Chapter 1: Let's find out who the true succesor is.
Massive stomps could be heard hitting the ground as a large green being entered the arena. All around the area all of the horde had beseated themselves upon the many seats in the arena. Their yelling and screaming of excitement seemed to be filled with a certain form of hate and disgust, and at the same time love and passion. They all came for one thing tonight, to see a battle that would not know any limits. One would stand one would fall, this was the fate of the horde. Conflict overwhelmed the peaceful leader ''Thrall'' like he was nothing. And the stomping green being that just entered the arena was this person. This was Thrall, leader of the Horde and succesor to Doomhammer. He was here for one reason tonight, for one purpose. There was one man that had always stand up against him he threw him off his thrown and began using the horde like it was his tool. That being also caused massive stomps in the arena and nearly made the earth quake. His skin was coloured blood red and his eyes bestowed anger upon those that surrounded him. Two enormous axes were carried by this being, this being was Garrosh Hellscream. Son of the legendary Grom Hellscream.
''Garrosh…'' Thrall's voice was filled with dissapointement with the one he once called his student.
''Thrall! Don't you see? The horde needs a warchief that will lead it to victory! I will get the Horde to finnaly triumph over all our foes!'' Garrosh's voice was filled with anger and blood thirst. This was proof of the hellscream blood that burned in his veins.
''Garrosh, you are the one who does not see..'' The young warchief was truly bitter because of the actions that lead to this. He knew it had to come, he knew that Garrosh could not keep it together. His actions would lead the horde to ruin, but he to blinded with bloodthirst to see it.
And so the two walked close to eachother, Thrall equipping his hammer with a fierce swing and Garrosh preparing his axes for battle. The yells and encouraging screams from the crowd fill the air. Birds that rested on top of the arena flew away with grace. They could feel the great power that manifested itself below. This entity would cause pain and suffering to the ones above it, like nothing ever seen. True pain comes from only those that want to cause it. Difference between the warriors is only their desire one who wants to kill is always superior to the one that does not. So it has always been, and so it will always be. And so as two powers charge to finish the other for once and for all, only one can possibly victor over the other. Blood would be spilled tonight, but more then they think.
''TO BATTLE THRALL! LET THERE BE NO CHAOS IN THE HORDE, THERE WILL BE ONLY ONE TRUE SUCCESOR!'' Garrosh yelled as he stormed towards his opponent with his axes in hand. Nothing could stop him and nothing would, all would merely look as he would drive his axes through Thrall's chest.
''So be it, Garrosh you dissapoint me…'' Thrall was truly dissapointed and truly willing to kill for the first time. Garrosh could not be saved any longer he would only threaten the horde's foundation. And so his shamanistic powers were charged into the massive hammer, the doomhammer, and he stormed in the direction of Garrosh. To his one true destiny.
The doomhammer smashed right into the axes of Garrosh, they even managed to hit one of the two axes out of his hand. Garrosh responded by smashing his one remaining axe into Thrall's massive armour. Badly damaged by the attack Thrall is forced to back down.
''Ahh, Garrosh I can feel your fury. You should save yourself now!'' Thrall knew it would not affect the red orc, but he would never truly give up. This entire battle he would try to convince him.
''Do you have no honour Thrall! Let it be finished.'' Garrosh summoned the massive axe Gorehowl into his hands. No one understood where the legenddary axe came from, but it brought fear and respect to the eyes of all.
''Garrosh, where… how…. This is impossible!'' Thrall muttered. The warchief was not one to get caught by surprise, but this was truly something that struck him like lightning. The long lost axe of Grom Hellscream had returned to it's true owner.
And with that Garrosh charged and as he ran forward the sky suddenly turned black and a large hole just above the barrens was opened. A gate to the Twisting Nether had come upon the lands of the horde. All energy all power all hope was sucked right into it, leaving nothing but the greatest of all fears. The feeling of despair. Thrall immediatelly turned to the hole and rushed out of the Arena while Garrosh looked at the running Warchief, he saw it as a form of betrayal. Thrall had betrayed his honour and had lost all respect Garrosh could ever give him. The blood red orc did not even want to bother to go and meet the coming of the burning legion, he would wait for their coming to Orgrimmar would they set foot in the bastion he would make them pay. And just like that a man appeared before Garrosh. He was wearing a long black cloak and had his mouth covered behind some cloth. He had a strong looking mace in one of his hands and a mysterious and deadly aura surrounded him.
''You must go to Ashenvale, and find the scars of the burning legion within it. Something awaits you there.'' His voice seemed to burn itself into the orc's brain without mercy. True fear vastened itself deeply in the orc's heart. He did not know why, but the next moment Garrosh left the arena and began his journey to Ashenvale.
And so the Horde is lead towards it's true destiny, the answer will come in time. For all of you, and for none. Nothing is what it will ever seem to be. Azeroth will change, and all you ever thought you knew will forever get destroyed.