To say that Garrosh Hellscream was frustrated would be a rather large understatement. He was up to his yeti skull pauldrons in paperwork, there were fifteen different petitioners waiting for a chance to speak with the Warchief, most likely to ask him for something, and the Durotar heat was killing him. To top it all off, Thrall had returned from the Maelstrom. While Garrosh was glad to hear that Deepholm wouldn't be falling on his head any time soon, having Thrall back meant more questions of whether he should step down and more political strife, a kind of battle Garrosh was less than accustomed to. He was the Warchief. His job involved cleaving the skulls of his enemies, not filling out forms and listening to people whine at him! He sighed, and got up from his desk. Walking through the magnificent city of Orgrimmar always helped him calm down, and it was a good way to beat the heat. As he left the fortress named for his father, his Kor'Kron guard fell in behind him. Garrosh hardly noticed, aside from faint pride at their discipline.
As he wandered through the Valley of Spirits, enjoying the cool breeze brought by the river, Garrosh noticed Thrall coming towards him. The former Warchief spotted Garrosh and walked over.
"Warchief. How goes it?"
"Spare me the honorifics, Thrall. You were warchief long before I was, and I know many would like to see you Warchief once more." Thrall's face darkened.
"Many would, but I am not one of them. You have earned your position, and I have much to do with the Earthen Ring. Muln needs all the help he can get dealing with the aftereffects of the Cataclysm. Let us talk of more pleasant things. Enjoying the breeze I take it?" Garrosh nodded, a tad sheepishly. It was not proper for a Warchief to simply enjoy the breeze. Thrall chuckled; he knew Garrosh, hailing from temperate Nagrand, was bothered by the heat. He also knew the orc was too proud to admit it.
"Tell me Thrall, how did you deal with it?" Garrosh spoke up suddenly. "The mindless drudgery, the constant nagging for favors and attention, the back biting. I find myself wanting to hit something, even more so than usual."
"Hmmmm...Your temperament is much like your father's. Please, no Mak'Gora challenge this time. I meant to say that from what I have heard, when Grom was younger he was extremely impatient with the day to day tasks of running the Hellscream Clan. By the time I met him he was an able administrator, as he needed to be to keep his Clan free without starving. Besides, if you can't handle it, just delegate to someone else."
"I am the Warchief. My people's needs are my responsibility, in matters of war and peace. I will shoulder this by myself."
"Pride can consume a man, Garrosh. Make him think he can do anything, make him blind to his mistakes. I would be careful that doesn't happen to you. Besides, delegating is not a sign of weakness, especially if you can find someone who knows more about whatever the issue is." Garrosh was silent, contemplating. Thrall hoped his words had penetrated Garrosh's at times thick skull, but the fact that they were not in the Arena fighting to the death again gave him hope. As the two stood together, an Orc in the flying harness of the Orgrimmar Wind Rider Corps ran up and saluted.
"Warchief, I bring an important missive from Hellscream's Reach."
"Speak up then. Have we kicked those miserable Alliance wretches off of Tol Barad?"
"N-no, Warchief. The Reach say they have been approached by a group of strange humans under a flag of truce. The humans came through the Darkwood, not from the Baradin camp. They say they are not part of the Alliance and are from another world entirely, and wish to enter into peaceful negotiations." The airman fished something out of his satchel. "I was told to give you these," he said, handing a letter and a strange device with a diagram attached to it to the Warchief. Thrall quickly took both from him, knowing that he might destroy both.
Garrosh's jaw tightened, and when he spoke, his voice had a sinister growl to it. Garrosh had not learned to imitate his father's fearful scream, but he could inject his voice with a threat of violence that would make lesser men faint.
"Why were they not sent back to wherever they came from with an axe embedded in each of their skulls!" growled the Warchief. "What was Commander Larmash thinking?"
"Commander Larmash was killed in battle a few days ago, Warchief. A Goblin, Scottie Bigblast, took command after an Alliance raid wiped out a good portion of the command structure. He was preparing to request reinforcements when the humans arrived. He asked me to tell you that these humans have strange technologies that could be of great use to the Horde."
Garrosh nearly screamed. "Gallywix! I knew we couldn't trust him, or any of his conniving little lackeys. This Scottie must have heard 'new technology' and given in immediately. No matter. I will have reinforcements sent to Hellscream's Reach, and we will crush the Alliance and give these new humans a reply spelled in their own blood!"
Beside him, Thrall winced. He had to defuse Garrosh before the other Orc decided to lead another attack force himself.
"Look Garrosh, I'm sorry for inflicting Gallywix on you, but at least read the letter. We need allies, and a group of humans with new technologies would be a great help. Perhaps we could even do without the Forsaken if these new devices prove powerful enough."
That made Garrosh pause, but only briefly. He really did hate that bitch Sylvanas and her rotting monsters, but he would not betray even them for a bunch of humans. He said as much to Thrall, who shook his head and replied, "I'm not asking you to betray anyone. I'm merely asking you to use your head and avoid getting us into a war on another front. If these humans ally with the Alliance, we lose Tol Barad, and maybe more. Please Garrosh, just read the letter."
Garrosh was visibly conflicted, but in the end he snarled, snatched the letter from Thrall, and tore it open. As he read, Thrall could see him becoming more and more confused and agitated. When he finished, he wordlessly headed back towards Grommash Hold, motioning for Thrall to follow him. Along the way, he sent one of his guards to fetch Eitrigg, the only one of the advisors Thrall had left for him that would still speak to him freely. They arrived at the hold to find Eitrigg waiting for them. The old Orc did not like to walk very far if he did not have to, and so made his home close to the Hold. The three orcs sat down around a table. Thrall spoke first.
"Tell us Garrosh, what was in the letter that startled you so?"
"Am I so easy to read?" The other two nodded. "Bah, no matter. The letter is from a human claiming to be leader of a nation I have never heard of, a nation that is the most powerful in its world. He says he wants peace and trade, but the idea of a new nation, or even a new world entering the fray troubles me." Eitrigg smiled and spoke.
"So you've finally started using that rotten lump of meat you call a brain. Good for you boy. The humans beat us in the Second War because we were a bunch of crazed lunatics, high on demons blood, and they were organized and disciplined. The Alliance is pretty much the same. The help each other out, stick together. They have more people too. These new humans are less of a threat to them. Us?" He shrugged. "If we get attacked, the Tauren'll come help us and that's about it. The Undead will arrive just a little too late and decide, 'oh well, everyone's dead, might as well use our Light damned plague and reanimate everything'." The old orc spat. "Buncha rottin monsters."
"The undead have stood with us Eitrigg. They're the only reason the humans haven't sailed over and helped the night elves exterminate us." To the other's surprise, it was Garrosh that said this. "I may hate them, but they're useful, and they haven't betrayed us yet, so I'll return the favor. What do you think Thrall?"
"I agree. If they become the new Scourge, we can fight alongside the Alliance again if we must. Now let's have a look at that device they sent through." He took the device, examined the diagram that came with it, and determined that he needed to press a button on top of it. He did so, and all three were startled when an image appeared on the far wall. It showed a dark skinned human dressed in black, sitting at a desk. The human spoke in the human language, Common.
"I am President Barack Obama, of the United States of America. This is simply a demonstration of one of our many technologies. I hope that we can meet face to face, once the delegation has established peaceful relations. I advise against any attempts at coercion, however, as the guards you just saw are highly trained, and will take any threat to the diplomats very seriously."
The image disappeared. "What did the human say?" asked Garrosh, the only one of the three who didn't speak Common. Thrall translated for him, and Garrosh sat back, pondering the human's words.
It was Eitrigg who realized it first. "That was without magic! These light damned humans did that without magic."
"Hmm...The letter did say the didn't have access to magic. I just thought that meant they would be all the weaker," said Garrosh.
"Perhaps they developed their machines instead?" mused Thrall. "What is your decision, Warchief?"
"The Alliance has always had better machines. Their damned steamships run circles around our ships, that tram makes laying siege to their cities next to impossible. We will talk to these new humans, and even the odds." He sent for a guard. "Send word to the leaders of the Horde. Inform them of what has happened, and tell them to make for Dalaran. Ready the Kor'Kron. We go to wage a war of the words."
As the leaders of the Horde received the missives, they felt different emotions rise within their breasts. Trade Prince Gallywix, having already heard about new technologies and trade deals ripe for the taking, was practically jumping up and down with excitement. He didn't have time to, so he had a Excite-O-Tron 9001 built to jump up and down for him. Excite-O-Trons 1-9000 all exploded in various degrees of fiery goodness.
Lor'Themar Theron was excited as well, but for a different reason. He was merely a regent without a king to wait for. He needed something to cement his people's faith in his leadership, and trade, new mechanical marvels, and a new ally would be just the thing.
Baine Bloodhoof was wary. He missed his father dearly, and still did not trust Hellscream entirely. He knew Garrosh had nothing to do with the poison found on Gorehowl; that was entirely the fault of the shame of the Tauren people, Magatha Grimtotem. Nonetheless, the new Warchief was a hothead and a fool at times, and with humans already encroaching on Mulgore Baine didn't need a new group bolstering their ranks.
Vol'jin was also wary, for many of the same reasons. He had the added worry of Garrosh's hatred for him, a feeling he returned. Though the fool had calmed down a bit recently, Vol'jin could easily see him goading the humans into attacking. The one good bit of mojo was that Thrall was back to keep Garrosh under control.
The Banshee Queen smiled in her dark crypt. More humans meant more dead. More dead meant more of the Forsaken to bolster her ranks.
With excitement and trepidation in their hearts, the leaders of the Horde traveled to the wondrous magical city of Dalaran to meet the American delegation.
