Enough

[Grimgor]

Zultar Stormhammer knelt before the smoldering embers, watching the wisp of smoke get blown by the gusty wind into a cloud that filled the firepit and escaped into the early morning air in untidy tufts of gray. Wearing a sneer on his craggy Orc face, he glowered at the dying fire. Even as a Shaman who waged his battles primarily with the use of the Elements, he was an imposing figure. Bedecked with the various trinkets and tools of his Shamanhood over the hard glint of runed thorium, Zultar crouched there. Waiting. Thinking. Angry.

As if they could sense his mood, the other Sons of Draenor toiling around the camp kept their distance as they prepared their gear for the day. He allowed them to pay such deference, letting the logic of it cut into his raging emotions. The night before had been all too telling. Times were changing, again, and it made his heart burn with a seething anger that made him want to mount up and visit retribution. But there was a voice still inside, telling him that he could not, that he would not.

Zultar, Shaman of the Horde, and Captain of the Sons of Draenor was second only to his Chief. Grimgor had not yet awoken, but he needed his counsel. He didn't want to share his frustration with the others. It was not appropriate. So, as he had been doing for the better part of the early dawn hours, he sat and tried to focus what he could on the fire and its entrancing qualities. It wasn't working.

As if on cue, he heard the flap of cured skin and turned his head to see Grimgor, wearing his full armor as usual, step sure-footed out into the crisp air. Zultar thought he saw someone else inside but a wisp of smoke obscured his vision and the flap had fallen back before he could get a good look. A twinkle of amusement touched his eyes and the corner of his mouth as he rose to greet his old friend. An overnight guest? Good for him.

Grimgor spotted his Captain rising from his perch at the fire and crossed straight to him, the look on the Chief's face full of purpose. Without mirth, Grimgor solemnly greeted his friend and trusted Shaman with his customary fist-slam on Zultar's shoulder pauldrons. "Old friend."

Caught in Grimgor's spell, Zultar nodded solemnly in return. "My Chief."

A silence pregnant with expectation had siezed the camp. The other Sons bustling about had stopped their work and looked on, having seen the way Grimgor had stepped from his tent. Only the sizzle of the fire and the random rat-a-tat of heavy field insects flapping about could be heard.

For a long time, Grimgor just stared into Zultar's eyes, cool blue into dark brown. The warrior's nostrils flared as he visibly warred with something within. Mastering himself? Zultar guessed silently. At last, Grimgor blinked, slowly, and turned his gaze to the camp.

"Long have the Sons been dedicated to preserving the pact of agreement between the Horde, the Night Elves, and the Humans' Alliance. It was not the fear of confrontation that stayed our hands, but the call of Wisdom. Wisdom that told us that by giving in to the old hatreds and conflicts between our people, we were playing into the plans of the Burning Legion. They are the true enemy. We have treated with them, marched peacefully on their cities to show our intent. And now this..."

Grimgor bared his teeth for a moment as the rage he held inside briefly showed itself. Fighting it back down, he clamped his mouth shut for a few precious seconds. "We are of the Horde first and foremost. Those of the Alliance has shown themselves time and again to be ignorant of this pact that allowed us to save our world. Worse yet, their leadership has not seen fit to curb this trend.

"I have seen a storm coming for a long time, and the observant ones among you have seen it in me. They have shed blood at Crossroads such that the ground there is now a permanent red. They have assaulted our cities, and now boldly strike at the very heart of our workings on a consistent basis. Last night, noble Cairne of our Tauren brethren was attacked visciously. It was only by the efforts of our brave defenders who heard the call that he was saved at the last moment."

The Chief pounded a plated fist into his chest. "How dare they!! We in the Sons have persevered! Some have thought us pacifists, but still we held our stance that we fight the truer enemies of the Horde. Fighting and waiting, hoping to inspire. How dare they attack our cities and murder our leaders?!

"No more. By their own foolishness, they have shown themselves to be as great a threat to the survival of the Horde as any demon-spawn of the Legion or abomination of the Scourge. I will no longer allow their predations to go unpunished. Let there be no mistake, I still hope that they will wake up and see their foolishness, but now we will visit upon them punishment for their transgressions.

Punishment, my kin. That is what we will give them. They deserve it, and they will get it from us at last. My way. If war comes, so be it."

Breathing heavily from his vent of anger, Grimgor finally nodded to signal that he was done. The Sons and Daughters of Draenor grimly nodded in return. They knew what this meant.

Turning to Zultar, he said in a low voice, "Gather what troops we have. We attack at sunset. I will drop in on Chief Maube of the Skullcrushers and consummate our alliance there."

Zultar nodded grimly but enthusiastically and trotted off bellowing orders.

"We may not have thousands at our call," Grimgor whispered to himself, "but I know how to make them take notice."

(( Skullcrushers, you and the Sons are allies, and now that I am back in my routine from the new kid being born, it's time to make good on this agreement. I will be in touch with your leadership in the coming days to plan the events that accompany this story. ))

Edited May 24, 2006 by Grimgor

[Maube]

(( keep in mind Grim... I am out of town for the next week, but any of the other elders can help out ))

[Odenn]

The sky was dark; the clouds were gathering and the moon hung low in the sky. The dusty sand of Durotar swept around the boots of Grimgor, chief of the Sons of Draenor. He stared off into the distance, thinking of the storm that was to come.

He could hear the soft tread of boots approaching behind him. When the footsteps stopped, he turned to see his visitor. When he turned, the orc before him dropped to one knee and pounded a gauntleted fist on his chest. Grimgor recognized Odenn from their many ventures against the Scourge. As he rose his shaved scalp glistened in the moonlight.

"Da Skullcrushurz will help da Sons of Draenor wid dem Alliance pushdug." Odenn began in a low voice. "Cheef Maube hab given me da dutee ta get da Crusher truups tugether."

Grimgor gave the pathfinder a nod of approval.

"Me will gather suldierz an me will meet lat heer in 10 muunz. We will make da Alliance be lernin da meenin uv punishment." He smacked his fist on his chest again, turned, and bounded off into the night leaving Grimgor with his thoughts and the blowing sands.