Naz'gramin

How He Joined the Horde
Many years ago, the Lordaeron Alliance made their way through the Dark Portal. They killed every demonic orc they found. One day, an army of humans, led by wizards of Dalaran, raided an orcish village. They killed as many as they could. The humans looked in the buildings, finding anything worth looting. Several footmen came across me... three years of age.

Out of fear, I raised my hand and fire materialized within it and flew at one of the soldiers, scorching his armor. They wanted to kill me, however the two wizards stopped them. They ordered the footmen back to camp, and the two of them teleported to Dalaran with me in their arms. The mages presented me to their council, saying that I was a gifted sorcerer and explained what I was able to do at my young age.

A few of the archmagi were skeptical of teaching me to hone my arcane skills, however they eventually all agreed, saying that they wanted to experiment on the magical abilities of an orc more thoroughly. Regardless of the reason why they wanted to teach me, my mentor was quite kind. He not only instructed me on magic, but also on literature and compassion. Rodyn, his name was, believed that anyone can work together, no matter their race. “The mistakes of the father must not be punished on the son,” was what he would say. For me, it was almost literally. He named me “Naz'gramin” which meant “good omen” in orcish (of which he didn't know too much of).

One day, when I was an adult, I heard that the Horde was supposedly reforming. I feared that I would be executed in belief that I was some sort of spy. Although, the magi knew this was a stupid thought on account that I had been within the Violet Citadel for almost the entirety of my life. I thought that perhaps I could convince this “New Horde” that conquest was not the path of our people. Master Rodyn told me that he had once visited Draenor in visions and dreams before the orcs invaded Azeroth. He told me how we were once a peaceful hunter-gatherer race before we had becoming rampaging barbarians.

One night, I managed to cast a subtlety spell on myself and escaped Dalaran. Although, I knew in my heart that Master Rodyn saw me escaping the minute I left my dorm. He let me leave, and I thank him for that.

After approximately two weeks of traveling, I found a camp of orcs. A larger orc with black armor and an equally large hammer sat with the orcs, obviously the leader. I approached and attempted to speak in Orcish, but failed. The large orc chuckled, and spoke to me in fluent Common, “You were not raised by orcs, were you?” I shook my head, “Neither was I. I am Thrall, Warchief of the New Horde.”

I bowed and said, “I am Naz'gramin.” I did not say much else because I didn't want them to use me as some sort of secret weapon.

An orc with glowing red eyes looked at me, “I smell magic on him.”

“I was taught how to use magic,” I admitted. “Humans found me when I was a child, and I was take back to Dalaran to be taught the ways of the arcane.”

The larger orc grunted, “Interesting... Do you wish to join us?”

“No.” I said bluntly, “But I do not want you to make a new war. Humans are good people. And this is not the path for us. The orcs are not a war-mongering race hellbent on bloodlust! We are a peaceful people that live out our lives in hunting and shamanistic beliefs!”

Thrall laughed, “You are a good man, Naz'gramin. I must explain to you that we do not want a new war. We just want to live out our lives in the old ways.” I blinked, dumbstruck. “I'll ask again, do you wish to join us?” I nodded. “Welcome to the Horde!” Thrall said as he and the other orcs around the campfire cheered.

Why He Took Up Demonology
Time passed, as did battles. I assisted in the liberation of several interment camps, and so-on. One day, I met an orc. His eyes glowed red like the orc at the camp the day I joined the New Horde. He told me that he was a warlock... a fallen shaman that wielded corrupted arcane magic. He explained that he was fooled into this form of power by the lies of Kil'jaeden, and he hated himself for it. He told me that now he uses his powers against demons. I asked how, on account that there hadn't been any demons present, and he replied that there are many threats that remain hidden to the average eye.

Master Rodyn taught me about demons and how they can be secretive and unnoticeable. I just nodded. “You know,” the old warlock said, “my death nears. I know it. I hope that the ancestors forgive me for what atrocities I have committed. However, the Horde will be without a demon fighter. You have knowledge of the arcane... I could teach you some skills, and perhaps you could fulfill my role.”

“That is definitely an interesting offer,” I said as I thought, “but I would not pride myself in using demonic powers.”

“It's for the good of the world. Human, Elf, Dwarf, Orc, and otherwise will benefit from this extra protection,” argued the warlock.

“Very well, teach me.” And so the old warlock did. Then, one day as he said, he passed in his sleep. It was now upon my shoulders to protect the Horde from it's former demonic counterparts.