The End Is Near, Pt. I

The hulking tauren's crimson eyes golwed with an intenity that his master had not yet seen in him.

"Demonstirke. You're brutality and cunning are note-worthy. You have progressed well in you're training and your power has become immense."

Danomolis Thunderrike stood towering over his pupil. His eyes burning through his helmet. He was also a tauren but much larger than Demonaro, though, seemingly almost unaturally so. His black and scarred armor only made him look more menacing. Demonaro had remarked that even ogre's must cower upon meeting him.

Danomolis smiled beneath his mask. "What is it that drives you so. Is it your brother?"

Demonaro...now called Demonstrike quickly looked up a this master and locked his gaze. "Yes. That fool has stumbled into power his whole life. He has never earned it...just chardmed his way through life while I got stepped on repeatedly. The favorite son and pupil. Even our dead mother preferred him." Demonaro knew that deep in his heart he didn't truly hate his brother, thanks to a brief moment of clarity he had experienced***...but his jealousy was overwhelming..and he wanted his brother to suffer the same way Demon had.

Lord Danomolis laughed. "Soon, my friend...you will have what you desire. Much sooner than you may have imagined." A creeping servant approached Danomolis and handed him a locked box. The Lord slowly unlocked it and opened it, revealing something that shook Demonstrike to the bone. Danomolis noticed his pupil's discomfort "You recognize this?" It was the ear of a troll...a reventusk troll. He could tell from the earrings that graced it. One earring in particular, though, had caught his attention the moment the box was opened. It was a small, silver, hoop with copper wire wrapped around it. Dangling from it was a raptor fang that had been dipped in gold.

It symbolized the first kill that Jin'tal the Betrayed had ever completed solo. Jin'tal had created it himself many years ago and was always proud of it. Demonstrike desperately wanted to feel saddened...but he couldn't summon the emotion. Lord Danomolis held the ear up and examined it.

"Apparently this one gave us quite a struggle. Wasn't this the troll that almost sent you to your death...just before I found you on that snowy hill?"

Demonstrike simply nodded and said "Yes."

"He was apparently tracking you back here. Our agents ran into him about 6 miles from this location." He shot Demon a frightful glance. "He will not be returning to tell anyone of your whereabouts." Danomolis tossed the ear back into the box and closed it. "Your brother and father will fall soon, as well. My agents are closing in on them. However...we will simply capture them and deliver them here. You will decide their fate when they arrive.

Demon felt no remorse. He wondered if it was his mind, or his transformation that caused this. He nodded his head and decided that he would continue his daily training.

Ashenrock couldn't sleep. Even with Felora safely back in Stonard, Rock found it difficult to concentrate on what the Grin needed to do in oreder to restablish themselves. His brother was lost, his father was mending, and his best friend was missing. What was a tauren to do? His thoughts again turned to Felora. Ashenrock could lie to himself all he wanted, but he knew there was some kind of mental conection between them. He had felt her pain in the prison, and he had felt her while she was int he Dream. Of course, his feelings for her clouded his judgment...but he was sure it was more than that.

Suddenly Ashenrock came to a horrible realization. He was no longer fit to lead the Blacktooth Grin. There was too much going on in his life that couldn't go unresolved.

His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion in the corridor outside his quarters, and a frantic knocking at his door sent him to his feet.

"What? Enter!"

Two trolls appeared in the doorway. It was Alkus and Do'tanl, two emissaries of the Revantusk tribe.

"Eh dere, Rock." Alkus said "Dere be somtin' ya need ta be knowin' right quick, mon. Da Betrayed...he be comin to da village last night and he be in a bad way, mon. He said dat he be needin' ya ta come to da village, and right quick, mon."

Don'tanl spoke much more eloquently, having spent years training with some of the finest undead doctors. "Sir, yer brother by blood is badly injured. He needs ya to come and see him. He says he be having important infermation regardin' yer brother."

Ashenrock lowered his head and let out a very deep sigh. He couldn't possibly make this trip alone...he knew that there was going to be bad news when he got to Revantusk. He decided that he would ask Felora to come with him. Again his thoughts were interrupted by Don'tanl.

"Rock, there is another problem ya need ta know about. Yer father be missing. Tycho and Mirage be in his quarters...but the old Tauren be gone fer a few days now."

Ashenrock stood silent for a moment...waiting for more. It didn't come. "I will leave after I've tended to matters here" he said. The two trolls stood silent as they watched Ashenrock. Finally Rock looked at them and said "Go! I will meet you in Revantusk. be sure that Jin'tal is well cared for."

Saltrock Pumastrike snapped out of a cold daze and instantly felt a crush of blinding pain. It hit him from every limb on his body...and then he couldn't tell if all of his limbs were in place. He tried to open his eyes but they were swollen shut.

"What the hell happened?" He thought to himself. The last thing that he remembered was leaving his quarters to go fish in the ocean. He remembered leaving his home to go fish but nothing after that.

He couldn't make out quite where he was. He could tell that he was inside, though. It was musty and a bit damp. He picked up the scent of mold and and death. He tried to move his legs but was quickly overwhelmed with pain.

"I see that you're finally awake, tauren." The words echoed a bit and Salt wasn't sure where the source of them was. He decided not to acknowledge the voice. After a few seconds of silence, again more words came "Rocksalt Pumastrike...the renown tracker and hunter. Father of Ashenrock and Demonaro. Husband of the late elementalist Sindall Featherwhite. Companion of one bear named Tycho and a ghost leopard named Mirage." The voice suddenly got much closer and more sarcastic. "Please...stop me anytime i need to be corrected."

"Wh...what do you want of me?" Salt mustered energy enough to pick his head up and point it at the direction the voice was coming from.

"You old fool. There are many uses for you. However, two right now, are all that concern me." The voice became echoed and distant again. "For now, though, you're no good to me dead. While I do enjoy witnessing suffering and despair...I do have a little pity left in my heart."

Salt heard footsteps draw closer. "Open your mouth old cow." Salt decided to do as he was told. Whatever was about to happen would either cure him or kill him. Both seemed a better option then staying in this condition. He opend his mouth and felt the cool trickle and bitter taste of a healing potion against his tongue. He eagerly gulped it. Almost instantly he felt better. His body felt soothed, his bruises disappeared, and his swelling subsided. He even felt his femur come together where it had been broken. "He opened his eyes and saw that he was in a stone room that resembled a prison. As his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting he glanced up and saw the figure that had been talking to him.

Hatred swelled in the old tauren and he spat out in anger "YOU! You arrogant bastard! What have you done to me???"

Rock gathered his things for what he was sure would be the last time. He packed everything with care, taking his time to reflect on his time here spent with the Blacktooth Grin. They would always be family to him and he hoped they wouldn't think that he was abandoning them.

He slowly dressed for the trip to Revantusk and paused when he gripped his tabard. He looked on the black and white garment with pride. He started to fold it to pack it away but then suddenly stopped.

No. He would always be Grin...and he would make sure that everyone knew it everywhere he went. He pulled the garment over his head and ran his hands down the front to remove any wrinkles. He then took the dagger that Gorfrunch had given him and tied to his side just as Yagyu had taught him.

Yagyu. He would be far better a leader then Rock could have hoped to be. The Orc was the picture of what the Grin leader should be. Firm, steadfast, honorable, and feared by his troops. Rock would not leave room for discussion. Yagyu would lead the Grin...and anyone that opposed would face them both. Rock chuckled to himself...before the Grin he would never have looked to solve a dispute with violence. Rock would inform Yagyu of his decision as soon as he was ready to go. He hated long goodbyes.

Particularly if he was going to have to say goodbye to Felora, the last thing he wanted. He wasn't sure what he would say...but he wanted her by his side on this. It would mean her leaving the Grin behind for a while, but he decided that perhaps she would welcome the respite. The least he could do would be to ask.

He knocked lightly on her door and she soon answered. She seemed tired but her eyes told him that she was regaining her strength from her ordeal with the Keepers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, with genuine concern.

She lowered her eyes a bit and replied, "I'm almost one hundred percent."

Rock wasted no time. "You feel up to a trip?"

She looked up at him inquisitively. "A trip?"

Standing in the doorway to her room, Rock proceeded to tell Felora everything. His troubles with his brother, his father, and his friend the Betrayed. Felora absorbed his words, carefully taking in the details and not stopping him. He finished in a rush, looking into Felora's eyes. There was one last thing he needed to tell her.

"You know, when you were gone I realized just how much I missed you...and not the usual way a leader misses his troops. I had a very real connection with you. I felt your pain as the warlock tormented you, and I felt you fall into the Dream...I felt your anger and your hopelessness. I've always had an empathetic connection with nature and the simple minded creatures that inhabit the lands. I've never felt a connection to an equal like that, though."

Ashenrock turned and looked out the window. The courtyard was filled with blood-thirsty recruits all looking to make their mark on the Grin by making their mark on alliance heads. He loved the Grin, but it wasn't a true place for Tauren. While he had always followed and respected the traditions and lore of this storied clan, he never felt truly comfortable with it all. He turned back and looked at Felora...realizing that she most likely felt the same way.

"It's time for me to leave this clan in the capable hands of someone who is destined to lead it," he said. "I will be handing the guild over to Yagyu. Warchief of the Blacktooth Grin is a role best suited to an Orc and Yagyu truly fits the mold. Where Gorfrunch was too violent...I was too soft. Yagyu seems to have a balance of that."

Felora sat slowly onto her bed, still speechless. Rock knew it was a lot for her to absorb. "I would like it very much if you would accompany me on my new journey away from the Grin, Felora. While I will always be Grin...I will not likely be here." He looked at the floor waiting for her reply.

Felora's initial feelings at his words had been those of disbelief. Ashenrock was leaving the Grin? But as she listened, she knew that she mirrored his feelings more closely than she had first thought. And now, he was asking her to go with him.

No one had done that much before. Even Faquarl had bid her stay when he had left the Grin the first time, heedless of her pleas and fears.

She looked up at him, this tauren who had easily gained her admiration even before he had climbed the ranks to become Chieftain of their clan. She'd been drawn to him from the beginning, and it hadn't just been the fact that her mentor had professed his fondness for Ashenrock. He had risked his life to rescue her from capture, and he had placed his trust in her to provide him with council. She would have followed him anywhere.

She swallowed and looked up at him, her gaze softened in understanding.

"Even with all of our alliances and the friends we've made, sometimes it's difficult to find a place where you feel you truly belong, isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"This clan is all I have for family," she said. "Here I have known a camaraderie like no other. It will always be my home. But after all this time, I still find my values do not exactly match those that the Grin holds dear.

"You know how I feel, Rock. You know it quite literally." She placed a hand on his arm and looked searchingly into his face. "And after knowing that, I would not want to be left behind again."

Rock smiled at her, happy to know that neither of them would be alone.

Blood seeped into the fabric of the cot as Yagyu lay unmoving on his back staring at the ceiling. The wound from the Death Knight’s blade had still not fully healed and his continued movement wasn’t helping so this short repose was his feeble attempt at recovery. Silently he stared up at the wooden beams of his quarters. As a Warlord his quarters were larger than most others but in comparison to those of officers in Ogrimmar it was Spartan to be generous. He had four walls and a door but the interior was bare save for a cot, a large trunk, a small desk and chair and one shelf on the wall between the cot and desk. The shelf held a few trinkets. Mementoes mostly of battles and wars and warriors he had known.

Through the thin walls he could hear murmuring coming from the direction of Felora’s quarters and he could make out the low tones of Ashenrock’s voice. Something was amiss with the Warchief. He felt it more than anything. He knew the tauren was troubled and the recent battles with the Keepers, Fenris, and the vague family issues that troubled him were not helping matters. Ashenrock was proud and was loathe to trouble others with his own difficulties and Yag respected him for that. But as the murmuring subsided he wondered if perhaps Rock had taken on more than he could handle. He had been particularly troubled by Felora’s kidnapping. The tauren were a strange race and they felt things that orcs had no concept of. Rock seemed to feel more pain from her disappearance than any other. While Yagyu and others had been enraged and moved to vengeance, Rock seemed more pained and almost withered by her predicament. As he thought of these events Yagyu felt a twinge of guilt nearly as sharp as the stabbing pain that lanced through his chest as he breathed in and out. Why didn’t HE feel her pain? Why couldn’t he feel her despair? He had known her longer than most and yet it was the Warchief who suffered for her. He worried…had he changed? Was he uncaring for his friend?

When she emerged from the Keep, Yagyu was shocked to see her. She seemed to be a shell of her former self. Her fur matted with caked blood, her skin torn and burned, and her eyes…her eyes were dark and listless. The mirth that usually danced behind her eyes was no longer there. She seemed to stare through him before she passed out. It disturbed him to see her in such a state and he wondered if she would ever again be the same Felora he had known. And even as he thought of these things, his mind returned to the rest of the Clan. The old guard seemed to be retreating and he was surprised to find that he himself was now one of the oldest members of the Clan. There was training to be done and defenses to attend to. Stonard was quiet for the moment but that could not last. The Alliance had become more aggressive as of late and Yag could not trust that the Swamp was a safe haven. There were internal issues that needed attention as well. The Grin had seen treason and lost officers to battle and more. There were rumors of love affairs among some of the elves and it could prove dangerous to morale if dissention was to erupt from broken hearts and betrayed feelings. He needed to talk to Grimnir. The old Shaman would see things clearly and together they would give the Warchief the best advice they could.

Yag grimaced as he sat up in his cot and felt the wound tear a bit where it had started to close. He coughed a spit a bit of blood into a brass pot near his cot. He needed to talk to Grimnir and then they would speak with the Chief. He rose and headed for the door.

Grimnir lay in his quarters, shimmering and translucent in spirit wolf form. Visions of past and present danced before him, some from the mortal world, some from the world of his ancestors. He concentrated, closed his eyes, and considered his Clan.

In some ways he was a mystery to them, he knew. Who was the old orc who slept eighteen hours a day? Why did he appear so infrequently? By what right did he lead them?

In some ways, they were a mystery to him, too. He would open his eyes and see an entirely new batch of grots. Younglings seemed to become veterans...or corpses...with alarming rapidity. New friends became old friends became memories...and the cycle repeated.

In some ways, time was skipping ahead at breakneck speed.

...In some ways, it wasn't moving at all.

And yet, despite it all, the old shaman retained his intuitive connection to the Clan. After years and years of mingling blood with them, Grimnir could feel the heartbeat of the Blacktooth Grin almost as his own. And he knew the Clan was approaching another pivotal moment. Another of the times where the Clan could teeter dangerously close to dissolution, or destruction.

Grimnir reached further, and felt the confusion and turmoil within his oldest friend, Yagyu. He would need counsel, as would the Warchief. And to give it...to be WORTHY of giving it...Grimnir needed to steady his wayward self. He had been conserving his precious time on the mortal plane for situations just as this.

He opened his eyes. Resumed his orcish shape. With only a bit of hesitation, pushed himself to his feet. He would go out, and be with his Clan. When counsel was needed...he would be prepared to offer it.

Grimnir and Yagyu stood stunned. Ashenrock carefully removed the tooth-filled necklace from around his wrist and handed it to Yagyu. The Orc reached out and took it, and then placed it around his neck. Grimnir assumed his spirit state and howled into the night sky as Ashenrock pumped his fist into the air and yelled

"FEAR THE GRIN!!!"

Just like that, Ashenrock's reign had ended. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Yagyu was the proper one to lead the Grin...and with Grimnir by his side, they would make the Grin flourish.

"I must ask that you excuse me, War Chief, but I must return to my quarter in order to prepare for my journey." Rock said.

Yagyu saluted the tauren "Dismissed"

Ashenrock returned the salute and then placed his hand on the Orcs shoulder. "As long as I can still draw breathe, I will always be Grin. One day I'll return to fight by your side."

Yagyu simply said "You better."

Rock returned back in his quarters. While he had let Yagyu know that Felora would be going with him, he had yet to talk to Shadiel. Ashenrock was still going to perform the ceremony between Londra and Shad later in the week. Rock would wait until then to see what the Elf had planned.

For now though, he needed to get his ass in gear and get to Reventusk. He knew that Jin'tal would only have bad news for him...and he prayed that the poor troll wasn't too badly hurt. Rock decided to check and see if Felora was ready to go. The trip wasn't too long, and they'd be back in Stonard for the wedding in a few days.

Truth be told, though, Rock was really looking forward to returnig to Reventusk without having to carry the weight of the Grin with him...and he wanted to show Felora his beloved, adopted, home and introduce her to his "family" there.