair, and she took pity on my weakened state. Akora had ventured from her homelands in Mulgore to come across the sea to provide her assistance to those afflicted with the plague. She chose me, and I am extremely grateful for her assistance. After that day, I swore an oath to offer her my undying friendship.

As I grew in strength and power, I wanted to know about my previous life. Akora agreed to help me on my quest to find my previous life. During our journeys, we came upon a group of fellow adventures. Akora immediately realized the strength and honor in this group. She joined with Sreng, Kosath, Fleethoof, and others to create the Ironsong Tribe. I was not ready to join with the Ironsong Tribe. As a Forsaken, I was skeptic of the other Horde races. But Akora and the other officers continued to show me patience. They continued to encourage me to join with the Ironsong Tribe. They accepted me, even though I was accursed. Finally, after many seasons of the moon, I was ready to accept membership in the Tribe.

As I continue my quest to remember my past, I am coming to the realization that my past is over. I have a new life – a life with Akora and the others in the Ironsong Tribe. The Tribe is my family now. And the family has accepted me despite my curse. Now, I know that I belong to the Ironsong Tribe. And I will add my voice and power to the Tribe. For together, we are powerful, a powerful force serving others in the Horde. We each come with a different story, but together we create one family – a family built on honor and respect for each other. May we all stand together for each other and the Horde.
*blinks looks around and clears her throat speaking haltingly, choosing her words with care*

I don't remember much of my childhood. That was lost with my family. What I can remember was that we lived in the Barrens not far from crossroads on a little farm and we were as happy as any trolls could be. I would love to say it was alliance raiders or even burning legion who killed my family and left me for dead but I cannot recall who it was. I wandered for days in the savannah fleeing hungry prowlers and stinking hyenas. Afraid to get near anyone for fear whoever had harmed my family might know who I was, I avoided civilized places.

I began to learn the language of animals and birds, becoming more familiar with their speech than ours.

One day not long after I had been orphaned I found a clutch of raptor eggs, the mother nearby dead. Most of the eggs had been broken into the pathetic remains of her babies scattered around the nest. But one was still undamaged. I grabbed it and ran as fast as I could out of the nesting grounds knowing others could be about.

When I got to my own little nest I grabbed a rock and started to hit the egg expecting a meal. Mouth watering, I smacked it once, twice... and then heard a crack from within the egg. Wide eyed I sat back and watched as a young raptor, red as blood emerged. He looked once at me and squeaked "Mother" at least I think it was cause he followed me around everywhere.

Couldn't really eat him after that. Calling him Spot for the little patch between his eyes I became "mother" to our little pack and we learned quickly how to hunt together.

As time passed I realized I had to move among my own kind too. and so taking Spot with me (for I saw others with animal helpers of their own) I went to the Den and started my life among the Horde

I met the Warlord on my first excursion into Razor Hill. He showed me his own pet and I felt perhaps his tribe was where I truly belong.

My past isn't important to me. My future with my new family is.

*sits back down and pets Spot affectionately*
((I've decided to revive this thread to serve as a more central area for backgrounds/histories. If you've already posted such in a separate topic, that's fine. If not, feel free to post it as a reply here!))
Kaerrah lifts her nose to the air, tasting the scent of the plains. The usual odors mingle in her nose- sun bleached grass, a herd of gazelle grazing up-wind, and the faintest odor of two-legs preparing the mid-day meal. A part of her seemed to vaguely remember partaking of those meals, a fleeting memory gone as quickly as it surfaced. Those memories drug themselves from the recesses less and less often these days. Brief glimpses of two-leg things- sleeping in a straw bed, gathering in the town center for the morning hunt, long hours spent communing with the elders. Things of a life not her own, cast in misty shades of grey amidst the vividly colored memories of life on the plains. She shook her head as such thoughts quickly faded back into obscurity. Her past was a haze and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. All that mattered today was today. Today and the hunt.
<!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="http://www.ironsongtribe.com/viewtopic.php?t=237">http://www.ironsongtribe.com/viewtopic.php?t=237</a><!-- m -->

All my love and power

Sing True Ironsong!
*Qaza chuckles at the request for information, but offers nothing*

(( Heari's tale, which is updated occasionally, is here: <!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="http://www.ironsongtribe.com/viewtopic.php?t=1552">http://www.ironsongtribe.com/viewtopic.php?t=1552</a><!-- m --> ))

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