what it means—then you will see more victories from your Horde, Warchief. You will see more than that. You will see chests swell with pride at being who they are. And their war cry of ‘For the Horde!’ will come not just from their lips, but from their hearts.”
Everyone but Thrall, Garrosh, and Cairne sat on the floor, the stone cushioned by thick, soft hides. All three races were used tobeing close to nature, and the hall was heated by braziers, fires, and body heat. Thrall noticed that only Magatha and her Grimtotem looked put out. Everyone else settled in, happy to be here at this feast, happy to simply be alive after so much pain and hardship and battle.
There was ceremony, but Thrall well knew that humans or elves would not recognize it as such. Servants brought in huge trays heaped high with delicacies. The food was eaten with the hands, and it was simple but nourishing: boar ribs basted in beer, roasted bear and venison, grilled haunch of zhevra turning on a spit, hearty bread to sop up the savory juices, and beer and wine and rum with which to wash it all down. Grommash Hold was filled with much laughter and cheer as the guests ate and drank. The servants cleared out the trays and, sated, those assembled turned their full attention to their warchief.
Now,
thought Thrall,
the less than celebratory part begins.
“We are glad and grateful that so many of our brave warriors have returned safely home, to bring what they have learned to serve the Horde here,” Thrall began. “It is right to celebrate and honor their achievements. But war is not without its costs, both in the lives of the fallen, and in the financial costs to provide for the soldiers as they do battle. Due to the peculiar storm at sea that destroyed several of our vessels, we have lost both soldiers and sorely needed supplies.
“The storm not only cost us these precious things, but the strange nature of the event has not been the only one recorded. From all over Kalimdor and indeed in the Eastern Kingdoms, I have heard reports of similar phenomena. Those of you who, like me, call Orgrimmar home need no reminding of the drought that has had so devastating an impact. And we have felt the earth itself tremble beneath our feet from time to time.
“I have spoken with many of my most trusted shaman, and members of the Earthen Ring.” Another pang went through him as he thought of the one shaman he had most trusted, whose judgment was now as unreliable as that of a small child.
Drek’Thar, I have never had greater need of your insight than now, and it is too late for you to share it with me.
“We are doing everything to discover what, if anything, is troubling the elements. Or, conversely, to determine if this is all simply nature going through a completely normal cycle.”
“Normal?” came a gruff voice from the back of the crowd. Thrall could not see the speaker, but it sounded like an orc. “Droughts in some areas, floods in others, earthquakes—how is this normal?”
“Nature has its own rhythms and reasons,” Thrall said, completely unperturbed by the interruption. He welcomed challenges; they kept him sharp, showed that he was approachable, and oftentimes made him explore avenues previously unthought-of. “It does not adapt to suit us—we must change to accommodate it. A fire may destroy a city, but it also clears space for new and different kinds of plants to thrive. It burns off disease and harmful insects. It returns nutrients to the soil. Floods deposit new types of minerals in places that have never had them. And as for earthquakes, well …” He smiled. “Surely the Earth Mother is allowed to grumble from time to time.”
There was a ripple of laughter, and Thrall felt the mood change. He himself was not entirely certain that what was being reported was normal; in fact, he was beginning to feel from what connections he could make that it was quite the opposite. The elements seemed … chaotic, distressed. They were not
Everyone but Thrall, Garrosh, and Cairne sat on the floor, the stone cushioned by thick, soft hides. All three races were used tobeing close to nature, and the hall was heated by braziers, fires, and body heat. Thrall noticed that only Magatha and her Grimtotem looked put out. Everyone else settled in, happy to be here at this feast, happy to simply be alive after so much pain and hardship and battle.
There was ceremony, but Thrall well knew that humans or elves would not recognize it as such. Servants brought in huge trays heaped high with delicacies. The food was eaten with the hands, and it was simple but nourishing: boar ribs basted in beer, roasted bear and venison, grilled haunch of zhevra turning on a spit, hearty bread to sop up the savory juices, and beer and wine and rum with which to wash it all down. Grommash Hold was filled with much laughter and cheer as the guests ate and drank. The servants cleared out the trays and, sated, those assembled turned their full attention to their warchief.
Now,
thought Thrall,
the less than celebratory part begins.
“We are glad and grateful that so many of our brave warriors have returned safely home, to bring what they have learned to serve the Horde here,” Thrall began. “It is right to celebrate and honor their achievements. But war is not without its costs, both in the lives of the fallen, and in the financial costs to provide for the soldiers as they do battle. Due to the peculiar storm at sea that destroyed several of our vessels, we have lost both soldiers and sorely needed supplies.
“The storm not only cost us these precious things, but the strange nature of the event has not been the only one recorded. From all over Kalimdor and indeed in the Eastern Kingdoms, I have heard reports of similar phenomena. Those of you who, like me, call Orgrimmar home need no reminding of the drought that has had so devastating an impact. And we have felt the earth itself tremble beneath our feet from time to time.
“I have spoken with many of my most trusted shaman, and members of the Earthen Ring.” Another pang went through him as he thought of the one shaman he had most trusted, whose judgment was now as unreliable as that of a small child.
Drek’Thar, I have never had greater need of your insight than now, and it is too late for you to share it with me.
“We are doing everything to discover what, if anything, is troubling the elements. Or, conversely, to determine if this is all simply nature going through a completely normal cycle.”
“Normal?” came a gruff voice from the back of the crowd. Thrall could not see the speaker, but it sounded like an orc. “Droughts in some areas, floods in others, earthquakes—how is this normal?”
“Nature has its own rhythms and reasons,” Thrall said, completely unperturbed by the interruption. He welcomed challenges; they kept him sharp, showed that he was approachable, and oftentimes made him explore avenues previously unthought-of. “It does not adapt to suit us—we must change to accommodate it. A fire may destroy a city, but it also clears space for new and different kinds of plants to thrive. It burns off disease and harmful insects. It returns nutrients to the soil. Floods deposit new types of minerals in places that have never had them. And as for earthquakes, well …” He smiled. “Surely the Earth Mother is allowed to grumble from time to time.”
There was a ripple of laughter, and Thrall felt the mood change. He himself was not entirely certain that what was being reported was normal; in fact, he was beginning to feel from what connections he could make that it was quite the opposite. The elements seemed … chaotic, distressed. They were not
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