You are Takra, an orc rogue and proud defender of the Horde. it's had its ups and downs, sure, and you've had more than a few disagreements with the leadership, but in the end the Horde is your home, your people, and you would do everything to defend it.
Standing at six and a half feet tall, clad in close fitting leather armor that shows off your muscled abdomen and ample cleavage, you're fairly strong for a rogue. You can't compete with warriors or paladins in straight melee but your strength and speed can take opponents off guard, giving you the crucial moment you need to send them to your gut. Over the years you've eaten many Alliance adventurers after a night elf devoured your sister in a battle for Warsong Gulch, a favor you intend to repay many times over.
Picking absent-mindedly at the long thick braids in your raven black hair, you stop in your tracks while strolling through Orgrimmar as a messenger runs up to you, a blood elf who looks fresh out of training.
"Lok'Tar, noble orc," he says, kneeling and handing you a note. "You are to report to the Hall of Legends immediately, someone is putting together a quest that requires your skill." You pluck the note from his hand and he's off without another word, vanishing back into the bustling city.