A Gladiator's Log

[Hawk]

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There was some guy in the Azshara Crater standing near me, talking into some kind of microphone inside his black helmet. I overheard him talking to his 'employer' about taking me to some... headquarters. I had little time to be captured yet again. I pulled out my pistol and shot him, then shot his Blood Elf friend who went for me as well. After I killed them, Orcs from the Earthshaker Clan heard the gunshots. As it turned out, I had killed the spies they were hunting for the past hour, who thought the Earthshakers were further behind them. In thanks they took me back to their camp and gave me some hospitality. I decided to stay there for a while. I went with scouting parties, joining in on missions and raids. I stayed for the final battle to kill the Warlock coven's leader. It was a long battle and pretty damn difficult to beat the bastard down despite our numbers, but as you guessed, we killed them eventually. I took a drake's head as a souveneir to bring back to the Gurubashi to let people know I wasn't sitting on my ass whilst I was gone. Or rather, taken.

It took a few days, but I finally got to Ratchet. I had to walk on foot and had to hunt wild animals and forage for berries. Getting through Ashenvale was no easy task, so I simply had to be a stowaway in caravan deliveries so I wouldn't be shot in the dark. The trip had no conflict luckily, save for one at the ramparts leading into the Barrens. I got into Ratchet and met another Troll woman, who looked strangely similar to Zealaya now I think of it. She was conning tourists out of their clothing. She had no real use for them, she was just basking in their idiocy. I was too. That was when she told me I was some kind of star at the Gurubashi after introducing myself. I had no idea I was so renown until I met her. People were making up rumours about what happened to me apparently. So naturally, I brought her a drink and explained my story to her as well. She's a damn good listener. Had a lot of questions, but not that I minded them. It was good to get some company.

I finally arrived at the arena, with no goons stalking me and waiting to knock me out then drag me to the middle of nowhere... I noticed that Blood Elf guy. I could've torn off his head right there, but I knew that it wouldn't be a good idea... not yet. I went down to the prep rooms and met up with Sniks, Mosh'grokk and pretty much the rest of the Gladiators. They were pleasantly surprised to see me. It felt good to go down those stairs again... it felt like a second home to me. So I told THEM the story as well, and it was decided that we just simply had enough of this bullshit. Especially me, who was getting the sharp end of every fucking stick there could possibly be. A day later, Mosh'grokk woke me up... he showed me a pair of swords. They were nothing like I had ever seen. Perfectly balanced, light, and incredibly tough. They were adorned in Orcish runes, and they were given to Mosh'grokk by his commander after he lost his arm in a battle. This was my reward. I still carry these blades today, wherever I go... then I got a call from Sniks telling me the bastard behind this bullshit was heading out the arena. It was time to let the rat lead us to it's hole.

[Hawk]

We followed the Elf and found that they had a small shack in the middle of the jungle that they met up in. We stormed through, but who I found took me aback. It was the Orc who was stood over me, ready to put me out of my misery when my ship crashed onto the shores of Stranglethorn. A part of me wishes that I had pulled out my gun and shot them both, there and then... but I didn't. Instead, I challenged him to a duel in the arena. A final showdown, as it were. I went in and saw the bastard walk out of the gates - but with his Elf accompanying him. The coward couldn't even face me alone, so he brought in a helping hand. I then heard footsteps behind me and saw that Mosh'grokk was joining me to even the odds. But something was seriously wrong... His skin was pale, his hands shaking and he was struggling to say awake. Regardless of his sudden sickness, he was still fighting the other Orc viciously whilst I took down the Elf.

He was a laughing stock. This guy obviously hadn't expected me to get some assistance as well, and he probably only agreed because he knew they were going to win. The guy was a ponce. He was so scared he couldn't even aim, and his minions were just as weak as he was. I decided to make this slow. When I cornered him, I grabbed him by the throat and suffocated him. It felt good to finally silence the damned snake. I turned about and saw... him, cutting down my mentor. I don't know what happened, but all the sorrow, the anger and the anguish all suddenly thrived within me and I lost myself to pure rage. I didn't give him a moment to catch his breath. I swung furiously, again, again, and again. I still remember the fight as if I was watching it myself. I finally killed him and let his head roll off his shoulders.

I was then ordained in blood as the Gladiator I am today. I stood and the crowd exploded at the match, and they were chanting my name... I left the arena with a new life, but lost a piece of it. The piece that made me what I am.

You may be thinking that my story ends here. Keep turning pages - you'll find there's more memories of my life scribbled into this book. I've done more than most people have done in a lifetime at the age of 31.