Race:Mag'har / Warsong orc
Honorable orc. Embraces the teachings of honor and the elements and has a strong belief in animism. This and his high age make him stubborn sometimes, but he tries to be open minded to everything but "foul" magics, namely Demonology Witchcraft and Necromancy. He understands however that the forsaken are different to the mindless undead.
Nature, his "new" people, keeping the world at peace with the elements.
Demons Necromancy, warlocks, blind rage, bloodshed.
Garom has nearly kept the dark brown color of the Mag'Har and blue eyes, but exposure to some Demonic energies while in Outland made his skin go to a light brownish color. HE has long white hair that is tamed by being woven into many braids.
He wears the remnants of his mail warrior armor when fighting but has patched it up only with wood and bones when it was damaged. He also adorned the armor and attachmets with shamanisctic symbols. He wears no helmet but a Wolf mask. He always wears a Necklace with 2 huge carved fags around his neck and a small pouch on his belt. When not prepared for fighting he wears a simple leather robe painted with shamanistic symbols. His weapons of choice are a pair of old one handed axes he had for a long time.
His old age takes his toll on his hearing and eyesight sometimes, and his back keeps acting up sometimes. Since he was alone for a long time he is not that good at reading people.
Able fighter and shaman. Often takes advantage of people underestimating him. Good survival skills in the wilderness.
Garom was born on Draenor as child of two warsong orcs. He grew up shorty before the blood pact with Mannoroth was formed, and learned the orcs old traditions and values. He knows the rites of old and the former Clan structure before the shadow council.
Shortly before his great hunt he fell in love with a young orc woman and fathered a child. Doing this without being initiated was a great sin amongst the orcs so the then Warrior took his great hunt and defeated a great Hydra, bringing her 2 fangs as proof, but he was poisoned badly. There was no real help for him since the elements and spirits denied healing to the Warsong who already got under the Shadow council’s influence. And they surely wouldn’t help the young orc cover his sins. The young orc would be exiled, since the hunt is only finished if the hunter recovers from all injuries. Seeing that, he knew it would be better for him to die. He met with the love of his life and told her that he would leave and a friend of his would tell everyone he died to the poison. The child would be raised without a father anyway so it would be better off with a father who died while reclaiming his honor than a father who lived in shame. He begged her to never tell their child the truth. Garom would most likely die in the wilderness anyway.
But he didn’t.
He took his leave with some clothes, an axe and the Hydra’s fangs. He survived the poisoning despite the odds and lived a few years as a hermit in nagrand. He never drew close to the orc’s settlements ever again, but some time later he had to see something he would never have dreamed of.
One day when he was hunting in the wilderness he heared screams from a far away location. Women’s and children’s screams. He didn’t want to risk meeting his brethren but he just had to know what was going on. When he made it across to a clearing in the forest he saw some Draenei fleeing. He had seen some of them over the years but nearly never women and children. The helpless group was chased by three creatures that had a certain resemblence with orcs. But they had red skin and horns growing from their backs. Garom was shocked when he saw that the creatures killed every woman or child they were able to catch.
NO. He had to help them.
Garom drew his axe and charged at the first of the orcs. Since he was not expecting someone attacking them Garom was able to kill the first orc quite swiftly even if he was younger than him. Seeing their comrade fall the two oher orcs attacked Garom furiously. The old orc was just able to defend himself against the blows but soon his arms began to burn and he knew that he would have to pay the price for his attack. He just wished for enough time that the Draenei could get to safety. When he formed the wish in his mind, something strange happened. A fresh breeze of wind rushed through the treetops and Garon thought he would hear a voice in the sound of the rustling leaves.
“We find your wish is a righteous plea Garom. It shall be fulfilled.”
When he heard the voice, he felt that his axe was feeling lighter and lighter and he felt the wind pushing his axe forward. With this weight lifted from him he even was able to strike swifter than the young orcs. His axe was crushing into the second orc’s chest so violently that it kept stuck.
He had to face the last orc unarmed. He kept the swiftness that was bestowed upon him, but with his bare fists he was only able to bruise the other orc. While the two warriors were engaged in combat it started to rain and first grolling thunders were heared in the air.
With the rain cooling his face the old orc was able to continue the fighting. Suddenly he realized what kind of crest the orc was wearing. His upper chest was painted with markings of a black jaw. NO! he couldn’t be, but he was a warsong. That twisted creature was one of his clan?
With the rolling thunders in the air a great anger rose in Garom’s chest. He left his family his wife and unborn child to preserve their honor, an honor that his Clans seems to have forsaken.
Then another voice manifested within three of the thunderstrikes, an angrier more violent voice than the first time.
“Strike. Him. Down.”
Garom heart was filled with hot burning rage and he furiously shouted at the orc what he was thinking.
When his fist rushed at the red skinned orc the air around it began to crackle and when his blow connected a bolt Lighting erupted in the fel orcs chest sending him to the ground dead.
Rendered speechless by what happened Garom fell to his knees and watched his hands in awe, there were still little cracks of lightning forming around them. He put his hands and forehead on the ground and thanked the oh so noble spirits for their boons.
After some time when the rain stopped he knew what he had to do. They were twisted but they were his clansmen nevertheless. They deserved a proper funerel. He collected wood for a pyre and set them up as it was due for a warrior with their weapons in hand. Their spirits must be set free to find their ways to the ancestors. It does not matter if it is for redemption or for judgement. When Garom watched the fire burning he realized that something else was due. He lived his life without having a clan or a name of honor. He would have the later of today. He took the one thing he had remaining of his old life, the trophies of his great hunt. In the first Hydra fang he engraved the rune that meant “Thunder” and in the second Hydra fang the word “Fist”. The spirits blessed him to do this, he was certain of that. So he decided his name of honor would be Thunderfist.
When he finished the second carving the crackling fire erupted into the second more violent voice that bestowed him with the second boon.
“You are of pure passionate heart Garom. You kept to your honor and virtues not fearing death or loneliness . You are a true orc. You will follow our guidance until you are ready to rejoin your people."
In the years to come Garosh would live his lonely life again and be sometimes granted with a bit of the spirits' wisdom. He was far away from being a true shaman, but he certainly understood more than a simple orc of the spirits' ways.
Then the day the spirits foretold arrived. Nagrand’s nature was in happy unrest. It was as if water was flowing more vivid. The flower’s scent was stronger and the wind was more lively than ever. They all whispered to the old orc. Through flowing waters, crackling fires or the howling winds of Nagrand. He did not understand every single word but he knew they praised someone.
“Honorable” “wise” "pure" “Warchief” and one word was uttered by all of the Spirits:
Garom took the mood of the spirits and when he heared a loud voice echoing over the planes of Nagrand he knew his time to rejoin his people had come.
“At long last I am home!”
He ran as fast as his feet would carry him and suddenly it happened. He let out a furious howl and jumped on all fours. He turned into a spirit wolf. His ancestors guided him. A single tear ran down the wolfs face. He would finally find his people. His true people.
Garom was not feeling worthy enough to talk to the great shaman the elements praised, but he joined the Mag’har in Garadar. He promised to follow this new Horde wherever its warchief would take it. That was the path his Ancestors and the elements have chosen for him. Who was he to object? Garom was initiated as a shaman of the horde within mere months but he never wanted someone to make it out as an accomplishment. He listened to the elements for decades and just heard their voices when they seemed it fit. He was just another of their faithful servants. He retook his Clan’s name but he never looked for his wife and child. He feared what happened to them since they most likely followed Grom though the Portal and left Draenor. It hurt him greatly when he realized that his leave may have taken them on the darkest of all possible paths, but they were a thing of the past. It surely made him sad to not have any family anymore, but he would see them once the spirits decided his time had come, so he let it be.
He finally was where he was supposed to be, a shaman of the new Horde.
Garom Thunderfist of the Warsong Clan.
He ventured with some of the Mag'har to Kalimdor and learned from the people. He stayed at the campfires long nights and learned all that he missed while living his lonely life.
When the Lich King attacked the Horde he stayed, not because of being afraid but he was unable to cope with the icy weather of Norhrend. He stayed and tried to help as a shaman. He prayed to the elements for good harvests and rain and did not take up a weapon anymore.
When the Cataclysm struck Garom retook his arms and joined the Earthen Ring in their endeavors in Deepholm. He would continue to follow the path his Ancestors and the elements have laid out for him until he would join them in the afterlife.