For the Horde!

Sitting down near a bonfire that Garrosh created and sustained through his magic—as normal flames couldn't survive in Purgatory—he cooked the meat of a native creature. The aroma was earthy and alien, and as he tore into a mouthful, the unique flavor of the meat struck him. It was strange, yet satisfying. Garrosh wasn't one to dwell on the finer points of cuisine; to him, it was fuel, and the thrill of the hunt had already made the meal enjoyable.

Nearby, Shadowfang gnawed on a carcass, its sharp fangs tearing into the flesh with ease. Around them, more dire wolves feasted—Shadowfang's newly-formed pack.

Garrosh had created these wolves to test his ability to craft living beings, experimenting with minor variations in their designs. Each wolf bore unique features: some had additional spikes along their backs, others had larger claws or glowing marks etched into their fur.

As he swallowed the last bite of his meal, Garrosh leaned back, his fiery eyes fixed on the flickering bonfire. The wolves' growls and crunching echoed around him, creating a rhythmic backdrop to his thoughts.

'What creature should I make next?' he mused, his mind spinning with endless possibilities. His recent experiments had proven that the more he created, the more refined his ability became. He felt the well of his power deepening with each success, and his confidence grew.

His gaze shifted to Gorehowl, lying nearby. The axe glinted faintly in the dim light of the bonfire, its ominous glow pulsating like a heartbeat. An idea struck him.

"Yes…" he muttered, a grin spreading across his face.

Garrosh rose to his feet, brushing off the dust from his armor. He reached for Gorehowl, his fingers curling around its hilt. The axe felt alive in his hands, its power resonating with his own. Shadows began to seep from the weapon, curling like black smoke around his arm.

The tendrils spread outward, coating both Garrosh and the axe in a dark, pulsating energy. The wolves stopped their feasting, their glowing eyes fixed on their master as the shadows around him thickened, pulsing with a life of their own.

"What better way to test my power," Garrosh growled, his voice echoing through the silent expanse.

"than to create a weapon that breathes life itself?"

The darkness surrounding him began to writhe, taking on a new shape. The axe trembled in his grasp, as though eager to be reborn.

The weapon of Gorehowl began to shift and writhe in Garrosh's hands, its ominous glow intensifying as its form dissolved into a swirling mass of shadow and crimson. The once-solid axe now pulsed like a living organism, a grotesque mixture of sinew, metal, and raw energy.

Garrosh watched as the entity spread, tendrils of dark red goo slithering along his arm and across his armor. The substance pulsed and oozed, merging with his flesh in a process that felt alien yet exhilarating, exactly as he had envisioned.

His body began to transform, just as he anticipated. Muscle and bone reshaped into a form even more monstrous than before. His tusks lengthened, his skin darkened to a deeper, more foreboding hue, and glowing crimson veins coursed across his frame. His fiery orange eyes burned brighter, now tinged with an eerie red glow. Horns jutted from his shoulders, jagged and menacing, amplifying his terrifying presence.

"This power... it's exactly as I imagined," Garrosh rumbled, his voice deep and distorted as the transformation completed.

What had once been Gorehowl now coiled around him, its mass shifting and moving like a living creature. It spoke to him—not in words, but in an unspoken bond that resonated through his mind. This was no longer a mere weapon; it was the first of its kind, precisely as he had planned.

Garrosh grinned, his monstrous features twisting into a wicked smile.

"I have created the Klyntar," he declared, his deep voice reverberating through the cavern.

Inspired by fragments of his past life's memories, he had birthed a new race—a living symbiote capable of merging with and amplifying its host.

Garrosh flexed his claws, feeling the symbiotic power coursing through him. The Klyntar shifted in response, forming bladed appendages and reinforced armor over his already-imposing frame.

"This is only the beginning," he growled, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Together, we will bring ruin to anyone who dares stand before us. As I expected, perfection made manifest." Gorehowl responded by sending their emotions into Garrosh who smirked as he decided to test his new partner when a group of purgatory creatures had found them.

The purgatory creatures were grotesque amalgamations of twisted flesh and jagged bone, their malformed limbs bristling with blackened spikes. Their glowing, sickly green eyes fixed on Garrosh and his pack, drawn by the aura of power emanating from his transformed figure.

Garrosh roared, his voice reverberating through the desolate expanse of Purgatory. It was a primal challenge, a declaration of dominance that sent a shiver through the air. His pack of dire wolves, led by the formidable Shadowfang, howled in unison, their feral cries harmonizing with their master's roar.

The creatures lunged, their movements chaotic yet unnervingly swift. Garrosh charged to meet them, wielding Gorehowl—a massive, demonic battle axe pulsating with raw, symbiotic energy. The axe responded dynamically in his hands, its blade glowing faintly with the ichor of the realm.

The first creature leaped at him, its taloned hand raised to strike. Garrosh swung Gorehowl with devastating force, cleaving through its torso in a single, fluid motion. The symbiote within the weapon pulsed with exhilaration, tendrils snaking out to absorb the creature's essence, amplifying Garrosh's strength.

Shadowfang and the other dire wolves joined the fray, their shadowy forms darting between the creatures with lethal precision. Shadowfang sank his fangs into the neck of a beast, ripping it apart with brutal efficiency. His pack followed suit, overwhelming their enemies with speed and ferocity.

Garrosh turned to another advancing foe, extending his free hand. Tendrils of the Klyntar surged forth, spearing the creature and pulling it toward him. He grinned, Gorehowl shifting slightly as its blade serrated further, adding an even more gruesome edge. With a powerful swing, the axe split the creature in two, spraying black ichor across the cracked ground.

"They fall too easily!" Garrosh bellowed, his voice carrying an edge of exhilaration.

"Is this all this realm can offer?"

The creatures hesitated, their grotesque forms quivering as if recognizing the futility of their attack. But Garrosh gave them no chance to retreat. He unleashed a devastating cleave with Gorehowl, the battle axe's edge glowing brighter as it tore through the remaining foes in a deadly arc.

The battlefield fell silent, save for the heavy breaths of the wolves and the faint hum of Gorehowl as it pulsed in Garrosh's grip. The pack gathered around their master, their bloodstained maws bearing the evidence of their victory. Shadowfang stood closest to him, his glowing eyes reflecting the flickering light of the bonfire.

Garrosh surveyed the carnage, his chest heaving as the adrenaline of battle ebbed away. The ichor-stained ground bore testament to his prowess and the strength of his creations. He grinned, his fiery eyes burning with renewed purpose.

Garrosh leaned against a jagged rock, observing the dire wolves as they tore into the remains of the purgatory creatures. Shadowfang stood at the forefront, his massive jaws ripping apart sinew and bone with ruthless efficiency.

"Great work, boys," Garrosh muttered, his voice low but carrying authority.

"Feel free to feast on them."

The wolves growled softly in acknowledgment, their hunger driving them to devour the spoils of battle with primal fervor. Garrosh relaxed, his towering frame shrinking slightly as the symbiotic energy receded. The transformation ebbed away, leaving him in his original orcish form.

The only exception was Gorehowl, which retained its twisted, demonic form. The battle axe gleamed with an eerie crimson light, its surface pulsing faintly as though alive. Garrosh rested the weapon on the ground beside him, one hand still gripping the haft as he watched the wolves with a satisfied smirk.

"Not bad for a warm-up," he mused, his fiery eyes flickering as he contemplated the potential of his newfound powers. The symbiotic connection with Gorehowl lingered in his mind, a steady hum of awareness that resonated between them.

Shadowfang lifted his bloodied muzzle, his glowing eyes locking onto Garrosh. The alpha wolf padded over, his steps deliberate and commanding, and sat at his master's side. Garrosh reached out, placing a hand on the beast's massive head, his touch firm yet strangely gentle.

"You're growing stronger too," Garrosh remarked, his tone laced with pride.

"Soon, this pack will be unstoppable."

Shadowfang let out a low growl of agreement, his gaze scanning the horizon as though sensing Garrosh's ambitions. The rest of the pack continued their feast while Garrosh deep in his thoughts.

'I wonder if I could make other creatures? Like aliens.'

Garrosh thoughts on the aliens from Ben 10 namely Planchaküle, the race of Juryrigg, Cerebrocrustacean, the race of Brainstorm and Galvan, the race of grey matter. They would be able to create technology far surpasses those that exist within the world he was in.

'Then I'll make my own version of Primarchs via turning them into uniquely humanoid creatures.'

The Annihilation maker can make monsters therefore he could create close enough creatures. He can imagine having World Eaters, Ultramarine/Primaris, Emperor's children, etc. Or creatures who are adept at forging to create weapons of mystical properties.

========Brought to you by Garrosh feasting on a meal=======

Rhok'zan briefly waited for her darling to return. She momentarily thought about how she had met him. He was simply a wandering soul within the Voidless Abyss, a place of a paradoxical quantum improbable impossibility.

A mortal soul somehow surviving only met that the soul has the potential to be an Elder God, Great old one or an Outer God. Rhok'zan was an Outer God of Fertility and Mother.

She rarely fancy a mate having only given birth through parthenogenesis. When an entity that proved to be entertaining did not miss the opportunity. She was even baffled at how he reacted and did not lose to madness, instead finding her form to be filled with cosmic wonders.

A strange man indeed.

Rhok'zan finally noticed a portal opened once five minutes had passed or give years for Garrosh who stepped out of the portal appear a lot more refined and stronger.

"Welcome back, dear." Rhok'zan smiled walking over to give him a kiss while Garrosh reciprocated and pulled her closer and deeper into the kiss.

"How was your trip?" She asked while Garrosh grinned.

"It's been amazing. I've made a lot of progress such as this. Show yourself Kaltain." Garrosh called out and reddish substance began to leave his body moving to the side before turning into woman shape with large chest and wide hips as well as thick and long legs. Afterwards had large white eyes and sharp jagged teeths with long prehensile tongue and tentacle hair.

[ Image here ]

"It's to meet you, Mistress. I am Kaltain, otherwise known as the All Cleaver." She introduced herself with Rhok'zan eyeing on her body then turned to Garrosh with a teasing smile.

"Likewise. As expected, how many women did you make using your power?" Rhok'zan asked.

"Quite a few, I'll show you later but I haven't slept with any of them yet." Garrosh said.

"That's good to hear." She was happy that Garrosh didn't forget their deal. Garrosh nodded then gestured for them to follow.

"Anyway, let's find a place for me to bring out my kingdom."

They followed Garrosh, with Rhok'zan curious about what kind of progress he had made within Purgatory. She had turned off her omniscience, choosing to experience the surprises he had to offer. Her presence walked alongside him with an aura of grace and calmness, while Kaltain moved beside her.

Garrosh's stride was confident, his fiery eyes fixed on the path ahead as they made their way through the desolate expanse. He led them toward a vast open field that stretched far into the horizon, untouched by the corruption and chaos of Purgatory.

Upon reaching the field, Garrosh stopped, his hand gripping Gorehowl as he raised it high. The air shifted around them, heavy with a potent magical energy that crackled and sparked. Rhok'zan watched with intrigue as Garrosh slammed the axe into the ground, unleashing a wave of energy that rippled across the barren land.

The field began to transform, the ground splitting and reshaping itself as massive structures rose from the earth. Towers of blackened stone erupted into the sky, their spires adorned with glowing runes. Walls formed around them, lined with intricate carvings that depicted the might of Garrosh's conquests.

Within moments, they found themselves standing on a grand balcony overlooking a pristine city. The city bustled with activity as its denizens moved with purpose.

Below, various races worked together harmoniously. Red-skinned goblin-like creatures and small frog-like beings carried materials to construct additional buildings. Their craftsmanship was swift and precise, as if they had been born for the task.

The majority of the inhabitants, however, were armored orcs and tall humans, each bearing the unmistakable mark of warriors. They trained in the streets and patrolled the city walls, their discipline and strength evident in every motion.

Rhok'zan took it all in, her golden eyes gleaming with admiration.

"Impressive," she said, her voice carrying a hint of pride.

Garrosh crossed his arms, his chest swelling as he surveyed the kingdom he had brought forth.

"This is just the beginning," he replied, his tone brimming with confidence. Kaltain stood beside him, her sharp teeth gleaming in a grin.

"A masterpiece befitting my master," she purred. Rhok'zan chuckled, leaning slightly toward Garrosh.

"I must admit, dear, you've outdone yourself." Garrosh smirked, his gaze never leaving the thriving city below.