Timeline: Unnumbered, distant timeline
Character: Biker Grom Hellscream, boss of the Warsong Gang
Two older draenei commoners sat on the chairs outside of a liquor shop on the outskirts of Telmor. To them, it was just another afternoon in a dreary backwater town. They spent their time like any other afternoon, having nothing more important to do, just gossiping about their neighbours, complaining about the politicians and the lack of money. But as they were busy with their daily rout, an ear-splitting noise began to reach them. One of them looked out into the distance and saw something they both hated – a gang of motorcycle-riding orcs, wearing leather and metal chains and shouting like madmen to the wind. In front of their column, a loud and proud leader of the gang – Grommash Hellscream. The two men quickly sat politely in their chairs, pretending not to see the commotion. When the loud noise of the orcish motorbikes passed, they looked at each other.
“Them orcs,” one of the men said, “They’re gonna make trouble, I tell ya.”
Grom continued riding on through the streets of Telmor, much to the dismal of the draenei around him. Some of them were hurling insults, some were just walking by or running in fear. Grommash Hellscream was infamous in all of the Exalted States of Draenor. A know gang leader that avoided prison only by being just out of reach of any evidence the police could find. Nobody could find the evidence, but everybody knew who he was and what was he involved with. Smuggling, drugs, theft, gang violence and various petty offenses – the list kept going on, but Hellscream wasn’t afraid. He was Warsong, he did not fear the man. He fought the man.
Finally he and his band of most loyal retainers reached an old warehouse deep in Telmor. Many more motorcycles were already there, from all kinds of other orcish gangs. Grom looked through the bikes and recognized the insignia painted on them. The insignia taken from the clans of old, from before the draenei arrived on their shiny spaceships and decided they now rule the place. There were black and red Blackrock bikes, there were the bloody insignia of the Shattered Hand, there were even the crescent moons of the Shadowmoon gang. Everyone was here for the summit. The summit called by Reverend Ner’zhul.
When Grom entered the warehouse, all the dozens of orcs were already sitting and listening to the “lecture”. But oddly enough, it wasn’t being given by Ner’zhul. It was his wayward minister, Gul’dan, who was talking. Gul’dan, never respected among the other gang bosses, seen as a corrupt maniac, a symbol of everything that was wrong with the draenei. But this time, it was even worse. Gul’dan was different. His skin was green and his body… twisted, as if it withered of old age in the short time since Grom last saw him. And he talked about power!
Grom heard the stories. Reverend Ner’zhul heard his dead wife on the radio. Everyone thought the old man finally went insane out of grief, but then everything changed. The supposed ghost of Ner’zhul’s wife contacted him with an alien that could help the orcish people. One that warned them of the treachery of the draenei. His name was Kil’jaeden and he offered power. This one everyone heard. Kil’jaeden was actually there and offered a formula for a drug that could help the orcs defeat the draenei menace. A formula Ner’zhul could not reproduce, but Gul’dan was all too eager to help. Now Gul’dan came back changed – twisted and corrupted. Everyone called him sick, but he showed them real power. He could summon fire and shadow from his very palms. He had tenfold the strength he used to have – which put him as Grom’s equal in Grom’s own mind – the power was undoubtedly real. But at what cost?
When everyone was busy convening over this power, suddenly a gunshot was heard outside. Grom and Blackhand jumped at the occasion to escape this summit for a short time and quickly left the building. What they saw shocked them. A police car, and two draenei policemen cornering a teenage orc. The youngling was scared for his life and backing off, with his arms up.
“But I swear, officer, I didn’t do anything! I was just watching the bikes,” the teenager responded. The two draenei didn’t look convinced. Grom knew one of them. They called him Arbiter Khan. One of the most corrupt and prejudiced cops in the whole city.
“Yeah,” Khan exclaimed with a smirk, “you are all guilty of something.”
And then a gunshot sounded across the yard, Grom couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The young orc fell to the floor, shot straight in the chest. Khan only laughed at his partner. The other bosses finally noticed the commotion and left the building. Blackhand growled like only an orc could.
“They shot a kid!” he yelled to the others. Only then the corrupt cops noticed what was happening behind them and turned around. “They shot a KID!” Blackhand didn’t think twice, he never did. He grabbed a shotgun from his bike and before Khan could hide in his car, he fired a series of shots, one of them hitting the cop in the shoulder. The other cop quickly reached into the car’s trunk and emerged brandishing an assault rifle.
But Grom didn’t wait for decisions either. He pulled his own assault rifle and shot the cop before he could do anything. Then, all the bosses closed in on the car and the remaining policeman. Khan was sitting in the driver’s chair, breathing heavily and holding his wound.
“You filthy animals,” he said, looking at his assailants, “we should have killed you all a long time ago.”
“No,” responded in a rasping voice another of the bosses, Kargath, pointing his pistol at the cop’s head. Now this one was a maniac – he would strap a gun to his mangled arm if he could. “We should have killed you all.” Kargath pulled the trigger without waiting for another gloat.
Grom only covered his face with his palm, shaking his head in disbelief. “I cannot believe what I just saw. They finally did it. They shot a kid for… what? For being an orc?” Grom looked again at the dead youngster. What would he tell his parents? He took him here, it was his responsibility. I am so stupid, he thought. But then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Remember what I told you?” Gul’dan said, looking at him from the side. “I have the power. I can give you all the power you need to take them down for good.”
“And what, Gul’dan,” asked Grom, “must we give in return?”
Gul’dan’s eyes lit up with glee as his unsettling smile widened.
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