Dragor

Sergeant Dragor Pitslayer

General Information

Title(s): Sergeant of the Horde

Gender: Male

Race: Orc

Class: Warrior

Affiliation(s): The Frostwolf Clan, The Horde, The Valarjar, Armies of Legionfall

Occupation: Grunt and Valarjar

Location: Dalaran, Kalimdor or Alterac

Status: Alive

Relative(s): Durog (Father)

Companion(s): Whiteclaw (dire frost wolf)

Biography

Early Life

Ever since he could run, Dragor had been trained to become a loyal soldier of the Horde. Born eighteen winters ago in Year 21 ADP (After the Dark Portal), the only family he had known was the Orcs of the Horde. His father had fallen on the slopes of Mount Hyjal, slowing down the advance of a Pit Lord to give enough time for reinforcements to arrive. His mother had passed away shortly after his birth due to complications and sickness. Normally, such orphaned orcs would be abandoned but the Horde needed new warriors after the Third War and their Warchief would not allow the young to be claimed by the harsh elements of Kalimdor. As Orgrimmar was being constructed and the Horde battled against the Kul'Tirans, restarting their Cycle of Hatred, Dragor was raised by the Grunts in what would be known as the Valley of Trials...

By the time he could walk, he would be tasked with retrieving cactus apples within the valley. A task that left his hands scarred by sharp thorns. By the time he could run, he would catch boars in the pigsty for the grunts to eat. After every sunset, Dragor's green skin would be scorched from under the sun and he was left parched. A mundane life for many but a harsh trial that the young orc had to overcome and triumph. When Deathwing first shattered the world during the Sundering, Dragor was only seven winters old. He felt the land quake and rock as the Aspect's might tore it apart. The entire Valley was in disarray! Agitated elementals rose up to attack everyone and with the other younglings, he took refuge within the Den. By the time twelve winters had passed, Deathwing was long dead and the invasion of Pandaria had begun. Dragor was now of age to take the Om'riggor: an orcish rite of passage by which they enter adulthood. On Draenor, his people traditionally hunted talbuk by themselves with no armor and provisions and using only one weapon. On Azeroth, there were no talbuks and so they adapted to using the native creatures. For Dragor, his hunt was of a fearsome creature in Durotar... a raptor!

Though the trolls had a natural kinship with these fearsome predators, many still ran wild across Durotar and the Barrens. Smaller than talbuk yet more ferocious, Dragor's trial was a perilous one. Many young orcs fell victim to their sharp claws and speed. Thus, the young warrior would have to take a more creative approach... It had been two nights since Dragor left the Valley. He had been surviving off of the water of cacti and boar that he had hunted. The raptor were not too far from here but he purposefully did not confront them head on. A trap was instead laid... using the bones of the boar had killed, sharpened with his hunting knife, these "spikes" would be planted within a ditch he had dug with his bare hands. Using the leaves and sticks from some palm trees, he would cover the hole. All that was left was needing some bait... him. On the third day, Dragor set out. He had finished the last of the boar and the cacti's water, ready to complete his trial. A raptor was found upon a cliff in Durotar. The young orc roared a battle cry to taunt it.

The raptor took the bait!

With a screech, it gave chase!

Without hesitation, the orc turned!

He ran for his life.

Twice, he was almost caught.

He zig-zagged his way back to the trap.

He jumped over the pit...

...turning just in time to see the raptor's leg fall into it!

The pit was not deep enough to kill the raptor outright but it did cripple the beast. Dragor did not drag out its suffering. He quickly moved for the kill, watching its reptilian eye widen as he slit its throat open. The raptor collapsed, blood gushing out from the open wound. It soon passed on... Dragor stood over its corpse silently. Panting. He dipped his hand in its blood and smeared it over his face. With his trial complete, he made his way back home... Having been gone for three nights now, many from the Valley of Trials thought the orc was dead. It was not surprising to them. After all, he was but an abandoned pup raised only to fill the Horde's ranks. However, when Dragor returned, there were hushed murmurs... the lone pup had survived twelve winters without family. Without a clan. Yet he triumphed in the end! A shaman came forth and tasted the blood of the beast he had killed. He confirmed it was genuine and the formal ceremony was conducted that made Dragor an adult. Festivities were held that night. Perhaps the last night of respite for him as the next day, he would be sent to Orgrimmar to train as a grunt. Dragor had always dreamt of a life of glory and though he was finally able to begin that journey, he could not help but reminisce over his life in the valley. Despite its harshness, it was the only home had ever known. Despite his parents being gone, the Horde had become his new family...

Adulthood

It was a few days journey to Orgrimmar. Dragor took rest in both Sen'jin Village and Razor Hill along the way before reaching the mighty gates of the orcish city. There, he was taken in by his Sergeants and his skills were honed. His preferred blade was the axe, a common weapon among the grunts. However, during this time, the Horde was in turmoil... Garrosh had become Warchief only three years ago. While his early years were marked by honor and greatness, the invasion of Pandaria slowly saw his fall into a mad tyrant driven by pride. It was during Hellscream's descent that Dragor began his training and as such, much of what he learned was of orcish pride! Xenophobia, arrogance, cruelty. Such traits were instilled into the orcs as the Horde grew more and more aligned with orcish supremacy. Dragor too learned such values for a year... until the Siege of Orgrimmar.

What Dragor learned from Hellscream's "True Horde" greatly conflicted with the values and upbringing of Thrall's shamanistic horde. He felt conflicted with how he was raised versus what the Horde now taught. But loyal and true to his "family", Dragor stood with them... His young age is what saved him in the end as he was only thirteen winters old when the city was attacked and Garrosh was removed from power. The new leaders of the Horde did not persecute Dragor for he was merely a grunt in training, not having committed any war crimes like the Kor'kron. It was during this period of rebuilding that an old friend of his father's found the young grunt. For the first time, Dragor learned of his parents and how they fell. He learned that he was of the Frostwolf Clan as well who had based themselves in Alterac. With permission from his superiors, Dragor then left for the Eastern Kingdoms to continue his training under his Clan.

Dragor felt more at home in the snowy parts of Alterac than he did in Durotar. Despite being raised in scorching levels of heat, he quickly grew accustomed to the cold. Farseer Drek'thar took him in and with the other elders, taught the young orc of the history of their people. They sang a Lok'vadnod of his father, regaled tales of Draenor and Frostfire Ridge. He even learned how to resist falling into the orcish bloodlust while continuing his training as a grunt. He learned to respect the elements as well. A friend of his mother's gave him a young frostwolf pup too. One he would cherish and grow with.

It was a peaceful time... one that Dragor wished never ended.

Six more winters pass and Dragor grows into a mighty warrior. His frost wolf becomes a full adult as well by this time. The peace he enjoyed did not last. While the world around him raged from the war against the Legion, Dragor ended up in a few skirmishes with dwarves of the Stormpike Clan. In one of these skirmishes, a dwarf struck a lethal blow atop his wolf's head. Its skull cracked and it died immediately. Dragor flew into a rage! His bloodlust overcame him and he slaughtered all of the dwarves. When he finally came to, he was surrounded by many bodies... covered in blood... and the Frostwolves overlooking him.

Dragor was chastised for his reckless, bloodthirsty behavior. But he rebuffed them! They had killed his wolf and they had to pay in blood! His elders frowned upon him for ignoring their teachings. Instead of furthering any bloodshed, Dragor decided to leave Alterac. When his boiling rage eventually died down, he felt immense shame for disrespecting his elders. He felt no remorse towards the dwarves he killed but... how could he ever face his Clan again after succumbing to bloodlust and ignoring their teachings? Dragor decided he would only return home when he had found glory on the battlefield. The Horde was taking a more passive approach to the war as the main focus was on the Order Halls. Thus, the orc decided he too would join one. Not only would he help protect his home, he would also try to redeem himself through honorable deeds.

After speaking with those in Dalaran, Dragor bore witness to the homeworld of the Eredar appear in the sky... Argus. He stared dumbstruck in awe after hearing about Kil'jaedan's defeat. How Illidan Stormrage then brought the broken planet to Azeroth. So they could take the fight... to the Legion. Dragor knew this was his destiny. He knew that the greatest of glories would come from joining the heroes against the Legion on their homeworld. That they would either succeed and drive the Legion back... or they would die trying. But first, he needed to train. He needed to reach the level of the other heroes and champions.

Legion

To become Valarjar was no simple feat. Dragor soon learned this when he began asking around in Dalaran, learning of their origins and history. Many told him that he had to die an honorable death in battle. Even so, not every warrior that died honorably became Valarjar. This was a risk that he would not take. He did not wish to die an early death until he had fulfilled his goals. Others told him of an alternate path to become Valarjar... but he first had to earn their attention.

His first real encounter with the Champions of Azeroth was in Dalaran's lounge. The orc was seated upon the couch, drinking his grog when two strangers came in. One reeked of death. The other was filled with magic. Dragor had heard much of the heroes of his world. Those that toppled Garrosh. Those that killed Archimonde and now Kil'jaedan. He expected them to look like gods and some did but these two looked very ordinary. This was not a bad thing for it taught Dragor a valuable lesson... he too could become one of them.

He approached them and spoke. The one of magic was Reinwald and the death knight was Alywien. The latter of whom would play a great part in Dragor's journey to become a spirit champion. Something unexpected yet welcome nonetheless. Dragor referred to her as a huntress, having great respect for the fearsome women warriors that were the sentinels. An identity he assumed she was trying to return to. The duo had a hand in killing Kil'jaedan which immediately gained the orc's respect and awe. He decided to leverage them to be introduced to other champions. Heroes that could guide him on his journey and help him become Valarjar. Together, the trio soon departed for Stormheim thanks to Reinwald's portal. A man had asked for help to kill demons and Dragor would use this opportunity to get the Valarjar's attention.

Upon arriving in Stormheim, he met with Heather Godford and Kyrie Kindstone. The latter being a shaman was another like the huntress with whom Dragor would strike a close bond. Here, Dragor met Shack for the first time. An odd man with an odd business and odd associates. He liked to go off-topic a lot which made Dragor lose his patience once or twice by asking him to hurry up. When their mission was clear, the group made their way to a cave. The Felscale Cavern. A gnome warlock had been seduced by Simone the Seductress, a succubus with a love for hounds. With only two axes in his hands, Dragor had his first true taste of battle on the Broken Isles with the heroes. The cost, however, was great. Though Dragor's axes struck true and killed many hounds, his whole body was badly burnt by the Fel. Especially when he tried knocking out the gnome that was magically enamored with the demon. In all his life, he had never felt faced such danger. He had never been injured so badly. It quickly became clear to Dragor that he would have to endure much and sacrifice more in order to defeat the Legion.

When the others left the cavern to collect their payment, Dragor stayed back. Though his green flesh was badly burnt and scarred, he ignored it. He took the corpses of the demons and began stacking them outside. With a large spike, he impaled the demons onto it and offered this tribute to Odyn and the Valarjar!

Here me now, Odyn! Warriors of the Storm!

I, Dragor of the Frostwolf Clan offer this tribute to you!

A dozen demons, flesh torn asunder by the cleave of my axe!

I present their corpses as a display of what fate shall befall these defilers by my hands!

Witness me now as I go bathe in the blood of your enemies!

With that said, he returned to Orgrimmar. He would spend many days recovering from his burns and mending his armor. But this was not the end for Dragor's journey. It would take more than a dozen corpses and a tribute to the Valarjar to join them. During his time of recovery, Alywien would have his share of the bounty sent to Orgrimmar and the orc would use it to buy a Warsong howling axe. Dragor also discharged a Draenei by the name of Mahoutamiir who had wandered into Horde territory. The two had spoken at great length about their people and themselves before he decided the elder draenei was not a threat, just an eccentric explorer. Once discharged, Dragor led him to the borders of Ashenvale and advised he never come near the Horde's lands again. His discharge was a decision Dragor would come to slowly regret in the following weeks...

While Dragor did desire to become a grunt, he still had his duties as a grunt to maintain. This led him to Booty Bay where he had to deliver some cargo to a goblin. While here, he heard of a message. A member of the Unseen Path called Ku'thae was wanting to gain the loa's help and claim an artifact of great power. What better way for Dragor to witness the birth of a hero than assisting one in gaining their weapon? Thus, he made his way to the Gurubashi Arena. He met with strangers here save for Kyrie. There was a spellblade called Sylvar and a paladin by the name of Korvon as well. After meeting with Ku'thae, the group entered the arena only to be met with a loa itself. Shirvallah.

The loa spoke of the invasion of demons and wanted to test the group. They fought and Dragor was left with many more scars from the loa's fearsome claws. Eventually, they proved themselves worthy. Shirvallah spoke of a previous champion of hers who took her Warmace but vanished with it. She gave Ku'thae the task of recovering the weapon and so Dragor and the others gladly followed. The trail of the previous champion led to an isle off the coast of the Ruins of Zul'kunda in the northern parts of Stranglethorn Vale. After sneaking their way over, they found a lone Zandalari looking out to sea. Ku'thae confronted him and Dragor watched from the cover of the trees. After the Zandalari had insulted Ku'thae and stated his intentions to claim the Warmace for himself, the group struck! Dragor's throwing axe lodged itself into the troll's knees as the others finished him off. It was a quick and simple fight with Shirvallah stating that Ku'thae was their champion. The Zandalari had a map that showed Azsuna and so the group left for the Broken Isles to find the weapon.

When they reached the area, it was a small region filled with murlocs. The Warmace was last seen here and so they investigated. Ku'thae's powers cloaked the group and Dragor followed behind. He secretly wished to just fight his way through the murlocs but he knew the first priority was the Warmace. Eventually, they found a cave and at the bottom, a sea giant. Dragor was all too eager to slaughter the behemoth himself in the Valarjar's name to catch their attention. But he first allowed Ku'thae a chance to recover the Warmace that dangled upon his necklace. Through sheer luck, she did and everyone left much to Dragor's disappointment. But as they did leave, a murloc tadpole saw them and began screaming. The giant awoke and all the murlocs in the area became alerted to their presence.

What Dragor wanted came to pass. They began fighting their way through the murlocs to escape. As their cuts and claws began tearing open new wounds, the orc became overwhelmed with rage. Frostwolves prided themselves on not giving into the bloodlust but Durotar's grunts had been trained to hone it as a boost of strength against the enemy. This is exactly what Dragor did but perhaps he got a little too carried away when the others fled and he stood his ground to fight. It was Sylvar's words that awoke him...

Dragor! Are you an orc or a beast?!

This shook the orc out of his rage and he declared that he was no beast! He immediately ran after the others with the murlocs and sea giants on their tail. Dragor knew that the murlocs would eventually catch up. He pulled out one of his throwing axes and hurled it at the tadpole. There was no honor in killing a defenseless child which is why the axe only struck a rock next to the tadpole. It began to cry and the murlocs stopped giving chase, choosing to protect their young ones first. The orc's plan worked and the group was now safe. Shirvallah commended Ku'thae for her acts and allowed her to keep the Warmace to use against the Legion. Though Dragor wished he had a chance to take out the sea giant, he was pleased nonetheless. Quietly, he left to tend to his wounds...

When Dragor eventually returned to Dalaran, he had heard of a large legion warship flying over the Broken Shore. The Decimator. The orc eagerly took this opportunity to once again prove himself worthy of joining the Valarjar.

Little did he know of what truly lay ahead in the battle to come...

After arriving at Deliverance Point, Dragor only spotted one familiar face: the huntress, Alywien. The rest, their names would he learn. First, there was the priestess of Elune, Nuadon. She did not look as old as her kin but he could tell she held a lot of quiet wisdom. Then there was Korvon, a blood elf paladin. He seemed to know the others very well and looked well liked. Two night elf druids joined them as well. One was a clumsy, young elf called Kantado who played a song. Then there was a powerful druid, Sorley. Ancient, wise yet friendly. Out of this odd gathering, save the huntress, he was the first to greet Dragor. The Scythe upon his back instantly told Dragor that this was yet another powerful champion.

Then came the strangest one of all... one Dragor viewed as a fool at first. The little (half) troll, Henrik. He had many features that made him look like a small troll but there were hints of human or elvish features as well. What was more puzzling and maybe a little horrifying was this troll calling Nuadon his mother. Dragor shuddered at the thought of what forbidden tryst this priestess had gone through... before realizing Henrik had a few screws loose in his head and just called her that. He ran around the base, calling Korvon his brother and Sorley his uncle. Dragor fell silent as he struggled to make sense of this odd "family". Then his "father" Arondas came. Dragor did not end up seeing the chaos that interaction caused as he decided he would leave and come back another time. As he left, Alywien gave him a box filled with arrows. Her arrows for Dragor to use against the demons. The grunt was grateful for the sentinel's kindness.

When the Decimator was sighted again, he returned to Deliverance Point. Once again, he met Alywien but the others there he did not know. He would soon come to learn the other's names. The twin draenei, Kapre and Diwaata. The templar Velandriel. The young Dame Melodia. Finally, the priestess Nuadon. Everyone had heard the news of the Decimator's sighting and each had come to heed the call to battle. Unlike Dragor who sought glory, each of them came with a different purpose... vengeance for the fallen. Three large vindicators spoke of the ship, wondering if champions would arrive to help them. They did. The group was debriefed on the mission: a portal had been uncovered on the coast of the Broken Shore. One that led to Outland. Dragor had heard of his homeworld but had never actually set foot there. He only saw maps of the hellish, broken world from his time training in Orgrimmar. Melodia theorized that the Eredar were trying to establish a connection between the Broken Shore and Outland with Alywien following up by suggesting that they may try to attempt an assault from two fronts. Among the planning, one thing was clear.. the demons had to be stopped!

When they reached the site, the portal was within a cave and outside was an army of felguards. Paltry demons that stood before Dragor and his allies' goals. Whether recklessly or fearlessly, the orc charged straight into them and began hacking apart their numbers. They stood little chance against the group's might! Dragor was the first to charge into the cave and when he reached the end, he came face to face with a giant Eredar. When the others caught up, they heard words from the Eredar's master...

Eradicate them... My plans for Sha'naar must not be disturbed...

The portal disappeared and they were left alone with the demon. Together they struck him! Dragor threw one of his throwing axes to distract the Eredar before hacking at his knee. The orc's goal was to cripple the demon but... it did not matter much. In a few minutes, the champions displayed their raw power by obliterating the Eredar to ash. With his death came a silence and doubt on what next to do. The Eredar's master had commanded the demon to stop the heroes from coming to Sha'naar, ruins of an old draenei temple in Hellfire Peninsula. Thus the plan became simple. They would go to Hellfire Peninsula and stop their plans. With Kapre's expertise, they managed to open a portal and went through...

Dragor shielded his eyes from the bright red earth beneath him. When he did slowly look around, he was in great shock. No amount of stories could ever properly describe the landscape he now stood upon. The very dirt beneath him was lifeless and corrupted. The sky above had lines of nether energies and one could easily see the planets of distant worlds. Were it not for the immediate threat of demons near them, he might have found the sky to be beautiful...

Kapre's teleportation was too precise. They had ended up right among the enemy, dozens of demons turning to stare them down. The site was filled with the agonizing scream of tortured spirits who were being made fuel for the fel. Up above? The Decimator itself whose guns were focused upon them. While such a sight may fill many with fear, it only emboldened Dragor to give them his all. If he were to die on this broken world, he would die honorably in battle. A soul crystal hovered behind the scores of demons and everyone knew they had to destroy it. As before, he waded fearlessly into their numbers. He knew he could do nothing against that soul crystal with only his axes but he could at least carve a path for the others to get through. Unfortunately, fate had other ideas.

Up above, the Decimator did not simply wait and watch. Large fel cannons focused upon the group and rained hellfire! Many were struck and burnt but Dragor was not one of them. He took shelter under the corpses of the felguards he killed and narrowly survived. When Dragor came out, he saw more demons coming from the portals. He had full confidence in the other heroes. After all, they had destroyed Kil'jaedan himself. Compared to them, Dragor was but a mere grunt. As such, he stayed back and held the line of demons that kept rushing through the portal. Corpses began stacking up around him. Fel blood washed the red-cracked earth with each cleaving swing of his axe. The infamous orcish bloodlust began overcoming the Frostwolf and he relished in the battle! He did not tire, he did not slow, he did not give any reprieve. For each demon that came to replace one of their fallen, another corpse was added to the growing pile around him. The heroes behind him continued their assault on a Fel Lord leading the invasion and the soul crystal without having to worry about their backs. For Dragor himself protected them.

The demons took note of Dragor's prowess and sought to overwhelm him. Four felguards rushed at once but the orc did not fall to them... he waited for them to surround him before swinging his axe! In a single cleave, the warrior felled all four of them at once!

Dragor killing demons in Hellfire Penninsula

It was as if the native spirits of Draenor were guiding Dragor's hand. His howling axe whistled in the wind as it effortlessly carved through the demons. Most surprising was that the orc did not suffer a single scratch. Each demon that came for him was put down before it could even attempt to strike the orc. Soon, the tide of demons came to a halt. It was unclear if they Dragor had killed every single felguard that came for him or if they just did not care anymore. The Fel Lord struck the priestess Nuadon which enraged the orc.

You strike the Priestesses?! COWARD! Come face a TRUE warrior of the Horde!

The warlock conducting the ritual upon the soul crystal had finished his work. He spoke of having taken his master's mother before vanishing. The Decimator above too had left leaving only the Fel Lord. Mercilessly, the heroes assaulted the Fel Lord. Dragor himself cleaved a massive arc down the Fel Lord's chest ripping flesh open to bone. Eventually, the demon exploded from the opposing forces of Light, sent by Velandriel, and Shadow, sent by Alywien. This is also caused Dragor and the others to be blown back as the land itself shook from the explosion. In the end, Kapre brought them back to Shattrath where they met with an elder Grand Anchorite.

Dragor told him that the warlock had taken his master's mother which caused the draenei to collapse from shock. Guilt overwhelmed the orc after seeing the elder's state. He left to grab a chair and some water for him and silently listened to the draenei explain his story... and the story of his wife and his son. The others caught on and understood but most of this flew over Dragor's head. He was not aware of their involvement with the demons but he did understand this was a history that went back tens of thousands of years ago. Soon after, he returned to Dalaran to lick his wounds. He had slaughtered great many demons across two worlds... now he felt it was his time to become Valarjar.

The challenge was issued by Dragor in Dalaran. He demanded to battle the Valarjar's champions and prove himself. An older human would be the one to accept this challenge... It was the Silver Wolf, Dalikan Godford. A former Highlord of the Silver Hand and now a farmer. Dragor knew of his people's enmity with the humans due to the first two wars. His father had faced them in the first two wars and he found it fitting that it was one of those humans that he  would now face to prove himself worthy... of becoming Valarjar.

A smaller human came with him. A Grandmaster of monks called MJ who would announce their fight. Dalikan wore a large suit of armor while the only thing Dragor had was an iron shoulder guard and an iron gauntlet. His weapons were imposing as well. A holy sword and a shield made from the carapace of a "god" of another world. Dragor's axe was... just plain steel. Despite being outmatched, this would not deter the orc. He was all the more determined to crush the human into the ground and prove that he did not need fancy weapons to be a hero.

The battle started simple enough with Dragor outmaneuvering Dalikan's blade a few times with quick, clever footwork. A frontal assault would be suicidal as Dalikan's defenses were impenetrable. Thus, the first few minutes were a test of speed and one's reflexes as Dragor made his way around Dalikan to hit his back. His axe would only clang off of the strong armor made of a strange metal he had not seen before... Quickly, the battle devolved. Dragor's inability to do any real damage against the human resulted in his arm being cut by Dalikan's sword. This enraged Dragor!

What happened next was a blur for the orc. Rage began to build up inside the orc and he used it to great effect against the human. His blows were stronger and faster yet more reckless. Eventually, he lost his axe and ended up brawling with Dalikan after ripping his shield out of the way. At the expensive of gaining some gnarly cuts from the spikes that were upon its face. The two ended up wrestling and grappling against one another. Brutish orcish bloodlust versus a man blessed by the Light. In the background, MJ kept yelling about their moves but it was lost on Dragor. He was too busy with the fight to be distracted.

As the duo's legendary battle rocked the platform, it gained the attention of other visitors. Huntmaster Gihai, a fellow grunt. Ku'thae whose Warmace he had helped recover some days ago. There was also Zoey, another Valarjar and even Henrik. Dragor swore he had seen Henrik feasting upon a makrura, raw, in Desolace a few days ago as well. Now here he was, watching from a corner in an almost feral state. A very big difference between his mental state when he first met him.

The duel only lasted a couple of minutes but to Dragor, it felt like it stretched on for hours. The two went pound for pound and Dalikan even broke one of Dragor's teeth! In the end, the human won by performing a suplex on the orc and knocking him out. When Dragor awoke and realized his defeat, he was content. He had given his all and lost. He knew that he had to become stronger and so he would leave for now. But Odyn's herald spoke... the Val'kyr declared that Dragor had fought with honor and thus, he was made Valarjar!

Dragor thanked Dalikan for the fight and gave him his broken tooth. He then thanked all those that had come to watch before inviting them to Skyhold. There, they feasted and drank. It was there that Dragor saw the spirits of Grommash Hellscream, Orgrim Doomhammer and even Broxigar the Red. He should not have been surprised since they were the greatest orcish warriors their people had ever known. Dragor was filled with pride. He had earned his glory on the battlefield and became Valarjar. What more could he now ask for? He would now be able to return to his people in Alterac with his held head high.

Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.

Proverbs 16:18

Unknown to Dragor, his journey had only just begun. A great many trials awaited the young orc which he would have to triumph before he could finally become the warrior he was meant to be...