Parallel world of Draenor.
The once-unified Orthodox Horde was now on the verge of collapse. Only the Warsong Clan remained in resistance, and Grom Hellscream refused to surrender even if it killed him.
As for the other clans, some had died, some fled, some scattered, and some surrendered. One after another, they ceased resisting, and places across the world of Draenor were falling into the hands of Azerothian colonists.
Naturally, the invaders from the World of Azeroth were delighted. The twin-stars-surrounding-the-moon model proposed by Titan old hooligan Sarodar had basically taken shape. Outland and Draenor were both being drained to feed Azeroth, and the colonial plunder model was already running smoothly.
Meanwhile, after learning that Garrosh had died, Grom Hellscream, the only one still resisting Azeroth's invasion, hated his counterpart from another world even more.
He had always believed that Garrosh had done nothing wrong. It was one thing for his other self, Garrosh's real father, to willingly work for the Titan of those long-eared elven bitches. But now, he had actually stood by and allowed that green-skinned orc named Thrall to kill his own biological son.
Poor Garrosh. What an excellent young man, what a perfect, honorable Orthodox Orc! If he could have a son himself, he would definitely want one like Garrosh!
Still, the situation was now a complete mess. This was no time for sentimentality or mourning the dead. The Warsong Clan had retreated to Iron Fist Port, a coastal fortress in the south-central Nagrand Plains, where they were making their final hopeless stand.
The Orthodox Horde was finished. Grom knew that perfectly well.
As the saying went, when a wall fell, everyone pushed it; when a drum broke, everyone beat it. Nothing suited the four Elemental Lords of the Elemental Throne better.
The elements were all