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Doomox the Greybeard
Game Name


Race Orc
Gender Male
Class Hunter
Professions Leatherworking Skinning
Guild Alea Iacta Est

Physical Description

(Work in progress)



What little is known of Doomox’s past comes in bits and pieces from his journal. He was born on Draenor and came to Azeroth as a grunt at the start of the First Human Orc War. He was clanless and was adopted into the Warsong Clan by Grommash Hellscream himself. Apparent from his writings he was not present when Grom and the other Warsong drank of the fountain of blood in Ashenvale so that they could defeat the demigod Cenarius, inadvertently reinforcing for a second time the Warsong Clan and himself to the will of the Burning Legion pit lord Mannoroth. Because of his relationship with Grom, Dommox has a unique friendship with Thrall. See Journal entry bellow for detailed History


I sit upon the pinnacle west of Ogrimmar looking out over the great expanse known as the Barrens. “THE BARRENS” I never really understood why it was called such, for it is teaming with life.” THE BARRENS” BLAGH lush it is, lush and full of life. Now my home world Draenor that red planet of my birth, it was barren when last I looked upon it.

If you are taking the time to read this I suppose I should tell you who I am. Though I wonder at the sanity of anyone that would be interested in the ramblings of this crazy old hermit. Though if you like old war stories told around a campfire under the stars of our ancestor you may get some enjoyment from these scribbling. Who knows you may learn something.

But I will warn you I am no artesian wordsmith like our high and mighty friends the Blood Elves. I learned to read and write so I could receive and pass on vital information for my Clan Chief in the heat of battle. I strive only for understanding.

I once was asked to write and deliver a message to this Blood elf in Silvermoon, After reading and writing a response to my missive he then began to impart to me in the most condescending tone on subjects such as grammar, spelling and punctuation. I immediately thanked him by rearranging the up turned nose on his haughty little face. A gift he would surely appreciate when he awoke from the nap he was taking in the middle of the road. I was not really sure what most of the words he said meant, but grammar sure sounded like an insult to me.

But I am rambling let me get back to the introductions.

I am Doomox Greybeard the Clanless. I was a simple Grunt in the massive horde when I first stepped foot through Gul’Dan’s black portal to stand upon the soil of Azeroth. This was at the very first stages of the First Great War. As I passed through the darkness into this world, my senses were assaulted. Everything here was different. The most startling was the shear brightness. It was almost blinding. The sun was yellow and twice as bright as the red sun of my world. The land immediately in front of the portal was much like the land we had left on the other side. It seam as if the land of my dying world was trying to creep into this new one. A few hundred strides in the land changed into a swamp teaming with life. This swamp was called the Black Morass.

There we stood on this new world. The Orc Horde in all of its glory. Thousands of orc warriors both male and female ready to lay claim to this world and take it from the small pink skinned humans.

The Clan leaders had told us it was time at hand for us to take this world and to do this we simply had to destroy the human’s precious city fortress. I later learned the name of the fortress was Stormwind City but at the time I cared not, for why should I need to learn the name of a place that was soon to be wiped from existence.

The order came and the horde moved. We were like a boiling tide swarming across the land driving everything before us. We were the Horde and we were unstoppable. When finally we reached the fortress, we did not slow. We hit the gates of Stormwind like a lightning bolt shattering them like glass. Nothing could stand in our path. We killed and destroyed everything. We left nothing alive in our wake. Old, infirmed, male, female and youngling all fell before the might of our weapons. Occasionally a group of puny soft humans would attempt to stand their ground only to be ground up like so much meat in the butcher’s stall.

Nothing could stop us for we were the Horde.

Blood. Yes there was blood, blood aplenty. Blood that filled the streets of this pristine city overflowing into the canals and turning the water the color of wine.

Thunder Yes there was thunder. The thunder of the Horde driving everything before it.

Honor Alas there was no honor here. It was like wolves loosed in the sheep pen. It was simply slaughter.

Victory Oh course for were we not the unstoppable Horde. But….

Just as we approached the doors to the inner keep the thunder of the Horde was drowned out by the blaring of a hundred of trumpets and the ground beneath our feet began to quake. Then the doors of the inner keep flew open and out poured monsters.

Humans covered in shining metal carrying glistening lances and gleaming swords astride these vile armored behemoths, easily the size of 3 grown orcs, did the impossible they stopped the unstoppable..

We were thrown into confusion and chaos for we had never seen such an animal as these war horses. The precision at which these knights could bring their power to bear was more than we could take. For you see we had no war chief to coordinate us. Though the separate clan chiefs tried to rally each of his clans, no progress was made and the chaos continued. So slowly at first the knights started to drive us back, back through the shattered gates, back through the forest. Then eventually back east. Back to the swamp. And there we finally managed to stop them. But there we were to languish. For years we were to languish here in the Swamp of Sorrow.

Suffice to say these were not good years for the horde. During this time there was much political maneuvering between Gul’Dan and his warlock and the Clan chieftains but this was far above me and in truth I have little taste for the intrigue of orc politics for more likely than not it ended with someone dead.

For me the time was not so bad. There were plenty of raids and boarder skirmishes with the humans to keep me occupied and it was here among the snakes and crockilisks that I first learned to hunt and train animals to be companions.

Then came the day that would change the course of my life forever.

On this day I had been tasked to go raid a human settlement for slaves and supplies with 20 other orcs. We were honored when we found out that the Great War Chief Grom Hellscream (he had slipped through the portal despite Gul'Dan's objections) himself was to accompany us.

We set out at morning planning to reach the settlement at dusk. As we neared the settlement we were ambushed by a wondering patrol of 65 men on foot from the near by garrison. Out numbered more than 3 to 1 we were forced to perform a fighting retreat. We would stop fight a delaying action then move quickly back toward the swamp.

The leagues were covered in blood. The blood of both human and orc. Finally as the sun started to shine in the east and thinking I was all alone I stopped on a ridge above a clearing deciding to take as many as the humans down with me before I went to met the ancestors. I was surprised to see a few yards away were Chieftain Grom. I could tell by the look in his eyes he had come to the same decision as I.

We positioned ourselves behind a fallen log that gave us a clear view of the clearing. Cocked and loaded our crossbows and settled in to wait.

It was not to be long. We heard them before we saw them. Humans. They thought they were being so stealthy but to us it sounded like a herd of boar rampaging through the forest.

They finally broke into the clearing. There were 15 of them but lucky for us only 3 of them carried bows. Aiming I took the bowmen on the right in the throat and almost at the same time Grom took the one on the left in the chest. Immediately we cast aside our crossbows and jumped up, me drawing forth my 2 single hand axes and Grom drawing forth the fabled Gorehowl. I hit the last bowman just as he was drawing back the arrow on his bow. An arrow that had been allowed to let fly would have sent Grom to the ancestors then and there.

Then the true battle was joined in earnest. Time seem to stand still and in that crystal clear second as Grom and I stood back to back preparing to meet our adversaries eternities seemed to pass then axe meet sword and the Dance of Steel began. The Dance provided its own music as axe struck sword and sword struck axe. The Dance swirled about as sparks flew and light glinted off the edges of razor sharp blades and we became one with the Dance and BLOOD AND THUNDER IT WAS BEAUTIFUL!!!!

How long we dance I could not say. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. All I remember is the music of the Dance had stopped and as the blood rage fell from my eyes I saw Grom standing beside me both of us covered in blood and though we were out numbered over 6 to 1 not a drop of the blood was ours. And just as it dawned on me what we had done I hear this rumble of a laugh start beside me and as it grew in volume I add my own laugh to it. And so covered in our enemies blood in the middle of the forest we laugh as only men who had look Death in the face and spit into his eye could laugh. And in that laughter I knew I had found a leader who I could follow to the ends of the world. I knelt before him and I being clanless humbly asking if he would be willing to take me into his service. He stared down at me and smiled “Yes young one you have done me a great service here today as for as long as I live you will be one of the Warsong clan but my presence here must be kept secret."

Many more stories of Grom need to be told but they will have to wait until another day. There is one more person from my past I would have you meet so that you can understand the story I am attempting to tell today.

This part of my story happens after the Second Great War during the time of internment.

The Humans called us beasts and animals but the truth of it was much worse. For at this time our blood had been tainted by a demonic curse. Some of us took the blood taint willingly others not so willingly but still it flowed through all our veins. The daemon taint caused us to be like savage animals without kindness or mercy, driving us to commit atrocities such as the almost complete genocide of the race that shared our home world. This taint took us to a point of almost complete self destruction.

And now that same taint was eroding our spirit and our very will to live.

It would take one exceptional orc to pull us from the edge of almost complete oblivion and to renew our spirit and give us our heritage as a people back and this orc of course was Thrall.

I remember the first time I saw Thrall. He had found us when all of the might of the alliance could not. He found my Chief Grom Hellscream as we fought a guerrilla war against the Alliance in the Years of Interment. A war that we were only able to fight due to the shear force of will of our Chieftain who held us together even as he himself fought the demonic taint that left him weak and lethargic.

This young orc of no more than 20 summers radiated such aura of power and confidence that you felt better just to have met him. He and my chief became fast friends and were soon to become like unto brothers.

Here again could I regal you with great stories of this great orc some you would know some you would not. But it now time to turn our eye to the present and the completion of the tale I am telling today.

I presently live in the wilds of Feralas as a hunter. My only company is my animal companions. I go to Camp Mojache to sell my leathers and furs, and pick up supplies then I leave speaking to as few as possible. I am a loner a hermit if you will.

But once a year I come down from the highlands to travel to Ogrimmar. And at dusk after the celebrations have died down I enter the city and make my way quietly to Grommash Hold. Once there I speak with the guard captain and then I am ushered into Thrall’s private quarters. There he stands beside the cask of Dwarven mead that he knows I have a fondness for and says “I still don’t know how you drink this swill.” I laugh and say “What would your people say if I told them I had finally found a flaw in their flawless leader. That being that he has no sense of taste” Laughing he pours us both a tankard.

Then there comes a silence. As if the ancestors have stopped the world.

We lift our tankards and drink a toast to Grom Hellscream on the anniversary of his death. Then we drink another toast to all the family, friends and brothers and sisters in arms that have gone on to be with the ancestors before us.

Then having refilled our tankards,settle in by the fire and reminisce about old friends and old victories. Thrall is kind to this old orc and laughs at my old jokes and lets me ramble away far into the night. Then as is my custom I prepare to leave so I might watch the first rays of light strike the Barrens but something is different this time. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Thrall says “You know you couldn’t have stopped him from drinking from the fountain. If you had been there you would have been corrupted like all the others.” “I know.” I replied. “Then what is it?” he asked. “That day in the woods he told me that as long as he lived I would be Warsong. The day he died I became clanless again. Alone.” I answered. “You don’t have to live alone.” Thrall says. “You don’t have to wander through life a living ghost just waiting for the ancestors to call you home. There is another choice.” “What” I say, “stay here and live off your charity?” “No’ he says “I know you better than that old friend. There is another option’’

“There are many guilds throughout the horde lands, but over the last few years one of them has grown to out shine the rest. Their numbers are vast, their members are honorable, and their deeds of valor and heroism out number the sands of Tanaris. They are made up of orc, taurin, troll, undead and blood elf. They are ALEA IACTA EST, which in the old tongue means “the die has been cast”. They seem to be less like a guild and more like a clan or a family and they are always looking for more brothers and sisters to bring into the fold. I am sure they would welcome you.” “BAH ...What use would the have for a used up old grunt like me.” I reply though what he says strikes a cord in my chest. I move to step out into the night and turn and say “I will see you next year if I live” To that he responds “I think I will see you sooner than that” and I hear him laugh as the flap falls back to cover the door.

The sun is over the hilltops now and moving on to mid day. The wind blows through my sparse hair. I think of what Thrall said. It would be nice to not be alone again. To have someone to fight by my side. Some thing to give my life meaning. And in thinking these thoughts I come to the realization that I am tire of being alone of simply exisisting and not living. And yes I believe there are a few more adventures left in these old bones. Alea Iacta Est. The die has been cast. I like the sound of that. Yes I believe I have at lest one more die to cast before I go to meet the ancestors.

I turn to walk back to Ogrimmar feeling more alive than I have in years. As I make my way down from the summit I can already hear Thralls booming laughter the sound of which reminds me of another’s laughter in the woods so long ago. Image:My_Picture.jpg