We, orcs of unity, were all heading to the valley of Trials by wolf caravan. We were given simple tasks for the foremen at first, but these tasks were quickly accomplished by the initiate groups. I, having hunted the much faster rabbits in the Arathi Highlands, quickly slew enough scorpids and boars to get someone's attention. She was a troll, female, and beckoned me over quickly, giving me a mission: To slay members of the Burning Blade clan. I was quickly aroused by this; a clan? They still exist? Nevertheless, I took it upon myself to do this. I found them a lot like the legends of the Blackrock clan... some warriors but dominantly warlocks and demons. This altogether was more combat experience than I've had since the time a stray tiger wandered into my home; I felt I was getting stronger; by the time I came back from the quest, I felt stronger than ever. Throughout my tasks, I felt someone watching me, and I was soon pulled aside by a troll I had seen near the "Den"... the spirits told me to comply, and I listened to his words. "Shinsen. Your time has come to heed the call of earth. Find the alter of earth, and see the spirits. To do this you will have to slay two Felstalkers and bring their hooves back to me; I will give you the necessary potion." Instead of heading over to the Burning Blade Coven, where felstalkers are commonly found, I walked behind the trainer, into the large, bowl-like part of the Valley, and began to seek out the entrance to the alter... I had long been able to see spirits, and they guided me to the altar. What I saw was very uncommon; it was Earth, in a considerable concentration of the essence. He spoke to me with words full of wisdom and understanding, yet with an unwillingness to bend. Feeling weaker in comparison but strengthened by his words, I walked down the mountain to the trainer, who gave me a totem of earth. Once I had said my goodbyes, I walked away from the valley of trials, confident in my abilities. But it would be a long way to go if I were to truly strengthen.[Level 4It was about a year later when I was assigned something worth speaking of... I was assigned to halt a minor incident at a camp in the Razor Hill. I must admit; I was afraid, a bit, not of dying, but of failing my duty. I owed Thrall so much; I could NOT fail the Horde! Yet, how could I stand idle in the face of Thrall, the one who saved me, and gave me a possibility of life? I would kill myself rather than disappoint that man, and because of that, I can easily give my life for the Horde. I held in my hands a shield and a rather large hammer, given to me by Thrall himself for completing a mission in the capital city, and I was fully intent on using it. It was indeed a minor incident, in the grand scheme of things; a few men and dwarves were supposedly hanging about the camp, injuring an initiate guard before running away from the main guards. Six men of my strength were assigned, along with me, to hunt down these Alliance troops. I had long since harbored a fierce hatred for the Alliance for their raid on the clan... of which I had told no one except Thrall. When our group arrived at Razor Hill, I was able to look at the guard who was injured; a young orcish girl, still attempting to stay at her post, but cringing in pain. How long it has been since I had seen someone so diligent for the Horde. I knelt down and healed her wound, a spell I had learned in the Valley of Trials... She looked at me, grateful, before pointing and screaming out all of a sudden, "THERE!" I quickly snapped my head in the direction of the finger... and I caught a glimpse of human skin. They seemed to be taking shelter around Tiragarde Keep. I was confused for a moment; I had long since been able to sense and point out life forms and discriminate between which races they were. Yet, though I saw the man, I felt no aura. The spirits were hiding him, and probably the others... which meant that there must be a shaman amongst them. I knew that no member of the Horde would DARE throw their lots in with the Alliance; and that meant that there was--"A draenei..." I finished my thoughts in words. We would have to find them using the Hunter in our party; though he was still too inexperienced to track men, he detected an animal in the Keep; something unseen since the keep was built. Drawing the conclusion that this was the pet of a dwarven hunter, we set out, slaying marines and sailors along the way. I almost pitied them, but there is no pity for those who oppose the Horde. The final battle was fought on an open, bridge-like part of the tower, high above the ground. There were four of them, all about my strength... the odds were in our favor. As our forces clashed, I stood back, casting spells, leaving me time to inspect our enemies further. Eyes darting from enemy to enemy, I counted them--two humans, a dwarf, and an oddly familiar draenei... my eyes grew wide, and though I could not believe it was Gral, the face on this blueback looked so alike his... My eyes grew red, or so said my comrades, and I charged with my hammer straight into the draenei. I killed him in a matter of seconds. I had already set up my Strength of Earth Totem, and had added Flametongue to my weapon; the flame cut past his leather armor as my roar cut through the air, a more hateful sound than I had ever heard come from my throat. I cracked down the hammer on his blue skull, and heard it crack. I then turned to the surviving Alliance, and slew them as well. Panting, I could not face up to my comrades for what I had done, and why I had done it; though they would most definately approve of my hatred, I did not wish to revisit my memories. I pulled out the hearthstone, given to all initiates at the Valley of Trials, and warped straight to Orgrimmar to inform Thrall of our success. But this was just the beginning of my war against the Alliance.[Level 11