by Nerrok Nerrok focused in on the darkness, inhaling the rich grey incense smoke through his flaring nostrils as he kept his eyes firmly shut. Bare-chested with his black bandana wrapped securely around his head, he sat cross-legged in front of a small campfire, alone, deep within the woodlands of Nagrand, the Orc's ancestral grounds of Draenor. Feeling the flame's heat lick at his thick green skin, he allowed himself to once again be enveloped in the spirit of The Wilds in yet another attempt to make contact with those of his bloodline. He'd been trying for weeks, now; ever since speaking with Greatmother Magatha in Garadar, the urge to make contact with the spirits of his unknown past had become more powerful than ever. He had followed her instructions for the ritual down to the letter,