| Dronox | |
|---|---|
 Champion of the Burning Blade | |
|
Name |
Dronox the Sun-Seared Blade |
|
Race |
Orc |
|
Clan |
Burning Blade |
|
Age |
58 |
|
Occupation |
Gladiator, Wandering Blademaster |
|
Affiliations |
The Old Horde (formerly), The Fel Horde (formerly), The Horde, Burning Blade Clan (formerly), Blademasters (formerly), Gorecleaver Warband, Brawl'gar Arena (formerly). |
|
Birthplace |
Hallvalor |
|
Location |
Wanderer, Burning Steppes (currently). |
Dronox, Champion of the Burning Blade[]
In times of old, the Burning Blade clan was a brotherhood of unwavering berserkers and masters of bladed weapons. Their skill was unmatched by any other clan in melee combat, and their flaming rituals and incredible bloodlust made them one of the most notorious clans.
Dronox was one of the greatest warriors of the Burning Blade, abandoning his clan in order to pursue further goals once he had his fill of ogre kills.
Travelling to the forests of Talador, Dronox was one of few orcs who fought against the Draenei prior to the Legion's arrival on the world. He drank their blood, devoured their flesh and destroyed their homes as he cut a swath through the woodlands.
Upon arriving in the Spires of Arak, Dronox began a blood-soaked crusade to destroy all who stood in his way, slaying every orc he came across with unbound fury. Every creature before him fell with a crunch, and their flesh and blood filled his crazed appetite for violence. Dronox's sanity began to slip as he fought further and further into Adherent territory, and he eventually lead assaults on their excavation sites and ground outposts in a suicidal assault. But when they thought him dead, he continued to fight with a growing fury. Cauterising the otherwise fatal wound, Dronox survived the assault and returned to Hallvalor. Time had taken its toll on the orc, but times would change soon enough.
Dronox the Sun-Seared Blade[]
The orcish clans had gathered at a high seat in the dark of night. Tanaan Jungle stretched out for miles behind Dronox and his brethren. He stared for the last time upon Talador, and although he could not see it, Hallvalor and his family home. Dronox stood tall behind Thrice-Bloodied Blade and Azuka Bladefury, who carried the banners of their clans in honor. Amidst the illuminating flames of the many torches stood Grommash Hellscream, the warchief of the Warsong Clan. And shrouded in darkness, was Ner'zhul's apprentice, Gul'dan. Dronox could only partially see the exchange of words, and he could not quite hear what was going on. Gul'dan outstretched his alien, green limb, the bony fingers wrapped around a liquid that glowed a similar colour. Grommash snatched it from his hand and drank. He yelled something inconceivable as his skin turned, too.
"Bring me draenei flesh to tear and rip!"
Dronox was among the first to drink from Gul'dan's well. Immediately he felt reinvigorated, and joined in with the slaughter of thousands of draenei.
Time did not take its toll on the Burning Blade's champion. He continued to live how he lived in the days of old, rending the flesh and drinking the blood. Almost daily he fought, and his reckless combat soon turned to his brethren. Dronox found himself cleaving the heads off of the weaker orcs of lesser clans. Lightning's blade, Frostwolf, Warsong. Any that came before him!
When the brotherhood were unleashed upon the Alliance in the Battle of Blackrock Spire, Dronox charged directly into the flanking forces of the humans. As his bloodlust faded, the humans and orcs alike lay dead around him, and he found himself alone.
Wandering the decrepit hollows of the Blackrock Mountain, Dronox searched for a new purpose in this new world.
Dronox, Champion of the Horde[]
The red wastes of Durotar stretched out before the blademaster as he trekked up the desert hills. Nothing made him prouder of the Horde than to see his people thriving in Orgrimmar, the dusty speck in the distance. It was a growing rumour now, that Dronox had defected to the cult of the Burning Blade. His old clan turned into a demon-worshipping cult. What happened to my clan? All the glory, the warfare? Dronox sighed deeply as he thought about it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a savage voice; Kill all the treacherous dogs who dare to turn back to those fel-crazed beasts! He dismissed the thought. More bloodshed was the thing he wanted the least out of anything. Ultimately, he was growing to hate the monster he once was, and the shadow of his feral power loomed over him, tempting him.