Garrosh Hellscream sits on his massive throne in his beloved hall. He has missed this place, it's smells, it's very atmosphere. Around him are his loyal honor guards, confident that each one would gladly give their lives in his service.
His hall lies in the middle of Warsong Hold, his massive fortress in a land that he conquered. Placed in charge of the Warsong Offensive in Northrend with scores upon scores of determined and fanatical orcs, tauren, trolls, blood elves, and forsaken, all at his beck and command. Their purpose, to hunt down and destroy the human called Arthas, who has taken the title of Lich King.
In the past two years he has worked tirelessly to advance across this frozen continent. Facing all manner of horrors, and defeating them. His Horde scratched, clawed and slashed their way to the very gates of Icecrown, only to have the weakling Thrall order them to form a pact with Trion Fordring and the Argent Crusade. A pact that forced them to fight alongside the cursed humans in order assault Icecrown and kill the Lich King.
Still, he was determined to get to Arthas first, and took great efforts behind the scenes to insure that the best and the brightest of the Horde were ready and equipped to do the job.
However, this night despite the news that Arthas has indeed been slain, Garrosh is in the foulest of moods. Trion refuses to tell him how the Lich King was killed or who did it. None of his mercenary units have returned to report directly, and none of his spies have information. It is all a festering secret bent on robbing him of the ultimate glory of his command.
If he can take direct credit for killing the Lich King and leading the Horde to victory, then perhaps he can have the leverage to challenge that weakling Thrall for the title of Warchief.
His mug of hot Nagrand ale tastes stale and lifeless, just like his mood. He ponders this situation like a pouting child.
"Garrosh!" a familiar voice calles out from the ramp into his war room. "Garrosh, it is Eitrigg!!"
The elderly warrior steps off the ramp and approaches Garrosh's throne. Behind him walks another elderly orc that is vaguely familiar, dressed in the robes of a shaman.
"Eitrigg!" Garrosh says with a scowl "What brings the decrepit dog of the warchief into the frozen north?"
For a moment Garrosh wonders where his spy from Orgrimmar is, the bloated festering death knight is long overdue.
"You speak too boldly and without reverance for your elders boy!!" Eitrigg exclaims "I come with words from your warchief!"
Garrosh clenches his teeth hard, his nostrels flaring in anger.
Suddenly, a terrifying roar echoes from the upper reaches of the fortress. It's rattle reverberating down the stout walls of Warsong Hold.
The Guards leap to attention, moving to shield their beloved Overlord. Garrosh stands, grabbing his matching pair of battle axes.
A shout calls from above "We are under attack!!"
Garrosh and his guard push past the startled emissaries and charge up the ramp to the roof. Each one grinning as they relish the idea of a fight to end the monotony of guard duty.
Once on the lift, the assembled warriors begin to snort and froth, preparing themselves for the fight ahead. Above them, the sounds of a battle echo into the night. Screams and growls along with blood spattering raining upon them from high above. The lift rattles and starts to climb. From the ramp Eitrigg and his shaman come running towards the lift, only to be left behind. Several of the guards along with Garrosh chuckle at the desperate looks on the faces of the elderly orcs.
"They can catch the next lift. Stupid old fools." Garrosh hisses.
The slow moving lift takes forever as the sounds of battle above begin to subside.
"Aye Chief looky ere" one of the honor guards gestures to a broken battle axe on the lift. "Dat looks like Morgut's axe."
Garrosh stares hard at the shattered weapon. He remembers giving that blade to Morgut as a reward for leading a warband that held off a particularly vicious scourge attack.
As the lift finally reaches the top of the fortress Garrosh sees several of his faithful honor guard sprawled like bloodly rag dolls across the icy platform. Against the battlements stands Morgut, and before him crouches a gore covered tauren druid in lion form.
"Who dares to interrupt my celebration!!" Garrosh Hellscream bellows
The oily beast turns around, his baleful yellow eyes shining in the night, in them everyone present can see a sort of intelligent madness. The beast snorts and moves cautiously towards Garrosh, neglecting the former object of his attention.
"Garrosh Hellscream!" the beast utters in an otherworldy voice that echoes across the battlements and into the cold northrend night. "At last justice can be done. At last we can have a reckoning for the bloodshed and evil you have brought to this world!"
"Then come demon, and I will bathe this fortress in your blood and entrails!"
"Your broken body will be dragged across Azeroth for all to see. Only when you have suffered, as you made poor Meekha suffer, and you have made me suffer, will be dismembered and allowed to freeze into the glaciers of Northrend for all eternity."
Morgut takes his opportunity to inch forward as the beasts back is turned to him. Clenching his sword tightly he prepares to leap.
"No! This abomination is mine!!" Garrosh steps forward, his brown knuckles turning white as he grips his axes tightly. The honor guard step backwards, each one greatly anticipating the chance to see their master in action.
Suddenly, the fell-druid changes into a massive bear. Then, to their amazement his bones begin to crack, his flesh begins to boil, and the wretched beast begins to grow. It howls in pain as it's body takes on a massive shape. It's fur turns black and oily, it's broad face lengthens and looks something like a cross between a dire bear and a worg.
With an unnatural and earthshattering roar the abomination lunges forward, his massive black claws like glistening sabers. The power in his hind leg buckling the wooden timbers as he charges, his thundering paws shaking the ground like cavalry.
With one smooth and graceful motion, Garrosh steps to the side to avoid being trampled, and brings his mighty axe down into the forehead of the beast. The razor sharp blade bites into his thick skull. Stopping the mighty monster in it's tracks. With a sickening crash the druid falls and slides across the icy platform.
The honor guard suddenly roar with cheers and shouts as Garrosh stands triumphantly over the carcass of the defeated attacker. Never did they think he would bring the loathsome animal down with one strike of his axe.
Before their eyes, the creature shrinks down to a dire bear, then it shifts form to that of a gore covered tauren as it sighs it's final breath.
"So much for your pathetic reckoning beast!" Garrosh exclaims with a toothy smile.
Without warning, Morgut leaps at Garrosh, his sword swinging wildly at the brown skinned orc. His blade bites into Garrosh's thigh, drawing a thin trickle of blood.
"My reckoning has just begun Nagrand dog!! By your death Calmfury will be redeemed!!" Morgut says in a other-worldly voice.
A surprised Garrosh swings wildly with his axe, catching the orc corporal in the midsection. His body falling to the floor, nearly severed in two.
Instantly, a troll guardsman charges forward, and once again Garrosh spins around and slices the assailant in half.
"What is happening!?!" Garrosh exclaims
Another orc guardsman hurls his axe at Garrosh and lunges forward to grab him. The axe narrowly missed his head as Garrosh brings both of his blades down, severing the shoulders of the guard at his neck.
"You cannot stop me!! You will have to kill everyone in this fortress. You cannot fight forever boy!!"
Wide-eyed, Garrosh swings his axe and severs the head of the possessed orc.
Behind him the bloodied form of an orc woman in armor leaps on Garrosh's back. A thin dagger in her hand plunges into his shoulder. Garrosh howls in pain and anger as he grabs the woman and tosses her into the nearby wall. Her body making a sickly crunch as she hits hard, her battered face staring blankly at the Overlord.
"This is madness!! What kind of demon is this?!? Who is Calmfury.... Calmfury?!?"
Garrosh's eyes widen in realization.
A guardsman rushes forward, his shield held in front of him and his sword swinging wildly above him. Garrosh swings hard, imbedding his axe in the broad shield. The orc stabs clumsily with the sword, trying in vain to sink the blade into the Overlord's brown flesh.
"Haha You fight like a worthless peon with your sword. You don't even know how to use it. Give it up Calmfury, if you are that pathetic wretch I slaughtered so long ago."
The possessed guard howls in contempt as another guardsman moves behind him and splits his skull with his axe.
Then, the avenging guardsman drops his axe and rips off his thick breastplate.
"You are correct Garrosh, killing you with my claws is much more rewarding."
Before Garrosh can react the orc fluidly changes into the twisted form of a hairless green bear. The foul beast lunges with its claws slashing at Garrosh and biting down on his thigh. The Overlord howls in pain once again as blood trickles down his leg.
Dropping his axes, Garrosh grips the unnatural creature tightly as if he is squeezing the life out of it.
"The rest of you guards... jump off the battlements before the demon steals your body." Garrosh commands. The bewildered guards stand in confusion as they consider this horror that is using them to kill their leader. Not one of them obeys his command.
With a sickening crack, the back of the orc bear is broken and the beast falls limp to the ground before changing back into an orc guardsman.
A tauren guard springs on Garrosh, slamming his massive fists into his head. He pummels and pummels the brown orc drawing blood from a split lip and his nose. Garrosh grapples the tauren in desperation, lifting the bull off the ground. The possessed tauren slips his meaty hands around Garrosh's neck and begins choking the life out of him. For a moment the overlord's strength fails and his eyes begin to bulge in his head as he gasps for breath.
"Feel it ebb away Garrosh. Feel your wretched life pass away. You will never live to be a great leader like your father. Instead, you will die in this cold wilderness, killed by your own guardsmen."
Suddenly, the taurens eyes go blank as he releases his grip on Garrosh's throat. The overlord staggers back as he gasps for air. He assailant falls helplessly to the ground. Behind him, Eitrigg and his shaman companion stand. From the hand of the shaman comes a magic that seems to suck the very soul out of the tauren.
"I have him brother. Whatever that was is now contained" Orkimedes whispers. He opens his hand to reveal a glowing soulstone.
"Garrosh, are you okay?" Eitrigg says in astonishment.
The brown orc looks at the pair with fury and confusion in his eyes.
"Where did that thing go?"
"It is gone" replies Orkimedes.
Four very timid honor guard cautiously step forward. All that is left of the mighty host that joined Garrosh on the lift. The rest left broken and bleeding on the fortress platform.
"Garrosh, I have come by order of Thrall himself to bring you back to Orgrimmar." Eitrigg says in a commanding tone.
Garrosh stares at him blankly for a moment... as if he is trying in vain to make sense of the whole situation, of everything that has happened this night. Was that, thing, Calmfury the defiant, miserable tauren he killed last year in Icecrown? Who the hell is Meekha? So many of his beloved guardsmen lay dead at his feet. Some that he even called friends, killed by his own hand.
If this beast comes again he will be prepared. He must consult with the warlocks in Orgrimmar on this matter.
"Very well" replies the Overlord as his retrieves his bloodied axes. "Guardsman, prepare my things for departure. The sooner I am out of this place the better."
Orkimedes stares out at the frozen horizon as he palms the soulstone into his pack. He knows that the elements will never forgive him this sin, using this forbidden power. His only recourse will be to return to the Throne of Elements and try to atone. Felika will not understand.
