Falcar Sonicbomber
Background Information
Race Blood Elf
Class Rogue
Guild The SonicBombers
Professions This is the Drill that will pierce the heavens
Vital Statistics
Height 1.7m
Build Muscular
Hair Red/auburn
Eyes Green
Personal Information
Age 38
Birthplace Fairbreeze Village
Current Residence Subterranean volcano matrix lair

"Oh god not. Not an alliance infobox!"
—Linn Miinh Mehy
"Bah. Leave this one in my “capable” hands"
—Chentinal Minor, practicly grinning in delight
"Are you planning on breaking your new toy again?"
— Miinh on Chent’s usual behaviour
"Blood elf. Orphan. Former slave. He’s probably a 12 gauge poon, but on the other hand I bet he knows how to use his tounge"
—Chent on falcar
"Ok that’s my que to leave. Turn the lights out when you’re finished"
—Miinh beating a hasty retreat

Falcar Sonicbomber is the leader of the Sonicbombers. Assigned by the almighty Victory Saber himself, he and his Drills guide the guild and make important declarations.

Early LifeEdit

Falcar, at this point - had no second name. He was orphaned no more than a month after he was protoformed. Both his parent forms were killed as destrons raided his hometown of Fairbreeze Village, south of Silverlolz City. The bandits chose to raise the aspiring protoforms as their own kind - which isn't necassarily a good thing. Falcar was taught in the affinities of the Drill, spear - and mild magics. However - his magical capability is dwarfed by his skill with the penitration-based techniques. Falcar's quick learning capability was soon utilized by the bandits. Falcar - seemingly brainwashed - was often ordered to eliminate threats from afar with his spear, or penitrate an encampment and assassinate their leader with his drill. Which he did with ruthless efficiency. However - on one occasion, Falcar was asked to steal a family creation matrix that had been stolen (whoa. Double redundant negabad.). It was located in his old residence - Fairbreeze Village. However, Falcar was unknowing of the significance of this place. Waltzing in, he was captured by a group of villagers. They had learned from the previous bandit attacks and refused to trust strangers. He was forced into slavery. (Get this guy a dominatrix with an 18 inch strap on stat, and he’ll be to busy enjoying himself to play wow)


As Falcar did usual jobs; Cleaning, shining, cooking, packing, foraging, sucking and ankle grabbing.. He was given time to contemplate on his actions, all the innocents he'd murdered, the children he'd orphaned. The Grief he must've wrought. He vowed to himself never to hurt an innocent again (wank wank wank wank wank wank. Holy shit, this is wanky). And returned to his duties.( Cause he;s so contrite. He;s turning into a little bitch already) Over time, more and more people were enslaved by the villagers, ruthless through fear (huh. This makes little or no sense. This tool does not even understand the basics of slavery. Paine) . He became friends with all of them, and eventually - their numbers grew to 12. They felt that they could escape easily with this many of them. So in the dead of night - they fled from fairbreeze and over to Kalmidor (magical gay teleportation powers. They do not need your cataplut). Shortly after, they came across Orgrimmar, home of the Orcs. Yet, this was hardly a stroke of good luck.

The ArenaEdit

Falcar and his compainions were thrown into the arena and forced to fight (round one. SOnicbomber Vs Devistator. FIGHT). They fought off a total of 28 savage predicons, which had been starved to the level that they were almost rabid with hunger (excellent understanding of rabies, not). They wanted flesh - and they fought like hell for it. As the twelve conversed in their quarters that night - they told each other their stories. Because apparently the slavers muted them, or something, and the time spent in slavery together they did nto communicate and planed an excape. And all of them shared the same goal - to get out of this place and leave the bloodshed behind.

The Merciful TwelveEdit

As the twelve fought on in the arena, they had all taken a silent pact, they were never to harm a foe. As they had reached the level of fighting other beings. They saw fit - not to end said foe's life, but to give him the chance of freedom that they never had been. Simply by Drilling into pieces their foes weapons, the enemy gradually grew weary and gave up, often collapsing to the ground with exaustion. (lol. Just lol. OMFG lol. And this actually makes slightly more sence than the original version too.) As the crowd's roars of joy filled the air - they were all after one thing - bloodshed. Much to their dismay, the twelve threw their Drills to the ground. And returned to their quarters. Undter threat of rewarward drilling. Despite the Warchief's many attempts to contain them - all to no avail. Drilsl cut through many things. They managed to leave the bloodworks and return to their quarters. This tactic went on for some time. Angering the Warcheif like never before.


When the warcheif grew tired of the twelve's actions, he simply had to have them 'removed' from the public eye. By fireing them from a cataplut

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