Drek'jar Frosthowl walks out of his ragged tent and placs a large, rugged foot on the snowy ground of his homeland. Breathing in the nearly year-round winter air, he reachs for his greataxe and sets off for a hunt.
Behind him was no other than Drek'gar and Zak'lar, his two brothers. They were to hunt a massive beast, the snowy mammoth native to the harsh peaks of Northrend, for the glory and hunger of the clan. The Iceblade Clan.
As Drek'jar motioned them that he was ready, the trio mounted on three massive frostwolves and set off into the snowy night. Leaving behind the burnt-out campfires and occupied hide-tents of the Iceblade encampment, Drek'jar bared his teeth proudly at his two younger brothers. He remembered that only just yesterday, the two of them had volunteered to accompany Drek'jar on this potentially dangerous hunt, regardless of, well, the danger that lay ahead.
After an hour of restless riding, Drek'jar reared his mount as he caught the scent of mammoth droppings. Zak'lar called out his name as he reported his finding of the wretched beast's tracks. After several minutes of arguing amongst each other, Drek'jar finally came to the decision to leave Drek'gar and Zak'lar behind as he scouted ahead. Agreeing upon what seemed like a sound choice, the two younger brothers nestled on their wolves awaiting the return of the brother they idolized. The brother that would not return...
Drek'jar rides his mount along the entire length of the mammoth's path, until he finally finds the starch white skeleton of the mammoth itself. Snarling and roaring furiously, Drek'jar scanns his surroundings for what --- or who --- that couldve done this. Almost immediately, he spots a distant campfire.
Roaring in obvious glee, Drek'jar bucked on his wolf and speedily rode towards the intruder's camp.
'I shall make them PAY for intruding into MY HOMELAND!' Drek'jar roars, and eventually makes his way to the entrance to the escarpment in which the camp is based at. Unslinging Frosthowl, his deceased father's greataxe, from his back, Drek'jar leaps off of his frostwolf into the camp. As he throws his arms back, Drek'jar lets out a shrilling howl true to his name, which pierces the cold air and shatters the eardrums of three nearby intruders. Paleskins.
Swinging his axe in a mighty arc, Drek'jar easily decapitates two of the deafened enemies. Before even one of the heads have time to touch the earth, Drek'jar has already brought his axe up again and sliced the other paleskin into two. Roaring in fury, Drek'jar bares his teeth at the gathering mass of enemies and leaps into the fray.
It's several hours later, and Drek'gar and Zak'lar are still waiting for their brother where he left them: At a rocky intersection where two major trading paths meet.
'Where is he, Gom'thla?' Zak'lar asks his older brother. With eyes wide, Drek'gar can tell that his younger brother his in a state of fear.
'Why are you scared? Drek'jar would hit you for that.' Drek'gar says bluntly, while continuing to bottle up his own feelings. 'Truth be told, I dont know where he is.'
'So lets find him!' Zak'lar cries, and whips the reins of his frostwolf as he attempts to move forward.
'NO!' Drek'gar screams as he savagely backhands his younger brother, cutting his hand on the still-maturing tusks. 'We stay here, as he ordered. THAT IS FINAL!'
Zak'lar, rubbing his face in self loathing, carefully guides his wolf back into his spot and slouches sadly.
Back to the camp of the human invaders, nearly two dozen have been killed by the onslaught caused by none other than Drek'jar himself. Three tents are on fire, and almost everything else in the camp has been rummaged through or just completely destroyed. Drek'jar, still without a scratch to show as proof of the fight, roars in frustration as he cant find anything that could feed his clan.
'Hello?' A weak voice, in orcish, cries from rubble of one tent. Stamping his feet in anticipation, Drek'jar sprints toward the source of the voice and tugs at and outstretched hand. As he tugs more and more, Drek'jar pulls out a young troll --- a species that he has never seen before. Darkspear.
'WHO ARE YOU?!' Drek'jar roars viciously, clamping down on the youngling's wrists with his huge, beefy hands. 'Speak swiftly, if you do not wish to be shoved down my throat.'
Before the young troll, who's eyes are wide with terror' has time to give a reply full of stutters, five adult trolls leap out into the carnage and aim their spears at Drek'jar. Drek'jar, who is unusually tall for an orc, easily towers over the gathering of trolls.
''Ey, ya' paleskinned sons o'... wat doo we 'av 'ere, mon?' The lead troll says in mid sentence, gesturing towards the massive Drek'jar. 'Joo betta' put down me son, mon.' For good measure, the troll thrusts his spear towards Drek'jar.
Sensing some sort of weird kinship to this creature, Drek'jar found himself listening to the troll and proceeded to put down his 'son', who runs towards his father at high speed.
<TO BE CONTINUED>