((The venerable shaman removes his battered and eyeless helm, revealing a shock of iron gray beard. Gone is the red he wore through the long months of the Warfront, when the Grin carved a path of fire and blood across the vast lands of the East and reclaimed their home in what was the Black Morass. He looks as stern and willful as ever, his face mutilated with countless layers of interwoven scar tissue. Smoldering blue eyes burning in dark sockets, and ugly black war runes carved above and below each of them in brutal black rows.))
Gol'kosh. It is time we expand our ranks, and reinvest ourselves in training. I want to see each of you honing your skills in the nights ahead, as I will surely be honing mine. And I want you all to be searching the ranks of the Grunts for promising members we might induct into the guard.
First thing is first. I want to start stepping up patrols in the southern regions of Blacktooth Grin territory. That will involve nightly roams and hunts. We'll scour the lands and flush out any interlopers, and deal with them. Also, we'll be playing games of blood and sport in the nearby areas, training each other in the more deceptive and dirty fighting styles that we all employ. Last, I'll be looking for another Boss Grunt until Iron Blood returns. One of you unlucky bastards will be pulling extra duties soon, so don't let me catch you dozing off at your posts like a lazy Peon or it might be your bones broken at the foot of the mountain. Are there any questions?
(( Margar scowls over the line of Grunts, one eyebrow raised in expectation. ))