Character: Warlord Dranosh Saurfang, Warchief Varok’s son and heir
Being the heir of a Warchief is a rather fickle business. As much as we like to pretend we abandoned our old bloodlust and that we no longer hold the villains of the Old Horde in high regard, we are still orcs. We still love battle, and at a moment’s notice, someone can jump out at Varok, I meant father, and decide it’s now their turn to lead the Horde. I do not fear for father’s life, for he is a warrior like few others, but everybody has a bad day from time to time. Or someone could poison the blade of his enemy and make the new Warchief win without honor. So as certain as I can claim to be in public, I am never completely certain if I will ever become the Warchief. Or if I want that to happen to at all.
My father came to me a few years ago in Garadar. He showed up with a cadre of warriors and the title of a Warchief, claiming a great destiny awaits me. He told me stories of the great pride, glory and honor that he took for the Horde back on Azeroth. He told me of Grom Hellscream’s dishonorable demise, and how Thrall, son of Durotan, died to redeem us from the Blood of Mannoroth. Garrosh, my old friend, took his life after learning how his father dishonored his family forever, so I did not want to believe Varok’s stories. So offered to take me to Azeroth to prove his word. He showed me the great city of Thrallmar, the capital of his new Horde, and assured me they abandoned the old villains that once led the Horde. But then I looked him in the eye and asked him as honestly as I could – “then how come you are the Warchief?”
I had no love for my father. I remembered how he had abandoned me when I turned out to be sickly. I remembered how they all, Blackhand, Varok, all of them, how they looked at us for being the unfortunate victims of a disease. It was as if it was my fault for being the victim. I grew up without a father, despising the man that sired me. I despised the Horde and everything it stood for. As Garrosh reacted to this with despair, I reacted with anger. So when Varok showed me Thrallmar, it all looked like an elaborate deception. As if he was deceiving himself that he wasn’t one of them. I asked again, “if you abandoned the Old Horde’s values, how come you are the Warchief?”
And he told me about his own distress. About the memories of his victims plaguing him to this day. I considered that justice, but he kept talking about the laws he proclaimed in this “nation of Broxar”. He showed me how he changed the orcish lives. And after staying there with him, I finally agreed. I never got over the issues I had with his and my past, I never got over what he once was. I didn’t do it for him, I did it for the orcish race. We deserved another chance, no matter how much we screwed up before. And even if we didn’t go far enough away from the old values yet, I swore I would help to change that.
I stand now in Thrallmar, watching the Horde and making sure it never slips back into that dark chasm of corruption. We still have many enemies – the warlocks hide in nooks and crannies in and around the city, trying to get us back into the fold of their dark masters. The satyrs scheme against our kaldorei allies and with every day come up with new plans to corrupt the sacred forests. The Alliance remains uneasy about our continued existence, and even though they know we are not the same, some among them still blame us for the sins of our fathers. But we also have new friends – the night elves, whose whisps can produce wood for our buildings out of thin air, or the jungle trolls and their wise leader Vol’jin. I believe we can change, and if the burden of a Warchief ever falls on my shoulders, I will make sure it happens.
Every once in a while, I see strange things. I am never sure if they’re enemies scheming against us, or mysterious forces of this universe working in the shadows. But yesterday, I saw a gnome talking to a night elf, right in the corner of the middle of Thrallmar. I thought I saw that gnome before, so I approached carefully, making sure they don’t hear me. They spoke of someone named Kairoz running from them and hiding in various realms he was trying to corrupt somehow. Then they spoke about me and my role here, claiming “I am always turning Warchief, except once, as if the universe itself was trying to fix a mistake.” The gnome claimed she was watching out for me, to make sure this Kairoz does not interrupt my rise to power.
And then she spoke of something I had to report to Varok. She spoke that she must make sure that Varok dies, as designed, before the Cataclysm. I do not know what Cataclysm they are planning, or why they want to kill my father, but I will make sure their wishes are not fulfilled.