What exactly is true honor?
If you had asked Grommash this question ten years ago, he would have scoffed, for a true warrior would not waste his time on boring debates.
Therefore, even if the fireworks of human cities were splendid and prosperous, they could never suppress Grommash's inner desire for conquest and battle, because the Warchief of Warsong always pursued honor through action.
For Grommash, the meaning of his life was to slaughter for the Horde and the Warsong Clan, crushing all enemies of the Horde.
However, when the Horde was defeated by the Alliance's army, the Warchief was captured by Alliance soldiers, and some clan chiefs fled in disarray, crossing the gate through which they came to this world, shamefully hiding back in their original homes, Grommash was momentarily lost.
What did they gain from years of war and conquest? The human kingdoms were destroyed by them, but in just a few years, a brand new city stood on the original ruins, and the orcs' bravery only added a blood debt to their own and human history in the end.
The Horde gained nothing; instead, it lost more than it had on Draenor.
During that time, the only thing Grommash could think of was to find an Alliance Legion, fight them head-on in battle, and ultimately die a "glorious" death.
However, the unwillingness and desire for life in the eyes of the surviving Warsong Clan members made Grommash abandon the idea of a decisive battle. He led his clansmen to hide in the mountains of Tirisfal, living a life of feast or famine.
They endured like this for several years. The Warsong Clan grew weaker and weaker, while human Legions, castles, and kingdoms became more and more prosperous. Towns that could be easily plundered in the past later became hard nuts that Grommash dared not touch.
Years of desperate running had exhausted Grommash's spirit, and coupled with the after-effects of the fading fel power, he began to doubt whether he still had the strength to lead the Warsong Clan out of their desperate situation.
The good news is that when fate blocks your path forward, it often gives you a new choice.
Grommash also received news of Ogrim's "death" a few days later—after all, it was printed on papers that humans posted and publicized everywhere.
However, this news did not cause much fluctuation in Grommash's almost stagnant mood; instead, he had a feeling of "it was bound to happen."
There was nothing he could do. The Warsong Clan wandered on the fringes of human civilization and watched human civilization grow stronger, even more prosperous and wealthy than before the war, which at one point made Grommash question his life.
Moreover, Ogrim was already a prisoner. Although he escaped, death was the best way to wash away the stains on him, so Grommash thought Ogrim's death was quite natural.
But at that time, Grommash did not yet know what "for the Horde" meant. He only single-mindedly wanted to restore his "honor" and prevent his Warsong Clan brethren from dying in vain.
So when he first met Thrall, he didn't understand why Ogrim would entrust the future of the Horde to an inexperienced young man. He didn't like Thrall because Thrall, like Ogrim, seemed more human than Orc.
But today, Grommash understood why Ogrim constantly spoke of the "Horde." He understood why Thrall's eyes were not always filled with battle intent and frenzy. He understood what it truly meant to die with honor.
In the eyes of the orcs, he was a brave and skilled warrior, and in the eyes of his enemies, he was a cruel and ruthless executioner. But all these labels and titles vanished into nothingness when Grommash's Gorehowl roared in the sky for the last time.
Grommash fell, falling before the strongest, most unconquerable enemy he had ever faced in his life. But before he fell, he had personally put an end to the evil born of his own desires and recklessness.
The orcs' curse vanished into thin air when the Pit Lord's massive body collapsed to the ground, and corrupted pus and blood gushed out. And along with it, Grommash's life, like a flickering candle in the wind, was also fading away.
Thrall painstakingly dug through the rubble and crawled out, dragging Doomhammer behind him, limping towards Grommash, who lay supine on the ground, his life force weak.
He couldn't help much. Shamanic magic had little effect in this fel-corrupted area. Mannoroth's twisted magic almost instantly disintegrated Thrall's power.
After easily defeating Thrall's spell, Mannoroth's thick tail lashed violently at Thrall, embedding the young Warchief into the mountain wall like a ball.
And when Thrall crawled out of the pile of rocks, Mannoroth had already fallen, but his respected friend, elder, and warrior was also on his last breath.
"Grommash!"
Thrall stumbled and knelt beside Grommash. He cast aside Doomhammer, attempting to summon the help of water elementals, but this place had been corrupted by demons, and he could not feel the presence of pure elements at all.
"Thrall..." Grommash's chest rose and fell faintly. His voice was no longer as powerful as it once was, having become weaker and more decrepit than any elder Thrall had ever seen. "I... did not let the Horde down..."
"You, you did very well, Grommash, hold on, our people will break through soon!" Thrall wiped his face with his hand. "Listen! Don't close your eyes, you are the strongest warrior of the Horde!"
"Cough, cough..." Grommash forced a smile. "Don't mind me... They still need you. Let me lie here for a while... Just for a while..."
"The curse... has ended. I just... want... to lie down..."
Grommash's voice cut off abruptly, and Thrall's fist instantly clenched—Grommash's life had gone silent.
Thrall gritted his teeth, seemingly with a surge of anger and unwillingness boiling within him, but when he saw Mannoroth's corpse, these emotions receded like a tide, merely turning into a sigh that echoed in the canyon.
"May the ancestors protect your soul."
The Warchief's voice became deep and sorrowful. After Ogrim, he had lost another friend and elder, and the Horde had lost a great warrior.
In this battle, they killed the enemy's commander and thwarted the Legion of demons, but the orcs also paid a heavy price.
"I promise you, it was all worth it."
Thrall stood up, pounding his right fist on his chest. He glanced at Mannoroth's body, then re-gripped Doomhammer. Since Grommash said he wanted to lie down for a while longer, Thrall would deal with the remaining demons first, then come back to take Grommash home.
At the entrance of the canyon, the Horde's warriors were still fending off the demons' frantic assaults, buying time for him and Grommash. Now, he would carry Grommash's will and together end this battle.
...
Although the leaderless demons were frenzied, they found it difficult to truly break through the defense line formed by the orcs' bodies. Their corpses almost piled up into a wall of flesh and blood, yet the price paid by the orcs was also extremely heavy.
The teams holding the several entrances to the canyon were almost completely wiped out, the worst even having only one person left holding out. When Thrall arrived with reinforcements, this Orc warrior leaned on his battle-axe, half-kneeling on a mountain of corpses piled with demons and his brethren. He was covered in wounds and breathing heavily.
His body was hunched with exhaustion, but he still exuded the aura of a towering mountain.
The brutal demons hesitated before this Orc, unsure whether to charge or retreat, and were ultimately surrounded and annihilated by Thrall and the other enraged orcs.
Walking up to the Orc warrior, Thrall finally saw his face, obscured by blood and grime, "Brox, we're too late."
Brox grinned, but his smile pulled at the wounds on his face, making it look particularly strange. He tried to stand up to greet Thrall but found his legs had long given out. If not for leaning on his battle-axe, he might have fallen directly to the ground.
However, there was a dimness in the eyes of this surviving Orc veteran. When Thrall saw that familiar expression, his own heart trembled—he certainly understood Brox's feelings; he had just experienced the same thing.
While clearing the battlefield, Thrall prepared to take a team back into the canyon where they fought Mannoroth. But just as they were about to enter the canyon, a dark green meteor streaked across the sky. Thrall's nerves twitched, and he quickly led his people to a safe place for shelter.
Soon after Thrall gave the order, the dark green meteor made intimate contact with the side of the canyon wall. Half of the rock wall quickly collapsed under the impact, and rolling rocks rained down, quickly filling the narrow path.
When the earthquake-like tremors ceased, Thrall rushed to the rockfall. Before him, these fallen rocks formed a roadblock dozens of meters long, almost filling half the canyon. The original passage had become a sheer cliff face!
The elemental power here was still extremely chaotic, and Thrall couldn't use the power of the elements to move these stones. Rashly mobilizing the elements would only make the situation worse.
"Damn it!"
Thrall punched the boulder, his fist even embedding itself into the rock, but trying to move this impassable barrier was impossible. In such a situation, even with the fastest mobilization of manpower, it would take weeks to clear a path.
The canyon was surrounded by steep walls, and apart from this small path, it was almost impossible to enter the deepest part of the canyon, which meant that Thrall would not be able to retrieve Grommash's remains for a while.
This outcome greatly annoyed Thrall. The Hellfire that fell from who-knew-where had also deprived Grommash of the chance for a final honor. However, the Hellfire was clearly buried under this pile of fallen rocks as well, becoming part of the mountain.
Finally, after trying various methods and still not finding a way into the canyon, Thrall found some stones and piled them up in front of the blocked path, carving words onto them.
"Demon's Fall Canyon
The resting place of the Horde hero, Grommash Hellscream."