"I will not be here long,"
said Thrall.

"Come spring, I will rejoin Grom Hellscream, and help his noble clan storm the camps and free our people."

"Grom Hellscream," sneered the stranger, waving his hand dismissively. "A demon-ridden dreamer. I
have seen what the humans can do, and it is best to avoid them."

"I was raised by humans, and believe me, they are not infallible!" cried Thrall. "Nor are you, I would think, you coward!"

"Thrall -" began Drek'Thar, speaking up at last.

"No, Master Drek'Thar, I will not be silent. This stranger comes seeking our aid, eats at our fire, and dares to insult the courage of our clan and his own race. I will not stand for it. I am not the chieftain, nor do I claim that right. But I will claim my right to fight this stranger, and make him eat his words sliced upon my sword."

The strange orc laughed heartily and rose. He was almost as big as Thrall, and now, to his astonishment, Thrall saw that this arrogant stranger was completely clad in black plate armor, trimmed with brass. Uttering a fierce cry, the stranger opened his pack and pulled out the largest warhammer Thrall had ever seen. He held it aloft with seeming ease, then brandished it at Thrall.

"See if you can take me, whelp!"





LORD OF THE CLANS PROLOGUE
They came when Gul'dan called them, those who had willingly - nay, eagerly - sold their souls to the darkness. Once they, like Gul'dan, had been deeply spiritual beings. Once, they had studied the natural world and the orcs' place in it; had learned from the beasts of forest and field, the birds of the air, the fish of the rivers and oceans. And they had been a part of that cycle, no more, no less.

No longer.

These former shamans, these new warlocks, had had the briefest taste of power and, like the barest drop of honey on the tongue, found it sweet indeed. So their eagerness had been rewarded with more power, and still more. Gul'dan himself had learned from his master Ner'zhul until student had finally surpassed teacher. While it had been because of Ner'zhul that the Horde had become the powerful, unstoppable tide of destruction it presently was, Ner'zhul had not had the courage to go further. He had a soft spot for the inherent nobility of his people. Gul'dan had no such weakness.

The Horde had slain all there was to slay in this world. They were lost with no outlet for their bloodlust, and were turning on one another, clan attacking clan in a desperate attempt to assuage the brutal longings that flamed in their hearts. It was Gul'dan who had found a fresh target upon which to focus the Horde's white-hot need to slaughter. Now they would soon venture into a new world, filled with fresh, easy, unsuspecting prey. The bloodlust would rise to a fever pitch, and the wild Horde needed a council to guide them. Gul'dan would lead that council.

He nodded to them as they entered, his small, fire-hazed eyes missing nothing. One by one they came, called like servile beasts to their master. To him.

They sat around the table, the most feared, revered, and loathed among the entire orcish clans. Some were hideous, having paid the price for their dark knowledge with more than just their souls. Others were yet fair, their bodies whole and strong with smooth green skin stretched tight across rippling muscles. Such had been their request in the dark bargain. All were ruthless, cunning, and would stop at nothing to gain more power.

But none was as ruthless as Gul'dan.

"We few gathered here," began Gul'dan in his raspy voice, "are the mightiest of our clans. We know power. How to get it, how to use it, and how to get more. Others are beginning to speak out against one or the other of us. This clan wishes to return to its roots; that clan is tired of killing defenseless infants." His thick green lips curled into a sneer of contempt. "This is what happens when orcs go soft."

"But, Great One," one of the warlocks said, "we have slain all the Draenei. What is there left to kill in this world?"

Gul'dan smiled, stretching his thick lips over large, sharp teeth. "Nothing," he said. "But other worlds await."

He told them of the plan, taking pleasure in the lust for power that was kindled in their red eyes. Yes, this would be good. This would be the most powerful organization of orcs that had ever existed, and at the head of this organization would be none other than Gul'dan.

"And we will be the council that makes the Horde dance to our tune," he said at last. "Each one of us is a powerful voice. Yet such is the orcish pride that they must not know who is truly the master here. Let each think that he swings his battle-ax because he wills it, not because we are commanding it. We will stay a secret. We are the walkers in the shadows, the power that is all the more potent for its invisibility. We are the Shadow Council, and none shall know of our strength."