Bigwig Defined

Call me Bigwig , son of Stormfjell, Forsaken

I awakened in a shroud of blackness. Able to discern my situation, I immediately panicked. “I must get out, I can’t breathe”. I began clawing at the lid of my Sarcophagus with the urgent intent of escaping. “Shallow breaths” I told myself as my arms mindlessly flailed upward; digging, scratching. In a bitter humbling moment, I realized my chest was not rising and falling with breath. I stopped my assault on the wooden lid to feel my chest. Both hand and chest were bones adorned with scraps of rotted flesh. Panic stilled. Body paralyzed. My thoughts raced like coney chased by wolves. “Am I dead?” I thought. “No, I am aware.”
My attempt to understand what was happening fell in shambles to a vague and unfocused mass of matter. Clarity regained, I knew of only one objective; I must get out of this box.
Brittle bones make for terrible shivs against a steadfast and well built pine box. The cold permeated the box when I began my escape and , by the time I felt soil fall into my makeshift iron maiden, the ground was warm as the spring. Expanding the hole to reveal a never ending mound of dirt brought back the panic as the soil cascaded into my box and surrounded me like so much liquid. Ever reaching, ever digging, ever fighting, a single hand broke free of the ground. The sun fell insignificant on the moment. I finally broke free from my Gehenna and paused with waist and legs still in the warm ground. " I am free!" I raised an arm in defiance of my destiny which chose to curse me with this rotting facade. A gasp; quiet but revealing. I turned to see a young woman, beautiful in her gray armor, maroon cloak and shirt. I attempted to speak but my words, a jumble of grunts and moans, extracted another reaction. “Die Forsaken!” As she ran , two handed sword raised in striking fashion. She stopped short. “Where did he go?” My reaction was instinctive. I vanished and came back up again behind her. Disarming her with alarming speed, grabbing her shoulder and turning her around to face me, I leveled the sword around the back of her neck and paused. “Why attack me?” I wondered. “I am not who she thinks I am!” I thought. The fear in her eyes never relinquished although i lowered the weapon and dropped it to the ground. Releasing her completely, I turned and, lowering my head, began to walk North as if I had done it a thousand times. “Die” she yelled, pulling a dagger from the sheath hidden under her cloak and leveled a piercing blow to my back. Instinctively I spun, grabbed the dagger and plunged it into her heart. I watched the life leave her beautiful blue eyes and the blood stain the golden strands of hair now lumped clumsily on the ground. With regret, I resumed my journey.
Disappearing into the forest, I found a place uniquely suited for one of my condition; a small niche known only as The Sepulcer. There I pondered my existence and attempted to understand the hatred for this new vessel I must claim. Some time passed and a voice came from the forest. “My Beloved Forsaken. Come to me and realize peace and honor!” It was, to me, a beacon of hope. “Who are you?” I grunted. “I am jenasis, Mistress of the Order of the Forsaken!” The voice called back. “I am here my mistress!” I called and rushed out into the forest to find her. She stood beautifully decayed with a witch and a warlock, all who were undead; Like me. Again, my instincts took over and I knelt and exclaimed. “Mistress, you the Witch Wormapple, and the Warlock Vorghana, have my allegiance.” This is when I was truly reborn.
After long hours with the trio I call my Mistress, Witch,and Councilor, I finally understood my place but wanted , in any way I could, to help bridge the gap between living things and the Forsaken. So I began my journey.
I kill only when necessary. All living things to me are precious and, even when they react with aggression, I will not be thwarted. I am Bigwig, but also forsaken. I effort to prove to our Azeroth that the Forsaken, although not easy on the eyes, can have honor and be an ally to any and all living things in Azeroth.
My trio of leaders have since left and I have decided to wander to bring goodness, honor and respect to all I meet on my travels. I have counted the Barrens as my home and the Thunderhoof Tribe as my brothers and sisters. Look for me on the barren plains and call on me if it is your want. What I have is yours and I will honor you while you honor others… it is my calling… I have stopped searching for who I used to be… I am Bigwig, Son of Stormfjell emissary for honor.

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Hey Bigwig!
Big respect for digging out of that grave, brother!

Gnomes love interesting stories like these!
I will spare your life if I see you in Azeroth!
Don’t want you to dig yourself out of the grave twice!
(unless you attack me first)

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Thunderhoof is proud to count you among our friends.

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Greetings, Bigwig. So long as your travels take you far from the sacred ground of Strom, you need not fear us. Those buried within our walls tend to stay that way.

((Well written, and I look forward to seeing you in the world!))

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Thank you dear Gnome for your comments. You may not remember, but I’ve already encountered you while I attempted to defend a small town known as Tarren Mill. You did not spare me (nor would I have expected you at that time) I did, however, make the priest re-think initiating a move on a lowbie forsaken Engineer Rogue… my death ray, and battle chicken along with one NPC did their best to recruit her into the forsaken clan… she died but chose not to go into the light…
I will see you in Azeroth dear one.