Grommash Hellscream II

[grommash2]

Age 10 the first Grommash Hellscream ascended to the head of the clan now known as Warsong. They fought in the second war using draenor as an outpost and avoided internment and lethargy. After wining Ashenvale and defeating a demigod and a great demon pitlord, Grommash died, but the legacy continues. They continue to defend Ashenvale and the Orgrimmar lumber supply and the bloodlines still run true. The Hellscream family has produced Warriors and Hunters that have defended the horde for many generationsand they continue to do so.

Young Grommash only 11 years old, the latest Hellscream and the third generation to breath Azeroth air now faces the destiny that all the horde faces, extinction versus domination. There will be no compromise, nightelf,human, dwarf,gnome or draeni, they will all fall before the horde, the Warsong and Grom.

Grommash impatiently skipped stones across the boggy swamps.
'Why must we wait?' He asked his shadowy companions.

'Because you cannot go alone young one.' the hooded and horned orc warlock replied curtly, 'if we lose you, then all we have planned for is forfiet'

'The Blood of Hellscream courses through me,' Grom snarled, 'I will not die easily.'

'There are worse fates than death, whelp, and your rusty axe can scarcely protect you from them' the blood elf chuckled.

Hot black blood rushed into Groms face, the pair of warlocks underestimated him....mocked his honor and strength.He shook with rage.

'Beleive it or not' the orc hermit added, 'you losing your temper is what I fear most young Hellscream, you must follow the ways of the pandaren and remember your lessons.'

Even though Grom had spent his whole life in a Pandaren Monestary for safety he avoided using Swords and finer weapons. Great axes, pikes, zanbato and no-dachi were what he was reknown for. So was losing his temper. The Hellscream blood still had the bloodlust which every member fought.

'Ah....here he comes' the hermit smiled. 'Grommash, this will be your companion, try to get along.'

Out of the mist stepped a tauren.

[grommash2]

The campfire crackled as the four figures gathered around its warmth.

The albino bovine made Grom uneasy, she was quite and calm and she spoke in a low but cheerful voice. The warlocks chatted happily with her about her mother, Wikka Windwalker, and her father a massive bull shaman named Rockcrush.
"It is good that you joined us, Haert, some of us have been growing.....impatient."

The tauren chuckled. shaking her braids and pawing the earth.

"It is my pleasure, my father and mother have always been as close as family to you, as I begin my great hunt I am only too happy to have a companion."

The cloaked and hooded sage nodded his crimson eyes twinkled happily with the memories of past adventures and glory in battle.

"Where should we start then?" Grom asked.

"I suggest the plains of Mulgore" The Blood elf interjected, "no one will suspect you there and you would stand out too much in the human lands"

"Indeed, Tirisfal is a place you must avoid for the moment." the hermit nodded. "The tauren are the most trustworthy of allies and a good place to look for strength and honor."

The elfs cheeks reddened at the implication.

"Run with the bulls young Grom, the druidess will be your spiritual guide."

Grom understood. As humbing as it was, he knew that he needed help to slow the creeping anger and fear. During training he had often drifted into a red haze which only lifted when the monks had subdued him. Perhaps this halcyon female would be the balance he sought, a voice of calm in the hurricane of his life and nightmares. The demons always taunted him, forever reminding him of his family's failiures, of his namesake's sins. Grom shook off the doubt.

"Mulgore it is! Come on cow lady, lets not keep the enemies of the horde waiting!"

Haert nodded.

"The quillboars have been harassing the young tauren of Redcloud Mesa, I am sure your axe will help to convince them of their place."

Grom hefted his large axe, swinging it in the swampy air,
"Then lets begin."