The hour was late, a rider on a large black wolf approached. He dismounted on a small overlook above the Clan camp, took a knee and observed silently. It had been almost a full season since he had set foot near the camp. Many things had changed, both here and within himself. To those that knew him, his appearance was hardly recognizable. Gone was the helm that he had worn to cover the scars of his face and gone were the pristine armours of polished dragonscale and soft furs; his attire was now dark and grim. Mail fashioned from the scales of demons now covered most of his form and the stench of sulfur clung to him.
Once a master of the forests and the beasts, they now hid in fear from him. They could sense the unnatural air about him and would not dare approach. He now had to rely on companions of a different sort; a large cat, standing almost to his shoulder purred loudly beside him. In the gloom, its eyes shimmered between a glowing orange and turquoise; it was easy to tell that this creature was not native to the soils of Azeroth.
Rumours of a new chief and change from the old camp had reached his ears. Though his presence had not been felt in some time, the former Warmonger had continued to monitor the progress of his brothers from distant lands, though while he was close he decided to set up camp and watch a little closer.