Garrosh plowed his way through an ally way of the annoyingly bright village, only to find that the pink demon he was hunting had somehow disappeared. He growled in utter frustration as he stomped at the ground, and watched as dozens of horses ran from him, not even bothering to look back and clarify that he was a threat, (which he was not, for he didn't intend to kill any civilians; what honor was there in that?). As he watched the mass hysteria ensue, he took note of the fact that all of these horses were a great deal more colorful than in the last village, and there were also many more females than there were males here.
After only barely a moment of standing there, a male horse with wings flew up and stopped dead in front of him. The horse was a very deep blue and had a much darker, almost black-blue color for his raised hair; his face also bore a surprisingly apathetic expression. A small part of Garrosh hoped that this one was more friendly than the last one that had wings. What he said at that moment though, crushed those small hopes instantly.
"In the name of Princess Celestia, you are under arrest, monster." Garrosh had to have heard that wrong.
"Is he serious?" He thought. The horse looked dead serious in fact, and he was not alone either; four more winged equines flew up to him, each one looking more than ready for a fight. There was a female who's fur and styling made her look as though she were set aflame, it was rather impressive to behold. The third one looked a bit bulkier than the rest, and he was light blue with unkempt, sea-blue hair. This one also appeared to have a care-free, happy-go-lucky attitude that was quite plain to see through his bright, jubilant green eyes. The fourth one was a more plain-looking one, with white fur and curly, gray hair beset by off-white highlights. The last one was a small, agile-looking female; she was a sky-blue with wind-swept, cloud-white hair. She bore a look of inconfidence in her deep fuchsia eyes, not that he would wish to spar with himself either.
The whole situation felt ridiculously odd. The orc was not intimidated by any of them at all, for they looked far too plushy to be fear-inducing. Little did Garrosh know, was that this party was just getting started. Five more winged equines landed on a rooftop next to him, and said the exact same damned thing!
"In the name of Princess Luna, you're under arrest." Only this horse didn't stop there. "What? Surprised to see me again, Spit?" She asked the flaming one through a smug grin. Garrosh briefly thought about trying to escape whilst the ponies had, what was apparently their little family reunion, but he was a bit too interested in where this was all going.
"First off, it's Spitfire! Second, not in the least, you miscreant! I'm here because you failed; now, if you don't mind, I have a thief to arrest." Seethed the pony named "Spitfire" in a tone laced with contempt. The name sounded more like a last name to the orc, and a good one at that.
"Miscreant?" The other female sounded underwhelmed. "Come on Spit, you can do better than that!" The "miscreant" said. He started evaluating the other five creatures, starting with this so-called "miscreant." They all looked far darker than the first group; their commander was a shade of pale cobalt, while her hair was a dark, royal blue, all finished with luminescent golden eyes. The horse to her left was a very large male with the first scar he'd seen here running up the entire left side of his muzzle. His coat was a ghostly pale white, and his gel-spiked hair was the color of a frozen lake. To her right, was a small mare that was midnight-blue from head to hoof, but what made her stand out from all the others was the electricity surging through her hair, and the crazed, psychopathic look in her enigmatic, amethyst eyes. Upon the far right was another male who's coat was a dull charcoal. His facial features were largely obscured by the presence of a pointed goat's beard and a pair of oddly-shaped goggles, and his slick-shined mohawk was a bland teal. The final member was by far the cleanest-looking. The mare was a crystal-clear violet, her hair being made up of two different shades of purple, her eyes a sightless and hypnotic blue.
"Ten vs one, I like these odds!" He thought haughtily to himself. He continued watching them, but stopped on the electrified one. "Wait.... That's the one from the desert!" He recognized her. How could he not? It's not every day you see lightning emanating from one's follicles. Even so, Garrosh kept quiet as the horses continued to bicker.
"You're right, I'd say 'miscreant' barely even begins to describe you, you traitor!" The fiery one yelled.
"Traitor? Miscreant? These names may not be true, but it's all I've got to go on, I'll kill that one as soon as I can!" He plotted as the horses kept on arguing.
"Spit, sweetie, we both know you missed having me around for the first year I left. In fact, ever since Luna hired us I imagine you've been wanting to come... talk to me." The golden-eyed one said with an.... almost sensual tone? Garrosh already didn't like this one at all, and he decided that he had waited long enough. He dug his left foot into the ground and loosened his right leg. He also hooked the one axe he still had to his belt as he popped his knuckles and clinched his right fist as hard as he could.
"You're absolutely right, I have been wanting to ask you a few things, but right now I have work to do, so if you'll excuse me--" She never got to finish that statement. Garrosh threw his fist into the white and gray one's snout, sending him flying into a second story window.
"I, Garrosh, son of Grom, will show you all what it means to be called Hellscream!" He proclaimed as he hopped back and waited for their first move. After recovering from their initial shock, the team that was now missing a member charged him. All of their dive-bombs hit him, but he didn't even have to take a step back. The other group tried the same thing, and after punching the electrified one, he let the others hit him, only to have the same effect on him as the last group. The two teams landed in one big group a few meters away from him. Some were agape in amazement, others showed clenched teeth in frustration, but all stood wondering how their attacks had done less than nothing. Now it was his turn.
"Hahaha! A worthy effort, if futile." He channeled the words of The Flayer in a deep growl as he ambled wickedly towards his foes. He picked up speed as he went, and soon he was running at the team of ragged rebels. They scattered like mice as soon as he got too close, but he lashed out and grabbed the tail of the large, ghostly white male. He used all his strength to hurl the horse over his shoulders and into a market cart full of carrots, splintering the wagon into a dozen pieces and sending the vegetables all over the street. The horse spat out one of the orange vegetables while rolling back onto his hooves.
"Okay.... yeah, alright...." The horse muttered in an accent that he could have sworn was from the slums of Gilneas. Dusting himself off, the horse then faced the Warchief with an undoubtable intent of charging head-on alone. Garrosh felt something ram into his back, but he brushed off the pathetic strike. He chose instead to stampede full force at the Gilnean stallion, as did the stallion do the same. When the two collided with a reverberating impact, the horse was sent flying yet again.
"Perhaps the males stay down." He thought hopefully as he bounded over an incoming attack from the fiery one, rolling back to his feet in an instant. Garrosh then locked onto the black one with the teal hair. He charged the goggled horse, but this one was very quick. He chased him for quite some time while getting hits on and from other members of the teams. The dark blue male from the first team attempted to kick him in the face, but the orc grabbed one of his back legs and slammed him to the ground. However, Garrosh still had not given up the chase on the black one. The black one finally slipped up and made the mistake the orc had been waiting for, that being turning to fight after Garrosh had swatted the purple one from the air.
"Hey! You wanna hit a girl?! Let's see ya fight somepony your own size!" He ranted passionately as he dove for the orc. His accent sounded like that of a goblin's, but Garrosh didn't pay that too much mind. He greeted the enraged horse with his left fist, knocking the creature to the street.
"You're not nearly my size, rodent!" Garrosh gloated as he raised his foot for the second time that day to crush the overly-impetuous horse. Once again he was stopped, and not by himself either. A violet-colored bullet hit him right in his upper chest area. The blow from the bullet took him, and itself through a nearby house's wall. Screaming could be heard from inside as soon as he had gone through the wall. he looked down at his chest to find that the purple bullet was indeed the violet horse, and that she had knocked herself unconscious by hitting him that hard. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her off to the side as he got up and exited the home's new, makeshift door. Garrosh didn't catch a break from the fight though, as the black one was getting back on his hooves, just as resolved as ever. Garrosh grabbed hold of a porcelain, open-topped, white box with a silver pipe running out of the top of it, ripped it from its foundation, and lobbed it at the dark horse.
"Gah!" The strange box hit its mark without error.
"You creatures are pathetic! You know you cannot win this battle!" He boasted victoriously. By this point, almost all of the town's inhabitants in that particular sector had either fled, or were hiding in odd places, such as under a vendor's cart as a large red male was doing. The light blue, bulky, jubilant one decided that it was his turn to try his luck as he charged Garrosh. The Warchief grabbed the handle of a cart laiden with bunches of red flowers and waited for just the right moment. Right as the horse was in range, shouting as he closed in swiftly, Garrosh lifted the cart above his head and brought it down with all his might atop his foe. He heard a scream come from behind him, but he blew it off as the vendor being distraught about her cart.
"Soarin!" He heard the flame-coated one yell as she flew at him at break neck speed.
"Soarin? Is that a name or an attack announcement?" He deftly ducked the attack and brought his fist down on the cart's remains, hoping to end the life of the previous attacker. It didn't work, for he saw that the horse he had just hit with the cart was flying away while eating some of the merchant's flowers. Enraged at his defeat, he spun around and put all of his fury into a punch that hit the fire-maned horse dead in the face. She flew lifelessly into a house that looked like it was made from every unhealthy candy you could ever think of; he could not say he was sorry for the damage dealt to the ugly house.
His musings were cut short when he heard the ever so familiar sound of lightning charging up. He rolled to the side as a bolt of the stuff shot right past him and into a wall of the biggest building of the village. Garrosh drew his axe from his belt and turned to the electrified freak of nature.
"Aaaarrrraaa! Why won't you fall down already?!" The unstable creature screeched with an almost child-like tantrum. He flexed his body as he readied himself for a fight with the abomination.
"A Warchief never dies! Now prepare to meet your maker, filth!" He yelled as he charged the creature. She shrieked in defiance as she flew straight for him, but Garrosh was no fool when it came to dealing with electrical foes. He waited until she was going too fast to dodge, and then he hurled his axe right at her face. She panicked, and flew off to the left, hoping her improvised maneuver would prove effective, but the blade flayed along her back right leg. She gave out a pained yelp as she hit ground, only to moan in agony once she was in the dirt as blood immediately bubbled up from the fresh slice.
"Blueball!" Garrosh heard the goblin-voiced one call out as he went to go reclaim his weapon, which was now lodged firmly in the side of a large apple cart. He was almost there when both of his legs were taken out from under him simultaneously. Looking up from where he crashed down on his back, the Warchief saw that the "miscreant" and the Gilnean one had both attacked him to accomplish that. Roaring in rage while quickly regaining his footing, he stormed towards the two horses as they circled around for a second strike. He suddenly leaped into the air to gain a better hit on them, the female effortlessly dodging the wild swing, but taking the Gilnean horse out of sky again with a blow to the base of his left wing. Garrosh hit the ground running for the apple cart where a very large, red male was trying and failing to dislodge the axe from what was evidently his fruit cart.
Garrosh kick-lifted the male between his back legs, sending him careening over the vendor's cart and into the shrubbery of the building resting near it. He pried his weapon from the cart and was turning to go finish off the wounded one, who was now screaming in pure pain as lightning flowed through her whole being (She seemed to be cauterizing the deep cut with her own powers!), when the small, sky-blue horse flew straight into his face. The blow was painful, and it might have knocked a tooth or two loose, but he redoubled his counter-attack and head-butted her forehead. She spiraled a few feet away and connected with land on her back before shakily getting to her hooves, only to start walking around in circles teetering back and forth until finally falling back onto her rear, clutching her rattled head; she looked like she would be seeing stars for a while. It was at that moment that Garrosh heard an ear-piecing scream originating from the town's center building. Quickly pivoting his head to look in that direction, he discovered that the whole thing was now a blazing inferno.
"Was I even the cause of that?" He questioned himself aloud, his mind briefly wandering until it settled upon the memory of that lightning bolt that zipped past him and into the wall of that same building. As he watched the building full of mindlessly fearful equines hurriedly vacate, he saw that the three males from the first team of flying horses were trying to keep another winged gray horse with askew blonde hair out of the building. She was kicking and screaming with reckless abandon as they attempted with great effort to restrain her. He didn't catch most of what she was saying over all the commotion, but from what he did hear, he knew exactly why she was fighting so hard.
"My daughter's in there! Lemme go!" She wailed as if she were in unbearable pain. Garrosh knew it was not his problem, but as he turned to reengage the concussed mare, what to him was by now considered the inevitable stopped him for a third time: He heard the voice of the dead whisper to him once again.
"Will you be a hero again, my youngling?" He knew what he had to do, and in truth he new it all along. Garrosh didn't know what told him, but he could feel an enemy's presence looming behind him. Garrosh was never one not to act on suspicion; he instinctively whirled around one-hundred and eighty degrees, swinging his fist in a large arc, and finally hitting the "miscreant" square in the throat. As she alighted on a near-by rooftop, choking through a nearly crushed windpipe, he walked briskly up to the team members trying desperately to hold the crazed female down. He looked at them for at least a few seconds, one by one all of them gaining awareness to his intimidating presence, before running up to the flaming building and bursting through its burning door, intent on answering the voice he had once again heard.
The heat hit him like a brick wall. All around him he saw, chairs, tapestries, beams and fallen banners all burning in a world of orange, black, and red. The billowing smoke rising from each flaming material effectively blotted out the afternoon sun once shown through the structure's many windows, making it nigh impossible to see or breath. The brown paint was melting from the walls as if it were heated chocolate, and the various balconies of the establishment were buckling under the weight of the rapidly collapsing ceiling; one to the left of him had already fallen upon his forceful entry. In short, the whole place looked like he had just stepped into hell.
"Where are you, youngling?!" He called out. He didn't know the name of his target, so calling out to it was not an option, nor was failure though. "Hello?!" He called again to nothing as he sifted through broken, burning tables. He searched the first floor for about half a minute before he knew he had failed.
He was just about to smash through the closest wall to make an exit when another balcony buckled, only this time, a portion of the balcony below it gave way to the first. He groaned as burning wood and curtains fell upon his naked head. After ripping the immolating fabric from his body, Garrosh looked up to where that all had come from, and to his surprise, found exactly what he was previously looking for. A small, pale lavender horse that could be no older than ten years of age was dangling frantically from the edge of the partially intact balcony, her small stubby legs kicking uselessly as she scrambled to try and lift herself back up to the balcony's platform. Garrosh reached up on his toes and snatched the child who let out a frightened squeak upon contact, then he tucked her in his arm like a Feast of Winter's Veil football. He bolted for the nearest wall and leaped through it, busting it out like gift wrap as he was greeted by fresh, clean, breathable air.
The peace didn't last too long however, as the second team started flying at the now passive-aggressive orc, no doubt dead set on resuming their earth-razing battle with him. He was just about to assume a defensive stance with the child in-hand when they were all suddenly halted by the voice of the Gilnean one.
"Stop! Hold the attack!" The horse sounded off. His leader was not at all pleased by his orders.
"Why?!.... Let's kill this thing once and for all!" She rasped out as best she could to her subordinate.
"No! He's got the foal with him!" He explained to her. She looked on, dumbfounded as Garrosh un-tucked the trembling child. The mother of the little one galloped full speed up to the orc, and gave him the most pleading look he had ever seen, as if she were begging mercy for her daughter. Garrosh then slowly handed the young horse back to her parent, who held her as close as she possibly could, the both of them now shedding tears. The two teams and the remaining civilians alike all stared at the massive orc, who was now seen as a hero by the mother of the child. Garrosh stared back at them as well. Scanning the multitude of colorful ponies, he not only saw a large herd's worth of new ones, but he also could see those six infernal worms with whom he'd grappled earlier. though they looked battered, bruised, and above all else angry, they didn't dare make a move with the child still so close to him. He knew that if they had adhared to the Gilnean's command, that everyone would (At least for the time being). The gathered crowd's gaze then shifted behind him as the town's center building fell in on itself to become a flaming heap of charred rubble.
"Thank you, thank you so much...." The gray horse whispered to him, tears of joy and relief streaming down her face. He knew not how to respond to her thanks, so he briefly nodded his head. The teams that were sent to apprehend him were now at a crossroads: They could either try to arrest him again, or try talking him out of breaking anything else. However, the contemplatively silent mood was utterly destroyed when an eerie, soft, and childish voice hissed from behind Garrosh.
"Blueball... never.... loses!" The words had just enough time to reach his ears before he felt electricity surging through the entirety of his form. He also felt that the crazed horse from before was now latched tightly onto his back. The pain he felt was excruciating, volt after volt after volt was launched through his body as the rescued child from before started screaming in fear. He himself roared in unbridled agony as the volts just kept on coursing. He could see the members of the other team yelling at the crazed one's commander, who was also yelling to the best of her ability towards the crazed one, but the orc heard none of it. For what seemed an eternity he was electrocuted by ancestors know how many volts. Garrosh's strength and life were fading fast, but as he looked into the eyes of the child, something within him awoke. He found his true courage; he found his true honor, he found his true rage.
He slowly reached a spasming arm up above his shoulders and grabbed onto the horse's head, but now came the hard part. His mind flashed back to the day he learned of his father's real legacy; he thought back to the pure, vibrant eyes of that child, and he put his plan into action. Slamming his reserve energy into overdrive, Garrosh Hellscream put every ounce of strength he had left in his being into throwing the horse's head into the ground before him with a resounding Crack. The pain finally subsided and eventually ceased to be as the electricity in the creature's hair gave off one last buzzing noise, before fizzing out and falling silent.
"Blitz!" The Gilnean horse ran to where she lay motionless as Garrosh stumbled back a bit, bereft completely of any energy or tolerance to consciousness.
"Lokt'...." The spent orc mumbled out uncharacteristically feebly as his eyelids felt as though iron anvils on his face. Waning with each passing second, and with no more strength left to keep his body upright, he fell haphazardly onto his back. As he felt the grasp of what was either a long rest or an eternal slumber begin to take hold, Garrosh saw a dull, gray afternoon sky above him as the corners of his sight were steadily going black. he resigned to his fate, as his lights went out.