- Name (Full): (Sir) Orofell Kethelar I'kashu Thunderhoof
- Nicknames: Oro, and to his utter dismay, "Orofail"
- Gender: Male
- Race: Tauren
- Size: Average height and weight but broad shouldered and stocky.
- Age: Sixty-seven years young.
- Guild: Brotherhood of the Blade
- Occupation: Support soldier and offense, quick-strike combat unit.
- Hobbies and Alternative Professions: Blacksmith and miner.
- Personality Sketch: Friendly, but pessimistic and reclusive unless provoked. Positive provocation by friends often occurs, causing him to have a temporarily cheery and comical disposition.
- Weaknesses: Females. Also, his anger tends to weaken him at times. When angered, he can become very entangled in his own thoughts that his focus is lost.
- Birthplace: Thunder Bluff
- Home: Sets up camp where action is close and easily accessible. Dalaran City has become the place of action, and has therefore become his current residence.
- Family: Demerick, his brother Druid. Thraykeroth and Gottweis may be related, but if they are, record of their family tree connections have been lost.
- Description: Fitted in the newest and most recent pieces of armor, his two nearly perfect horns protrude horizonatlly out of his helm. His eyes blaze with energy, and he holds the collossal spaulders up with broad shoulders and strong, blacksmith arms. The rest of his body is adorned with heavy, sanguine armor; it shows no visible scars of battle (he is, after all, a blacksmith). Equipped with a dagger and a slightly outdated shield, he stands effortlessly and impressively straight, relaxed, but prepared for combat.
Early Life and Childhood Edit
Birth of a Shaman Edit
His parents, both revered citizens of Thunder Bluff, discovered with joy and surprise that their child had been chosen for the life of Shamanism as they took the newly born calf to Cairne Bloodhoof. Thrall himself came to the ceremony of adornment to celebrate the coming of a new, potentially strong Shaman. Filled with pride and happiness for their new child, the parents could ask for nothing more aside from the best blessings from the Warchief, which he happily bestowed upon the young shaman. However, at this solemn yet cheerful ceremony, Thrall and Cairne cast a sleep charm on the loudly complaining calf to quiet him down during the proceedings. This had a curiously catastrophic effect. The child sneezed at the exact moment of the charm and a blinding flash of light, a deafening crack, and a bellowing boom struck all onlookers. The sight was something to be witnessed, as it caught both the Warchief and the Chieftain off-guard, knocking them back and off their feet. The blast hurled Orofell's older brother back at least a hundred yards, but he recovered quickly with a shift into his newly-mastered cat form. Twenty guards were slammed into nearby huts and incapacitated. A nearby hut lay in tatters. His parents were no longer present. After searching the top platform, a guard was found hanging off of the bluff by his axe. He, apparently, had been standing a good distance away from the ceremony when he was ripped from his standing post, thrown ten yards and rolled off of the edge of the bluff as he dug his axe into the dirt to save himself from falling. Orofell's parents, he recalled, were thrown from the bluff "with tremendous force... but I did not watch their fate, as I knew what happens to those who fall..." Boggling over the event, Thrall set out to recreate this "force of a raw thunderstorm" as he called it under controlled circumstances, while Cairne provided guidance for the now orphaned calves.
Demerick, although he rarely spoke of the incident and and spoke highly of his brother, was unable to ever completely forgive Orofell for the death of their parents.
Some time after the ceremony was performed and the accident had occurred, Orofell was bestowed with a simple, empty spellbook and shaman clothing. As customary of the Shaman ways, he was placed into nature and told to learn from his surroundings. As a few spells wrote themselves onto his parchment pages in gold lettering, he memorized them and set off to learn and hone his skills.
An Introduction to Killing Edit
Years of trial and error brought him to a mediocre understanding of the Shaman life. He was able to perform rough spells and wield a powerful weapon with deadly hands. He became, what he considered at the time, quite masterful at his methods of suppressing simple foes (such as his hated Venture Co. enemies) and some more complex ones that required help from strangers or friends. Enemies of his were simply unable to compete, however, he longed for a real challenge. Stumbling upon a battlefield named Warsong Gulch, he found a house of slaughter that could finally contain his blood lust. Eagerly he learned to fight these foes. After some time fighting, he paused to see a bloodstained shirt and hands, slightly cracked mace, and his left horn was threatening to break. Pausing to try and remember how he had come to this state, he found that he could not remember much, save for the feeling behind it all; he loved killing, and he had found opponents that put up more of a fight.
A bit disturbed by his loss of self-control in the mindless killing, he discussed these events with Cairne, whom promptly directed him to the battle masters for further answers. He had found out that it was the Alliance that he had been killing with such pleasure. Taking in the battle-room of Orgrimmar, he had found a new temporary home among the battle masters: they instructed him, gave him tips on killing, and pointed out note worthy horde members whom I eagerly befriended. Thraykeroth, a mighty Tauren Warrior, was among the first whom I met, then Bane, then Gottweis. They shared similar blood thirsts and the love of crushing opponents with their weapons. Orofell soon was to be seen constantly learning from them, fighting along side them, and honing his combat skills against them.
Pain and Pleasure Edit
The constant warring caused him to believe that there was none that could beat him and his now ten powerful friends in combat. They fought many battles together, until the day came where they met a squadron of alliance in Arathi Basin whom drove through their lines as if they had not existed. Their armor shone and swords glinted in the light, their blows were faster, more powerful, and more devastating. Thirteen of the fifteen were able to escape the slaughter. Orofell, however, was left behind as he lay bleeding profusely from numerous gashes and cuts, heaving heavy wheezes, his armor cracked and his mace head smashed to fragments. His breath stopped. He felt his vision fade completely as two golden-plated boots approached him. His body seemed to be lifting off of the ground effortlessly as if the wind was pulling his corpse from the earth; however, he looked up to see a foggy landscape around him, his body at his feet, and a wretched, gold-winged, foul human (and a paladin, nonetheless) searching his body and beginning to place trinkets, gold, and other items in his pockets. Filled with an immense hatred and seething rage, he screamed a deafening, deep throated bellow that caused the paladin to tilt his head as if he heard something. The paladin then leapt back, and prepared to mount his horse, fearing ghosts or some sort of ambush. Wide-eyed and open-eared, he looked back at the body of the Shaman, who had not taken a breath for some six minutes, to see it rise with extreme quickness and ease, grip the jagged remains of the mace, and proceed to charge him. With a look of astonishment and utter fear, the paladin leapt back as Orofell hurled a mammoth fist at the paladin. A loud crunch and popping sound and the paladin's screams of terror filled the air as Orofell broke his fist, but threw the paladin to his death off of a high cliff. Looking around in amazement at himself and grasping his limp fist with a cringe, he limped out of sight as a team of five Alliance returned to investigate the screams.
Push to Perfection Edit
After the horrible experience of defeat, he sneaked over to the hidden camp site of his companions, whom had performed mourning rituals for the believed deceased. Exhausted and in tremendous pain, he fell face forward into the camp, watching as Thraykeroth and Bane, the posted sentinels, jumped to their feet and drew their swords and rushed over to him. Awaking from a much needed sleep, he found that it was still night; overhearing a hushed but heated discussion that they should have returned to see if he was still alive, he sat up and began explaining that he had died, and then he explained the situation with the paladin. Hearing that the hunter that they thought was also dead had only cleverly faked his own death, he proceeded to explain that in order to fight as flawlessly as their enemies had, they needed to acquire better weapons, better armor, and bring terror behind their names.
Returning to the field of combat in a few months, the team had set a goal: to become the greatest, most feared group of soldiers in the grounds of battle. They toiled and fought mercilessly, and through the endless fights and numerous victories, Orofell had achieved the revered rank of Blood Guard among the horde ranks. Many of his comrades had achieved near this, others had gone even higher. They became stronger by the day, and every taste of victory fueled their strive to perfection.
His gear as a result of the push has always been in the best possible quality, keeping up to date with the latest fashions and models, and keeping up with the requirements behind owning fantastic armor.
Orofell in his Current State Edit
Growing Up Edit
As he aged, he grew more learned in more than blood feuds, vendettas against the Alliance, and mindless slaying. Orofell gained more coordination with fellow soldiers and began to master his prowess in combat. With his growth, he came to realize perils other than the Alliance: Arthas and his servants were once again on the move.
Against the Rise of Arthas Edit
Searching for an elite band of members to assist him in fighting a key member of Arthas' hordes, Kel'Thuzad, he joined the ranks of the renown guild Brotherhood of the Blade. A team that he had sought to join since calfhood, he eagerly sought to appease them and to fight against the rising force of Arthas and Kel'Thuzad. Entering Naxxramas, he fought valiantly alongside his twenty-four other companions. As they approached the room of the cursed Four Horsemen, he looked down on a group of patrolling Death Knights. To his utter horror, he was struck dumb by the sight of two familiar faces, pale and gruesome, but recognizable: they were his parents, reincarnated in the form of Death Knights, clearly under the influence of Arthas. As his companions ambushed the pack of enemy Knights, he shrieked and attempted to stop them from fighting each other. Stopping a warrior friend from striking his mother in the side, he turned to his mother and stared into her grayed eyes with confusion, sadness, and anger at their current state. After the half a second that lingered for ages, her axe came down upon his helm, chipping his horn slightly, and slashing his muzzle badly. He collided with the floor and blacked out, the thought of his stupidity and his sadness tearing away at his consciousness.
It is said that while he blacked out, he met with his parents and talked with them, and that is why he does not repair the chip in his horn or heal the scar across his face.
The passion for vengeance filled his heart as he and his comrades smote Kel'Thuzad, greatly crippling Arthas' advantage.
Against Yogg-Saron Edit
The former God-of-Death, Orofell trekked into Ulduar to remove Yogg-Saron from the world, and did so with the help of his friends in Brotherhood of the Blade. Algalon still lies somewhere, unseen, and in need of suppressing before he destroys the world.
Contemporary Blood Lust Edit
With the implementation of simple world-saving activities placed into his life, Orofell continues to fight against the Alliance. Through years of experience and combat, he has become more learned in the ways of improvised combat; employing this in the Arenas, he has come to be both deadly and helpful in slaying opponents. He has become a well known name in the Arena, providing entertainment, strengthening his own abilities, and brutally suppressing enemies. He has not yet achieved the feat of becoming a Gladiator.
He has also joined a prominent group of Alliance-hating elite forces. Fighting under the Battlemaster Merrik, he has come to be known as a powerful unit of hit-and-run, a quick strike soldier under Merrik's command. With Merrik's leadership, the Alliance have come to know, fear, and respect Orofell's name. With many battles fought, Orofell has come to slay more than fifty thousand foes.
Not much can be said about Merrik's squadron of soldiers due to their secretive nature. Many have seen the forces at work and claim that it is almost artful to watch such a massacre.
Useful Facts Edit
- Orofell is the first known Shaman to perform the spell Thunderstorm. This was a highly accidental occurrence and also a very unstable one. Thrall was able to recreate the spell under controlled conditions, and now many Shaman regularly perform the spell as part of their arsenal.
- When knocked off of the bluff, it is believed that Orofell's parents were cursed by the guard hanging off of the cliff. He disappeared from Thunder Bluff after the incident. It is also rumored that he was somehow under the control of Arthas, and aimed to kill Thrall, but was knocked out of Arthas' control by the blast of the Thunderstorm.
Saddening News Edit
Orofell is missing. Some believe he passed away as is the fate of many gladiators, others think otherwise. Reports from his fellow five-versus-five arena members state that he had become very excited about nearly reaching Gladiator, and in the excitement, he rushed into the wrong portal, and vanished. Some claim that he was pushed, others claim that he mistook portals, but few others say that they caught a glimpse of Orofell standing in a portal similar to the Portal of Legends, subjugating the mighty beast, Egelloc, as a trial to the right of passage to a higher state of being. Whatever story stands true may never be known; however, something fell from his pocket just as he entered the portal and was immediately picked up by another person who fled the scene, but later secretly revealed that the piece of parchment was damp, and read: "I love you, Prairie, though worlds may separate us."