The Fate of The Warchief

Chapters

Prologue: Siege of Orgrimmar
Chapter 1: A Journey's Birth
Chapter 2: A Good First Impression
Chapter 3: An Ever-Free Orc
Chapter 4: "Meat" the Ponyville Natives
Chapter 5: The Battle of the Bolts
Chapter 6: A New Friend
Chapter 7: Greeting the Moon
Chapter 8: Greeting the Sun
Chapter 9: The Summit of Worlds
Chapter 10: An Orc of his Word
Chapter 11: Bonding With Bodyguards
Chapter 12: The Path to Vengeance
Chapter 13: A Step Backwards
Chapter 14: A Step Nowhere

Prologue: Siege of Orgrimmar

Author's Note

This is my very first fiction of any kind, and I hope you all enjoy it. Also if you find any errors, please notify me.

Furthermore, my brother will be editing and co-writing (spicing up) this story just for good measure, so credit in that aspect goes to him as well.

All rights go unto Blizzard inc. and Hasbro inc.

For any non World of Warcraft players who want to read this, watch this video to better understand whom this cross-over is about.

Prologue: Siege of Orgrimmar

"Let us begin." Announced the Warchief known as Thrall, his voice carrying wisdom and age that he did not yet have. Garrosh Hellscream could not wait to get this ceremony going, but he was a bit underwhelmed at how few were there to witness the rather important event.

"Are we not going to have more witnesses?" Garrosh asked the retiring Warchief, his curiosity getting the better of him. Thrall looked as though he had been expecting the question, and answered quickly.

"I do not wish to make an event of this. Such frivolities are expensive and merely serve our vanity. But if you wish to have a celebration--" Thrall was cut off by the brown orc, who already regretted asking the question in the first place.

"No, Warchief, this is enough." He responded swiftly. Thrall looked a bit taken aback by Garrosh's hasty switch of opinion, but he continued as planned all the same.

"You know that these are troubling times for the Horde. Our supplies dwindle. Our lands barren. Our warriors in need of rest. These are all tasks that must be addressed for the good of the Horde." Thrall said in a grave manner. Garrosh did not see the list of problems as daunting, nor as hard challenges to over come. He saw them as chances to show the strength of The Horde to the rest of the world.

"Da people be happy wid' our success in Northrend." Spoke the voice of the troll in the room. Garrosh could not believe he had the audacity to say "our" in that sentence. The mere thought of that troll taking any credit for the success of the Northrend campaign had his blood boiling in his veins.

"'Our' success Troll? You played no part in the Horde’s victories in Northrend. While I led my warriors against the Lich King, you merely took back a few useless, scattered islands." Garrosh spat to the foolish troll. The two of them glared daggers at one another as the troll spoke again.

"Watch yerself, young one. Ya don’t--" He was interrupted by an old and gruff voice coming from the corner of the room.

"Garrosh! Vol’jin! Hold your tongues! There are larger issues at stake here." The old blackrock orc by the name of Eitrigg shouted at them. Vol'jin quickly apologized like the coward Garrosh saw he was.

"Forgive me outburst. Warchief, please continue." Said the troll in a somewhat calmer tone than before. Garrosh still shot one last glare in his direction before Thrall continued speaking.

"Despite our success in Northrend, we face serious problems that cannot be solved simply by axe and sword. Earthquakes shake every region. Elementals ravage the countryside as we speak. I can hear our land, Azeroth, cry out in pain." The Warchief explained in a anguished tone; the shaman always hated to see the Elements suffer. Garrosh never really cared for the walking balls of fire, earth, air, and water, but he knew Thrall would leave his throne without hesitation to help them.

"These are the reasons you must leave." Garrosh said. It was not a question, for Garrosh knew from the look in Thrall's eye that he was as good as gone already.

"Yes, I leave for Nagrand to learn from the elements there. They have suffered and seen many of the same symptoms." Thrall spoke through an encouraging smile. Just hearing the name of his home brought memories flooding back to the young warrior, some were good, others were better off left in the confines of the past.

"How long ya gonna be gone?" Asked Vol'jin with a slightly concerned voice. Garrosh also knew that the troll could not wait for Thrall's little getaway to be over and done with, and to be honest, Garrosh couldn't either. Though, the two's reasoning's were very different.

"It may take time to learn what I must. I trust I will not be gone too long, but it could be weeks-- perhaps even months." Thrall hesitated for a moment before continuing. "In my absence, I am leaving you, Garrosh Hellscream, to lead the Horde. You bear the strength and courage that our people need to survive in these troubling times." To hear those words made Garrosh swell with both pride and fear. He had not been what one could call "excited" about this new promotion, but it was one he couldn't refuse.

"I am honored, Warchief. But I feel unprepared for the life of a ruler." Garrosh spoke his mind's true thoughts. He hadn't wanted this, not now, at least.

"You will not be alone. You will have advisers: Cairne, Eitrigg, Vol’jin. They will help guide you. And though I am leaving soon, I can also instruct you." Thrall said in a tone that was filled once again with wisdom. Garrosh liked Eitrigg, Cairne was a bit of a gray area for the young orc, but he knew that he despised Vol’jin with every sense that he possessed.

"A good first test may be dealin’ wit dese cultists. Da people be scared. Dey aren’t sure what’s goin’ on." Speak of the devil, and he shall speak back. Garrosh honestly had no real plan on how to deal with the cultists that plagued and lurked Durotar; so he spoke his mind about ways to deal with them.

"But even we are not sure of all that is happening. Should we capture these cultists and force their silence? That may anger the rest of the people…. But still, we cannot allow the cult to spread fear and lies amongst them…." Garrosh reasoned. His wise and bold statement seemed to impress the three others in the room.

"Now you are thinking like a ruler, Garrosh. You must look at all sides of a problem. Consult with your advisors, and then act with confidence." Said the aged blackrock. Garrosh never doubted that he would become his favorite adviser.

"They will help you Garrosh. And I will help you. I will find the answers that we need to assuage the fears of the people and soothe the elements." The ex-Warchief said with renewed faith and confidence in his choice.

"I will not fail you, Warchief. I will lead as well as I can, and I will consult with the advisers you suggest. I know what a tremendous honor you do me, and I will strive to be worthy of it." He said with all the humility he could muster. It was now official, he was the Warchief of his people, of The Horde. He couldn't truly comprehend it, considering there were some races within The Horde he had barely even seen, let alone know. Doubt was quick to find its place within the pit of Garrosh's stomach.

"Then it is done. Let everything you do from this day forth be done for the Horde." Thrall spoke with renewed vigor. This was it, the moment that had plagued the brown orc's for many nights now, and it was playing out before him.

"For da Horde!"

"For The Horde!"

"For The Horde!" It was done. The throne was now his, and he would do all he could to ensure the survival of his people, of his Horde.

The Warchief stood atop the gates of Orgrimmar, watching the Kor'kron soldiers that were training in his name for the coming storm with outward confidence. A minute barely passed before he heard foot steps breaking the void of sound behind him. he knew who it was, and he did not wish to speak with her right then.

"If you merely wish to tell me how foolish I am, then save your breath for the fight." he grumbled, hoping she would just follow his orders.

"I am not here to fight with you again, my Warchief." She said strangely calmly. "I am here to give you a gift before this.... Battle begins." He turned to her, unsure of what to expect. She looked as she usually did, same worthless mail robe, same blunted ceremonial staff, same oddly-shaped pauldrons, same mystified face cloaked beneath a wolf skull helm (He never understood the shaman's way of dress). Before he could further respond, she approached him, opened his clenched hand, and placed a small carved stone therein it; or so that's all it was to him at the moment.

"What is this stone trinket?" He asked the dark shaman. "Wavebinder Kardris" was her name, or Kardris Dreamseeker, but the title he figured was more fitting.

"It is a rune stone Warchief, it will take the user far from here. To where even I cannot say, but anywhere will be better than here once the battle starts." she stated, her usual gruff disposition seeming to have left her all together; it was odd to say the least. He brought his hand up to his face to closer inspect the "rock" he held in his hand. it gave him a feeling of.... happiness? mirth? He couldn't understand why, but he felt safer with it in his hand, he looked back up to the shaman when she spoke.

"Please take it, if for no other reason than to ease my mind; if you were to die in this battle, then all hope for the True Horde would be lost." Fear, that's what he heard in her voice, but not the fear of death, the fear of the fall of The Horde she served. So he answered.

"I will take it, though I will not need it, your Warchief appreciates this gift." He said as he placed the rune in the pocket of his battle trousers. After he said this, he turned back to watch his Kor'kron work.

"Do you really believe we will win this fight Hellscream?" She inquired in earnest. Had anyone else have called him that, they would have been in a lot of trouble, but given the circumstances, he didn't even notice.

"Yes, we will be victorious." He answered strongly, knowing full well the powers he had taken would be his enemies' undoing. who could even hope to stand against his new armies and powers? None could ever even come close.

"....Then I, and all in Orgrimmar will stand right beside you." No sooner had the words departed from her lips could the war cries of the Dragonmaw soldiers be heard from beyond the gate. In the distance to the West, both Garrosh and Kardris could see Horde and Alliance war ships boarding and assailing the docks. To the South they could see Vol'jin's forces charging straight for the mighty gate of Orgrimmar. "Go Garrosh!" she yelled. "We will do our part!" But before he left, he gave one last roar to his men.

"Show them no mercy! Lok'tar Ogar! For The Horde!" With that last sentiment laid before his men's ears, he retreated down into Ragefire Chasm, the place where he would be victorious, or die.

Back at the gate, a restless Kardris Dreamseeker began her short trek to Grommash Hold where her fellow dark shaman awaited her. The dark shaman was Earthbreaker Haromm, and he was a mighty enhancement shaman at that. Her mind played back through her time with him, and how they had grown as friends since he returned to Orgrimmar from Stonard. He was a true orc. She passed throngs of Kor'kron soldiers that were scrambling to there posts; some even had prisoners with them. She tried to ignore all the commotion as she quickened her pace to the throne room. Once she arrived at the hold, Haromm did not hesitate to ask her how her plan had gone.

"Did he take it? Did the Warchief take the rune, Kardris?" The large orc questioned hastily. Haromm was intimidating to say the least. With his wolf's head mask and broad, furred shoulder gear, he easily doubled the size of a common orc. Also, that said nothing of his monstrous axes that were imbued with dead fire and plagued winds. All in all, he was not going to be a pushover in the inevitable battle.

"He took it, Haromm. We have now done all we can." She mumbled morosely, he was quick to try and brighten her mood.

"....Then we are already victorious, my good friend!" He bellowed with glee and pride.

"I suppose you're right." She cracked him a little smile, before they heard the sounds of fighting coming from the atrium just outside the hold.

"Looks like they are quicker than we thought." He stated before further adding. "It will be an honor to die for the Warchief, and an honor to die with you by my side." Haromm grasped her hand as he spoke, they looked each other in the eyes one last time before what they knew to be their end. He drew his axes, as she removed her staff from her back. They were ready to die for The True Horde.

Garrosh sat upon his throne, waiting for his enemies to arrive, if they even made it that far. In secret, he could not wait for them to arrive, he could not wait to tell them all that they had failed, or to introduce them personally to the product of their failure. However, his mental preparations were halted when he saw his best and most loyal General enter the large, dark room. "Should you not be at the gate to Ragefire Chasm, General?" Hellscream asked his soldier tensely. Nazgrim replied swiftly.

"I'm heading there now, Warchief. I merely wished report that the beach has been taken, and that the juggernaut has fallen. They have made it to Grommash Hold, and they battle the dark shamans as we speak." The report troubled Garrosh, not overwhelmingly though, and especially not outwardly. He knew that there were plenty more monstrous creatures bent on carrying out his every whim standing in the enemy's way.

"Very well, General, go now... and may the ancestors be with you, Nazgrim." He said. Nazgrim looked upon him for but a moment before bowing and taking his leave. When his march led him to the massive doors of the room he stopped, looked straight ahead at attention, and recited.

"Tip of The Horde spear, no greater honor." When his friend was out of sight and the door was closing, Garrosh then spoke more to himself than anyone else.

"Let them come!"

He couldn't believe it; how could he? He was the great Garrosh Hellscream! The Warrior of Warriors, the Champion of Champions, he was the one and only Warchief! This was to say absolutely nothing of the fact that he was imbued with the unbeatable powers of the Sha! How could They have possibly defeated him?! It didn't matter, for soon he would be no more. He would die for his Horde, the True Horde.

"You disappoint me, Garrosh." He heard the unmistakable voice of Thrall say. He didn't want to look up; he didn't need to. He knew his demise was now upon him, a demise from one whom he once called "friend." Were he not so prepared to die, he would have allowed himself to wonder if anything he had once believed in was true at all. The one thing he did know however, was that he would die an orc of the True Horde, and that nothing could happen from that point on to change that. "You are not worthy, of your father's legacy!" This was it, his death; the last words he would hear were words he never wished to hear.

CLANG! "What?" He looked up slowly to see a great sword had stopped Thrall's descending hammer, "His punishment is not for you alone to decide." He saw and heard the King of Stormwind growl.

"I won't let you take him!" Thrall snapped back at him. Garrosh chuckled at their fussings.

"Why stop him human? You would kill me the same way...." He had nothing left to lose, why should he not join in the fun?

"Silence!" Commanded a heavily-accented voice that he'd heard before, that same whelp of a pandaren from the pools stood beyond the two bickerers, "We have all suffered from his atrocities...." Garrosh began to block them all out as he searched his memory for something better to think about. He remembered Nagrand, its floating islands and rolling grassy plains, the land of the Mag'har, his people, the one people he ever should have cared for or loved. He then thought of Northrend and its frozen wastes and towering ice mountains, the land where he had fought harder than anywhere else on Azeroth. He thought of his father, wondering if he would have been proud of any of his achievement.

"You are not worthy!" the words reverberated through his head like a roar through a cave. He had to be wrong! Garrosh thought surely he would be proud of him for decimating so many foes. He also thought of his talks with Kardris, and how right she wa...... The rune!

Mentally slapping himself, he slowly got to his feet with a heavy stagger as his enemies argued amongst themselves, then Garrosh let loose a spine-curdling laugh. "You fools!" He chortled at them as they instantly assumed a fighting stance yet again. He quickly reached into his pocket and took out the rune, grasping it firmly in his hand. "Let this day be known as the day...you...failed!" He clenched the rune as hard as he could, crushing it to dust. In that very second, his enemies watched in dismay as their long-sought target phased away and his armor and clothing fell to the floor with a dull Thud.

Garrosh let the dust of the rune fall from his hand as he looked around. "Where did it take me?" Garrosh thought as his weary eyes beheld green grass, rolling rocky hills, and spectral skies in such a shade as to tell him the time of day was somewhere within late afternoon. His gaze traveled yonder to see a small village in the distance before the horizon. Garrosh then knew where the rune had taken him. Garrosh couldn't believe his sudden stroke of luck as he stared in awe at the familiar sight. Kardris' rune had taken him back to Nagrand, back to the Mag'har, back to Garadar, back home. He ran as fast as his brutalized legs could carry him down the hill upon which he once stood. Garrosh's sprint came to an end as he saw a young Mag'har girl fishing at the fork of the two rivers that ran through the village.

"Finally! Back with my kin!" He declared to all who could hear, but to his surprise, she didn't even look up at him. Slightly confused by this, he tried again. "Hello, young one, my name is Warchief Hellscream." He stated proudly; she still didn't even look at him. He walked up to her while speaking again. "Child! Do you not know when a Warchief speaks to you?" She still just sat there; she could not be blind and deaf and still know how to fish. She was ignoring him! Garrosh's anger started to boil as he raised his hand to strike her upon the top of her head. 'Fool! you know not who you have ang....!" But he was cut short by his hand going straight through her head!

Garrosh stood there dumb-struck for a moment before further waving his hand all around her and through her. "By my axe" He breathed softly to himself. As hundreds of questions flooded through Garrosh's mind, he started looking around for anyone who could possibly answer any one of them, but as his eyes traveled up the hill next to him and into the village, each and every single one was simultaneously answered by the sight of but one thing. There, beneath the village's oaken gazebo, was a brown male orc, his head sporting a brown orc warrior's ponytail, his hands holding two crude axes to his sides, and his back adorned with an ugly, and gaudy cape.

He saw himself, speaking with the very shaman who had just conspired to kill him, the shaman whom he once called friend. He saw the young brown orc roar with ferocity and pride, and then he saw Thrall take his leave. He remembered this day like the back of his hand, the day he learned the truth about his father. How could he forget it? Thousands of stories all ending with the same image of his father bringing shame to him and all his race; that was all he knew up until that very day. All the shame, the death, the dishonor, all undone with extreme prejudice when Grom took "Mannoroth the Flayer's" life. So why was he seeing this play out before his eyes if he remembered it all too well?

Again, his question was answered a little too fast. An orc spirit manifested itself before him and approached him. He also remembered her just as well if not better: The Greatmother Geyah. The one orc for whom he would do anything, one could surely say that if asked, he would gladly and unhesitantly lay down his life and all it stood for for her. If she had asked him to vanquish an entire army single-handedly, or move a gigantic mountain with his bare fists, he would find a way to do so. When she had died, a great part of him had died along with the ever kind and gentle shaman. She may have been the one orc that could have calmed and soothed his most destructive, and violent of urges and rages.

"Greatmother," He bowed to her in pure reverie. "Is this a dream?" He asked, hoping against hope that she could see him, unlike the young orc girl from before.

"No, my young Hellscream, it is not." She spoke with the voice of an angel. Indeed, she could see him. "I have come to you in your hour of need, my child. What is it you wish of me?" She asked compassionately, he stayed bowed as he responded.

"Merely to ask you why I am seeing this, and why I am here" He really wanted to know where his body was, if that rune hadn't just killed him and this was to be his fate. She answered the two he did ask, and the one question he didn't.

"You are here to see what you once were, young one. Look upon what you were before, my child." She said as she reached out to him. With just one touch, she showed him all his time in Nagrand in but a few seconds, and all his time in Northrend even quicker. Caught up in the dream fast bestowed upon him by the shaman, he watched himself grow before his very eyes, all the way from the time before he learned the truth of his father, to the moment he had crushed the rune.

"You were a hero, my child, not the power-hungry monster I see before me now." He winced painfully at those words. "You saved millions," He waited with bated breath for the next unavoidable sentiment. "and then you killed them all." Coming from her, she who would give benefit of the doubt to a demon, she who would never have spoken these words even to the most cruel of souls, those words pierced his heart like a stake, but despite how indescribably awful he felt hearing them, he knew it to be the truth and determined not to outwardly show any sorrow.

He allowed himself to stand up, and to peer closely at himself for all throughout his life. She was right, as always. It filled him inwardly with strife to be told as a misbehaving child would that he was wrong. "As you can now see, you are that hero no longer." As if to strike the final nail of the proverbial coffin in which lay his image, she delivered the verdict unto him. "But all is not lost, dear Hellscream, for you are not dead, nor is this your end. I merely wished to see you once more, even though we will be seeing much of each other on your new journey." She spoke again before he could. "Now, you must be going, for after all, every journey begins with a first step." She said with an encouraging, almost chipper expression. "I'll see you again soon, my Warchief." She smiled as began to fade away, but not before he could call out to her.

"Greatmother wait! I know not what to do from here! What must I do now?!" He besought her as if a child being abandoned.

"Calm yourself, my child; I'll be with you. Nevermore will you ever be alone, and I know you will do the right things." Her voice echoed as she faded from existence. He was left in solitude as all he had come to know as his life slowly passed away to blackness. He conspired to look around at the dying dimension until he too began to fade. He then closed his eyes, and accepted his fate.

Canterlot, the ever mighty city of the sister's of the sun and moon, Its towers of white stone and golden-domed turrets gave a sense of majesty and regality to the scene. As the ponies of this great city went about their daily quests, the Two Sisters ruled them, their land, and all else in it with honor, and kindness. Within the tallest tower of the majestic Canterlot Castle over-looking the city and the vast valley over which it stood, one of the sisters slept peacefully. The one who slumbered at the brink of sunset never really knew why the ponies chose to do their tasks during the hot and blinding day, for she much preferred the cool breath, and soft presence of the night. But obviously, the day was coming to an end, which meant she would soon bear the task of waking to raise the the great, pale, silver sphere that was the moon. However, getting up on her own accord was never something her sister could rely on, so as the eternally-bright ball of fire began its decent, the sun sister, Princess Celestia, was making her way to her sibling's chambers. It had been a rather uneventful day, but waking to raise the sun had taken place many hours ago; this was to remain silent about an uneventful day's multitude of tedious tasks. In short, she looked forward to a good night's rest, one that she knew her sister could well provide, but she first had to complete the most difficult task of the day: Waking Princess Luna. She passed the two Lunar guards outside her chamber door without incident and entered. The room itself she didn't really like; in fact she found it downright foreboding. The walls were all a very dark blue with nearly no furnishments. Within the room, there was little more then a desk, three darkwood waiting chairs, and a small, loaded bookshelf nestled against the far wall, all shrouded by two large gothic draperies on each of the two windows, but if Luna liked it, she would vow never to voice any of that opinion. This task she detested most, waking her peaceful little sister. Celestia truly didn't want to do what she had to everyday, so she watched her sleep just for a few minutes. But after almost falling asleep herself within the unlit chamber, she knew she could delay no longer. "Luna, wake up, little sister." She spoke as softly as she could. Luna was far from a deep sleeper; she instantly opened her eyes with a short inhale and cracked a drowsy smile.

"Good evening, sister." She said rubbing her eyes with a hoof. "Is it time?" she asked that same question nearly every evening; it made Celestia think that her sister had gotten herself into a psychological routine. She didn't know if that was good or bad; all she could do was hope it wasn't the latter.

"Yes, sister, it is. Now go and awe our subjects with your star-filled sky once more." She encouraged with her soft, ever present smile. Luna gently nodded and stretched, then trotted to her balcony, yawning as she did so, to initiate her nightly show.

Luna sat upon what was her throne in what was her court for the night; to her, it was nothing like the old castle in which they both once dwelled in centuries past, the old castle that held and kept so many dear and horrible memories within its walls. the glorious room's walls were adored with stained glass windows, most displaying the the image of a lone sun goddess or depicting the image of an Equestria united, but some hinting vaguely to the history of the Lunar Republic. It was once an equal power in the world to Celestia's Empire, now it was nothing more than a small, unnoticed part of the United Equestrian Federation.

Surprisingly, the past was not something occupying Luna's mind at the moment, for her mind was far too focused on how much she despised Night Court. Though it made up the majority of her ever-lasting life, it described it even more aptly. It was always unbearably desolate. Seldom did anyone ever even show up; it had not changed since some time before her banishment one thousand years ago, why should she ever have expected differently? In a way, she'd suspected it'd be worse now on the premise that her banishment so many centuries ago had since rendered the validity of Night Court liquidated. Only "Once in a blue moon" did anypony ever attend, and it was usually a thestral (A fellow creature of the night) from the Hollow Shades (The one settlement truly left in her care.) But tonight was going to be a little different.

Bored with waiting endlessly as she usually did, she resorted to at least settling her stomach's feud with her. She was just finishing her second mildly-unhealthy snack, when she started feeling profoundly unwell. At first she thought the food was at fault, but that view soon changed due to a number of things: Her heart fluttered dangerously, as if about to cease beating all together; her head throbbed immensely, and her hooves and wings shook uncontrollably. It was in the moment of all this that she felt the presence of something, something dark, something very strong, something very angry. In a fit of pain and shock she fell from her throne, rolling down a few of the stairs that preceded it.

"Your Highness!" One of her guards quickly rushed over to help her back to her hooves. "Are you alright, Milady?" He asked with a fearful and worried voice; she did not take long to respond.

"We are fine, guardsman, but send us our Elites; We've a mission for them." she said as she got back on her throne, the pained vision playing back though her mind. In the vision, she saw some sort of colossal entity standing menacingly before an horizon unmistakable as that of a desert, and it looked far from friendly.

"You fools!" Shouted Jaina Proudmoore as she stormed into the middle of the room. "How could you just stand there and let that mongrel get away?!" She screeched before her rant was cut short by her own king.

"Enough!" He yelled. "We did all we could, but we must spread out to find him." He declared. "Guardsmen!" He ordered. As he readied his men, The Horde leaders spoke amongst themselves.

"I'm sorry Thrall, I be tinkin' we should start searchin' as well. Dat be a rune stone Hellscream used; he couldn't a got far." Said Vol'jin, Thrall quickly responded.

"We will search, as long as you are the one to lead us Vol'jin." The troll was confused by the Warchief's statement.

"Ya be back Thrall, you be leadin' us now, no?" Vol'jin asked to which the orc shook his head, as he went to one knee.

"It was You that held The Horde together during this madness. Henceforth, if you lead, I will follow." The great shaman spoke unto his new leader of The Horde. The troll simply stared at Thrall incredulously, for he could no longer tell if this was a dream or a nightmare.

"I--I, am not worthy." After saying this, Vol'jin looked around the room to his fellow leaders in the hopes of garnering something from them, whether it be Approval or rejection. One by one, they all gave either their bows or their nods to who was undoubtedly approved as their New Warchief. "But I will give my all...." He bowed back to his friends. "....For Da Horde." Only a few seconds passed before the commanding voice of King Varian Wrynn was heard all throughout the room.

"I will speak to your Warchief!" The orc grunts parted to reveal Vol'jin standing in the center of the Horde leaders much to Varian's inward surprise.

"I speak for Da Horde." The troll stated proudly whilst glaring spears at the foreign king, Varian replied after casting a long glance at Thrall.

"Very well" The king conceded, he then began to walk forward as he spoke. "The Horde has committed heinous crimes, Vol'jin." He jammed his sword into the wooded floor and stopped right in front of the new Warchief. "But as I understand it, some of you fought against Garrosh's tyranny." He looked the troll dead in the eye before speaking again. "For that, I am willing to end this bloodshed." he concluded, now turning as he spoke. "But know this..." He continued as walked back to his sword. "If your horde fails to uphold honor, as Garrosh's did." He drew his sword from the floor in one strong, swift motion as he ultimately stated his sanction. "We will end you!" He walked onward followed by his son and his men, out of Grommash Hold.

With Alliance soldiers gone, and a new order established, The Horde leaders began what would be many debates, thinking of different ways to locate their "missing" Warchief.

Chapter 1: A Journey's Birth

"AAAAAHHHH!" A now conscious Garrosh yelled out as he felt the distinct feeling of falling. With a large thump, he landed in something that felt like cool sand, letting out a groan as he opened his eyes.
A full moon and a sky full of stars greeted him. Slowly but surely, he got to his feet which he then found to be barren of his boots. He instinctively looked himself over and noted a few more things: His legs no longer wore pants, his shoulders were not bearing the tusks of Mannoroth, and Gorehowl was no where to be seen. In short, to say that he was angry would have been an understatement punishable by death.

"Curse that damned harlot of a shaman!" He had.....Nothing, not even his undergarments, he roared at the darkness as his rage saw no enemy for him to tear to shreds. After taking some considerable time to calm himself, remembering what the Greatmother had said, he at last took in his surroundings. Desert, desert, and more desert, He could see a host of rocks and cacti all around him. He could have sworn he was back in Durotar. He licked his finger and found that the wind was blowing to the West. "That's the direction the wind was blowing when the siege began," He deduced. "so if it hasn't changed....." He turned on the spot and began heading where he thought North was, were Orgrimmar Should be.

Sand, rock, cactus, dunes, and a large formation of fiery red crag to his east were all that Garrosh saw. He continued walking and walking for what he knew had been miles while his stomach growled like a beast as he marched on. At a certain point, his stomach ached for almost anything, so his belly was somewhat sated when he found a foot-long scorpid. The smallish creature tried to sting him as he clutched it, but it could not hope to pierce his thick brown skin. After the unfortunate scorpid's failed attempts, Garrosh casually ripped its tall off and ravenously devoured the rest of it. With his hunger staved off very temporarily, he marched onward towards where Orgrimmar should be.

As he continued said trek, he let his mind wander to all the things that had thus far happened, from his showdown with Thrall and his lapdogs, to what the Greatmother had said to him. "What did she even mean by a new journey?" He spoke aloud (He often talked to himself). Though an odd and unhealthy habit, he never ardently bothered changing it; old habits died harder than a lot of his foes, so he just kept going. "How did anything she said to me make any sense?" His frustration flared more and more the longer he thought about it, but he still kept thinking. "Why didn't she stay longer to tell me?! She said she would see me again, so why not now?!" He hated her for leaving him on such a confusing and cryptic note, but on the same token, there was no one he wanted to see more right now. He roared out in frustration once again, before giving a resigned sigh for the single purpose of calming himself. "Bah! It matters not, I have a city to retake! Powers to reclaim! And a shaman to destroy!" He bellowed, then, finally deciding that he'd thought quite long enough, he refocused his vision on his path as he walked through the desert.

Walking, marching, trudging, cutting his way though the terrain, he used his eyes as he went. He was just about convinced that there was nothing to see at all in that desert wasteland when he caught sight of several strange dark clumps dotting the horizon. After a few moments, he took a closer look to see a herd of buffalo very far off to the west. " Funny, I don't remember buffalo ever being in Durotar." He though to himself. His curiosity was obvious, but he didn't want to stray from the North path for fear of missing Orgrimmar entirely. Part of him wished the sun would just hurry up and rise to reveal and illuminate his way, the other part reminded him scornfully that when it did, this place would get hellishly hotter. The temperature was not at all unpleasant as it was, so he settled for telling his mind to become silent and just tried to focus on traversing the unfamiliar land.

He was never one for boring tasks, and this was by far very boring. But nonetheless, he persevered, for what else could he possibly have done? After hours of trudging and protest on his legs' part, he was finally greeted with something different.

At long last, the morning had arrived; the sun had finally risen, but the ball of light didn't just rise, it jumped into the sky! He had never seen the moon sink, and the sun take its place so quickly! At that point, he was sure he was hallucinating; that could not have just happened, could it? It didn't matter; he was getting increasingly thirsty, but he kept up his pace, much to his feet's disdain, for many more hours.

Garrosh's feet ached, his stomach screamed in starvation and parched thirst, his leg muscles raged from being torn so, and his shoulders, back, and head were seared from the heat of the blasted sun. All in all, just another day for a soldier of The Horde. His days of doing nothing but sitting in Grommash Hold had made him a bit sensitive, so he made a mental note to get out and train with his Kor'kron a lot more often upon his return and reconquest.

On the other hand, he noted that the sun was not its hottest that day (Otherwise it would have been excruciating). He counted that as a blessing, for he new how hot the desert could become under the rays of a Kalimdor sun. Content in the knowledge that he had it going relatively well, he began thinking of something he could do to shorten this trip of his.

He had overheard Horde grunts and peons singing to make their work easier in his earlier days as Warchief. So without further thought on the matter, he conspired to sing. He only knew a few songs; most of them were just orcish drum beats, but he'd lost the ability to care awhile back, so he began humming. As he marched through the desolate territory that by then he had decided was not Durotar, his music eventually came to an end.

"Curse that infernal rune stone and its maker." He grumbled with a groan of fatigue and weariness as he continued trudging. He was just about to renew his efforts and persist in his music-makings when he was cut short by something. Glancing upward to the North, he saw in the distance what he thought was a flock of geese. They were flying in a "V" formation, but he soon realized that they were moving far too fast to be geese. At that rate they would be over him in a matter of seconds! Mentally face-palming himself for even thinking that any type of goose could regularly inhabit this kind of terrain, he frantically looked around for a place to hide, not out of fear but out of the fact that he didn't even know what they were. For all he knew, they could've been Alliance gryphon riders, or very fast birds; this was all topped by the fact that he did not wish to lose all honor by being witnessed in the nude, he concluded hiding to be the best remedy for all plights concerned.

After several agonizingly suspenseful moments, his searching finally yielded something he could use: A few crag stones jutting out of the slope to his right, providing the perfect hiding place from creatures that could fly, even for an orc his size. With out any hesitation whatsoever, he leaped under them and lay in wait.

Garrosh knew he should just wait it out and stay motionless until he no longer heard, saw, or smelled tale of any of them, but his building curiosity slowly reached the point of overtaking him. He was just about to scoot out from under his refuge when he heard a sound akin to that of a zeppelin fighter!

He reflexively darted right back to where he was, seeing as how his question had been answered. The question that they were Alliance gryphon riders was also answered when one of the entities landed on a rock a little ways away from his position; the creature was like nothing Garrosh had ever seen before! It appeared to be a small, dark blue horse, but not like the horses that Stormwind's cavalry utilized. No, It was much smaller, shorter, and it looked more......pudgy? It was also donning an odd purple and black jump suit accented by yellow lightning embroideries, not something you would see everyday on a horse at all, but the oddest thing about this one, apart from the obvious fact that it had wings protruding from the top of its barrel as the rest of the flock did, was the electricity that was flowing in pulsating waves through its hair and even its tail! It was jerking its head very frantically; it was surely looking for something, or someone.

"It couldn't be looking for me, could it? No, I haven't done anything to attract attention; I was just walking through the desert." His worryings were interrupted when he heard a loud female voice yell something. Though he didn't quite catch what the voice said, almost immediately after hearing it, the strange plushy horse took flight and sped off. He sat down and waited a little longer to make absolutely certain they had left, keeping as still and as quiet as possible.

Soon thereafter, he stopped hearing the wing beats they were making overhead, so he crawled out from under his improvised lair. He could just barely see them flying away very far off to the North. Seeing no other prudent option, he followed them on the resumed path North in hopes of discovering the inevitable settlement from which they undoubtedly flew out. Not even a full minute after he got back on his previous course and finished treading up a shallow hill, he at long last caught sight of a village just roughly one mile down the decline he'd just reached. It was a well-timed find too, for the sun was just starting its unusually swift decent.

"Thank the Ancestors!" He praised triumphantly as he broke into a staggered sprint for the settlement, his legs having found new energy as his hope hit its peak.

Only when he was but a few feet away from the edge of the village did his worst nightmare come true: It was filled with more of those damned flying horse creatures, many more. He ran up to the back of the nearest building he saw, and peaked cautiously around the corner of it.

"They're all over the place! Why?! What even are they!? What kind of civilization is this?!" His vexed mind cried. He knew not, nor could he boggle his mind any further at the time; he was dehydrated, starving, and most importantly, barren. Even if the whole town turned on him he would solve these three plights. Garrosh began to walk out from behind the building when a still, small whisper stopped him cold.

"Patience...." He heard the soft voice clearly say.

"Greatmother?" He whispered as he looked around. Though he found himself to be physically alone, he knew it was her voice, and he would listen to her this time. Garrosh was a tough fighter, so he didn't need food or water just yet. He would wait just a bit until nightfall which, judging by the sun, was roughly in just one more hour. Without further contemplation, he returned to the safety of the building's back to wait for the moon's relieving light.

The Previous Night

Boredom, pure unadulterated boredom, this was all Blueball Blitz was feeling. It was all she had been feeling for weeks now! She lay upon her bed belly-up and playing with her trusty hoof blades, for it was all she could do with them then; she was starting to think that they'd lost all purpose or meaning after such a long time of doing nothing with them.

Nightshade and the gang hadn't been commissioned to do anything in what felt to her like years! She rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face in her bunk pillow before letting loose a dreadfully mal-contented moan. She was so sick to death of doing NOTHING! Little did she or anypony else in the barracks know that that very night, luck had finally decided to shine on her. Knocking was heard on the door at the end of their barracks.

Blitz didn't even let anypony in the room blink before she was at the door chiming "It's open! It's open!" in her certifiably happy, childish voice. She stood hopping in place for what she would call "forever," her tiny frame bouncing impatiently, her tail wagging in anticipation like a dog's, and a rather larger-than-life smile glued to her face.

After what was three seconds to the rest of the world, but three years for her, the door finally opened to reveal a common, run-of-the-mill thestral Lunar guard, bat ponies as they were informally called. She didn't even give an inkling of thought to what he was or who he was; all she wanted desperately to know was why he was there. What was he about to say? Did he have a mission? A quest? A favor? Did he want to ask one of them out? What in Equestria did he need?!

After another "three years" he spoke hushedly. "Her highness, Princess Luna, requests your presence, meet her in the night court chamber immediately." That was all he said before taking his leave, that was all he had to say to Blueball to get her to leap into the air screaming "Yes!" at the top of her lungs.

"Shuddup, will ya?!" A rebellious manehatten accent sounded suddenly. "You're gonna wake the whole stinkin' castle." A half-asleep Charger groaned from a top bunk, but she didn't even hear him. Blitz was in her flight suit and ready to go in five seconds flat. she then started nagging on the rest of her team to hurry up, starting with Charger.

She flew up to the bunk and proceeded to hop up and down on it. "Wake up! wake up! wake up! we got a job!" She half -wined and half-yelled, nudging up him clean off the bed with her muzzle. Too groggy to think of using his wings, he landed on the floor with a lifeless thud, and an irritated grunt.

"Blue, calm down," Spoke a low Trottingham accent from across the room. "I know this is the first work we've had in.... How long has it been?" Stratus asked in his usual calm, quiet and gruff voice, continuing to try and think of when they'd last been commissioned while he went about readying himself for a mission.

"We haven't worked since we got here, Strat." Lulled a voice as smooth as silk. Blitz knew who it was, for The voice of Starry Skies was unmistakable. Starry rolled out of her bed gracefully and started for the room's mirror to touch up her mane and don her uniform.

"We had that one escort mission a few weeks ago, remember?" Stratus answered. "Star," as Blueball called her, very quickly gave a reply.

"That was not work, we were stuck babysitting the dumbest, most dry and dull egghead on the planet." She spat, recoiling at the mere memory. Blitz remembered that job all too vividly. Luna had ordered them to guard "sunbutt's" favorite little toy as she went to procure a dusty old tome from the old castle of Everfree Forest; it was more of a practice mission for them than anything else. The Wonderbolts were originally meant to do it, even though it was a night mission, so it took Luna forever to convince Celestia to accept the Shadowbolts' assistance. The mission itself was something none of them wanted to remember, nor ever do again.

"Come on! it wasn't all dat bad, ya cry babies." Charger scorned, having finally pried his face off the floor just in time to hear Starry Skies respond knowingly.

"You know you don't mean that, Charger. Remember when you tried hitting on her?" She asked condescendingly to which he responded almost instantly.

"Yeah I know; I just said it for the sake of argument, and to answer your question: Yeah, sadly I do remember." He heard various giggles around the room as he paused to give a small shudder before continuing with an astounded chuckle. "Dat dame was dry as Tartarus, and to think, dat almost worked." It was then that another voice spoke up from the desk in the darkest corner of the room.

"It was the task at hand, and now we have another; so I'd stop bickering and just get ready." said the dark voice nopony on the team liked to question. Nightshade, even the name made some hot under the helmet. Not Blitz though, she had yet to lose a fight with anypony, even Nightshade (Not that she didn't come extremely close sometimes.) Blitz was a killing machine, a pony none could fight, and she damn well knew it! She just preferred to do things that she found fun; fighting was on that list, but she only wanted to fight. Blitz never meant to seriously hurt them. That didn't mean she didn't, but she didn't mean to do it! It wasn't her fault most ponies were made out of cotton candy. Her conflicted inward thoughts were suddenly invaded when Stratus poked her.

"Hey, you fall asleep on us?" He jested lightly. Blitz quickly shook her head and responded.

"Nope! just got lost in my head again!" She half-yelled again, still itching with excitement as a geared up Nightshade struck up again.

"Let's get moving team, we could have a long night ahead of us." Nightshade said before taking flight. The rest of her team followed closely in formation, wondering what fate had in store for them this night.

Garrosh had decided to take a nap until the moon came up, at the very least to both rest his weary legs and stave off the hunger and thirst. Now that the silver sphere was indeed up, he looked around the building to see that the streets were empty.

"Perfect!" he thought with relief. "Now to get the items required." He had seen what he thought to be a multi-purpose tavern through an ally way a small ways away, so he made a brake for it while keeping his head on a swivel. Once there, he saw the building he was targeting had a big sign with a giant salt shaker plastered on it. Though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why an establishment meant to serve drinks would choose such antonymous symbol, he knew it was a tavern, for nothing else in a place like this would have a second story, or a door way with such an odd public entrance.

Upon thought of entry, he realized something else: The door to this building was far too damned small for him! Of course these strange equine creatures would build their doors to accommodate their short stature! Facing a new problem entirely, he forced his fingers through the wall to get a firm hold of the wood edge around the one of the two large windows the establishment had, and pulled towards himself.

Crunch! He ripped the window out miraculously without shattering the glass and placed it against the wall; pushing the brown curtain that was hanging inside the room aside and squeezing through, he successfully entered the tavern. Looking around the thankfully vacant room for a moment, he let out a legendary mental groan when he came to yet another problematic realization: Everything here was too damned small for him! Doors, windows, tables, chairs, stools, stairs, everything was meant to fit the size of the small pudgy horses!

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a very weird muffled moaning sound coming from up the staircase. "...Best stay down stairs anyway." He whispered to himself. Letting his mind wander to the sounds he was currently hearing, he was able to deduced what was going on upstairs very quickly. Garrosh let a small groan of disgust and distaste escape his mouth as he started to focus on getting the four things an orc needed to survive: Food, drink, clothing and a weapon.

He took all the brown table cloths and all the large paisley, brown curtains; clothes and a potential bag: Check. He ran back to the building he had previously slept behind, dropped off all the table cloths and all but one of the paisley curtains, and ran stealthily back to the tavern. Upon his return, the moaning, groaning and grunting from upstairs seemed to have gotten louder, and a subtle but apparent creaking noise had been added to the mix. Ignoring the child that was most likely being conceived above him, he went into the kitchen.

Once there, he saw that the stocks in this kitchen had evidently just been refilled; it was all he could eat! Hellscream grabbed four loafs of fresh bread and a whole bushel of apples, he then left again back to his "base of operations." Returning for his third and final heist, the noise, impossibly, was even louder. His stomach did an involuntary flip in his belly and suddenly he was not very hungry anymore.

He crept back into the kitchen to look around for some water, or at least anything he could use to collect the water from the trough outside. once he found something he could use (several partially-expandable sacks that looked like they meant to hold water for travel), he took all the sacks his curtain could carry once full of water, namely eight out of the ten that were on the shel..... The noise was gone! He began to look around frantically for the fourth item he needed, a weapon.

He searched and searched and searched, but the best all the searching yielded was a wooden club in the form of a log and a kitchen knife. Taking the knife, piece of wood, water sacks, and a spool with a needle still in it that he discovered in one of the many cupboards, he scrambled outside the tavern to quickly fill the water bags. After the arduous and suspenseful task of filling each and every one of them to the brim, he bolted for his base. once making it back to camp, he stole a quick peek back at the tavern. He saw that he was not followed by anything, nor did the horses know the items were gone yet, nor did anyone from another building even see his comings or goings to and from the tavern.

Content with a job well done, Garrosh was confident that he would put the things he stole to better use than they would have anyway, so he sat down and drank some of the water. He didn't bother eating anything just yet since those....... noises had robbed him of his appetite, but with his thirst thoroughly quenched, he began his work.

In the dark of the night, Garrosh had wholly changed his state of being. Using the worn, brown table cloths and some of the spool, he had constructed a pair of crude long-length shorts. With the brown paisley curtains and more of the spool, he managed to create a type of poncho. With the last of the spool, he reinforced the clothes he had already sewn. His tailoring skills left a lot to be desired due to the fact that he only ever learned them for survival situations, and he did jab his fingers many times while making them (He shed more blood there than when he was battling some enemies), but his clothes were ready and strong.

After a small time admiring and testing the work he'd done, and after a slightly longer time of mulling over his pin-cushioned hand, he took to his next project. With the log and knife he had taken, he used the knife to carve a handle into the log to at least make it accessible as a weapon. It looked like the cheapest club you would ever see, but the knife had broken before he could make anything else of the chunk of wood. After making his new armor and weapon, Garrosh then ate two of his sixteen apples and drank one of his eight water sacks, using the busted knife's blade as an effective toothpick.

With the last remaining curtain, he was able to construct a bag. Granted he had to look around town for a rope, but he found one after a few short minute, as it was hanging for a wooden railing of one of the creatures' homes. "Bag: Check. Clothes: Check. Weapon: Check. Food and water: Check." He thought with certainty. With his life blood secured, and despite all the questions still looming in his mind, he slowly but surely drifted off to sleep.

Author's Note

I am having way too much fun with Blueball Blitz! But I must say again, if you see any errors please point them out, and enjoy.

The Shadowbolts belong to YoorPorick, I hope he does not mind my interpretation.

And yes, you will find out who was making all the, "noise" in the next chapter.

Chapter 2: A Good First Impression

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" A loud, shrill shriek filled Garrosh's groggy ears, not exactly what he wanted to wake up to. A groan of displeasure escaped him as the shrill sound accosted his ears ceaselessly. Placing his hand on his face in a futile attempt to block the rays of the morning sun, he sat up from the small ditch he'd slept in behind the house. His eyes were greeted by one of those pudgy animals screaming at him as if he had done something horrific. She had a coffee-brown coat and dark brown hair; two other things he noted was a pair of saddle bags mounted on her back and a large Gilnean top hat atop her head! He was sure she was female, for he knew no male could come anywhere close to making that detested sound. He staggered to his feet and started to walk down the ally way as the damned thing still kept screaming and sobbing. Feeling a primal growl involuntarily ascending his throat, Garrosh decided he had had enough of this thing and her incessant noise, he turned to her and gave a roar right from his toes! Her reaction was not something Garrosh had initially expected: She fainted.

Confused and drowsy, he didn't bother to care. He stepped out of the ally way without a second thought, and what he saw when he did so, he would not soon forget. There had to be at least fifty small, round-stomached, big-eyed horses! As if to add to the matter, there were maybe thirty of those buffalo creatures he had seen from earlier in the open desert, and they were all staring at him. The silence went on for ancestors knew how long; the only noise or movement was that of a single tumbleweed's journey across the main road. They all stared, and he stared right back. After thinking it would never end, Finally one of the big-eyed horses broke the deafening silence, he had a brown coat with a large, fake-looking black moustache, and he sported a blue vest bearing a silver star medal and a black hat with a red band.

"Big boy, yer in a heap o' trouble."

Breaburn Slowly got to his haunches, it had been an.... Eventful night of sorts. He smiled as he remembered it, and he looked down at the sleeping mare next to him. "By Celestia! last night was wonderful!" he thought. He had just gotten off of work, and after a brief bath, headed straight to the "Salt Block" to take a load off. After he'd ordered a mug of hard cider, he saw her. Toffee was her name, and boy was she ever pretty. He had started out just talking with her. As it turns out, she worked there as a waitress and a "Massuese" of types, and after a bit talking about each other's lines of work and a few more drinks (on her part), she was feeling a bit too lonely to go back to her house alone. Breaburn, being the gentlecolt that he was, offered to go along with her. After receiving a kiss for his offer, one kiss turned into.... A lot more of them. After stopping to take a breath, he left her for a very short time to get two more drinks and to ask Mr. Saltworthy if he could use his guest bedroom for the night. Saltworthy knew Breaburn well and trusted him sincerely, so of course he granted it to him. After Breaburn returned to her, things got a little fuzzy past that point, but he didn't really mind. He liked what little he did remember though.

"Mornin' Toffee, sleep well?" he asked, to which she sat up and kissed him on the cheek before she spoke.

"You made sure Ah didn't." She whispered in a soft and very sensual tone. His heart skipped a beat when he heard her say that. Maybe he had found the mare for him? Sure he was still young, but he was always a sucker for romance.

"Y-yeah... Ah guess yer right." His nerves were on fire, and he was now shaking and sweating. Why didn't he know what to say all of the sudden? He was doing great talking to her last night; why was he so worried about failing now?! She noticed his obvious nervousness and decided to play around with it a bit.

"If you don't wanna get up just yet, then it's fine by me, sweetie." That same lustful voice carried the words to his ears. At first, he thought he was going to hyperventilate, but then he urged himself to calm down and go with it.

"Ah'll stay as long as ya want me to, honey." He said as calmly as he could, she gave a heart-filled giggle before saying.

"Ah wish Ah could, sweets, but Ah gotta go run a few errands first." She said in a somewhat sad voice, so he responded.

"Will Ah see you again today?" both inspiring hope and overwhelming fear rose in his chest as he waited for her answer.

"How 'bout this evening, sweets?" Yes!

"Sure thing." He stated collectedly.

"Good," She said giving him a quick, tender peck on his lips. "See ya then." And with that, she stretched her back and trotted out, making sure to give him one last little show.

"Yes!" He had never been so lucky, he had just bedded the mare of his dreams, and he even had a second date! Nothing could ruin this day for him, absolutely Nothing! He brushed his teeth and washed his face and hooves in the guest bathroom, and trotted out. What he saw when he got down stairs could have been a better sight: The whole saloon was trashed! Tables flipped, chairs knocked over or smashed, and a window completely disappeared! He cantered outside to see Sheriff Sliverstar and Mr. Saltworthy talking with Chief Thunderhooves, and it didn't look like a friendly conversation either.

"In any case, you said we had a truce! This don't look like no truce ta me!" Said the sheriff, the chief was hasty to respond.

"My people did not do this! We would never stoop so low as to do anything of this sort!" he yelled, but Mr. Saltworthy was not having it.

"Then who did done it?! y'all buffalo are the only here thangs strong enough ta have done it!" he screamed. Breaburn tried to get a few words in, but they were drowned out by all the shouting. He was seconds away from yelling 'shut up' when they we all silenced by a scream that to him sounded all too familiar.

"Toffee" He whispered in horror, before hearing the loudest roar he'd ever heard in his life time. Then, out of the ally way where the roar came from, emerged a two-legged brown behemoth! Fearful silence was all that was heard for about a minute, until the Sheriff spoke up.

"Big boy, yer in a heap o' trouble."

What did that little mongrel just say? Did puny horse really think that he had power over him? This was too much. "HAHAHAHAHA!" When he laughed half the crowd shrunk away; what cowards! "Do you really believe you can challenge me?" He laughed again just at the notion of fighting one of these.... things.

"I don't care how big y'all are, ain't nopony steals from my town." The small creature said as darkly as he could. As barbaric as he seemed, Garrosh still had a code, and they would abide by it weather they liked it or not.

"If you wish for me to return what I have taken, then you must defeat me in a duel...." They seemed off-put by just that. "To the death!" He finished his statement, and all the creatures gasped. A yellow one with a slightly darker shade of yellow for its head of hair stood out amongst the crowd when he spoke.

"Oh, come on now, there's gotta be a better way ta settle this than that, right?" Garrosh grinned wickedly at the little coward.

"I will keep my honor, that means it shall be to the death. If I die, then you reclaim your goods. If you die, then I keep what I have claimed!" He bellowed, most of the horses backed away, but the buffalo stood their ground, the biggest of the buffalo then spoke.

"You are not worthy of what you have taken, for you are nothing more than an honor-less thief!" That did it. Garrosh's rage boiled inside of him as he brandished his club and began to pace back and forth.

"And you are not worthy of keeping it, so long as I can take it!" His voice never softening by this point, there would be a fight even if they gave up; they'd had their chance.

"Then I shall challenge you, weakling!" Bellowed the large buffalo, while lowering his head and dragging one of his front hooves in what Garrosh decided was supposed to be an intimidating manner. This was exactly what Garrosh had hoped for. This buffalo reminded him too much of the bastard Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof to even still draw breath! But this time he would make sure it was fair. He tossed his so-called weapon to a nearby horse with yellow fur and green hair; to her credit she caught it.

"I accept." Garrosh began to walk backwards, and with some momentum he turned his back to him, he turned only slightly when the buffalo spoke.

"What is the name of my opponent?!" Garrosh's smile widened.

"Garrosh, Warchief Garrosh Hellscream!" He too wished to know who he was battling, so he returned the question. "Whom do I duel, buffalo?" He spat, he continued to walk even as the buffalo answered.

"Chief Thunderhooves!" He boomed with pride. How fitting, he is to bring about the end of yet another chieftain. They were roughly one hundred yards apart when Garrosh stopped, turned, and began to pace back and forth once again. Thunderhooves looked as though he were meditating, they were both interrupted when the horse with the over-grown moustache started to announce.

"Alright, I want me a nice clean fight now!" Garrosh cared not what the fool had to say, even his foe looked annoyed by the interrupting windbag. Garrosh's focus was now on the civilians, on how the gravity of this duel was now taking its tole on them. "The match starts when that there clock strikes eight, got it!?" Both he and the Chieftain cast a quick glance at the clock tower. Garrosh merely nodded once; Thunderhooves spoke, but he was too far away to hear. The seconds ticked by as the town held their breath, Garrosh paced, waiting for his chance to take what was now his! When the final minute began to tick away, he removed his poncho, showing all with eyes his muscular, heavily-tattooed, scar-riddled body. Most of them gaped, some gagged or feinted, others showed so much fear he could smell it.

"Twenty!" Garrosh heard the horse say, his pacing came to an halt as he dug his feet into the hot, cracked dirt. "Fifteen!" he clinched every single muscle in his body, and heard more mutterings from the horses watching. "Ten!" His rage built itself within his blood stream. "Five!" He thought back to his battle with Cairne Bloodhoof. "Four!" Gorehowl's downward strike that ended his life. "Three!" He thought of his last words. "Two!" His last breath. "One!" This village would soon learn why he was the slayer of Gods! "Fight!" Garrosh sprang forward, letting loose a animalistic howl as he broke into a battle sprint! Thunderhooves got to his, for lack of a better term, hooves and charged the Champion at full speed! The next few seconds lasted a life time, they both were going break-neck speeds! Garrosh lowered his shoulder to the beast of a chieftain. The chieftain lowered his head, for one second, time seemed to grind to a stop. Garrosh felt the blood lust over-take his body, his mind, his soul. Crash! Garrosh's shoulder hit its mark, his enemy was sent flying though the air for a full three seconds, before landing with a dull, hollow thump.

"Lok'tar Ogar!" His orcish words echoed though all the desert. Garrosh stood tall and righted himself before he began to walk over to his fallen adversary, to strike the final blow. "Let all in this world know that I, Garrosh Hellscream, am the slayer of all!" He claimed victoriously as he stood over the fallen chief. He raised his arm to the sky, with the intent of crushing this weakling's skull with his bare fist, but that same voice from before spoke up again.

"You saved them, and then you killed them." His hand stayed suspended in the sky for what felt like an eternity, but eventually, he lowered his hand to his side, and spoke eerily softly.

"Remember this day chieftain, for it was the day Garrosh Hellscream, spared your life." With that said, he went back and picked up his poncho and left the buffalo there, to rise whenever he felt he could. "Are you the leader of this village?" He asked the small brown horse with the ugly moustache. he took longer then Garrosh would have liked to answer.

"Y-yes Ah am, so welcome ta Appleloosa I guess." So that's was this settlement's name was, what an odd name. It mattered not, for he needed a real weapon.

"Then perhaps you can answer my questions, for as you can clearly see, I am victorious, so all I choose to take from this village is now mine." He saw almost all of them cringe. Their leader was a bit more apprehensive.

"Oh, come on now! Ya said ya got to keep what was your's, not the whole town!" Garrosh knew he had won, for none would fight him after what they had just witnessed.

"Then shall I finish him?" He saw the pony look behind where he was standing to the buffalo, and after some time, he got his response.

"No." He continued as he would have before.

"Good, then tell me, horse creature, does this place have a blacksmith?" Again he took more time than Garrosh preferred to respond.

"Horse creature? We ain't no horses! We're ponies, and no Appleloosa ain't got no blacksmith." Garrosh didn't like his tone, nor did he like the word "pony".

"Then do you have a weapons merchant here?" Surely they had to at least have a that. The pony spoke again after putting his hoof to his chin in thought.

"We ain't got a weapons merchant, but we got a lumber store, why?" Garrosh reached down and grabbed the pony that was still holding the chunk of wood by the top of her head, pried the club from her hooves and dropped her on her rear end, leaving her to run away screaming into one of the gathered crowds off to the side.

"Because this," He waved the club in the pony's face. "Is not my idea of a weapon! Now show me this, 'lumber store'." He could tell the pony was nervous, but he ignored it. The pony led him to a small, red store with a beige awning. The building itself sat across from the village's clock tower. After haphazardly crouching/proning through the entrance of the tiny establishment, he finally saw what it sold: Axes, chains, wheel barrels, and other semi-useful items.

"Here ya are, take your pick I guess, do ya even have any bits on ya? The question confused Garrosh.

"Bits?" He asked very simply, the pony seemed shocked.

"Where ya from, son?" Garrosh had not the slightest clue why he had just called him "son", nor did he know why all of these "ponies" seemed to speak with a very annoying, almost derelict accent.

"Nagrand, now it's my turn to ask a question, why do all of you creatures speak with such an alien accent?" The pony gave a small chuckle.

"Not all ponies got our accent, just us and some other towns, and ta answer your first question, this is a bit." He pulled a small gold coin from his vest with his hoof.

"Well then no, I have no bits." He spat, returning his gaze to the array of axes. He took his time choosing, evaluating each and every one of them. Although all of them looked fairly simple, he saw axes of all shapes, sizes and conditions. However, one of them had stuck out to him since he had entered the store.

The axe was simplistic in design, but the reason Garrosh had taken an interest in it was for its sturdy appearance. A solid iron handle, wrapped in very worn, brown pleather, that became the blades as it went. A double edged axe, short in length, but forged from a single block of metal, and it did not look very weighty near the blade. It was no doubt meant to combat wood over flesh or armor, but Garrosh was sure that it would be no pushover in battle. The light from the shop's window hit the weapon as he lifted it to level of his eyes, a near spirit guided message to him that this was the axe he would need for the next leg of his journey.

"Do you have second one of this kind?" Garrosh asked, the pony gave it a long, scrutinizing glance.

"Hey Jack!" He suddenly bellowed, and a pony with a dark blue coat and green hair stepped out of the back of the store, probably hiding from the very creature that was now in his store looking for sharp objects.

"Y-y-y-yes S-s-sheriff?" "Jack" managed to stammer out. The mark of a coward, Garrosh thought to himself. It didn't matter to him, as long as he had a duplicate of the axe he desired.

"Ya got another one o' these?" Asked the "Sheriff" holding up the axe that Garrosh had selected.

"B-b-be right b-back Sheriff." The cowardice pony went back into the unseen part of the store. The silence was nerve-grating, but luckily it didn't last long before the frightened swine came back with what Garrosh wanted. "H-here ya go Sheriff." The other pony pulled more gold coins from his vest and gave them to the shopkeeper, before handing the twin weapons to the orc.

"Here ya go, son, careful with them axes, they're a might sharp." He warned; to which Garrosh scoffed.

"I was born with an axe in my hand." He boasted as he took his new weapons in his hands and gave them a few good experimental swings (As experimental as he could, he could barely move without bumping into something in the place), hearing a mortified whimper from the back of the shop as he did so. The pony then finally asked the question that Garrosh wanted to hear.

"Anything else you want, big boy?" Garrosh thought long and hard before asking his next question.

"Do you have any meat vendors here?" He didn't know why, but the pony's eyes widened, (If that was even possible; these creatures' eyes were disproportionate to their heads to start with.) and he started to sweat.

"N-n-no, we ain't got no meat vendors, but i'm sure ya can find some stuff to.....Eat in the Everfree Forest, it's just up North, if ya follow the railroad you'll reach it in no time." Garrosh perked up at the mention of the word "forest". He had always liked sylvan terrain, it made survival very easy.

"Very well then, take me to this railroad." He ordered, the pony nodded and marched out of the store with the Warchief in tow. They were just heading down the main street when a booming voice stopped him.

"You!" Garrosh turned to see the chieftain buffalo was now back on his hooves, and he looked far from happy. "Where do you think you are going!?" He bellowed, Garrosh was having none of this.

"If you are seeking a second battle, then I would recommend you carve your head stone first." He seethed before turning his back to him, but the buffalo was not done.

"Why spare me when you yourself said 'to the death'?" Garrosh stopped to contemplate his answer as the Chieftain continued. "....If you said 'to the death' was the only honorable way to duel." Garrosh had found his answer by then.

"Because, an old friend would not have wanted me to." He said with a voice cold and cruel as death. He got to the railroad and proceeded to follow it. "I take my leave, and I thank you for your aid, horse creatures!" But he was not done there. "And thank you, Chieftain Thunderhooves, for an excellent fight!" He then broke into a jog, breaking most of the wooden rail ties where he was running in the process. He took inventory as he did so: Clothes, real weapons, food, and water. He kept up his pace, intending to reach the "Everfree Forest" by nightfall.

Breaburn could do little but stand there and watch as the brown colossus made his way down the train tracks and away from Appleloosa. He looked back to see all the buffalo, all the ponies, and even the Sheriff gathering around Chief Thunderhooves not only to ask if he bore any injuries from the beast, but also to hear his take on what had just happened. Breaburn couldn't have cared less at that moment, for he knew only two things. One: That he knew that scream from before, and two: That that monster was heading to the Everfree, which grew to the south border of Ponyville. He would have to write a letter to his cousin, warning her to keep her eyes open for any large, brown behemoths, but before all this was to happen, he had to find Toffee and see if she was alright.

So while everypony was swarming Thunderhooves curiously, he darted through the ally way where the beast had originally come from. Once there, he saw his marefriend lying motionless in the dirt. His eyes went wide; his face contorted into an expression of pure terror as he felt himself intake a breath in the form of a gasp, but right before he screamed out her name, he saw that she was still breathing. removing his hat with great haste and tossing it to one side, he covered the short distance between him and the unconscious mare in a flash. "Toffee?" he whispered as he frantically checked her body for the slightest of wounds. After finding none at all and re-donning his stetson, he was left to wonder why the creature hadn't killed her, or why she had screamed in the first place. "Probably jus' from seein' that awful thing...." he thought as her tenderly lifted her onto his back, careful not to forget her top hat. He then proceeded to carry her to his home. His trip went thoroughly unnoticed by the ponies and buffalo, as they were pulled into the short yet frightening tale of Chief Thunderhooves' battle with the enormous beast. Why they all wished to hear it from him when they had all witnessed it with their own eyes he'd never know.

Once to his bluish-green, brown-roofed abode, opening the door was rather tricky, for not only did he not want to drop Toffee, but he couldn't for the life of him find a suitable place to put her hat. Finally settling for placing it on the rail of his porch, he at last was able to get the door open. Now that he was inside, he began the very arduous task of ascending the stairs to his bedroom. Once that hassle was over and done with, he laid Toffee softly down on his bed. After fetching her a cool, wet washcloth for her no-doubt aching head, he kissed her lightly upon the cheek, turned around, trotted back down stairs, and set her hat on his coat rack by the door. He then walked into his work room up to his desk to begin the construction of what would be one of the most bizarre letters he'd ever written to anypony. He just hoped it would beat that monster to Ponyville.

It had been a strange day for Princess Celestia to say the very least: First, she had woken up with a mind-numbing headache, which was not a common occurrence even if she'd had a few evening glasses of wine right before bed; then Luna had decided to stay awake all day today; now she couldn't even find Luna to save her own life! She wandered the castle for many minutes before finally gaining a clue were her sister might have gone, and what a clue it was. She saw one of those damnable "Shadowbolts" flying straight for one of the far towers. So she took a deep breath and focused her magic on the staircase of the tower, using an ancient trick that she had never taught anypony to silence her teleportation. It never ever failed. Having successfully teleported inside the tower, she ascended several steps and put her ear to the tower's room door, hoping that Luna was not in there and that the Shadowbolts were just foaling around; her hopes were for not.

"Nothing? nothing!? What do you mean you found nothing!? We know we felt a disturbance last night, you cannot sit here and tell us that you found, NOTHING!" She heard Luna screech, obviously endeavoring to suppress any traces of the Canterlot Voice. She then heard the voice of one of those scourged pegasus.

"We did several flights over exactly where you told us to go, but all we saw was sand and rock." She didn't like how she addressed her sister as if she herself had as much authority. Celestia heard Luna's exasperated groan before anypony spoke again.

"Are you certain you searched everywhere?" Luna asked, to which the black-hearted Bolt responded not long after.

"We're certain, Princess." After finally addressing her as she should have the whole time, Luna gave a defeated sigh before speaking again.

"Very well, Nightshade, you have our leave." She stated blankly.

"....Sorry we couldn't do more." Said Nightshade before Celestia heard what sounded like a mass take-off, but one evidently did not.

"B-b-but that's it? You don't have any other missions for us?!" The pony questioned, sounding a bit frightened of the prospect of no further work.

"No, subject, We do not. Now return to the barracks before your team replaces you." Luna ordered coldly. Celestia decided to risk slowly cracking the door and taking a peek inside the room. The first thing she saw was the final Shadowbolt departing in-flight straight through one of the windows. Celestia then averted her gaze to her sister who was faced away from her unmoving. She just sat there forlornly for what even Celestia thought might have been an eternity. After the length of time had passed and Celestia was just about to find the courage to enter the room, she saw Luna turning and heading for the door. Celestia quickly withdrew her head from near the door and backed a few steps down the stairs, waiting for Luna's exit. She didn't have to wait for more then a mere few seconds.

"Good afternoon, Luna." She said as casually as possible immediately after her sister had opened the door. Luna let a gasp escape her mouth as she jumped back slightly, before regaining her composure.

"Sister! What are you doing here?" Celestia was suspicious of Luna's response to her presence.

"I was looking for you, dearest sister, and now I find you held away in a tower with none other than those wicked Shodowbolts." Celestia cast her sister a somewhat betrayed expression as she spoke. "Hiding something from your own sister, I cannot believe you would trust those mercenaries with something over your own sister." Celestia chided her, but she did ,however, wait for Luna to give her response.

"Sister please, 'tis not as what you think that at all." Luna took a deep breath while scanning the rest of the staircase before continuing. "Last night while you slept, We felt.... Some sort of disturbance, but did not wish to wake you, nor did we wish to seem weak or overly-dependent by simply running to you with our problem." she looked down at the floor as she spoke. "We tried to fix it ourselves, to show you that we could do things ourselves; we see now how foalish the idea was. I'm sorry sister." Celestia walked up and nuzzled her affectionately, and spoke as she did so.

"You don't have to prove anything to me, my dear Luna." After a brief moment, she teleported them both back to the throne room before speaking once more. "Guard!" She commanded a nearby Royal Guard; he gave a salute before doing anything else, so Celestia continued. "Inform the Wonderbolts that I require their presence, tell them that it's of utmost urgency." She ordered calmly; the guard nodded before taking his leave. She then turned to face Luna again. "Luna, I need you to tell me everything you felt, down to even the slightest of details."

Author's Note

Here's the third update for this story that I'm now addicted to writing. I've also started writing another story, so my speed may or may not be cut in half.

Also, heterosexual Breaburn?! What is this blasphemy?! I honestly have no reason for this other than the abundance of homosexual Breaburn fiction. I really wanted to step out of the box on this one.

On two final note, I despise writing the southern accent, and her is a picture of Garrosh's new weapons, in case my description didn't do them justice.

Chapter 3: An Ever-Free Orc

Spitfire had just begun her routine for the day. she trotted into her office and sat down casually at her desk; seeing her gold name plaque plastered onto it never got old. However, this particular part of her day she had steadily grown to despise: Reading her fan mail. This was the part of each week that she could always do without. She wasn't trying to be ungrateful, but even the most gracious of individuals (and she wouldn't say she's near the top of that list) could grow a little sick of the same blind, monotone praise at the end of every week. It was the one thing that could make or break her mood for rest of the day. She used her small company letter opener on the first one, but she desperately didn't want pull it out to read it just yet.

"Why do I have to do this?" She pondered. She was the Captain of the Wonderbolts for Celestia's sake! She had more important duties than this! Could she not just put it off for tomorrow? No, Soarin would come asking her about it and which ones she liked or disliked the most, as he always did. She was beginning to think that this had become a rather unhealthy routine, something that didn't truly feed or satisfy the soul. She decided that she would have to break out of it, one of these days for sure, but for now, she was not escaping this, not today, or any other Friday. She went ahead, bit the bullet and opened the first one. It started like almost all of them did.

"Dear Awesome Spitfire," she started reading. "Perfect, already off to an excellent start...." Sighing, she briefly put the letter down on her desk to rub her already throbbing temples before picking it back up and continuing. "Your moves during your show last month were so --blah blah blah-- Your flight suit really shined that day." The note read on. "hmm, maybe this one won't be too bad" She thought with a glimmer of hope. "Speaking of your fantastic skin-tight suit, your flanks look so......" She almost read that last bit out loud, but caught herself in the nick of time. "Okay no, this is gonna be one of those Fridays." she thought wearily. "Please, Celestia, save me from all this garbage!" She begged of the air around her. After a few brooding moments, and after finding that nothing was going to save her from the increasingly annoying ravishings of her carnal fan base, she apathetically resigned to her fate and began to read the letter once again.

She had just finished rereading that god-awful entry when she was abruptly interrupted by her office door being flung open. Was it coincidence? Unlikely. Her savior and deliverer was none other than her third-in-command and good friend, Fleetfoot, and it was not the first time either.

"Hey Thp-... " Fleetfoot paused to give an exasperated sigh. The poor Wonderbolt had always hated trying to speak around her lisp, but she had gotten saying "Spitfire" down if she wasn't hurrying. "Hey Spit! We've got thome work! Celestia wanth uth at the castle by noon for briefing, and thhe said it'th urgent; are we going?" Spitfire gave the clock on the far wall a quick glance, but not before snickering at the other mares' plight first. Seeing as how it read only 10:00 a.m., she answered her lieutenant level-headedly.

"Yes, go find Soarin, Rapidfire, and Wave Chill; then go to Canterlot ahead of us and warm her up for us, will ya?" She ordered with a crooked smirk, Fleetfoot gave a salute and a confident smile before darting off to fulfill her tasks. "Thank you..." Spitfire whispered up to the ceiling, before rising from her desk, and making her way leisurely down the hall to the locker room where her flight suit was ready and waiting. Hopefully this was a real mission; she felt like giving somepony a real beat-down.

Garrosh Brought his left axe down onto the wooden wolf's head, witnessing the green ethereal light that apparently gave these creatures sentience visibly fade to darkness: One down, three to go. He swung his right axe in a wide arc to strike the wolf diving straight for his neck, bringing his left axe out of the first wolf's head and burying both axes firmly in the head of the second one: Two down, two to go. He freed both his axes and spun around to face the remaining wolves. One of them was cowering back while the other was growling and pacing, frothing what appeared to be some form of tree sap from its mouth. He taunted the two creatures, hoping to rile one of them into attacking prematurely.

"Come on, vermin! Daylight is burning!" He bellowed just in time to catch the pacing one charging at him just as he thought it would. Right as the wolf leaped for his face with deadly speed, Garrosh swung his left axe from below and his right one from above with even deadlier speed, all while initiating a side-step maneuver, effectively planting both into the neck of the beast, sending its decapitated corpse careening past his right side: Three down, the last wolf took his brother's death as his chance to cowardicely flee; zero to go. Garrosh gave a victorious roar. "Just another practice pit!" He thought triumphantly.

He had to admit it; he liked this place a lot. Apart from the wooden wolves, he could eat almost anything here. This place was very much akin to Ashenvale, only without the infernal demon and night elf infestations. He had been in the forest for close to a whole day now and had strayed from the train tracks in favor of heading North through the forest itself. "Why stray from the tracks and keep heading North?" One might think. Because just as he caught sight of the forest's treeline, he saw something else far off into the distance and most assuredly across the forest to the North: A mountain with some sort of tower city built into its west side! It was far from the strangest thing he'd ever seen, but it was definitely up there in the ever-lengthening list.

He was by now cutting his way (In more ways than one) right through the forest in a straight line. "Surely that great mountain city must have a blacksmith." He thought, as he chopped a bigger vine in two. He had yet to run into another one of those lion/scorpid beasts. Oh How he wanted to! He could've used more food and another chance to kill something. Garrosh had beheld many an odd creature in this wonderland of potential banquet: First there were those small, round bugs with big, strangely-soulful eyes; they seemed to devour anything apart of the trees themselves, nothing short of parasites if you asked him. Another were the wooden wolves; he assumed that they were merely mindless predators, their bodies unable to be used for anything other than firewood. Still, he knew that they would give very good sport in any arena. Then, of course, there were those lion/scorpid beasts; those were by far his favorite. Their corpses served perfectly for almost anything between food and armor, given the fact that you carried the right tools on-hand. Garrosh didn't have any of the tools necessary to exploit them to their full potential, but he knew he would have to come back here after he was finished doing business with the blacksmith in that mountain city. Other than the local fauna and flora, he had yet to see anything that sincerely peaked his interests.

Garrosh needed to make absolutely certain that he was still travelling in the right direction, so he started to climb one of the bigger trees that he knew would support him. After a few minutes of swinging from very large vines, and jumping from tree to tree as his ancestors once did, he bounded as high as his legs would allow. Grabbing a firm foothold near the top of the canopy, he let his head burst through the top of the thick foliage. He took a minute to survey the horizon and found that he was little more than a day's travel to the end of this forest, and he was still on course heading to the city on the mountain. Breathing a sigh of relief, he then leveled his eyes to canopy itself, and his hopes were still kindled when he found nothing remotely huge standing between him and his destination apart from a large hill off to his left. His mission complete, he hopped back down to the forest floor to continue trudging onward.

Garrosh Hellscream had finally discovered some semblance of cleared path way through the forest and was now efficiently blazing a trail to the other side. At that rate, if he didn't bother looking for a place to rest, he would be well on his way out of the forest by nightfall. He'd been going for quite some time before he realized that he probably should check the horizon again. He was just about to start climbing one of the greater trees in the area when he took note of something near its roots. Taking a moment to closer examining his finding, he saw that it was a giant footprint, and not just any footprint. Looking intently upon the footprint, Garrosh only had one word in mind: "Dragon." Even though Garrosh had bore witness to the existence of many strange creatures in these woods, he had no idea anything so familiar or terrible as dragons roamed this world, and judging by his finding, it was quite the size. Also judging by the growth in the print and the cracked, eroded state of it, he deduced that it must have been many years old, for no dragon that sizable would of made a print near that shallow, even in dry dirt.

Looking onward to see if he could locate more, he saw not only more of them, but that the entire path he was blazing through earlier had likely been created by the the same monster passing through here continuously almost a century ago. He also saw that the path made a sudden turn in an incline off to the left, towards that same hill he'd seen when last he checked the horizon. His curiosity getting the best of him, he decide to delay rechecking his direction in favor of continuing up the path to see where it ultimately led. However, his exploring came to an end when the extremely vague prints eventually led him to the entrance of a very large cave.

"Excellent! Just what I needed for the night." He thought aloud as he stepped across the threshold into the cave. He was definitely looking forward to spending the night in some form of shelter (Sleeping on the open ground for the past two nights had really started to take its toll on his back.) He was no fool; he knew the dragon might still be lurking within, but it was a risk he was quite willing to take for the sake of a place to stay before darkness set in, before even he found himself overrun with nocturnal horrors due to shear exhaustion. Besides, were he not too loud, he could probably avoid the beast completely.

It was very dark for the most part within the caverns, but every now and again he could see a few phosphorescent crystals protruding from the walls and roof, creating a wondrously illuminated path for him to follow. At the end of the crystal-lit trail, he beheld something he never expected to find here in a million years. "By the ancestors." He whispered in awe as he took in the sight of the huge room. The room itself was large enough to hold two of copies of Grommash hold, With many mighty stalactites reaching down from the high ceiling, and many hulking stalagmites tearing up through the floor in the corners of the cave. The room also had a fairly large tunnel leading out of it off to the far left and a smaller nook of a tunnel off to the right, but it was the center of the massive room that took his breath away.

There, resting in the massive room's core near the back wall, was a treasure trove that could rival that of Orgrimmar's treasury! It was filled with all manner of shining precious stones that Garrosh couldn't even begin to name, and that was to say nothing of the various solid gold items that littered the wondrous trove, or the innumerable glittering gold coins composing armies of the mass. Once again, Garrosh was no fool, for he knew that certain lesser dragons, in their long time of needed slumber, commonly rested atop their gatherings in guardship of what was solely theirs. Between the supposed age of the footprints that led to this cave and the evident absence of an irritated dragon, he was able to come to a very obvious and verbal conclusion.

"It is all mine for the taking!" He proclaimed loudly with glee as he started running up to his new found riches, but just as he got to the foot of the mound, the dreadful happened: It moved. The movement was slight, but it was enough to make him stop in his tracks. The trove then gave a large puff of black smoke as the distinct odor of brimstone began to permeate the air. Garrosh was mistaken; perhaps he was a fool in this aspect, for he had forgotten that the dragon might have been hiding in the enormous trove itself in order to coax out shadowed intentions, and may also have been resting there for as long as it'd last made those footprints. growling to himself, frustrated that he'd been tricked so easily, mentally steeled himself for the coming battle. "Show yourself, creature!" He shouted to the mountainous cache, it swayed a lot more feverishly this time, so much so that its owner emerged from it. Standing before the Warchief, was a giant-dwarfing, green-scaled, fire-breathing, rock-crushing dragon, and never mind the fact that the monster could speak.

"Who dares to disturb my slumber?!" The beast bellowed lividly in a low guttural voice, but Garrosh was anything but daunted.

"I am here to claim this cave, and all therein!" Garrosh growled to the monster, the dragon did not seem intimidated, it only seemed agitated.

"Insolent fleshling! You shall pay for your trespassing!" Garrosh was even less intimidated of the dragon than the dragon was of him.

"let's see who this cave really belongs to! Lok'tar Ogar!" Garrosh shouted his signature warcry as he rushed the large ball of scales and flame. The dragon immediately reared back and let loose a yellow ball of fire from its gaping maw, but Garrosh easily rolled to the left of it. He expertly recovered from his roll and continued to charge the fuming behemoth. The dragon next swung its huge clawed hand at the orc with intent of swiping his head from his shoulders, but a simple duck was all he had to initiate to dodge the slow dragon's attack. The dragon surely must have been sleeping there for centuries, for its torpid attacks to the Warchief were downright sluggish.

"This is too easy!" He taunted boisterously as he slashed at the creature's back leg with his axes; the blow did next to nothing. He swore in orcish as he hastily rolled back out of the way of the beasts spiked tail. "These scales are too thick, but the weak point on all dragons are the same: The neck." He reasoned in his head as he dove over an incoming claw, he slowly began to formulate a plan as he continued to dodge the klutz of a dragon.

"Is this all you possess?!" He taunted again to try and enrage the overgrown drake; it worked. The beast roared with fury as he swung his tail at the arrogant orc, only to have it miss its mark by a mile. With every miss the dragon became more and more frustrated; it was exactly what the orc wanted. After a full minute, the dragon roared in pure rage yet again, and in that ferocious roar, Garrosh saw that he had angered it enough for it to make that one amateur mistake he was waiting for.

He bolted fast for the small tunnel to the right and dove inside just in time to escape a concentrated wave of fire. Once inside, he discovered that the nook of a tunnel was, in truth, just a nook, indeed. He preferred it be a means of escape, but he saw then that the only way to escape this terrible beast was to slay it. So without any other mindset, he waited patiently for the dragon's next move, and he did not have to wait long. The monstrosity attempted to stick its clawed hand into the small cavity, hoping for a fatal grasp. However, he would not be touching the Warchief today. Garrosh brought his right axe down on the claw as hard as he could, snapping the whole thing in two. The dragon's roar in pain was deafening, Garrosh was sure that even in the confines of this cave the sound could be heard for miles in every direction.

"YOU WRETCH! The beast derogated furiously in mourning of his severed middle claw. As he had expected, the scaly creature closed its eyes as it reared back its head to burn the small crevice, and all inside; Garrosh by then was ready for his next move. Just as he heard the dragon let loose the blind roar, he sprinted from of the tunnel, around the dragon, and started climbing up the dragon's stash. The dragon then burned the small tunnel with one of the largest waves of flame he had ever seen. Thinking itself triumphant, it turned back to adjourn to its stash of treasure upon which Garrosh now stood; that's when he took his best shot.

"This battle was over before it began!" He announced as he threw one of his axes and embedded it in his foe's soft, exposed neck, causing a torrent of fresh heated blood to spew from the mortal wound. The dragon made the most deafening sound yet as he reeled back in agony, already feeling its lifeblood draining from its jugular. The dying beast slammed his head into both the roof and walls fitfully as he tried in vain to wrench the weapon from its throat. As it flailed helplessly, Garrosh took the chance to finish him off quickly. He slid down the treasure pile and ran towards the howling dragon. He jumped to place one of his feet on the flat of a large stalagmite that had previously been broken in half by the dragon's thrashing tail and launched himself into the air and onto the writhing beast's back.

His launch plan was successful for the most part, as he managed to embed his remaining axe in the creature's upper tail so as not to be thrown off. Slowly but steadily, he made his way up the dragon's back. Through all the pain however, the dragon managed to guess his thinly-veiled goal, and the beast's last and final defense was to smash his back into the cave wall several times, hoping to crush its smaller foe before it fell. Its efforts over-all were for not, for Garrosh had already reached the part of its neck that was hunched over; apart from scraping his feet, the blows against the wall went largely un-felt by the determined orc. The Warchief at last made it to the top of the scaly demon's head, but with each moment he stood atop his destination, the dragon's desperate rapid thrashings made it a monumental struggle to hold on, He needed to end this now, or further risk being thrown off and mauled to death. His mind made up, and being way past the point of no return, he put both hands on the one axe he had left and brought it down on the back of the its skull with all the strength he could muster.

As soon as the deed was dealt, the dragon's thrashing, and all other movement ceased, time seemed to slow, and the only sound was that of the massive beast's legs buckling underneath what was now dead weight. The still moment of slow time undone, the reptile's lifeless form suddenly fell forward and collided with the floor of the cavern with a giant, ground-shaking Thud. releasing himself from the dragon's head, Garrosh let loose a victorious roar as the dragon lay breathless in a pool of its own blood, and for yet another moment had the world gone still and silent..... apart from the small cracking sound coming from behind him.

It took Garrosh a few seconds to realize that he was not hearing things; he turned to look behind him and found to his dismay that a large crater in the cave's wall where the dragon had struck it repeatedly was beginning to expand. It didn't take Garrosh near as long to realize that the cave was going to collapse on top of him... and his treasure! Just as that horrible realization dawned on him, one of the crater's cracked tendrils lurched upward and streaked across the portion of the ceiling right above the kingly trove. As much as Garrosh hated it, he had to make a lightning-quick decision: One, Move in the opposite direction and safely avoid the cave-in, or two, lung forward to gather as many riches as his hands can carry and risk being buried with it. In the split second he had to decide, he grudgingly picked option one and made a mad dash for the far left side of the cave where lay his exit.

Garrosh then did what any other person would likely do: He stopped at the door-way to the exit, turned, and looked with worried eyes to see if the whole room was about to be erased from existence by this calamity. As he did this, his entire body was met not only with an immense gust of wind, but a thick cloud-wall of dust and dirt rushing carelessly through the tunnel, accompanied by a gargantuan rumble of rocky, avalanching earth.

Coughing, hacking, blinking, and spitting, The Warchief made his way back into the cavern's atrium to evaluate the extent of the damage wrought upon his precious stash. What was revealed when the dust eventually cleared infuriated him beyond belief. Dirt covered everything in a thin blanket, even the Dragon's corpse and all the blood surrounding it, but that was not what Garrosh noticed at the time. He saw that only half of the cave had imploded, but that his treasure was in that half! The enraged orc gave a feral, echoing roar as he went to his knees, sending a small puff of dust a few inches into the air around him.

"Why... have the ancestors forsaken me as of late?!" His growled statement swiftly turning into a shouting rant. "Great Mother! Is this world to be my endless torment?!" He let his head hang down low, as if he'd given up, a notion that he seriously considered contemplating. There he sat, eyes closed for minutes that felt like lifetimes. He began to re imagine what his life had been before all this happened; not an orcish leader destined through unimaginable hardship and effort for indisputable greatness, but a genocidal villain bound through these same mind-altering hardships for a cruel fate eternal. He would never admit it, but were he not so desensitized by years of raw warfare and heart-wrenching grief, he might just have shed a tear.

With such a tantalizing prospect laid forever to rest and away from his grasp, Garrosh simply stayed there on his knees, not wanting to do much else for, as far as he could tell, just as long. The cavernous grotto that was once alight with the shining of many riches, now utterly bereft of anything of true value, was now nothing more than another dark useless dungeon meant to conceal decomposing beasts of old. The defeated Warchief saw this when he finally opened his weary, tired eyes. His sight further continued to wander aimlessly around the nondescript mound of dust and rock that was once his gold and jewelry, that is, until it was caught by a feint, brassy glint in the soil next to him; it was one of the gold coins. He leaned over and grasped it as if a soldier in the battlefield grasping at the remains of someone once dear to him. He looked over it indifferently whilst flipping it several times in his hand, and examining it more closely, saw that it had a peculiar label engraved on it: A picture of one of those incessant "pony" creatures adorning a crown, but with some differences. For instance, her muzzle (He was confident that it was a "she") was just slightly more elongated than the others he had seen, and her hair was long and flowing. Jutting out from the horse's hair was a long, spiraled, sharp-looking horn; Garrosh scoffed pitifully at the mere notion of one of these "pony" leaders being a unicorn. This coin must have been from one of their civilizations as currency. He almost cast the trivial discovery aside as some kind of sadistic irony before his eyes started to widen in a hopeful realization: Perhaps this one is not alone! He frantically swept the layer of settling dust away from the ground in front of him, not only to find more of the coins, but some of the gems as well.

"Yes! I knew you would not abandon me, Great Mother!" He shouted unto the heavens through the roof of the cave as he ran his hands over more dust-covered floor. Coin after coin, gem after gem, if he kept this up, he would have plenty of riches to bribe any smith, and anyone else that he needed to. After about an hour or so, his searching finally ended with the result of over forty precious stones and hundreds of coins gathered in a mildly sizable pile; he had even found a gold bar in the mess of settled soil near the end.

With his scavengings through, he sat down and ate the few apples he had left. He took inventory as he ate: Two loafs of bread, five leather water sacks, and plenty of spare room in his main bag were left. He withdrew all of his remaining provisions from his backpack so as not to crush them beneath the weight of his findings. He then placed all of his new currency in it; even though he didn't necessarily have to pay the blacksmith, he'd prefer not to be called a thief everywhere he went.

After he took thorough inventory and successfully packed all he'd earned into the bag along with his rations, he decided that he should move on, for he knew every creature within a fifty-mile radius could clearly make out the dragon's pained roars. With his choice made, he took his sack of food, water, and treasure onto his back after a brief rest, walked back to the corpse of the slain beast, and reclaimed his second weapon from the its throat. Wiping the blood from its handle and blade, he casually traversed the cavern to its exit. With all of his things accounted for, including his direction, he set off North once again. Even though he had to trash his original idea of staying the night there, the bit of loot he had plundered was well worth it. He continued his trek North, intent on reaching the mountain city in two day's time, the place where his blacksmith surely awaited him.

Fleetfoot knelt closer to the ground to get a better look at the broken railroad ties, just as she had done to the window at the Salt Block Tavern. It would take a creature that's weight was well over five-hundred pounds. It didn't really inspire confidence in the young Wonderbolt to know that what she was chasing had not only torn a window (frame and all) out of a wall, but now had done all this. Also, if half of the intelligence Soarin had gathered from the locals were true, then this thing was not to be trifled with. "Spitfire, thith thing'th gotta weigh at leatht five hundred poundth, and I think it weighed more." She said to her commander with a rather unwanted amount of concern in her hushed voice. The worry was all but lost on Spitfire however, for the Captain was sitting on nearby station bench, far too occupied with reading one of her many vanity magazines.

"Yeah, yeah, but is that where it went? Did it just follow the tracks?" Her commander asked her impatiently; she responded as quickly as she could, taking one last look at the tracks.

"I don't know if it came from thith way, or left thith way; I've never theen hoof printh like thethe before." She answered simply. Luckily for them, the fastly-approaching Soarin carried better news.

"Hey guys! From what all I just heard, we've gotta be dealing with some kind of monster from an old foal's tale." Confused, Spitfire lowered her shades and looked up from her magazine at him; both mares didn't exactly know what he meant by that.

"...What?" The two of them struck up in unison before looking at each other and hearing Soarin continue.

"Yeah, that's what I said. They told me it was about twelve feet tall, and it had brown leathery skin, black tattoos, and no fur!" Soarin paused for a moment, as if trying to remember all the information he'd gathered. "Oh yeah! and they did say it went that way." He said as he pointed a hoof away from the town, down the railroad tracks, towards Everfree Forest. "I talked to the sheriff too, and he said it was looking for something called a blacksmith. What is that anyway?"

Was he serious? "Does he really not know what a blacksmith is?" Fleetfoot thought to herself. She just waited until Spitfire answered him, lest she start insulting him if she tried to answer the dim-wit.

"A blacksmith is a weapons and armor crafter... not many of them still around anymore. Why in Equestria would a monster be looking for something like that?" Spitfire asked, sill confused; the question seemed to remind Soarin of something.

"Oh! I almost forgot; the town's ponies didn't have a blacksmith so the monster asked if they had any kind of weapons for sale, and it left town after he took two lumber axes from the general goods store." Fleetfoot was astounded, astounded that he "almost forgot" the fact that this thing was now armed and even more dangerous than it probably was originally, and that was really saying something. She couldn't take his lack of brain power any longer.

"'Almostht forgot?' 'Almotht forgot?!' That wath one of the motht important pieceth of info you got, and you 'almost forgot' it?!" She screeched at the top of her lungs as she marched up to him, but before she could further deride the simple pegasus, her ranting was halted mid-stride by her superior.

"Don't start it, Fleet; let's just keep focused." Came Spitfire's worn-out groan as she pinched the bridge of her muzzle with a hoof. After a short millisecond, Fleetfoot merely nodded before shooting a dirty look Soarin's way (It had the desired effect: Making him sad.) and trotting back behind her captain. Before the team could bring even more strife and damage on itself, their forth member by the name of Rapidfire returned, He spoke as soon as he landed in front of his leader.

"I have found the creature's name; the locals here say it called itself 'Garrosh Hellscream', but they also say it called itself a 'Warchief.' Perhaps this is some sort of military rank?" The name "Hellscream" was more than enough to make Fleetfoot feel a bit edgy.

"Great job, Rapid. So we've got a name, we know it's armed, and we know it's headed that way." Spitfire said in a positive, encouraging tone while pointing down the tracks; just then, the final member of the team silently alighted behind them and spoke swiftly.

"One of the locals thinks that it maybe headed to Ponyville; if we go there, we may be able to head it off." Suggested Wave Chill in his usual dark and emotionless tone; he was always one of Fleetfoot's favorite to be around.

"Then we head to Ponyville. 'Hellscream' will have to come out of that forest some time, and when he does, we'll be in Ponyville ready for him." Spitfire briefed, her militant instincts kicking in.

"So... we're done here?" Rapidfire perked up, sounding a bit more uptight than he intended. Fleetfoot was almost certain she wasn't the only one to roll their eyes; everypony on the team knew he was never particularly fond of rural settlements.

"Yep, let's move out!" Spitfire ordered as they all took off and assumed formation bound North. When they were once again flying over deserted territory, Fleetfoot finally decided to ask the question on her mind.

"What do we do when we find it, Spit?" She whispered to which her captain gave a light chuckle.

"We make it give back what it stole. Trust me, Fleet, when we find that thing, we're gonna make it wish it never took a crumb from this town!" She determined as she sped ahead slightly followed closely by Soarin and Rapidfire, but Fleetfoot and Wave Chill hung back a few feet.

"You scared?" Wave daunted her quietly, to which she scoffed haughtily.

"I'm not thcared of anything: Not a timber wolf, not a dragon, not a hydra, and not whatever thith thing ith." She stated with a bit of renewed confidence. Luckily enough, he seemed to buy it.

"Okay, if you say so, Fleet." He acknowledged before darting after his compatriots; after a quick check of her inner fortitude and a deep breath, she was the last to catch up to the rest.

"I really hope this thing isn't as bad as all the crap we've heard so far." She recounted dreadfully as she soared with her team through the bright blue sky above.

Fluttershy was having a nice and peaceful day so far: Angel had been behaving well enough, Mr. Bear's back had not been bothering him that day, the pigs she agreed to check up for Applejack had not tested sick once, and the spiderlings she had been taking care of had finally grown up (Though it was a tearful moment when they at last said their goodbyes, cast out their lines, and blew away.) All in all, she was having a wonderful day.

She hummed a small tune to herself as she tried to think of a single bad thing that did happen that day. The worst she could think of was having to dig the worms up to feed the baby birds. She cringed recalling the taste, but then again, she had to do the same thing every year all throughout springtime; so that didn't really count. Perishing the very thought, it did not ruin her day in the slightest. In fact, it actually reminded her that she had one final chore to attend to before she had the rest of the day all to herself: Feeding the chickens.

Remembering this, Fluttershy trotted merrily into her supply shack, grabbed one of the many sacks of chicken feed, spread her wings, and did more of a jump-and-glide than actual flight. She landed at the gate to their pen with all the grace of a butterfly, and then proceeded to open the sack and pour some feed into their troughs, thinking about how she would spend the rest of the day. She genuinely didn't know what she could do, but after her final task was done, she just settled for returning to her cottage.

Once inside, she sat down on her couch, and opened an excerpt from the romance novel series that her good friend Rarity had recommended. It was a rather riveting and strange tale partly about a conflicted earth pony mare who falls in love with a self-loathing thestral and their love's confidential place in rural pony society. It was quite saucy at times and a trifle dark at others; it was the epitome of something Rarity would recommend to her, being a stark romantic. Fluttershy could not for the life of her remember the name of the series, but she didn't bother thinking about the name too much at the time; the story was just getting good. Angel Bunny hopped up on the couch and poked at her to let her know that he wanted to sit beside her; the afternoon could not have been going any better.........

Grrraaauuurrrrrggghhh! Fluttershy all but jumped straight out of her skin as she heard one of the loudest, most ferocious roars she'd ever heard in her life.

"O-o-oh m-my." She whispered almost inaudibly in both shock and fear. She then picked the fallen book up off the floor and placed it back on the table next to the others. "I'm so sorry, Angel Bunny." She fluttered apologetically to the rabbit who was now lying face-first on the floor. After her apology, she raced outside and across her creak bridge. The sound's source and direction was easily discovered: It came right from the bowels of Everfree Forest. She didn't want to go anywhere near that far into that place, but she knew the animal that made that noise sounded like it was in unbearable pain.

Galloping back inside, she hastily turned to her companion. "Angel, you're in charge while i'm gone, okay? Be a good little bunny." She spoke in worry to her fluffy little companion who threw her a faithful salute. Like Tartarus she was going that deep into Everfree alone though, so she flew as fast as she possibly could, making a beeline to her friend Rainbow Dash's house.

Garrosh's feet (And the rest of his body for that matter) were killing him, for he had been walking for up to three days, he had slain various creatures including a humongous dragon, declined an obviously perfect place to sleep in favor of adhering to his own paranoid suspicions, and it was now nearing nightfall in the depths of a predatory forest! But all things aside, he supposed he was doing quite well for an orc having awoken three days ago in a barren wasteland with no clothing or weaponry, this all after he was given a heady opportunity to escape the throngs of factions all screaming and clamoring for his blood. As a healthy change of pace, he decided not to dwell obsessively on those matters for too long, and chose instead to keep focused on the next task at hand. Using the same method as before, he hopped up tree after tree to finally find one that stood tall enough compared to all the others. He shoved his head through the canopy as he did twice before, this time only to be blinded by the setting sun.

"So I have been walking all day." Garrosh muttered as he winced. He thought about what all that meant as he jumped back down to the forest floor. "That means I can't be too far from the edge of this forest." He said to himself. Even at this rate, he wasn't going to make it out of the forest by nightfall, this and the fact that he didn't even know what lay outside the once he did led him to an imminent mission: He needed to find a place to sleep, and he needed to find it now.

He picked up his pace, keeping a sharp eye out for any places that he could possibly use as a potential resting spot. About ten minutes into his wanderings and searchings, he pulled back a tree branch to reveal a tiki face! "By the ancestors!" He shouted as he punched through the wooden ornament in reflex, splintering it to pieces. "Who would leave this out here?!" He huffed as his mind processed that very question. "Wait..." He knelt down to closer inspect the tiki mask, and upon doing so, his mind started to reach some dreadful conclusions. "Either this world has some very strange.... and familiar nativeness, or--" Garrosh grated his teeth together in fastly-gathering rage. "I swear unto the ancestors! If trolls inhabit this forest, nay, this world, then I shall rip every last one to shreds!" He declared to both to himself and anyone in the immediate area as he marched onward fuming.

Not a minute later when a gust of wind softly rolled past him could the irate Warchief detect something with his ears. It was vague, but it seemed to be some sort of hollow jingling sound that, for some reason, Garrosh found familiar to him. Letting his mind play his flash-back briefly, he knew exactly where the sound had become familiar to him: It was the same sound he used to hear from the porches of houses in Nagrand; the townsfolk frequently hung bottles, carvings, teeth and tusks around there homes in both decoration and to ward off any predators that came too close to the village.

"Someone is near." He though without a doubt as he started heading in that direction. Brushing away a few leaves and bushes, a tribal-looking "tree house" came into his view, but the hollowed-out tree not only had a door carved into it, but masks similar to the one he'd seen earlier and potion bottles of all shapes and sizes that must have been what he was hearing were littering it. However, the thing that meant the most to Garrosh in that moment was the fact that there was light coming from inside the tree house. "This place is clearly inhabited! Though not by any troll; that door is far too small." He calculated more curiously than anything, though this might just have been the perfect opportunity to find a place to sleep. He cautiously approached the door and gave it a few good loud knocks. Inside, almost instantaneously he heard a big, cluttered, crashing sound. "Something else definitely lives here...." He whispered to himself; he assumed a war stance as he heard something walking towards the door.

"Four legs, another one of those damned horses." His weary head groaned with dread. Just then, the creature that opened it was not precisely what he had predicted. It looked like a zhevra of the Northern Barrens, only it had no horn, it was striped black and white with an erected mohawk atop its head. It also had big teal eyes that seemed to be trailing tentatively up his body to his face. Also, from the long eyelashes that guarded said teal eyes, Garrosh was able to quite easily guess that it was a female. The zhevra's expression to him was the most surprising, for it showed little more than slight initial shock. The last thing about her was that she was sporting large golden rings on her ears, neck and right forehoof in a tribal fashion.

"Greetings, zhevra. Do you know of a place I can sleep for this night?" Garrosh asked as politely and as un-intimidatingly as he probably could, naturally assuming this creature could speak as well as the horses could. The zhevra on the other hand, seemed taken aback by the fact that he himself could actually speak.

"I have a place for you to sleep, I really do. But I'm not sure if it will suit one such as you." She answered impressively calmly.

"Did she just rhyme?" He wasn't sure if she did or not. He also noted that her accent was very similar to that of a troll; it would explain the tiki face he had run into earlier clearly, but he decided that given her positive reaction to him, it was not something worth killing or even threatening her over. He didn't bother thinking about it too much though, for there was no way the two could possibly be connected, if it was supposedly a different world that is. He continued talking as he knelt down, flipped his bag in front of him, and pulled a fairly large-sized diamond from it. "I'll pay you handsomely for letting me use it." He said as he brandished the shiny gem. "I also wish to know if you have any tailoring materials I could purchase from you by chance." He planned to extend his offer. She put her ringed hoof to her chin for a second before smiling and speaking again.

"Our transaction will not be bleak, for I believe I have what you seek." She said before turning to go back inside.

Had that one been a rhyme as well? He wasn't paying close enough attention; he decided to wait explicitly for her third sentence to try and find out. When she came back out, she was carrying a large saddlebag-like basket filled with not only an array of cloth, but leather (Or something that looked like it), buttons, and straps as well. All were things he desperately needed; as proud as he was of the creation of his current apparel, the curtain he had used to make them was undeniably starting to chafe and itch. After setting all this down in front of him, she donned a small smile and spoke for the third time.

"These here are for you; I hope they will do." Before the Warchief could muster anything say in return, she spoke a fourth time. "If I may say, you are a creature of uncommon looks. I've not seen anything like you, not even in my books." Now he was irrevocably certain she was rhyming, but he ended up brushing it aside in favor of a coherent response.

"I'm not from this place, as you can plainly see; I am an orc of Nagrand, and my name is Garrosh Hellscream. Now, I shall pay you three more precious stones in exchange for that basket and all of its contents." He stated his planned offer. To which she replied honestly as she took a close look at the four diamonds he held in his hand.

"Just one of these gems would be worth my land. Do you have anything of less value to... hand?" she asked, suddenly bewildered by the appendages at which she was now staring.

"That's going to get old, very fast." He though as he merely tossed her two of the stolen rocks. "I have more than enough currency to do as I must," He said to her casually. "but I do thank you for your sense of fair trade. Many would have taken the four gems without the slightest question or hesitation." He spoke the truth. He was legitimately surprised at how fair she was being with him, but he still had two more questions. "Now, where is this place where I may sleep?" He asked once again in a polite tone, and not with an impatient one. She waved a hoof for him to follow, and she lead him to a nook in the roots that was well big enough for him to sleep in.

"The flat ground under my home's shade is the best I can do, but I will fetch some quilts to make it comfy too." She said with a kind smile. He had to admit that, despite his previous premonitions about her accent as well as her perpetual rhyming, he actually liked this zhevra a lot more than those annoying horses.

"Thank you, and if I may ask, what is your name, Miss?" He asked, again with his best polite tone. She gave a light chuckle before responding.

"I am Zecora, and as you now see, I am the only native zebra of the Ever-Free." Only native... zebra? He may have been miss-pronouncing the name his whole life, and he didn't really keep on the odd word as he spoke either.

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance," He said unto her as he bowed. "And thank you for the supplies and place to rest." He stated. Somewhere in the pit of his heart, he could almost feel something smiling down on him; he didn't know if he liked the feeling, but he definitely didn't mind it. As the "zebra" returned with a large blanket, she gave her goodnight to the orc.

"Kind souls must inhabit where you're from. In my home you are always most welcome." She chanted warmly. "Now that an accord has been reached and all is right, I must bid you a very good night." Zecora then made her way back into her house.

Garrosh had to admit, her way of speech would be very hard to master, and she wasn't wrong about the kind souls; Nagrand was a place that was good to the orc, the folk ever kind to there kin. He sat down on his blanket, made himself comfortable, and grabbed one of the loafs of bread out of his bag. "I could really use another one of those lion monsters." He thought disappointed as he scarfed the bread down to his heart's content. After he was finished, he dragged the basket he had traded for to his side, and began to construct some real clothing.

Hellscream was no tailor, by any means. He knew how to work a needle and spool from his days as a youngling in Nagrand, but he simply hadn't willed himself to sit and study a pattern long enough to actually remember how to make anything. Though, his teacher, an older orc named Mathar G'ochar, had tasked him with learning to create at least five things with the tailoring supplies he had failed to sell at the end of each month. Garrosh failed in the quest, as he had predicted he would when Mathar had first given it to him, by being unable to learn the fifth pattern he had been given. Garrosh stroked his chin as he attempted to remember what it was that had defeat his younger self.

"A bag, a nether weave bag, if I'm not mistaken, but with a trick to it..." Hellscream shook his head, a small grin on his face. G'ochar had still been proud of him, though the old orc had teased him for weeks afterwards about his failure.

"The great Hellscream, defeated by a satchel!" Mathar would jest. Garrosh's grin stayed with him as he set to work with his new supplies. The four patterns he had successfully learned, were that of a linen belt, brown linen pants, tan overalls, and a course thread-reinforced foot wrap. He had quickly found that the overalls were the most difficult to create, but offered the best form of protection from the elements. Garrosh searched the basket, and gathered up everything he would need to construct the overalls. He then gathered up all the balls of material from the basket to stitch together a few pairs of feet wraps.

Garrosh was rusty, there was no doubt about that, but as minutes turned to hours, he began to find his old talent had not been lost to time. It was long into the night by the time Hellscream was done sewing his new clothes, and it took ever ounce of energy he had left to don the overalls and foot wraps. He didn't bother with anything else after that, all he could be bothered to do was lay upon his back and close his eyes.

Still, as tired as his mind was, he found himself thinking of Mathar G'ochar, and how proud the old orc would have been to see him now.

When Rainbow Dash found whatever had killed that miserable dragon, she would make sure it suffered as much as it did. Not because she liked the dragon for any reason (in fact, she actually hated most of them), not because she felt sorry for the hulking mass of decaying scales, it was because her nice, relaxing weekend hangout had been abruptly ruined when a worried and rather adamant Fluttershy showed up at the door to her cloud tower earlier that afternoon. Fluttershy had begged her to accompany her into the Ever-Free Forest to try and find out what had caused the beastly roar they'd all heard.

Rainbow did hear the roar, make no mistake, but she was not near curious enough to exert as much effort as to fly out of her house into those Celestia-forsaken woods in search of the culprit. Now, at the end of all this, having discovered the macabre scene in the depths of some confounded cave, she was having to let her traumatized, animal-loving friend sleep over at her house for the night. Even though Rainbow knew that Fluttershy was pathologically afraid of dragons, she also knew that Fluttershy would never in a thousand years want to see one hurt, let alone killed. A third thing Rainbow knew was that judging by how sorrowfully she mourned for the magnificent beast, she was liable to need some kind of therapy. She flew up to the door with the weeping pegasus in tow; once inside, she laid her hysterical friend down on the couch and placed a blanket over her gently.

"It's fine, Shy, we're gonna go get the others tomorrow and we'll find out what happened; for now, you just try and get some sleep, okay?" She soothed. Fluttershy just weakly nodded as she continued to silently shed tears for the unfortunate, fallen creature they had found. Rainbow gave her a look of mild uncertainty before gingerly nodding back to her, turning, and beginning to hover up stairs to her bedroom; it was just about when she'd reached the foot of the stair case when a whimper stopped her cold. "You say something, Flutters?" She asked as she turned mid-flight back around to face her. She could already tell Fluttershy was trying to tell her something.

"Rainbow, could you-- could you s-stay with me? j-just until I fall asleep?" She asked between sniffles in a just barely audible voice. "Please?" pleaded the trembling caretaker. Rainbow sighed as she touched down on the clouded floor, trotted over to the living room chair, pulled it up to the couch, and plopped down in it.

"Don't worry, Flutters, I'm not going anywhere." She said in the best caring voice she could offer. Fluttershy cast her dear, long-time friend a meaningful smile before sniffling again and pulling her into a desperate hug. It had been a long time since Rainbow had seen her this distraught; it was the least she could do to hold the embrace for as long as she wished. Eventually, Fluttershy broke off and gave a small nod goodnight before turning off to her side and trying to get some rest. Contrary to some belief, Rainbow was not dumb; she wasn't about to take any chances with her friend in this state, so making herself comfortable, she resolved to sit there all night with her, just in case she woke up with nightmares. It seemed to work for the most part, but Rainbow fell asleep in that chair long before sleep finally welcomed her poor, crestfallen friend.

Author's Note

I'm sure the book Fluttershy was reading was a better love story than Twilight. :-)

I'm also sure you all have heard this from every other author, but writing Zecora was one of the biggest pains my *Beep* has ever had to endure. And no, I did not use Google for the rhyming... I'm serious; I did however use my brother. He loved writing this garbage...

as usual, here is some illustrations of Garrosh's new clothes, in case my descriptions were lacking.

Chapter 4: "Meat" the Ponyville Natives

The Previous Night

Luna slowly walked through the massive halls leading to the throne room. She had woken up on her own accord for the first time in months, but she simply chalked that up to all this recent monster business. As she passed the halls lined with ancient paintings of leaders, heroes, and dignitaries long since past, she happened to hear voices coming from the throne room, more specifically, the voice of her sister. "Celestia spied on us; why should we not return the favor?" She thought vindictively as she very quietly trotted to the throne room door. She could hear the voice of a courier; she could not make out what he was saying, but she heard her sister loud and clear.

"You mean they intend to fight the beast in Ponyville?" She heard her elder sister say, concern evident in her voice. Luna still could not understand what the courier was saying, so she simply waited for Celestia to speak again. "Is there no other way to find the monster before it exits the Everfree?" So the beast escaped into that dreaded forest.

"Then should it not have perished by now?" She thought before hearing her sister speak again.

"Alright, tell them that I approve of the mission, but also tell them I want nopony hurt in Ponyville, Tell them to make sure that my wish is fulfilled." For the first time she heard the messenger speak.

"It will be done, your Highness!" She silently teleported a safe distance away as soon as she heard that he was done. "Dear sister is not the only one who knows that little trick." She giggled mischievously. It took a bit of time, but after enough wandering she found one of her guards, the reason for this act was plain and simple: If Celestia thought that after all of her sister's initiative and unfruitful efforts, she could just canter in and send her Wonderbolts to usurp what was rightfully her quarry, she would be grossly mistaken.

"Guard! Go to the barracks, and tell our Shadowbolts to head to Ponyville on over-watch detail immediately. Also, this is to be a covert operation, so tell them to leave their uniforms." She ordered with swift urgency.

"Yes, your Majesty!" He saluted before taking flight down the vast hallway, the only sound therein being the enigmatic flapping of leathery, nocturnal wings. Luna just hoped her elites could not only beat The Wonderbolts to Ponyville, but that monstrosity as well.

Garrosh, for the first time in a very long time, was able to slowly wake at his own pace after one of the best night's sleep he could remember. He lay on his back upon the soft yellow quilt that Zecora was kind enough to accommodate his resting ground with. Opening one eye at a time, Garrosh slowly sat up and looked around, feeling a feeling unfamiliar to him. From where he sat, he was given a vivid view of Ever Free; it was the most beautiful part of this forest he'd seen so far.

The forest itself seemed buzzing and teaming with fresh life, the distant songs of birds fluttered through the air around him, and the cool rushes of air flowing in currents past him, calmly rattling the bottles that hung from the native's home all created a caressing reception for his senses, which were seemingly heightened by a good night's sleep. Taking in everything this area had to offer made The Warchief feel strange, serene, content, safe. That was the unfamiliar feeling he felt; he felt safe. He earnestly began searching his memory for even a single, fleeting moment where he felt that same feeling. His mental search coming up short, he was left with a silent admiration for this place, and an un-admitted admiration for this new feeling.

"No wonder Zecora chose here of all places to live." He muttered indifferently to himself. Deciding he had gawked at the scenery quite long enough, he set about tending to the distraction that had just befallen him: A growling noise from his stomach. Reach over to his right, he grabbed and opened his pack not only to make sure he had everything he would need to continue towards the city he had seen, but to assuage his current need. He snatched a water sack and steadily drained it of its contents, then he scarfed down another loaf of the tasteless, stale bread. satisfactorially fed and properly clothed now, he started climbing the largest tree he saw, not knowing his acrobatics were being intently watched. He blasted his head through the foliage up above the lush, green canopy for the fourth time since he'd entered the forest, and began his routine reconnaissance.

"There it is!" He breathed to himself. He saw the city of the mountain growing ever closer, but just then it occurred to him that he knew no way up the steep mountainside it was nestled into. "Perhaps Zecora knows the way." His mind reasoned spontaneously as he bounded back down the tree to hit the ground with a quaking thud, leaving two, monstrous footprints in the mud in the process. He managed to startled his new friend as much as her presence had startled him when he turned to the hut. "Forgive me, I did not think you would be up this early." He spoke as approachably as he could. She smiled warmly before saying:

"There is no need for an apologetic term, but I do believe the early bird gets the worm." He truly must have been going mad, for he was actually starting to grow fond of her manner of speech.

"I shall be off now, though I have one final question, my friend." He said. She looked a bit sad for the fact that he was departing so soon, but she perked her ears up nonetheless to hear what he had to ask. "I need to know how to reach the city to the North of here." He stated, pointing in the direction of his destination. Her brow seemed to raise a little in amusement, before she answered.

"The road to Ponyville you seek? You must follow this path until you reach its peak."

"Ponyville.... how original." He mused bluntly. Still, he was grateful to the zebra for all the honest help she had thus far given him. "Thank you, Zecora, for all you have done for me. May the ancestors always be with you, my friend." He said as he gathered up his things. He folded up the blanket he had slept on and handed it to her, she beamed at him as she took it back inside. Garrosh patiently waited for her to come back out, for he knew without a doubt that she wished to say farewell, and in her own way of speech.

"'Tis not often in this forest one meets a new friend; farewell, I say to you ,and may we meet again." He was most definitely going insane, for he was certain he would miss this zebra.

"Farewell, my ally, I do hope to meet again." He then began to march down the path, away from his new acquaintance's home. He looked back only once, to see her waving her forehoof at him; he waved back sincerely before breaking into a full-blown jog.

The Shadowbolts had set up their reconnaissance post at the windmill northeast of Ponyville. Stratus and Nightshade were both posted in windows, each one over-looking Town Hall with binoculars. Charger, on the other hoof, was posted on the roof of the mill. The mill's sails would get in his way every now and then for a mere few seconds, but in the long run, it wouldn't interfere too badly with his voyeuristic activities. He was suppose to be using his binoculars to watch the tree line for any signs of the monster. However, being the type of stallion that he was, he was using his very good view to get an even better view of a few mares in town. The team's other two members were being used as a cover-up. Blueball Blitz and Starry Skies were in front of the building; Starry was laying on a sun-tanning chair she brought, wearing her shades, relaxing, and over-looking the picnic grounds while Blitz was rolling around in the tall, green grass like a dog, not really doing much of anything. All in all, three members of the team looked like highly-paid assassins, while the other two pulled off the "brain-dead tourist" look perfectly.

Stratus, as usual, was doing as he was ordered. He was watching the town center for any suspicious activity on the locals' parts, which was not an easy task in the least considering there were so many ponies going about their daily grinds. Nightshade had it a bit easier, for her job was to watch The Wonderbolts, who were currently sitting at an outdoor restaurant, waiting for "their" target to show up. They looked like they were enjoying themselves, especially Soarin, who looked like he were being his over-dramatic usual. Charger, due to the fact that he was the only one that was not doing as he was told, was enjoying himself more than any other Bolt. He was currently peeping a very pretty, earth pony mare, whose coat was a light purple while her mane was a darker shade of the same color; she also had a cluster of grapes and a strawberry as her cutie mark.

"Holy molly!" He murmured as he watched the mare's enticing walk.

"Any activity from The Wonderbolts?" Stratus asked, hoping they had not moved; it would make their mission much more difficult if they kept moving around.

"No movement here. Any activity from the town square?" Nightshade inquired.

"That's a negative, Night." Stratus stated matter-of-factly.

"Just keep watching and stay vigilant; I'm not about to get another ear-chewing from 'Her Highness.'" She recalled bitterly.

After she voiced that fact, each and every bolt was able to hear Blueball yell up.

"When do we get to do our job?!" She whined, prompting Starry to reach over and pound her on the top of her head with the flat of her hoof to get her to shut up.

"Charger will tell us when to go!" She hissed sharply. "In the meantime, why don't you just go back to whatever it was you were doing?" Starry Skies asked with a tone meant for foals. Blitz did however, go back to catching grasshoppers.... In her mouth.

"Charger, you see anything at the tree line yet?" Nightshade's question was met only with silence. She put her binoculars down, stuck her whole front half out of the window she'd been spying through, and looked up at her unresponsive team mate. Seeing the fact that he was looking the complete wrong way, she slowly followed his line of sight with her own binoculars to where he was most likely looking, only to see a rather pudgy, purple mare with a matted mane and fruit-bearing flank walking along the market place. "Charger!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, which did more damage to Stratus than anypony else. It was more than enough to snap Charger out of his perverted state of hypnosis though.

"Okay okay! I'll get back to it." He finally responded with more of his manehattan accent than usual. The team of mercenaries then continued on with their mission. Hoping not only to see the creature they were after before The Wonderbolts did, but also to be able to arrest it before it did anymore damage to another town.

"Finally! I thought it would never end!" Garrosh exclaimed in relief as he exited the forest onto a small path that lead North. He had been following the "path" Zecora had told him to for about ten minutes now. It was rather difficult considering how it was not near big enough to fit him, so it became bigger when he walked straight on through it anyway. However, it was in that moment that two scents hit his nostrils; one was some kind of strange, potent, fruity smell coming from the northern path. The smell coming from the East however, he recognized immediately: It was meat!

His mouth started to water as he thought of what could be giving off that intoxicating scent; he inhaled once again, trying to pinpoint what would definitely be his next meal. "Boar! Sweet, succulent boar!" He cried out in revery to the skies above him. "Straying from the path to the North won't take that long, and I shall remember the way back. But right now, I want that boar!" He thought, determined to acquire said boar. With his decision made, he started to run with purpose through the woods to the East.

Garrosh had been running through the trees for about two minutes when he saw it: A cottage that sat alone near the tree line. The house itself appeared quite night elvish: It had a grass roof, its shape was rounded almost to the point of blending completely with landscape it was on, and it was adorned with random, unevenly placed windows. Another thing about the hovel was that its front yard was riddled with bird houses, and also a small garden bridge spanned a lilly-padded brook before it. Lastly, was the very small red door scarcely big enough to fit his foot through he'd surmise to say, and the crude, warped tan walls of the strange abode.

"Damn, this place is hideous." He thought as he followed his nose. The appetizing aroma of meat lead him past the house to where sat at least three animal pens. One held chicken, the second held dozens of miscellaneous creatures, and the third held his prize: Pigs! "Why are they all cowering? surely there must be one brave soul amongst them?" He thought before he felt something brush quickly past his leg.

"By my axe!" He shouted as he pulled out both of his axes and jumped away from where he had felt a creature touch him. However, upon closer investigation, he saw that what startled him was merely a small, white hare. "Little rat!" He called it as he put his weapons away. It hopped up to him and bit his leg, not that he felt much of anything at all. He grabbed the creature by its ears and brought it to his face. "Do you have a death wish, rodent?" The creature just swung its little fists at him, as if it could possibly harm him in any way. He briefly had to admit it; this was a brave soul (either that, or very stupid.) He ultimately decided against obliterating the pest due to its undeniable spirit; that is, if what he was about to do didn't kill it. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye then." He stated nonchalantly with a grunt as he threw the bunny as far as he could. He could swear he saw it land somewhere near that rural town off in the distance.

"Wait...." He turned back to the direction to see that there was indeed a town not far from here. "Zecora never said anything about a village in between me and Ponyville." The more Garrosh thought in silence about the name however, the more he began to realize something. "She wasn't talking about the mountain city... She misunderstood my question!" He was furious at himself for not wording the question more specifically. However, as angry as he was, he just couldn't let it fester, for the one thing standing between him and his delicious swine was now gone.

"Bah! It matters little. Now, to eat!" His mind cheered as he hopped over the shoddy, wooden fence that was housing the pigs. They all huddled together, hoping that numbers would somehow save them, but they scattered like roaches as soon as he charged them. He leaped at the biggest one and landed right on top of the boar. The pig squealed desperately just before he grabbed its head, pulled upwards, and jerked it forcefully to the side at an angle, effectively ending its life with a sickeningly hollow Snap.

With his food now ready to be cooked, he stomped triumphantly out of the pen. He broke a few links from the fence and ripped them from their holds on his way out; this act did let all the miscellaneous creatures from before out, but he didn't really care at that point. Garrosh then procured some of the hay making up the roof of the whimsical hovel. He set the fence links in a pile, place the hay wad in the pile, pulled out his axes, and grated them to together. He ended up having to do this several times before he got enough sparks to ignite a small bonfire. Once lit, he impaled the porcine carcass with a jagged fence piece and held it over the flames like a marshmallow, waiting patiently for what would be the best meal of this month.

Fluttershy and her friends were on a long, quiet, and depressing walk back to Pinkie's place from their.... discovery. Twilight had not uttered a word when she was examining the massive corpse, for even for her, the finding was stomach-churning. Even so, she was the first to speak up as soon as they exited the cave.

"Well, from what I've seen, the dragon was not killed by the blow to its neck, it was killed by the blow to the top of its head." She deduced glumly. The more they spoke of it, the more ardently Fluttershy wished to change the subject. However, seeing as how she could think of no way to change the topic at hoof, she stayed quiet, trying desperately to keep her mind on something else.

"Ah mighta' guessed it, but what could be that strong, Twi?" Applejack asked as she continued to kick a rock along the path.

"I have no idea what could have done it, but I do know what it used to do it. The cuts got wider and deeper as the wounds went on, and they also were not jagged or torn, so it had to have come from some kind of sharp weapon, most likely an axe or a very large sword or spear. Though, what could possibly be strong enough to get any of those things past a dragon's scales, I don't think I'll ever know." Twilight added.

"Well, how 'bout them weird prints? They were pretty faint, but ah saw a couple of 'em that looked like they were stomped 'round the body." Applejack recounted her earlier observation.

"I know; I saw them too and was careful not step in any of them. I tried examining them too, but in the end, there was just too much dust settled onto the prints themselves to make out any details; there was definitely a big battle that stirred up a lot of dust from the cave's floor. Even if I were to recognize them though, they faded without a trace off as soon as they exited the cave." Twilight explained, visibly frustrated by her wasted efforts.

"Speaking of dust, it was the only thing I saw throughout the entirety of the cavern. Where in Equestria was the dragon's treasure trove?" Rarity asked with preeminent disappointment.

"A dragon who didn't like treasure; he's a funny dragon.....was a funny dragon...." Pinkie corrected herself, looking uncharacteristically downtrodden. Pinkie's miserably failed attempt to lighten the sore situation was felt with distress by all but one fuming pegasus.

"Yeah! What the hay?! First dragon to go down since forever, and he just so happens to have no treasure!" Rainbow ranted on. "I mean, come on! It's not like it would make any difference to him at this point." She let that last remark slip absent-mindedly, knowing her mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"Rainbow!" Twilight snapped at her in a scolding manner, causing everypony in their company to stop momentarily. Rainbow, within a few seconds (and after a brief glance at Fluttershy), started to look sheepish and guilt-ridden already.

"...Right, sorry..." She managed to mumble out to the rest of the group as she rubbed the back of her neck with a hoof, bearing an apologetic expression. "I don't know why I said that." She truly didn't, for Rainbow new that if there was one thing that could make Fluttershy more depressed than she already was, it was one of her closest friends saying something like that. Rainbow reluctantly landed next to her saddened friend and gave a gentle nudge. "I'm sorry, Flutters; I know how much things like that mean to you. I shouldn't have said that at all." Fluttershy was quick to respond in kind.

"I know you didn't mean to hurt my feelings, and I forgive you." She sighed as she leaned just slightly into Dash's form. In truth, how could she not forgive her? She was one of her dearest friends, no simple slip of the tongue could change that.

The group of investigating mares eventually fell silent as they continued trotting along the make-shift path home; the mood was just as morbid as ever, until Fluttershy finally remembered something she had to do.

"Oh! Um, I'm sorry, girls, but I can't go back to Sugarcube Corner with you. I have to go home and finish checking Applejack's pigs for that flu strain." She said, becoming slightly more chipper thinking about her work. The aforementioned pony perked up when she heard this.

"By the way, how are they doin', sugercube?" The farmer asked cautiously. Fluttershy couldn't wait to tell her friend that none of her swine had the flu; it gave her a whole sense of accomplishment.

"Oh! they're doing just fine, and none of them are sick so far." She said as she beamed with a little temperate pride. Applejack did look impressed.

"Thanks, Fluttershy, ah know when ah asked you to check em' up that it wudn't a good time, but ah jus' didn't know what else to do. When ah heard a'that flu and that it was passin' through these parts, ah don't think ah'd trust anypony else with my livestock." The green-hoofed pony complimented.

"I'm just glad to help." Fluttershy said with mild joy. It was the first thing she'd had to be happy about for the past day and a half.

"Would you like us to accompany you home, Fluttershy dear?" Rarity asked suddenly with a concerned, almost maternal tone. The last thing Fluttershy wanted to be was a bother, but she did so love the idea of having her friends over for a while.... maybe even for the next week.

"Oh! Only if you really want to, I would very much appreciate it." Fluttershy whispered with her usual quiet, timid voice.

"We could have a really big sleep-over if you want." Pinkie Pie suggested, Her bubbly, care-free mannerisms starting to return to her.

"I couldn't ask you girls to do that; I m-mean, I-I wouldn't want to be a bother." Fluttershy replied, the quiver in her voice growing more noticeable.

"It would be no trouble at all, deary." Rarity assured as she cantered nearer to her butter-yellow friend. Fluttershy was very grateful indeed to have such caring friends.

But this ordeal was not yet over, for the mood quickly changed when dozens of little critters ran in sheer panic right up to Fluttershy, each one making there own extremely frightened sound. "Oh my, um, please calm down; I can't understand you if you all talk at once." She told them, trying to get a hold of the fearful little creatures.

"What are they saying, Fluttershy?" Twilight asked as she tried to help calm them, even though animals had never really taken a liking to her.

"Come on! Break it up!" Rainbow Dash yelled to the mob of small animals as she took flight again. It was not working very well, as they were only listening to Fluttershy.

"What? A monster at the house? Hurting the pigs?!" She asked as she herself started to panic; those pigs were not her animals!

"What!?" The stetsoned earth pony blurted out loudly. This was far from good; if anything happened to those pigs whatsoever, Fluttershy would never forgive herself.

"Was Mr. Manticore hungry again? No, I told him to tell me if he was." She continued to panic as she started to run towards her house. "Come on, girls!" She yelled back to the rest of her friends. They all started to run (and fly) full speed back to Fluttershy's cottage, each of them garnering their own ideas of what could possibly be causing this commotion.

Twilight especially was in deep thought, for she had a single, resounding, bone-chilling suspicion based on what she saw back in that cave. Twilight had told everypony that she didn't know what slayed the massive dragon and that she couldn't make out the details of the incriminating prints they'd all found, but she was afraid to mention the only thing she knew: Due to the odd forward placement of the print and the awkward, primate-like shape of them in general, she was able to hypothesize that what ever this thing was, it was bipedal. This was something she decided to neglect telling them for two reasons. One: It would spread great fear amongst not only her friends, but possibly the entire Ponyville community, something neither her nor Celestia would wish to befall them, and two: What if she were mistaken? What if she were to tell them all and risk scaring them out of their wits for nothing? How would everypony view her then? All of these questions and thought processes led her to keeping her mouth sealed as she ran with her companions to the cottage where she could have a chance of clearing this all up.

"One thing's for sure: If it's the same monster that killed that dragon, then the last thing we want to do is get into a fight with it." Twilight concluded as she used the same method of running as she did during the Running of the Leaves. Meanwhile, there were many other thoughts flowing through the others' heads.

"Could be a timber wolf, consarnit! Those darn things are always lookin' fer some trouble!" Applejack thought as she kept close pace with Fluttershy, Which was harder than it sounded considering she was running like the wind.

"Whatever it is, it's gonna pay for messing with Shy and her animals; she's had enough to deal with this week!" Growled Rainbow as she flew alongside the group, more and more anger starting to build within her heart.

"What would want to hurt a pig? The smelly things don't really do anything." Rarity mused aloud distastefully whilst struggling the most to keep up with the pace set by the worried pegasus.

"The hay they don't! Those pigs won ribbons at the fair!" Retorted Applejack defensively, sounding just as worried as Fluttershy looked.

"Why would somepony be hurting a little piggy?! They're so cute!" Pinkie pie added in. She had no trouble at all keeping up with the crowd; she always knew eating all those sweets had a bigger purpose than being irresistibly tempting.

The six mares ran all the way back to the small abode, only to see that both the house and the property were eerily empty: There were no birds, and no bunnies; not a single creature could be seen for literal miles. The dwelling would have been likewise silent were it not for one tell-tale factor: The spine-curdling snapping and crunching sounds coming from behind the cottage.

Being the staunch fighter she was, Rainbow Dash was the first to start warily hovering around towards the back of the house, followed closely by a heavily concerned Applejack and Fluttershy. The other three mares saw their friends come to a dead stop as soon as they looked around the house into the back yard, eyes wide, jaws dropped. A deplorably curious Twilight went around next, only to fall under what looked to be the same mortified trance. Pinkie, wondering what could spook them like that, hopped out from behind the house wall, stopped dead in her tracks as the others had, and stood petrified as her mane made a deflating sound before going completely flat. Rarity was still catching her breath while witnessing her friends' reactions to some unknown horror.

"Oh for pity's sake! what is wrong with every--" Rarity was trotting around the house to join her friends, whispering sharply to them, but she stopped talking as soon as she saw It. It was a colossal, hulking mass of brown muscle hunched over what looked like.... something that was, unfortunately, no longer. It crouched on two scar-riddled legs, and its barrel-like arms looked no better. Another terrible fact was that it appeared to be ravenously and thoroughly devouring what now could be seen as one Applejack's prized pigs. The worst thing about it however, was how tall the beast was, if it stood up right then, at least three ponies would have to stack upon each other to look it in the eye. Rarity, looking upon the traumatizing sight, did the only thing that came natural to her at the time. She screamed.

Garrosh had just gotten done cooking his pig. He couldn't care less that it wasn't seasoned; he was just glad to finally have himself an up-scale (not scorpid), carnivorous meal. He took the pig off the fire and began to dig in. As he tore into the delectable delight, he let out a satisfied growl that rolled with the fields. "I never thought boar could taste so delicious!" He thought as he took a gigantic, gaping bite from the pig's haunch. He ate the delicacy very quickly, physically unable to savor such fine food. It was not like Durotar boar in any way, for it tasted much more fed. Also it was bigger, its meat was less stringy and more juicy and sweet, and the form had more gristle to it. All in all, it was a lunch to be remembered. But all was not well for him; he was only half-way through his only course when he heard an ear-piercing shriek coming from behind him.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"Arrgh! Why must all these stupid horses react to me in the exact same manner?! Is there not one soul beyond cowardice?!" Garrosh questioned his mind irritably. It was then he decided to give them another taste of their own medicine.

"RRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" He yelled as he turned to face the one who had interrupted his feast. He wished it weren't true, but it was. Standing before the flustered Warchief, was not just one, but six of those insufferable horses. He immediately took note of their rather gaudy colors, and started deducing weaknesses that some of them showed.

"Alright, the winged prism one does not look happy and appears to have slight bulk and pre-battle posture, she is a threat. The one with the humanish hat has much muscle for their size and is extremely angry also, she's a threat as well. The one of purple and the one of white have small spears mounted atop their heads, although the purple one does have wings as well; charging may be a problem. The other two won't be a problem though." He deduced that the pink one was no threat to him due to the fact that her face had turned a stark, sickly green, and the yellow one sat upon her haunches, weeping with her hooves folded over her eyes, meaning they probably wouldn't attempt to attack him.

"Why are they all female?" was a questioned deep in the back of his mind when he finished sizing them up. They weren't moving to attack, and he was not about to stand there all day letting his boar get cold. "If you don't have anything to say, then I shall be returning to my meal." He said with as indifferent a voice as he could manage. It seemed to work as an intimidation factor. All six of them stood their ground, except the white spear-headed one: She fainted. "Hahahaha! Pathetic." He turned to go back to his banquet (which was by now becoming luke-warm) when the prism-haired one spoke up, quite loudly too.

"Who are you calling 'pathetic', ugly?!" She taunted as she flew up closer to him. He turned around to face her, drawing his axes.

"Rainbow! Get back!" The purple horse yelled to the prism one. Garrosh was not sure if she even heard her compatriot.

"Hmmm.... I don't think I'll be needing my axes for this one." He said with a happy, but derisive tone; this one was far too easy to rattle.

"We'll see about that!" She yelled as she rushed him. Garrosh didn't even bother blocking the initial strike, for he just allowed her to pile-drive into him shoulder first and then proceed to punch his upper torso over and over again. Her so called "friends" just sat back and watched the appalling scene with mouths agape as he took every hit she gave him without so much as flinching, even the ones aimed at his face.

"This is depressing, but in a funny way, amusing." He thought as she continued her ineffective attack. It took her a full twenty seconds to realize that he had not struck back nor displayed any symptoms of pain. When she ceased her useless assault, and sheepishly looked up at him, he grinned wickedly.

"You've a warrior's attitude, little one." He said while he leaned his face close to hers, peering malevolently into her frightened pinkish eyes with his own. "If only you had the strength of one as well." He whispered as he lunged at her and grabbed her throat. He didn't even use half of his strength to snatch her out of the air and she already sounded like she was choking to death. "Weak!" He derided the rag doll in his hands.

"Put her down!" Screamed the purple one. "You have five seconds to put her down or else!" She said. Trying to sound as intimidating as possible, it was a failed attempt.

"Or else what, weakling?" Garrosh asked, still choking the foolhardy horse with wings. The purple one seemed furious as the horn on her head sparked to life. He'd recognize that sound anywhere; she was a mage, and her horn her wand.

"Five!" He needed to conjure up a plan post-haste: He couldn't leap at her, and he couldn't throw the warrior at her, but he could possibly use the warrior in another way. His grip loosened slightly on the warrior's neck as he began to focus solely on the mage's energy.

"Four!" He had his plan, and he knew if it worked that the results would be perfect.

"Three!" She got louder with each number, as if to accentuate the fact that his time was running out. Her horn glowed more with each passing millisecond.

"Two!" He knew when to time it, and was now ready for her attack.

"One!" This would be the greatest mistake she ever made.

Immediately after she screeched the word "one", she fired off an enormous bolt of magic. Garrosh leaped a mere foot to the side, but kept the arm that held the prism warrior in the way of her ally's blast. It took the prism horse clean out of his hand and sent her flying limply into a nearby bolder.... head first. "There, now look at what you've done." Garrosh spoke with a scolding tone, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The lavender magus looked nothing short of horrified.

"Rainbow!" She screamed as she galloped to her fallen friend, skirting him generously as she went. Garrosh hadn't smashed her right then and there, for he was far too amused looking off to his left, watching the teary-eyed yellow one try in vain to wake and lift her unconscious white comrade. A smug smirk found its way to Garrosh's face as he shook his head and turned to follow the magus with intent of finishing her off as well. When he felt something wrap around his arm, he paused, looking to his left arm where a rope was tightly lassoed to it. His eyes quickly trailed down said rope to find the other end held by the orange horse with the human hat, but what was odd was the fact that she had the other end of the rope in her mouth of all places.

"Yer not goin' anywhere, ya pig killer!" She yelled accusingly, a bit muffled by the mouth-full of rope. Garrosh whipped his left hand around and grabbed the rope, and put all of his strength into one big yank. To her teeth's credit, she managed to hold on, but she couldn't hope to match the strength of that sudden pull. The overwhelming tug sent her all but flying right at him, but his right fist was the first to meet her. She skipped off the ground a little ways away as if a rock on a pond, but he figured for sure she was probably just knocked out. He then turned and stalked menacingly toward the warrior and mage, vying to finish this fight for good. However, the warrior had woken up and seen the fact that he was approaching.

"Twi-- run!" She croaked as she shoved her friend out of the way of Garrosh's oncoming kick, feebly lifting her front hooves in an attempt to block the inevitable. She didn't succeed nearly as much as she would've liked, as the sheer force of his kick sent her back into the rock for a second time; only this time, she didn't get up; she didn't even so much as twitch.

"A shame that such courage was wasted here today." He jeered as he raised his foot to crush his foe. Right as he was about to end it all for the puny, little pegasus, a pink blur took the foot he had anchored to the ground right out from under him. "Gaaahh!" He yelled as he hit the grass back first with a ground-shaking thud. It was in that split second that he realized the pink one had been nowhere to be seen when last he looked; she must have been waiting for the right moment to strike. He swung his arm out in a rising attempt at revenge, catching the magic wielder while she was trying to recast her spell from before, instantly sending her hooves-over-head, but the pink blur once again was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't care less about that clumsy magus; he was after that annoying pink pest!

"Show yourself!" He roared with rage as he felt a set of hooves kick him hard in the back of his leg. He returned the kick to what ever was behind him, only to find he had kicked the same orange horse that he had punched earlier. "Do these things ever stay down!?" He questioned in his head as he continued looking around for that infernal, pink wretch. When he finally saw her, she was a small ways away from him, sticking her tongue out, blowing raspberries and waving her rear end at him. "You will die today, whelp!" He declared, right before he felt a meager arcane bolt singe his back. It had to be one of the weakest bolts of magic he'd ever felt; a fledgling mage could have done better. Garrosh turned to face the sorceress, who was standing there with a look of pure shock.

"H-h-how are you still standing!?" She asked, her voice laced with confusion and terror.

"...Must have wasted all your mana reserves on your 'friend.'" He partook in mock conversation with the stunned horse as he sauntered over until he was standing right in front of her; once there, he spoke again.

"Remember, harridan, that it was your kind who chose this fight." He chided as he raised his fist to crush her horn through her skull and into her brain. The magus stood petrified, staring up into two, horribly cruel, yellow eyes that she was certain would be the last she'd ever see, able to do little more than continue stammering. He was a millisecond away from delivering the macabre fatality when the same whisper he had heard when he was standing over the bull Chief stopped him.

"You were once a hero, young Hellscream, but now you have a chance to be better than your father before you. Will you take it?" He was now certain the Greatmother had just spoken to him. He was in the process of making his choice when the prism warrior from before (whom Garrosh thought dead) slammed her shoulder into her friend in yet another attempt to rescue the foolish witch. The winged horse looked as though she could barely stand, let alone fight him. After seeing such riveting courage and loyalty even to go up against something she knew she could not defeat, he made his choice. He slowly lowered his fist, went to one knee, and spoke firmly unto the fearless creature.

"Know this, warrior, your bravery is the only thing that saved you or your allies this day." An astounded look crept slowly onto the bruised face of the warrior as they stared into one another; little did they both know was that some of her allies had not heard what he just said. A mere few seconds after the words had left his mouth, his back felt a very heavy blunt force, accompanied by a loud "boom."

He howled out in pain as he lurched and staggered forward, nearly crushing the spent prism warrior accidentally. He spun around to see a cannon sitting on the small hill just a little ways off, smoke still rising from its barrel. He then saw that pink abomination rolling around halfway between him and the cannon.... as if her body could become a sphere at will! "Did she just fire herself at me?!" He thought incredulously. Garrosh at that point had had enough of this magenta devil, so he stood to full height, readied himself, and barreled towards her at full speed. She promptly saw this and sped off in response, but there was no way he would stop chasing this one. He kicked one of his axes off the ground and into his hand; this ended here! He would kill this one if it was the last thing he ever did; he didn't care what he had said to the prism one. "Blood and Thunder!" He bellowed as he ran after the puffy, pink demon.

Fleetfoot had never really much cared for any earth pony architecture, always preferring the majestic, angelic, and mighty Cloudsdale to anything else. It didn't help at all that she was not only nervous to no end, but the market place was louder and busier than a Wonderbolts show! What she truly didn't understand was how Spitfire, despite the environment and situation, seemed completely relaxed; she just sat there, sipping on her ice tea every now and then while reading yet another magazine. Rapidfire, on the same hoof, was sitting at the same table as they, but he looked utterly uncomfortable. He had always despised rustic, country places with every fiber of his being. Wave Chill simply sat and watched the many ponies walk by like an ever-vigilant statue. He had never told his preferred place of living to anypony, not even her. Soarin was kicking back on one of the chairs that had a slightly bendable back, and he looked bored beyond all Tartarus. However, the worst problem they all had in common was that it was hotter here than the San Palomino Desert, but Spitfire had chosen an outdoor place to sit and wait. No member was in their flight suit, seeing as how the suits would do nothing but stick to them if they were wearing them. That and crowds would too, and they needed to keep a low profile at all costs.

Each member had a beverage in-hoof; if they didn't, they probably would have died five minutes after they arrived. Fleetfoot had just gone with a regular ice water, mostly due to the fact that she was very self-conscious of her weight, despite the fact that she was always the smallest and lightest Wonderbolt on the roster. Soarin was not at all concerned about his weight; he had by now ordered three drinks, all three of them being at least ninety percent sugar. He was also the only one to order any food, namely a double order of apple pancakes thickly laden in maple syrup with two sides in the forms of a large toasted chrysanthemum tomato sandwich (olives on top) paired with a platter of hay fries completed with a dipping vat of ketchup. Rapidfire had simply purchased a vanilla milkshake in a futile effort to stave off the heat. Wave Chill had surprisingly ordered a pink lemonade, which was very uncommon for the water-obsessed pegasus. When the silence among the group was finally broken, Fleetfoot would have preferred anypony talk but who did.

"Sweet Celestia!" Soarin burst out. "When is that.... thing gonna show up?! I'll be dead before it does if we have to wait here much longer!" He yelled as he flailed his hooves around and sank back into his seat. Soarin's whining was the last thing Fleetfoot needed, and it clearly showed.

"We're all miserable here, Soarin! So why don't you just try doing something new and shut up?!" She snapped. Her sudden outburst did not go unnoticed by Rapidfire.

"What's gotten into you Fleet? Sure we all know you and Soarin have never been the best of friends, but you're being a lot more aggressive than usual." It was true, she and Soarin had never really been the best of friends, mostly due to how different the two were, but even she had to admit that she had been much easier to aggravate than usual as of late.

"I'm fine. Just edgy is all." She replied as quietly as possible. Though the comment did not go unheard by her team mates, at least Soarin looked a little less bored now.

"We're all edgy here, Fleet, we've been tasked with arresting something that took a buffalo down in one hit. Who wouldn't be edgy?" Rapidfire stated lightly. The reason made sense, she really did not want to fight this thing, but if the crown wanted it alive, then by Celestia The Wonderbolts would get it done. What happened next though did not give her any courage in the least.

"Do you hear that?" Wave Chill asked as his head and eyes darted about frantically. She didn't hear anything though.

"What is it, Wave?" Spitfire asked, finally breaking from her relaxed state. Fleetfoot then stated to hear something, it was a thumping sound, very fast paced and it sounded like it was getting steadily closer.

"Look!" Soarin yelled as he pointed to Spitfire's tea cup. At first the rest of them didn't get what they were looking at, then they saw the tremor in the drink itself. Then they all heard random screaming from the town square, something that was never a good sign. The stomping was getting closer very quickly, they all held their breaths as it continued to approach. It was not long before they saw a pink earth pony run around the street corner like a bat out of Tartarus. The earth mare was followed by at least a dozen other random ponies running fearfully from an unknown foe. It was not long before what was chasing them made its first appearance as it burst into the main street with a blood-curdling roar.

"Oh pony feathers...." They all heard Soarin whisper in awe. What Fleetfoot saw, looked like nothing less than the host of a Nightmare: It was monstrous in size; its arms were the size of her! It walked on two legs, and its skin was brown, leathery, and hairless. Its teeth looked like they were meant for tearing other creatures limb from limb, but what told her that this was their target, was the lumber axe it held in its.... hoof with smaller appendages protruding from of it. However, the most intimidating thing about the beast was its horrible, yellow, soul-piercing eyes that looked around lividly for whatever it was searching for.

"Well, It's been nice knowing you guys." Wave Chill deadpanned before taking flight to land only a few feet from the demonic titan. This was going to be one hectic afternoon.

Author's Note

At long last! Garrosh Hellscream meets the mane six!
More like Garrosh vs the mane six, but what can you do? Seriously....

Also, as you can see, I will be factoring in the ponies' natural "spoof" levels. Otherwise, it just wouldn't be fair.

Chapter 5: The Battle of the Bolts

Garrosh plowed his way through an ally way of the annoyingly bright village, only to find that the pink demon he was hunting had somehow disappeared. He growled in utter frustration as he stomped at the ground, and watched as dozens of horses ran from him, not even bothering to look back and clarify that he was a threat, (which he was not, for he didn't intend to kill any civilians; what honor was there in that?). As he watched the mass hysteria ensue, he took note of the fact that all of these horses were a great deal more colorful than in the last village, and there were also many more females than there were males here.

After only barely a moment of standing there, a male horse with wings flew up and stopped dead in front of him. The horse was a very deep blue and had a much darker, almost black-blue color for his raised hair; his face also bore a surprisingly apathetic expression. A small part of Garrosh hoped that this one was more friendly than the last one that had wings. What he said at that moment though, crushed those small hopes instantly.

"In the name of Princess Celestia, you are under arrest, monster." Garrosh had to have heard that wrong.

"Is he serious?" He thought. The horse looked dead serious in fact, and he was not alone either; four more winged equines flew up to him, each one looking more than ready for a fight. There was a female who's fur and styling made her look as though she were set aflame, it was rather impressive to behold. The third one looked a bit bulkier than the rest, and he was light blue with unkempt, sea-blue hair. This one also appeared to have a care-free, happy-go-lucky attitude that was quite plain to see through his bright, jubilant green eyes. The fourth one was a more plain-looking one, with white fur and curly, gray hair beset by off-white highlights. The last one was a small, agile-looking female; she was a sky-blue with wind-swept, cloud-white hair. She bore a look of inconfidence in her deep fuchsia eyes, not that he would wish to spar with himself either.

The whole situation felt ridiculously odd. The orc was not intimidated by any of them at all, for they looked far too plushy to be fear-inducing. Little did Garrosh know, was that this party was just getting started. Five more winged equines landed on a rooftop next to him, and said the exact same damned thing!

"In the name of Princess Luna, you're under arrest." Only this horse didn't stop there. "What? Surprised to see me again, Spit?" She asked the flaming one through a smug grin. Garrosh briefly thought about trying to escape whilst the ponies had, what was apparently their little family reunion, but he was a bit too interested in where this was all going.

"First off, it's Spitfire! Second, not in the least, you miscreant! I'm here because you failed; now, if you don't mind, I have a thief to arrest." Seethed the pony named "Spitfire" in a tone laced with contempt. The name sounded more like a last name to the orc, and a good one at that.

"Miscreant?" The other female sounded underwhelmed. "Come on Spit, you can do better than that!" The "miscreant" said. He started evaluating the other five creatures, starting with this so-called "miscreant." They all looked far darker than the first group; their commander was a shade of pale cobalt, while her hair was a dark, royal blue, all finished with luminescent golden eyes. The horse to her left was a very large male with the first scar he'd seen here running up the entire left side of his muzzle. His coat was a ghostly pale white, and his gel-spiked hair was the color of a frozen lake. To her right, was a small mare that was midnight-blue from head to hoof, but what made her stand out from all the others was the electricity surging through her hair, and the crazed, psychopathic look in her enigmatic, amethyst eyes. Upon the far right was another male who's coat was a dull charcoal. His facial features were largely obscured by the presence of a pointed goat's beard and a pair of oddly-shaped goggles, and his slick-shined mohawk was a bland teal. The final member was by far the cleanest-looking. The mare was a crystal-clear violet, her hair being made up of two different shades of purple, her eyes a sightless and hypnotic blue.

"Ten vs one, I like these odds!" He thought haughtily to himself. He continued watching them, but stopped on the electrified one. "Wait.... That's the one from the desert!" He recognized her. How could he not? It's not every day you see lightning emanating from one's follicles. Even so, Garrosh kept quiet as the horses continued to bicker.

"You're right, I'd say 'miscreant' barely even begins to describe you, you traitor!" The fiery one yelled.

"Traitor? Miscreant? These names may not be true, but it's all I've got to go on, I'll kill that one as soon as I can!" He plotted as the horses kept on arguing.

"Spit, sweetie, we both know you missed having me around for the first year I left. In fact, ever since Luna hired us I imagine you've been wanting to come... talk to me." The golden-eyed one said with an.... almost sensual tone? Garrosh already didn't like this one at all, and he decided that he had waited long enough. He dug his left foot into the ground and loosened his right leg. He also hooked the one axe he still had to his belt as he popped his knuckles and clinched his right fist as hard as he could.

"You're absolutely right, I have been wanting to ask you a few things, but right now I have work to do, so if you'll excuse me--" She never got to finish that statement. Garrosh threw his fist into the white and gray one's snout, sending him flying into a second story window.

"I, Garrosh, son of Grom, will show you all what it means to be called Hellscream!" He proclaimed as he hopped back and waited for their first move. After recovering from their initial shock, the team that was now missing a member charged him. All of their dive-bombs hit him, but he didn't even have to take a step back. The other group tried the same thing, and after punching the electrified one, he let the others hit him, only to have the same effect on him as the last group. The two teams landed in one big group a few meters away from him. Some were agape in amazement, others showed clenched teeth in frustration, but all stood wondering how their attacks had done less than nothing. Now it was his turn.

"Hahaha! A worthy effort, if futile." He channeled the words of The Flayer in a deep growl as he ambled wickedly towards his foes. He picked up speed as he went, and soon he was running at the team of ragged rebels. They scattered like mice as soon as he got too close, but he lashed out and grabbed the tail of the large, ghostly white male. He used all his strength to hurl the horse over his shoulders and into a market cart full of carrots, splintering the wagon into a dozen pieces and sending the vegetables all over the street. The horse spat out one of the orange vegetables while rolling back onto his hooves.

"Okay.... yeah, alright...." The horse muttered in an accent that he could have sworn was from the slums of Gilneas. Dusting himself off, the horse then faced the Warchief with an undoubtable intent of charging head-on alone. Garrosh felt something ram into his back, but he brushed off the pathetic strike. He chose instead to stampede full force at the Gilnean stallion, as did the stallion do the same. When the two collided with a reverberating impact, the horse was sent flying yet again.

"Perhaps the males stay down." He thought hopefully as he bounded over an incoming attack from the fiery one, rolling back to his feet in an instant. Garrosh then locked onto the black one with the teal hair. He charged the goggled horse, but this one was very quick. He chased him for quite some time while getting hits on and from other members of the teams. The dark blue male from the first team attempted to kick him in the face, but the orc grabbed one of his back legs and slammed him to the ground. However, Garrosh still had not given up the chase on the black one. The black one finally slipped up and made the mistake the orc had been waiting for, that being turning to fight after Garrosh had swatted the purple one from the air.

"Hey! You wanna hit a girl?! Let's see ya fight somepony your own size!" He ranted passionately as he dove for the orc. His accent sounded like that of a goblin's, but Garrosh didn't pay that too much mind. He greeted the enraged horse with his left fist, knocking the creature to the street.

"You're not nearly my size, rodent!" Garrosh gloated as he raised his foot for the second time that day to crush the overly-impetuous horse. Once again he was stopped, and not by himself either. A violet-colored bullet hit him right in his upper chest area. The blow from the bullet took him, and itself through a nearby house's wall. Screaming could be heard from inside as soon as he had gone through the wall. he looked down at his chest to find that the purple bullet was indeed the violet horse, and that she had knocked herself unconscious by hitting him that hard. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her off to the side as he got up and exited the home's new, makeshift door. Garrosh didn't catch a break from the fight though, as the black one was getting back on his hooves, just as resolved as ever. Garrosh grabbed hold of a porcelain, open-topped, white box with a silver pipe running out of the top of it, ripped it from its foundation, and lobbed it at the dark horse.

"Gah!" The strange box hit its mark without error.

"You creatures are pathetic! You know you cannot win this battle!" He boasted victoriously. By this point, almost all of the town's inhabitants in that particular sector had either fled, or were hiding in odd places, such as under a vendor's cart as a large red male was doing. The light blue, bulky, jubilant one decided that it was his turn to try his luck as he charged Garrosh. The Warchief grabbed the handle of a cart laiden with bunches of red flowers and waited for just the right moment. Right as the horse was in range, shouting as he closed in swiftly, Garrosh lifted the cart above his head and brought it down with all his might atop his foe. He heard a scream come from behind him, but he blew it off as the vendor being distraught about her cart.

"Soarin!" He heard the flame-coated one yell as she flew at him at break neck speed.

"Soarin? Is that a name or an attack announcement?" He deftly ducked the attack and brought his fist down on the cart's remains, hoping to end the life of the previous attacker. It didn't work, for he saw that the horse he had just hit with the cart was flying away while eating some of the merchant's flowers. Enraged at his defeat, he spun around and put all of his fury into a punch that hit the fire-maned horse dead in the face. She flew lifelessly into a house that looked like it was made from every unhealthy candy you could ever think of; he could not say he was sorry for the damage dealt to the ugly house.

His musings were cut short when he heard the ever so familiar sound of lightning charging up. He rolled to the side as a bolt of the stuff shot right past him and into a wall of the biggest building of the village. Garrosh drew his axe from his belt and turned to the electrified freak of nature.

"Aaaarrrraaa! Why won't you fall down already?!" The unstable creature screeched with an almost child-like tantrum. He flexed his body as he readied himself for a fight with the abomination.

"A Warchief never dies! Now prepare to meet your maker, filth!" He yelled as he charged the creature. She shrieked in defiance as she flew straight for him, but Garrosh was no fool when it came to dealing with electrical foes. He waited until she was going too fast to dodge, and then he hurled his axe right at her face. She panicked, and flew off to the left, hoping her improvised maneuver would prove effective, but the blade flayed along her back right leg. She gave out a pained yelp as she hit ground, only to moan in agony once she was in the dirt as blood immediately bubbled up from the fresh slice.

"Blueball!" Garrosh heard the goblin-voiced one call out as he went to go reclaim his weapon, which was now lodged firmly in the side of a large apple cart. He was almost there when both of his legs were taken out from under him simultaneously. Looking up from where he crashed down on his back, the Warchief saw that the "miscreant" and the Gilnean one had both attacked him to accomplish that. Roaring in rage while quickly regaining his footing, he stormed towards the two horses as they circled around for a second strike. He suddenly leaped into the air to gain a better hit on them, the female effortlessly dodging the wild swing, but taking the Gilnean horse out of sky again with a blow to the base of his left wing. Garrosh hit the ground running for the apple cart where a very large, red male was trying and failing to dislodge the axe from what was evidently his fruit cart.

Garrosh kick-lifted the male between his back legs, sending him careening over the vendor's cart and into the shrubbery of the building resting near it. He pried his weapon from the cart and was turning to go finish off the wounded one, who was now screaming in pure pain as lightning flowed through her whole being (She seemed to be cauterizing the deep cut with her own powers!), when the small, sky-blue horse flew straight into his face. The blow was painful, and it might have knocked a tooth or two loose, but he redoubled his counter-attack and head-butted her forehead. She spiraled a few feet away and connected with land on her back before shakily getting to her hooves, only to start walking around in circles teetering back and forth until finally falling back onto her rear, clutching her rattled head; she looked like she would be seeing stars for a while. It was at that moment that Garrosh heard an ear-piecing scream originating from the town's center building. Quickly pivoting his head to look in that direction, he discovered that the whole thing was now a blazing inferno.

"Was I even the cause of that?" He questioned himself aloud, his mind briefly wandering until it settled upon the memory of that lightning bolt that zipped past him and into the wall of that same building. As he watched the building full of mindlessly fearful equines hurriedly vacate, he saw that the three males from the first team of flying horses were trying to keep another winged gray horse with askew blonde hair out of the building. She was kicking and screaming with reckless abandon as they attempted with great effort to restrain her. He didn't catch most of what she was saying over all the commotion, but from what he did hear, he knew exactly why she was fighting so hard.

"My daughter's in there! Lemme go!" She wailed as if she were in unbearable pain. Garrosh knew it was not his problem, but as he turned to reengage the concussed mare, what to him was by now considered the inevitable stopped him for a third time: He heard the voice of the dead whisper to him once again.

"Will you be a hero again, my youngling?" He knew what he had to do, and in truth he new it all along. Garrosh didn't know what told him, but he could feel an enemy's presence looming behind him. Garrosh was never one not to act on suspicion; he instinctively whirled around one-hundred and eighty degrees, swinging his fist in a large arc, and finally hitting the "miscreant" square in the throat. As she alighted on a near-by rooftop, choking through a nearly crushed windpipe, he walked briskly up to the team members trying desperately to hold the crazed female down. He looked at them for at least a few seconds, one by one all of them gaining awareness to his intimidating presence, before running up to the flaming building and bursting through its burning door, intent on answering the voice he had once again heard.

The heat hit him like a brick wall. All around him he saw, chairs, tapestries, beams and fallen banners all burning in a world of orange, black, and red. The billowing smoke rising from each flaming material effectively blotted out the afternoon sun once shown through the structure's many windows, making it nigh impossible to see or breath. The brown paint was melting from the walls as if it were heated chocolate, and the various balconies of the establishment were buckling under the weight of the rapidly collapsing ceiling; one to the left of him had already fallen upon his forceful entry. In short, the whole place looked like he had just stepped into hell.

"Where are you, youngling?!" He called out. He didn't know the name of his target, so calling out to it was not an option, nor was failure though. "Hello?!" He called again to nothing as he sifted through broken, burning tables. He searched the first floor for about half a minute before he knew he had failed.

He was just about to smash through the closest wall to make an exit when another balcony buckled, only this time, a portion of the balcony below it gave way to the first. He groaned as burning wood and curtains fell upon his naked head. After ripping the immolating fabric from his body, Garrosh looked up to where that all had come from, and to his surprise, found exactly what he was previously looking for. A small, pale lavender horse that could be no older than ten years of age was dangling frantically from the edge of the partially intact balcony, her small stubby legs kicking uselessly as she scrambled to try and lift herself back up to the balcony's platform. Garrosh reached up on his toes and snatched the child who let out a frightened squeak upon contact, then he tucked her in his arm like a Feast of Winter's Veil football. He bolted for the nearest wall and leaped through it, busting it out like gift wrap as he was greeted by fresh, clean, breathable air.

The peace didn't last too long however, as the second team started flying at the now passive-aggressive orc, no doubt dead set on resuming their earth-razing battle with him. He was just about to assume a defensive stance with the child in-hand when they were all suddenly halted by the voice of the Gilnean one.

"Stop! Hold the attack!" The horse sounded off. His leader was not at all pleased by his orders.

"Why?!.... Let's kill this thing once and for all!" She rasped out as best she could to her subordinate.

"No! He's got the foal with him!" He explained to her. She looked on, dumbfounded as Garrosh un-tucked the trembling child. The mother of the little one galloped full speed up to the orc, and gave him the most pleading look he had ever seen, as if she were begging mercy for her daughter. Garrosh then slowly handed the young horse back to her parent, who held her as close as she possibly could, the both of them now shedding tears. The two teams and the remaining civilians alike all stared at the massive orc, who was now seen as a hero by the mother of the child. Garrosh stared back at them as well. Scanning the multitude of colorful ponies, he not only saw a large herd's worth of new ones, but he also could see those six infernal worms with whom he'd grappled earlier. though they looked battered, bruised, and above all else angry, they didn't dare make a move with the child still so close to him. He knew that if they had adhared to the Gilnean's command, that everyone would (At least for the time being). The gathered crowd's gaze then shifted behind him as the town's center building fell in on itself to become a flaming heap of charred rubble.

"Thank you, thank you so much...." The gray horse whispered to him, tears of joy and relief streaming down her face. He knew not how to respond to her thanks, so he briefly nodded his head. The teams that were sent to apprehend him were now at a crossroads: They could either try to arrest him again, or try talking him out of breaking anything else. However, the contemplatively silent mood was utterly destroyed when an eerie, soft, and childish voice hissed from behind Garrosh.

"Blueball... never.... loses!" The words had just enough time to reach his ears before he felt electricity surging through the entirety of his form. He also felt that the crazed horse from before was now latched tightly onto his back. The pain he felt was excruciating, volt after volt after volt was launched through his body as the rescued child from before started screaming in fear. He himself roared in unbridled agony as the volts just kept on coursing. He could see the members of the other team yelling at the crazed one's commander, who was also yelling to the best of her ability towards the crazed one, but the orc heard none of it. For what seemed an eternity he was electrocuted by ancestors know how many volts. Garrosh's strength and life were fading fast, but as he looked into the eyes of the child, something within him awoke. He found his true courage; he found his true honor, he found his true rage.

He slowly reached a spasming arm up above his shoulders and grabbed onto the horse's head, but now came the hard part. His mind flashed back to the day he learned of his father's real legacy; he thought back to the pure, vibrant eyes of that child, and he put his plan into action. Slamming his reserve energy into overdrive, Garrosh Hellscream put every ounce of strength he had left in his being into throwing the horse's head into the ground before him with a resounding Crack. The pain finally subsided and eventually ceased to be as the electricity in the creature's hair gave off one last buzzing noise, before fizzing out and falling silent.

"Blitz!" The Gilnean horse ran to where she lay motionless as Garrosh stumbled back a bit, bereft completely of any energy or tolerance to consciousness.

"Lokt'...." The spent orc mumbled out uncharacteristically feebly as his eyelids felt as though iron anvils on his face. Waning with each passing second, and with no more strength left to keep his body upright, he fell haphazardly onto his back. As he felt the grasp of what was either a long rest or an eternal slumber begin to take hold, Garrosh saw a dull, gray afternoon sky above him as the corners of his sight were steadily going black. he resigned to his fate, as his lights went out.

Author's Note

This chapter was very difficult to write, then again, so are most fight scenes.
It was a challenge that I hope I stepped up to successfully.

Last note to touch is that now everyone probably hates Blueball Blitz, but I have very big plans for her.
Sorry if you were hoping she was dead.

*snickers*

Chapter 6: A New Friend

Garrosh sniffed at the air as life returned to his body. He could detect some sort of chemical, for certain a type of sterilization agent; it wasn't pleasant in the least. From skin to bone he felt as though he were blazing with fire, and his muscles were aching with a pain that was stronger than any feeling he'd felt in a long time. "Was it all a mere dream? Am I back in Orgrimmar?" He thought hopefully as he opened his exceedingly sore eyes. A teal fabric roof was all that met him. He cast a painful sideways glance to see the humans' healer's mark embroidered upon one of the slanted interior walls, clearly explaining the chemical scent. He was in an infirmary tent.

"Why? Why could it not have just been a dream? Why could I not be back home?" He thought bitterly. As Garrosh's sight continued to wander slowly around the largely vacant, teal tent, his vision came to rest upon a sleeping, gray lump with wings and askew blonde hair. "That screaming mother from the town center...." He knew her. The questions that were hanging on the orc's mind were now these: "Why is the female asleep here of all places?" "Is that pup that I rescued alright? And finally, is that psychotic bitch of a 'pony' dead?!" He decided he would let the sleeping one lie, and he turned to go back to sleep himself. He knew if they hadn't killed him in his sleep by now, then he was safe here (At least temporarily). Garrosh thought of the little.... "pony" child's face as he drifted off to sleep, and he briefly wondered with a weary and bewildered mind's eye what else this world could possibly have in store for him before he was able to return to Azeroth.

Garrosh awoke some time later. He felt a trifle better than when he had first woken up, though his flesh was still burning. He had yet to open his eyes, yet he could tell that the sun was up outside the tent that housed him. However, after a minute of just lying there had passed, he remembered that he had a city to reach, and a blacksmith to see about armor and weaponry. He opened his eyes only to see the same green tent roof, but as he craned his head to the left where he had last seen the mother of the child he saved, he was greeted up close by two, very large, very unfocused yellow eyes. Garrosh barely had time to flinch before hearing words coming from below them.

"Hello..." The horse said in a quiet, timid tone. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up." She continued half-whispering. "I-I wanted to say thank you; thank you so much for rescuing Dinky. I'm Ditsy... by the way, Ditsy Doo." She introduced with that same timid, almost fearfully anticipant voice. Garrosh didn't know who "Dinky" was, but he assumed it was the child he had earlier pulled from the flames. By this time he had gathered that this woman had stayed with him all throughout the night before just to thank him for that deed. "Oh! I almost forgot to tell you:" The mother struck up again. "The doctors say that you're going to be okay, but they did wrap you up in bandages to help with the burnt skin. They also threw your shoes away 'cause they were um... icky."

"Will she ever stop talking?" Garrosh pondered seriously, knowing that this was quickly going to grow intolerable. He was happy to save the child yes, but this horse was starting to drive him insane.... "Wait, they threw away my shoes?!" His anger started to rise again already, and he had only been up a few moments. Garrosh determined not let his rage show on his face though, if nothing else than for her sake. Despite her strange eyes and never-closing mouth, he did count her solitary presence there as a blessing, for now he could finally have a local to inquire about her race. The more information he accumulated, the more he could keep concealed for a later time of need.

"Oh! I also brought you something." She hovered a few feet away from him over to the mat where she lay before and grabbed a brown paper bag with her mouth, and then she placed it next to him. "It's for saving Dinky." She beamed at him with an innocent, albeit slightly forced-looking grin. Her grin kept up as she waited for him to open it. Garrosh looked down at the bag, then back at her.

"It's a rune back home if I'm lucky." He thought as he sighed, reaching for the brown sack. He stopped one last time to look at the "Ditsy" again. She was still smiling, so he grabbed the bag and opened it. Inside the bag, were four brown, oddly-shaped spheroids. They smelled of fresh bread, but with a with a moderated hint of sweetness. They must have been some sort of pastry; He looked back to the gray pony to see that her smile had gotten smaller, but not by much. "What is this gift?" He spoke to her for the first time. Ditsy's eyes seemed to be popping out of her head, but he couldn't tell if that was because of the question, or his thunderous voice.

"I-it's a muffin, silly!" She said as she started giggling.

"Apparently, the former." His mind deadpanned. Though it was the first time she had not acted like she was afraid of him, that did not stop her answer from being unhelpful. He gave a meager glare at the pony for her useless reply. Ditsy stopped laughing when she realized he was, in fact, serious. Ditsy looked sincerely shocked, but still she spoke.

"You've never had a muffin before?!" She asked the question as if it were impossible.

"No, I have never had one of these... muffins before." He said as he picked one of them up. Garrosh sniffed at it intently. Content that it wasn't laced with any form of poison, he popped the strange object into his mouth whole. The "muffin" tasted mostly like sweet, spiced bread. It was enjoyable he had to admit, but not nearly as enjoyable as his pig was.... "My boar! Those rats made me leave it!" He realized lividly, but he kept the desired scowl from gracing his face once again for the sake of Ditsy.

"Sooooo, do you like 'em?" She asked with hope as her tail waved back and forth as a wolf ready to receive a new bone. Garrosh didn't mind telling her his honest opinion since it was good food.... for common bread, but first and foremost, he bore many questions that needed answering.

"It is acceptable, But my questions are more important than any Food could be right now. Ditsy Doo, How long have I slept?" He asked with his tone a bit more serious and stern. Ditsy looked up with her hoof upon her chin in thought before speaking again.

"After you got electrocuted, you were out for the rest of the day, and the whole night too, so it's morning now." She kept the confidence she had earned earlier as she continued. "May I ask you something now?" The face she then made was impossible to refuse; in fact, he'd surmise that a murloc infant could take notes from such an expression, so the orc sighed and nodded concedingly. "What's your name?" Ditsy asked with even more excitement building in her voice.

"Hellscream, Warchief Garrosh Hellscream." He stated with pride booming in his voice, and Before the pony could interrupt him, he asked his second question, the more important one. "Now it's my turn again: The child I saved, How fares she?" If you were to ask him why he cared so much right then, he wouldn't be able to give you a suitable answer, for he positively knew not why. Ditsy gave him a very real, and large smile before responding to him with yet another question.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" She quipped in a playful tone. Ditsy then turned around and trotted over to a sleeping bag. Within it, lying on her stomach, was a small, purple pony child with a horn atop her head showing the same askew blond hair as her mother before her. He could see the perfect resemblance almost instantly, though he had no idea why she had a horn.

"The mother must have bred with one of the horned ones." He mused.

"She wanted to stay with you, until you woke up." Ditsy spoke in a lowered voice as she cantered over to the youngling. Garrosh couldn't believe that the child had stayed in this tent all night; she must have been very grateful to him indeed. "Wake up, my little muffin." Ditsy cooed in the ear of her daughter. Dinky, rising from her sleeping bag, sat up and groggily rubbed her face with her hooves as she yawned. "He's awake, sweetie." Ditsy said to her half-asleep little girl. Dinky then looked him straight in the eyes, before she got to her hooves and walked very slowly over to the brown, monstrous orc, never breaking eye-contact once. Dinky then didn't move; she stood stalk-still. The orc and the foal just stared at each other for the longest time. Looking back on it, he would have called it absurd, but for some reason, he could not tear his gaze away from hers. "Well? Go on; say 'thank you.'" Her mother encouraged. After what felt like an eternity had passed, the small, horn-headed filly jumped onto his chest and wrapped her hooves around as much of his neck as she could, holding onto it tightly.

"Thank you." She whispered into his ear as he quickly felt water dripping where her eyes were. "Thank you." She whispered again through quiet sobs. Garrosh had not the slightest clue how to react to her thanks, so he just placed his hand on her back as gently as he possibly could, and for a moment in time, closed his own eyes. After that moment, he looked to the little one's mother to find her smiling with teary eyes while sniffling a bit, so he held the child there for as long as she wanted to be there. Garrosh Hellscream, the unfeeling warmonger, the brutal blood-thirsty warrior, the ruthless Warchief, found himself at a complete loss for words or actions within the innocent grasp of this little filly. After a minute that passed by like a lifetime before his eyes, he finally mustered enough courage to respond to the youngling.

"Y-you're welcome, little one. Dinky, was it?" Garrosh asked in the softest voice he could. He felt her head nod up and down to confirm that her name was indeed Dinky. The name was so fitting for the delicate, adorable flower he held in his hands. The battle-hardened orc was content to hold the small angel all day, but she pushed her front hooves against his chest as she hopped off of him. After giving him one of the kindest smiles he'd seen in a while, Dinky trotted over to her mother and nuzzled her. She then looked up to her mother and asked a sudden question.

"Um, momma, I know you said we probably can't have him over for dinner tonight, but can we tomorrow night, please?" Dinky asked very hopefully. Garrosh looked to her mother, who then answered back.

"Sweetie, I don't know if those other ponies will let him come over so soon." Ditsy reminded her while trying to not put her child's mood down completely. Her attempt was foiled as Dinky cast her head down at the floor in sorrow and dejection. Garrosh was not having this, not at all; even if he had to fight those winged bastards all over again, he would have dinner with this little girl.

"I believe I can make it... tonight, little one." He smirked with confidence. Ditsy looked a bit concerned with his statement, but she hid it from Dinky as the little flower of a pony bounced up and down ecstatically.

"Yay!" She chirped out. This all was well and good, but Garrosh knew he would require quite a few things from Ditsy in order to accomplish this. He knew the first thing he needed was to speak to Ditsy in private, So he made a small, nonchalant effort to shoo the youngling off for a bit.

"I will be there, but your mother and I must discuss how to go about planning this dinner. Why don't you go off and play while your mother and I speak?" Dinky gave a spastic nod and bolted out the tent's entrance before yelling back to them.

"bye, Mom! Bye, Mister!" Garrosh then turned his attention to Ditsy, who looked rather confused.

"I need you to answer all the questions I have about this place and everything in it, for the more information I hold, the easier it will be to speak with whomever will come into this tent once they realize I'm awake. Can you do this for me? For your daughter?" He asked with a heavy tone. Garrosh would need to finally know where he was, what this place was, and most importantly, its history; and were this one pony to cooperate honestly, he could find out all of these things simultaneously. Ditsy put a hoof around the back of her neck and rubbed it as she looked at the entrance of the tent. Garrosh was no fool; he knew that she had a fear of being caught helping him, so he played his "ace in the hole". "You owe me this much." He said with the voice of a poker winner. Ditsy only thought for a short amount of time after he played his "ace", before looking at him solemnly with... one of her eyes (Garrosh wasn't sure what the other one was looking at) and acknowledging.

"Okay, what do you need to know?"

The Previous Night

Though Ponyville had been through a lot in recent years, it definitely looked like it'd seen better days, especially near the town square. The market street had bits and pieces of various vending carts littered all over the village's dirt road; Berry Punch's house was missing a whole wall along with many other houses missing their windows. Last, but certainly not least, was the decimated Town Hall. The once shining symbol of leadership that the earth pony town had shown with pride was now nothing more than a smoldering wreck of charred tinder and sooty cloth.

The townsfolk didn't know where to start repairs, so they began by picking up the scattered cart and glass pieces. It took what was left of both the Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts not only to drag the beast responsible for all this to the grounds of the hospital, but also to gather their wounded. The Wonderbolts' list of injuries was small but indefinitely taxing: Spitfire was found to have been given both a concussion and a broken nose from the punch that the monster had earlier landed on her. Fleetfoot was very shaken up from the few hits she took, but she would make a quick recovery. Soarin, on the other hoof, was almost completely fine despite having Roseluck's flower cart smashed down on top of him at full force. Being the one to receive the first unsuspected hit, Rapidfire was out of it for a good few hours, but miraculously, the doctors detected no traces or signs of a concussion. Wave Chill was tough, for even though he'd taken several blows, he'd only suffered from moderate bruising.

The Shadowbolts' injury roster was a tad bigger: Nightshade's throat had swollen to the point of her choking on every word that came out of her mouth. Though, after the doctors finished with standard repairs and procedures, she could breath relatively easily, the only price being her raspy, unrecognizable voice due to the temporary damage done to her larynx. Starry Skies suffered much the same as Fleetfoot, being given minor head trauma along with a flattened muzzle, but her injuries were mostly of her own making on account of her successful (If brash and reckless) attempt at rescuing Charger. The worst casualty on either team by far was Blueball Blitz: The poor pegasus had lost a copious amount of blood to the near-fatal open wound on her leg (Though through much wailing and nashing of teeth, she actually managed to cauterize it with her electricity), and the crushing blow she took to the ground by all rights should have killed her. With the aid of her conscious comrades, she did eventually reach the Critical Care Unit, but seeing as how the doctors and nurses of Ponyville General could do little against such extensive and irreparable damage, she was now on life support in the depths of a heavy coma, clinging to her very life by a thread.

Aside from the worst thus mentioned, the others of the three groups bore only minor afflictions, such as trivial bumps and bruises, though even some of the Mane Six were recommended to stay in the hospital over-night for precautionary measures after their brawl with this... "Warchief".

However, the thing that made the entire situation more complicated ten-fold, was the fact that the creature had rescued a foal from the burning Town Hall. Why it had done so was completely unclear to all those who'd had the displeasure of battling it, and to some, it seemed absolutely irrelevant. Still, what was done was done; the foal was safe, and the mother was now eternally indebted to "Warchief." The ponies had taken quite feverishly to calling the creature "Warchief," not using the word as a title, but as a name for the imposing beast.

Currently, the three teams of Equestria were all going about doing different things whilst trying to lend support and help the situation in any way they could. The three Elements of Harmony that were not hospitalized were doing their utmost best to aid in cleaning up the marketplace. All of the Shadowbolts' members were in the infirmary; those that weren't seriously injured were there to get their minor wounds treated just for safety. The workers of Ponyville General Hospital had insisted on giving them all free medical attention for their heroic stand against the evil beast known as "Warchief." The Wonderbolts were elated that their arduous work did not go unappreciated, and gratefully accepted the medical treatment. Though with cases such as Spitfire, Nightshade, and Blitz, they had little to no choice in the matter.

After all was said and done at Ponyville General, the list of ponies that could not leave the hospital grounds due to more severe injuries were as follows:

Blueball Blitz.

Spitfire.

Nightshade.

Rainbow Dash.

Applejack.

Twilight Sparkle.

The Wonderbolts' team, seeing as how Soarin and Fleetfoot were both of equal rank of "1st Lieutenant," was thrown into utter chaos as its remaining members bickered and squabbled amongst themselves for the title of "Captain" due to reception of Spitfire being hospitalized for up to three, maybe even four days. The Shadowbolts all knew their secondary leader in Stratus, so that problem for them was solved momentarily. The remaining elements were devastated by the losses of their more combat-ready members as well as their company in general, but Pinkie was quick to cheer them up, reminding them that Twilight would only be staying one night just for safety reasons and that she would pull everything together once she got out.

With the official leaders of the two flight teams and usual emissary of the group of heroes down for the count, the Elements of Harmony and Shadowbolts sat and waited patiently if anxiously for the decapitated Wonderbolts team to select a temporary leader. After an argument that briefly evolved into a shouting/boxing match, it soon became admittedly unanimous that both 1st Lieutenants seemed emotionally compromised at the moment and therefore should not be considered for command. The situation then lay in the subordinate hooves of the two 2nd Lieutenants, and given the favorable consistency of his opponent's credentials (That and the circumstances of a debilitating migraine headache,) Rapidfire relinquished his potential position to him. Wave Chill was then the new "Acting Captain" of the Wonderbolts, for they all decided so.

The elements didn't normally view any of themselves as their leader; they merely ended up looking to Rarity as their representative, most likely due to her artful style of conversation. After an ungodly amount of time spent seeing to these mindlessly grueling tasks, the new ambassadors for each faction adjourned to a quieter place in the hospital just a room away from their groups in order to organize their next moves. At long last the three gangs of ponies could sit down and talk about what to do next regarding their incapacitated team members, the business involving the monster, and the Princess' informance of the whole situation.

"Well, I believe we can all concur that that... thing is dangerous." Rarity stated, trying to get the conversation started on a better note than expected. It seemed to work for the most part, for Stratus and Chill both nodded in agreement with her statement.

"We know it's dangerous, but what do we do with it when it recovers?" Wave Chill asked in a tone of morose much to Rarity's chagrin; it was normal for him yes, but neither of those two knew that. Rarity felt a slight shade of pink slip onto her cheeks as his smooth, aloof voice graced her ears. She then shifted her gaze to Stratus for a possible idea, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out what he was doing with his damaged wing when she looked.

"I think we should inform Princess Luna that we have it in custody, as long as it's asleep that is." Stratus suggested as he looked to be preparing for something. His masculine voice sounded as though it were from South Canterlot or Trottingham, only it was ten times more gruff, more intimidating than anything. Almost as he was making his suggestion, Rarity grimaced, nauseated as she watched him stomp and tug on his limp injured wing in two jerked motions, snapping it violently back into position with a disgusting "pop!" The ghastly pegasus gave a small grunt of both pain and relief as he started flapping his wings vigorously to test what he'd done. Now she knew why he had refused treatment; the doctors that were trying to help him out earlier didn't dare get near the white wall of a stallion for fear of being savagely broken in half.

"I think we should inform Princess Celestia of the same thing; informing Luna would be useless; she never gets anything done." Wave Chill jabbed, his insult dripping with pure contempt. While Rarity was more well acquainted with the solar princess, she certainly saw nothing to indicate that Luna was useless at all.

"Oh.. and you think primpy 'sun butt's' any better? Yeah, I'm sure she'll just waltz right in to slay the beast and save the world and be the great infallible hero she always makes herself out to be, especially considering she's never lifted a hoof to save anypony in her buckin' life." Stratus gushed sardonically. Wincing at the harsh language used by the angered stallion, Rarity was starting to dislike both of these brutes; at this rate they would be killing each other in a few seconds, so she butted in.

"I infer that we must inform both of them." She interjected swiftly while almost throwing herself between the two butting pegasi. "Perhaps with luck, they can both arrive to handle this monstrosity quickly, for we are clearly ill-equipped to deal with it ourselves. Don't you think?." she asked sternly. Content with her two bits thrown into the fray, she waited for any possible back-lash.

"......She's right." stated Chill unexpectedly.

"Sure...." Stratus said grudgingly after a few moments. He looked a trifle more un-pleased with the verdict than the rest of them, but agreed all the same since it would have been "two vs one" if he started a renewed debate about it. Rarity, on the other hoof, beamed at her plot's success, and with that all over and done with, she moved the meeting onward.

"Well, with that issue settled, there is still the topic of where you two and your compatriots will be staying the night. As you know, you could quite possibly choose to pay for reservations at one of our local inns, but considering the events of today, I gather you would not relish the attention you'd both get. If you would so like, there are plenty of blankets at my boutique for both of you and your crew, and it would definitely suit your obvious need for a low-profile stay." She grinned as she offered expertly. Her salesponyship at Carousel Boutique was really paying off, that and she was the Element of Generosity after all. Stratus accepted the proposition gratefully on the one condition that nopony know of his team's stay, but Wave Chill was more apprehensive of the whole idea.

"We are Wonderbolts, madame; we're trained to sleep on a bed of nails if the need arises. Besides, surely you wouldn't want us in your mane all night." He spoke pridefully with a voice smooth as warm butter as Stratus just rolled his eyes at the evident boast. Despite her best efforts, a profuse blush found its way onto Rarity's face at the unlikely implied meaning of Wave Chill's last sentiment.

"Why in Equestria did he have to word it like that?!" Were her thoughts as she nearly face-hoofed herself for such a gutter-minded fantasy. Setting all this aside quickly, she came to one conclusion: Rarity was not about to allow The Wonderbolts to sleep on the streets if she could offer them anything better. "Nonsense, darling! I insist." Rarity persisted as she gave her signature trio of blinks towards him. The stallion to whom she just spoke shuffled awkwardly under her whimsical gaze before finally renouncing his hold in this... semi-pointless debate.

"Very well, Madame Rarity, your hospitality is much appreciated." He finally said as he gave her the first half-smile she had seen from him since they'd been introduced.

"Marvelous, darlings!" She chimed chipperly "Now, let's rally the others and head home; I don't fancy being out after dark too much." Informed the prim fashionista. With little hesitation, the two battle-hardened bolts then went their separate ways to gather their remaining members.

The ponies that were not discussing those matters had spent all that time finishing up the last few tasks on the market street, for Town Hall's clean-up was a whole new ball game that none of them wished to play. Meaning they were very ready to wash up and call it a day when their representatives finally came to collect them. Once the bolts of the sun and moon had successfully gathered their teams and said their goodbyes to their slightly-broken members, they all followed Rarity to her boutique in dead silence.

Once their short walk across the restaurant sector to the large tailoring shop on the outskirts of town was done, and after everypony had sufficiently showered to each's contentment (Rarity was sure her water bill would double that month, if she was lucky), she placed both teams in the atrium of her abode seeing as how it was the only room in the building large enough to accommodate the number of ponies she was housing for the night. Even still, it would not require a genius to discover that this was not a good idea.

Wave Chill hated the very conviction of staying so close to a darkness-oriented band of ex-criminal mercs, let alone sleeping next to them. Despite being a creature of a dark past and appearance, Wave Chill abhorred the night and all it stood for. He still had not forgiven Princess Luna for her betrayal one thousand years ago, or the Shadowbolts for all the trouble they had caused his family in previous years. He lay in his sleeping bag nearly all night, but his anger did not let him close is eyes even once.

Soarin, on the other end of the spectrum, was a very gracious colt; he truly held no grudges against Luna or the Shadowbolts since they both were now on his side after Luna's concession. He also bore a surprisingly clear conscience. That being said, the strong, lovable teddy bear of a stallion was the first among the crew to fall asleep as usual. Rapidfire felt as though he'd moved a mountain that day despite the fact that he was unconscious for most of the fight with "Warchief," so his persistent fatigue aided him in falling asleep nearly as fast as Soarin did. Fleetfoot's head was still throbbing madly after all that time; she couldn't really think about anything intently without wanting to scream. That beast had really clocked her well. She was far from the top of the list to find sleep first, but she wasn't the last to do so. There was where the worst of her predicament lay, for no matter how much she wished she could dream of something else, anything else, she could not stop picturing the death-loving look in "Warchief's" demonic yellow eyes.

On the other side of the room and proverbial coin, the Shadowbolts were having their own troubles sleeping. Startus, being an ex-royal guard, could almost fall asleep on a whim, so he used this strange talent to finally get some real rest. He trusted the fact that his enemies would not attack them if left unprovoked. Charger was far too exhausted to care about the "bad guys" being in the same room as he, but he was willing to stay for a few more moments just to contemplate the un-admitted impetuousness with which Starry Skies had rescued his hide from being crushed under the boot of the beast. In the end, his wonderings were inconclusive, he was open-mouthed snoring within minutes.

Speaking of poor Starry Skies, she had rolled over to catch a peek at the Wonderbolts' side of the room over Stratus' sleeping form, only to be greeted by two, cold, unfeeling grey eyes staring straight at her; this caused her to flinch and instantly dart back to her laying position. With the unsettling thought of that creepy, brooding, unstable Wonderbolt still awake, true sleep never found the unfortunate, spent mare.

Garrosh knew everything, but knew nothing at the same time. The orc's history lesson with Ditsy was not only mind-numbingly confusing, but it was positively incredible. Simply the knowledge that their so called "Goddesses" ruled both the sun and moon cycles was difficult to swallow, but then there was learning about their "cutie marks," their purposes and affects, and the battle between the two royal sisters. This was nothing though, for hearing the story of how the Moon Goddess was defeated, and placed in the very lunar sphere that she was entrusted with as punishment rung out with pure cruel irony.

Another story Ditsy told him was the story of The Elements of Harmony; It was the dumbest name he'd ever heard for a powerful set of artifacts yet. However, hearing the tale of the six embodying mares not only vanquishing the moon devil for a second time, but saving her, and offering her another chance to do good in this world was indeed worthy of a bedtime storybook.

The tale of the Deity of Chaos known only as Discord, his reign, and his defeat was a whole new level of bizarre. The unlimited power to turn an entire complex realm of reality and everything in it solely upside-down with the simple snap of a finger not only squandered in something as petty and trivial as cotton candy clouds, chocolate rain, and a myriad of other topsy-turvy perversions of nature, but defeated for once again a second time by these same "Elements of Harmony" was both mentally staggering and physically painful for him to sit through.

The final story from the ditsy mare came when he asked what the ponies did before their goddesses rose up to man the sun and moon. Ditsy told the orc the story of how Equestria was originally founded: The Hearth Warming's Eve story of the Unicorn Princess, the Pegasus Commander, the Earth Pony Chancellor, and all three of their ill-favored advisers. The story entailed the malady of the frost plague that tore through their old lands in the forms of "windigos," and the final confrontation among the three factional leaders that resulted in their three inferiors being brought together in love, tolerance, friendship, and harmony.

The stories that Garrosh's new friend had told him were absolutely mind-boggling! He was a little glad they were finally over; now all he had to do was wait for Ditsy to return with the items he asked of her. Garrosh blank gaze met the floor in deep thought as all Ditsy had just taught him began to sink in. "These.... 'Embodyments of Harmony' were the first to fight me; why did they not use the same power that defeated everything else on me?" He pondered tentatively. "Unless, of course, everything here is that un-formidable..." Still, he continued. "Ugh! And all of this.... tolerance and.... friendship, if they truly believed in such stupid ideals, then they wouldn't have driven me from my lunch! They wouldn't have electrocuted me to a near crisp!" He subconsciously growled as his thoughts rambled and raged. "This whole planet stinks of childishness; its sun and moon revolve around it with the aid of two horses with horns and wings for ancestors' sake!" His mind regarded scornfully until he finally spoke out loud to himself. "Bah! It doesn't matter. Soon Ditsy will return with the tools necessary, and my plan shall come to fruition!" He determined confidently. Garrosh's plan was to escape yes, but not to run. He would show them his bountiful strength, and then he would tell them he was not going to fight. It was an ancient orc tactic that would work for impressing captors into releasing you; it was an old plan, but he knew it would work, it just had to work.

The ponies that had "captured" him still did not know that he was awake, So he just sat and kept on waiting for Ditsy's return. The Warchief's thoughts inevitably began to wander back over the more confusing of the information he had just received; it simply didn't make any sense! "Why would this... 'Celestia' forgive her sister's betrayal so easily? Why would 'Luna' not attempt to fight again?" In the entire line of history that he'd just been taught, nothing these creatures ever did created any form of logic in his eyes.

It mattered little, for soon he would meet these immortal princesses himself, then he would decide if they would be friend or foe...... "Where the hell is that mare?!" Garrosh thought fitfully; he could have sworn what he asked for was not that hard to obtain. Still, if it wasn't, she was certainly taking her sweet, fat time getting back to him. Only after Garrosh thought about leaving without the tools did the bubbly pegasus finally show up. Ditsy huffed and panted as she entered the tent; it was as if she just ran a marathon.

"I'm back!" She announced with an exhausted tone. "...But this was all I could find." She admitted in defeat as she held up a pitchfork with her right wing. All the Warchief had asked for was a sturdy, reliable, semi-good weapon.... this was not it at all.

"A pitchfork? A pitchfork was the best you could find?!" He hissed. Though his anger was not truly directed at her, she had no way of knowing that. Ditsy recoiled slightly from the orc's displayed anger. It was then that orc realized what he as doing and calmed himself. "I'm not angry with you," He strained as he started massaging his aching temples. He neutrally reached out his hand and took the blasted farming tool from Ditsy's wing. Her bit of tension left her after hearing and seeing that he wasn't lying as if it had never been in the first place. "I am angry with this... this thing!" He shook the weapon around as he spoke. He knew that no matter how much he complained about it, things would not be getting any better; the pitchfork was his only option. Garrosh sighed in disappointment as he came to the conclusion: "It will have to do."

"So what's the plan?" Ditsy asked with what looked like a child's excitement. Garrosh genuinely didn't know if he should share his plan with this mare. Sure, she had a very sweet disposition about her, but that's almost definitely counter-productive in the way of concealing secrets. Sure, she assisted him in making this operation a possibility, but even were he not to tell her right then, she would still find out soon enough. So after briefly mulling it over, he decided to keep his plan to himself for safety's sake.

"I'm afraid you'll just have to watch." He whispered to her mischievously. Thankfully, it seemed only to quell her happy mood for but a split second before she became even more nervous in anticipation of the plan's actions, yet Garrosh's confidence couldn't be higher. "Worry not, young Ditsy, for this plan has never yet failed." He wasn't lying; he himself had never tried this tactic before, but he'd heard legend after legend of it working before. His mind ensured him that this would undoubtedly work through one simple question: "How hard could it be?"

"You shouldn't stay here; as soon as I exit from the front, make a break out the back, understand?" He instructed the mare. She nodded and smiled giddily at him as she trotted anxiously to the back of the tent. Garrosh removed all the white medical bandages from his body before doing anything else when he heard Ditsy's voice call after him softly.

"If you can, try not to hurt anypony, okay?" she asked in a slightly worried tone.

"If I can, no promises." He knew that must not have been very comforting for someone in her position, but he wasn't about to lie to her. After that, he turned his gaze's focus back to the tent's entrance. Steadying himself for anything that waited outside, Hellscream took the pitchfork tightly in his right hand, and then marched un-hesitantly out of the tent into the town.

Author's Note

I know it has been a considerable time since my last update, so this should sate your lusts.

I also should let you all know that my brother is nearly finished with his rewitings and editings.

It shouldn't be long now; everyone enjoy the new chapter. :derpytongue2:

Chapter 7: Greeting the Moon

Garrosh Hellscream, with pitchfork in hand, brushed aside the entrance to the medical tent lightly, and was thus greeted by the blinding orb of light known as the sun. He shielded his eyes from the light's assault as he started surveying his surroundings. He saw that the few ponies that were walking around near his tent had now become stalk-still. He figured this was as good an opportunity as any to try and re-represent himself to them. "Good day, commoners." He announced in a foolish and awkward attempt to calm the creatures; it had nearly no effect on them, for they all continued to stand there scared stiff as though their hooves were glued to the ground.

Since these first words seemed to have relatively worked (that in the result not being them all scattering in rank fear,) he walked up to the female nearest him, a mare with an ivory/beige coat coloring. Her mane (yes, Ditsy had told him the proper terminology for their hair) was two tones: One of a maroon-like scarlet, and the other a soft pink; he also saw that her "cutie mark" was that of a healthy red rose. The monster of an orc trudged openly and casually up to the stiffened mare, who was by this point trembling and gulping dryly; the other ponies around her hastily went back to what they were previously doing, but they were keeping a concerned eye locked on the big brute. "You there, what be your name?" He asked the scared pony as inertly as he could. The Warchief allowed her to take her time answering him, and after stuttering and stammering a bit, she finally managed to muscle out her name.

"R-r-rose L-luck, sir." She whimpered as she sank down to the ground in resolute fright. Garrosh was quick to speak again.

"Have no fear, civilian. I am a warrior; I do not fight the innocent." He spoke the plain truth to her. Garrosh did not relish killing civilians; the True Horde may have done so with gusto, but Garrosh would never have killed them himself. "I need to know where the..." He paused a moment to remember their names. "...'Wonderbolts' are. Do you know where I could find them?" As he asked the simple question in that same inert tone, he saw that her eyes were drawn inevitably to the pitchfork he held in his hand. Ditsy had told him of the team that had attacked him, but Ditsy didn't seem to know anything about the second more shadowy team, and he intended, if he could, to find out why. However, Roseluck looked even more frightened when he asked where he could find the "Wonderbolts" and the un-named team that accosted him the day before. Garrosh was sure she wouldn't dare refuse or lie to him though.

"T-they're inside Ponyville Hospital. T-they're just checking on their friends; p-please, don't h-hurt them." Rose pleaded as her eyes kept darting between his face and the weapon in his hand. He had no intentions of killing them this time, though he would harm them if he needed to.

"My intentions are not to kill them, but I shall harm them if I am attacked." He explained stoically. She seemed to calm down some, but not by much. "Many thanks for your aid, Roseluck." He said as he turned on the spot to march towards the hospital's front doors. He could have sworn he heard her start running in the opposite direction shortly after he turned away from her. "She was a brave one..... for a 'pony.'" He mumbled to himself as he marched on. Garrosh stopped at the double doors to the medical facility, and seeing as how they were only large enough to accommodate his lower half at most, settled for pacing back and forth militantly, waiting impatiently for that pegasi flight team to get done tending to their wounded comrades. Every local who saw him pacing there didn't dare pick a fight or even so much as throw him any dirty or contemptuous looks, but they did visibly conspire to leave the general area as quickly as possible.

The orc must have waited for at least half an hour before the team known as the Wonderbolts exited the front doors, by which time Garrosh was grating his teeth together he was so impatiently annoyed. Garrosh instantly took note of the fact that they were missing their ever-famed leader, Spitfire. "About time all you runts showed up. I was beginning to think you were hiding from me." The orc mocked the four pegasi nonchalantly, quickly relaxing his state of being. The ponies stood there in the hospital's courtyard in shock and surprise for at least ten thick seconds before the one that was known only as Wave Chill finally spoke.

"You escaped, just so that we could catch you again? Your either very confident in your brute strength, or real stupid." Seethed the dark equine in a threatening tone. Garrosh was still not intimidated by him in the least.

"You really wish to fight me once more? I was merely passing through this place on my way to the mountain city, for I happen to be in need of a blacksmith." The orc explained in his best non-hostile tone, placing the end of the pitchfork that wasn't pronged on the ground as though a human farmer would. A few of the subordinate members seemed to relax a bit at the fact that the orc was not blatantly looking for a fight; their acting leader was quite obviously not one of them.

"...So you expect us to just let you go, after all you've done?" The grudging pegasus asked incredulously. Garrosh honestly couldn't care less if they didn't let him go at that point, for their best weapon was incapacitated; they would be no match for him now.

"Are you saying you want another meaningless battle, Wave Chill?" Garrosh seethed the pony's name nice and slow. It had the desired effect on the creature, as his unchecked rage surfaced almost instantly.

"How in Tartarus do you know my name?!" The equine growled, visibly readying himself for a rage-fueled scuffle. Garrosh, however, was still not scared, nor was he making any attempt at readying himself.

"That's for me to know, and you to never find out. Now, which of you wish to fight me?" He held up his arms to mock them, he could read the fear in their eyes as plainly as the colors of their irises. The Warchief knew they would not attack first, so there would be no battle here.

"We're under orders to arrest you; don't think we won't try again!" Wave Chill barked as he began pacing like a rabid animal. Garrosh could tell he had clearly exhausted every move he could make apart from charging him right then and there; this confrontation was officially over.

"Then... arrest me." Garrosh hissed at him defiantly. None of them moved a muscle, not even their leader. "I thought as much. Now, if you'll be so kind, I've a blacksmith to see." Garrosh put his back deliberately to the group of cowards, but it was then he heard a series of more beats of wings, he turned around to realize that the group Ditsy didn't know anything about was now standing with the Wonderbolts. The dark team was missing the "Miscreant" and the "Bitch" as well, prompting Garrosh to crack a self-satisfied smirk.

"And just where do you think you're off to?" The Gilnean one asked with a scowl, his two allies looking like they desperately wanted a fight, or more accurately, a chance at revenge. Garrosh saw how thoroughly decimated both their teams looked with four absent members in total. Anyone could easily tell it was a downright pitiful sight; not that he felt any remorse for what he had done, for after all, they were the ones who had attacked him.

"None of your business, peon." He responded curtly as he turned to depart once again, unsure of how his preconceived planning ultimately fared. It mattered not, for they didn't seem to be putting on the offensive in any way, nor did they look to be effectively doing so any time soon. Supposing that his plan had worked, he started off with the full intention of being at least halfway up the mountain side before any fresh adversaries could arrive. It was when he had just stepped off the hospital grounds that he was halted by a voice he momentarily didn't recognize.

"Why art thou in such a hurry?" Asked a strange, nearly dueled voice that was suddenly growing very familiar to him, if a bit off in tone. In his head, Garrosh debated whether or not to acknowledge the unnatural voice when his thoughts took a very terrible turn.

"No.. No! How could Sylvanas...?! How could that undead WITCH have possibly followed me here?! It isn't her! It can't be!" His mind screamed in alarm as he whirled around to face the source of the enigmatic voice. What met his gaze when he did so, though surprising, relieved him extremely, for the creature standing before him was not Dark Lady Sylvanas, not some similar ghostly effigy come to haunt him, but a being who was exactly akin to how Ditsy had described the Princess of the Night..... Luna. The regal mare before him was comprised of a marvelous mix of at least five different shades of darkened blue, each hue as terribly brilliant as the next, all paired impeccably with an obsidian-black crown and chest plate bearing the mark of a crescent moon. Another of her features that caught his eye was her ever-motioning mane and tail. Not only was her hair flowing softly upon a windless summer day, but it almost looked as though the ripples made a subtle stairway in the voluminous locks! The most wondrous thing he beheld was her cavernous teal eyes; they seemed to practically command... no... force his undivided attention to them. Even at the distance he was, it was as if when he stared back at them, he felt as though he were staring into an abyss. He could almost feel the world around him darken a shade or two as he looked into the abyss that stared back silently. It was then he realized that he needed to break this unexpected connection, for she indeed had just asked him a question. Lifting himself from the hypnotic depths of her stare, he took note of a few minor differences from the description Ditsy had given him (the small cut that ran along the left side of her snout and over her muzzle for instance, though nothing too serious) but other than the slightly rugged, tussled state of some parts of her coat, she just had to be this notorious "Luna" he had heard so much about. Garrosh, after staring at the so-called "Alicorn" for a mere five seconds, had been both caught off guard, and forced to quickly regain his composure. This was something that rubbed the confused orc in every wrong way imaginable. So, without further hesitation, he set about talking back to her.

"Why does it matter to you... Princess Luna?" He chose to spit her name. Luna seemed both slightly taken aback, and a little impressed that he knew her, until he called her by her other name. "Or should I address you as, 'Nightmare Moon?'" He growled unto the lunar princess with bigoted malice. It was faint and nigh untraceable, but Garrosh then saw a hint of anger flash across her features and a cold, pale flame spark within her eyes; she was very quick to try and hide said rage.

"We wished to speak with thee.... to speak with thee of thine travels." She spoke with an exaggeratedly calm tone, which was directly contrast to the anger he still saw burning in her eyes like teal embers. "And no, thou mayest address me as 'Princess Luna', or 'Luna', if thou hast no true title for us to call thee." Announced the dark goddess; she sounded so much like the Banshee Queen that it was sickening to the orc. Garrosh didn't have all day, so he decided he would reveal to her his title and take his leave.

"I am the Warchief, Princess. Now if you don't mind, by your leave, for I've places that I must visit." He explained with some added snark. He swore he was going to grow old and sprout grey hairs playing this stupid game, but he had come to the conclusion that he had to convince their leader to try her hardest to make peace with him, if only for a single day. Garrosh wasn't able to turn around for the umpteenth time before she once again spoke.

"Please, we wish not to fight nor argue with thee, Warchief, merely to discuss." She even said his title as Sylvanas would, but he had to admit it: He liked this one's way of speech as well. "Allow us to properly introduce ourselves. We-" The lunar goddess gave a small, exasperated sigh before continuing on. "-I am Princess Luna, raiser of the moon, and Co-Ruler of all Equestria, What be your full name and title, Warchief?" Luna asked with sincere curiosity.

"Odd, she doesn't seem like the traitorous type at all; still, I shall not trust her just yet, but my name and title couldn't hurt." He considered as he looked down to appear as though in deep thought to the princess. After a reasonable amount of time spent acting like he was mulling it over, he at last spoke up. "My name is Garrosh Hellscream, Warchief of my people, and leader of the True Horde." But he wasn't finished there; he clearly knew that Luna was not the only sovereign this bizarre place held, for after all, she did just refer to herself as "Co-Ruler." Therefore, he knew he needed to relay his story to both leaders of this place eventually, so he put a newly-formed idea into effect. "I will tell you no more, Co-Ruler. I shall speak only to both leaders of this realm. But I shall however remain nearby until your sister can arrive." He declared as he idly tossed the pitchfork to his left hand. The orc saw her large eyes suddenly grow wider, and he immediately knew that he'd made a rookie mistake as soon as the word "sister" left his lips.

"...How dost thou know that the other ruler be mine sister?" Luna inquired with further heightened curiosity as she became increasingly more comfortable around the frazzled Warchief. She began walking closer to him and away from the pegasi rabble she first appeared behind, as if her confidence in her talks with him was peaking. Garrosh had to keep himself from dragging a fatal face-palm down to his chin as he thought himself more and more stupid by the second, but rather than dwell on his pathetic slip, he began routine damage control and said the first thing that came to mind.

"As I said: I will relay more upon your sister's arrival, until then, I will be with an ally I have made. Follow me if you wish, but should you attempt to punish the one who has aided me, you shall face the unending wrath of The Warchief." Garrosh spoke in a dark and final tone. With that said, Garrosh started making his way back to the infirmary tent. He could just barely hear Luna and some of the more mysterious pegasi whispering to one another as he walked away, but he couldn't catch anything of importance. The orc made it back to the tent and laid down on the blanket on which earlier woke, and then patiently waited for Ditsy to return from wherever it was that she had gone.

"Why willst tho-- Ahem! Why will you not speak unless my sister is with us?" Asked the "lost puppy" who had followed him. Garrosh was in no mood for the obligation of having to explain his past, present, and possible future twice, and so he vowed not to do so.

"I have much to say, and I wish not to have to repeat myself to your sister." He grumbled with a palpable frustration in his voice. The tone he struck didn't even slightly deter her though.

"I will not punish your friend. On the contrary, I rather wish to know which of my little ponies was brave enough to actually speak with you before.. I arrived, so that they may be commended." She explained in a softer, more hesitant voice. It was by this time that Garrosh had noted her difficulty in saying "I" and more modern things of the like, so he addressed her grammatical plight.

"If you want to speak in ancient tongues, then I would ask you do so; it sounds troublesome for you not to." He informed with less of a growl than his usual statements, to which she gave a painfully apathetic chuckle before vaguely responding.

"I am... in training... to renounce my.. outdated manner of speech, for it is now found slightly embarrassing in an informal setting; as you can see, I've not yet succeeded. I... don't think it productive or healthy for me to fall back to it when not in training." She reasoned to him coolly, but Garrosh knew better; he knew that beneath her veil of cold logic lay a profound sadness. Had he not known of her monstrous betrayal to her sibling, he may have felt a tinge of sorrow for her, but in the eyes of a traditional orc, to betray your own flesh and blood in the line of duty is unforgivable.

"Hmm...." He hummed in thought as he reached for where his pack should have been, only to find that the ponies that had captured him were, in fact, retched thieves.

"...!" He turned to look a Luna with a scowl that could boil water, she seemed a little shocked (albeit amused) at his new facial expression.

"What is wrong, Warchief?" She asked with a touch of worry building in her tone. His angry scowl turned more deadpan as he pointed to where he knew his bag would've been were it still with him.

"My bag, it seems, has been stolen by your little rats." He spat. Garrosh could have sworn he saw a smirk tug at the right side of her mouth, but Luna kept steadfast as she responded to his accusation.

"They confiscated it for fear there may have been weapons in it; I was going to take the liberty of bringing it back to you myself." She said as her horn began emanating a soft, pale, blue glow. This was a display of magic unlike any he'd seen back on Azeroth. It was only the second time Garrosh had gotten to witness the use of a unicorn's magic, and he hypothesized, given the first demonstration (the alicorn mage's magenta aura which seemed to relatively match the trend of her lavender color scheme,) that they each must have had an aura that related to them in color.

As he was thinking about all this, he saw another object of the same blueish glow come floating from around the corner of the tent's entrance and right into his lap. As soon as the glow died out and faded away, he saw that what lay in his lap was his old brown, beaten-looking pack; Luna had brought his bag back to him through some form of telekinesis, but he was determined not to look too impressed. She gave a smile and a bow as he nodded back silently and began hastily inspecting his wares.

He found that his gold and gems were miraculously all still present, his last loaf of bread was still good, and that his two remaining water sacks were still accounted for. All in all, he was only missing his most important belongings: His axes. "Where did you come to acquire such items of value? If you do not mind my prying, that is." Luna asked, attempting to keep conversation alive. Garrosh was intending to avoid telling anyone at first, but after thinking it over for a moment, he saw that there really could be no harm done in it.

"I slayed a dragon that was hiding in a cave in the forest south of here." Garrosh explained casually. After a few silent seconds, he looked up from searching his bag to see why the princess hadn't responded just then, only to see Luna's mouth was slightly but noticeably hanging agape. "What? ...Your The 'Great' Princess of the Night; surely you've slain many a dragon in your millennial lifetime." He said with a jeer as he plunged his head back into his bag. He could have sworn he heard her scoff indignantly.

"I have never... slain a dragon before, nor did I think it was even possible to do so. And I did not appreciate your sarcasm, Warchief." She didn't sound very offended. Garrosh was taken aback by how difficult it was to rattle her; for a past psychopath and princess alike, she seemed quite down to earth.

"She must have been through Hell and back to be here now...." The orc thought with that small tinge of sorrow he'd sworn not to give her. Garrosh looked up to her with his usual unapproachable cross of an angry and deadpan face, only to see her crack a smile. He furrowed his eyebrows before crack an inkling of a smile to her and returning his head to his bag.

"You're... not what I was expecting." He blurted before elaborating. "The tales I've heard of you paint you as a villain of unmatched evil, and yet, this being I see before me doesn't seem like it could hurt a fly in good conscience; in fact, you seem even more friendly than your common folk." He spoke up with an honest tone. Luna's small smile grew substantially upon hearing those words, but it was knocked back down considerably when she spoke as though remembering something.

"The Elements of Harmony... tell me they found you eating one of Madame Applejack's prized pigs. In fact, it was she who added that it was the prized pig." Garrosh wasn't sure if she was asking something of him, but he knew that he had to respond somehow.

"I was hungry. Where I am from, boar farms are the most of what we have." He gave conformed (if pained) sigh before further adding. "I apologize if the pig meant something significant to its owner." He finally said sounding far more grumpy than he would have liked. Luna undoubtedly appeared unnerved by the fact that his home's biggest food source was boar. Garrosh was about to ask where his axes were out of both genuine concern and a desire to change the subject, when a gray head with a mussed blonde mane poked through the tent's rear exit.

"I'm back, Mr. Garrosh! Did your plan work?!" Ditsy called out without thinking, but when she saw Luna, at least she knew she'd made a mistake. " Uh oh... Is this a bad time?" She asked awkwardly while looking down bashfully and shuffling on her hooves. Garrosh then performed the postponed face-palm from earlier with the force of two whilst letting an exasperated groan slip out; he was then obligated to introduce them both.

"Luna, meet the one who told me everything I know about this place. Ditsy Doo, meet Luna: Princess of the Night." He announced, only looking up from his wares once.

"Princess Luna!" The grey mare gasped. Upon realizing who it was, Ditsy all but instantly groveled before Luna's front hooves much to the Warchief's amusement, but not to Luna's; to her, something seemed amiss. Luna soon saw that she was not only trembling, but she looked like she was either going to cry out of fear, or keel over from a heart attack. In the princess' eyes, she herself couldn't act quick enough to set the mare's mind at ease.

"Greetings, Miss Doo, you've no need to fear me, or anypony else for your actions. Warchief Hellscream has already explicitly demanded that your safety be guaranteed." The goddess stated proudly with a kind smile. Ditsy then lit up as she looked to the orc with such a hope in her eyes, though Garrosh didn't even look up from counting what was in his pack. Ditsy knew that Luna couldn't possibly be lying, so the relieved mare trotted straight up to the orc and gave his arm a heart-filled hug.

"Thanks, Garrosh." She cooed as she nuzzled into shoulder. Garrosh looked to her a moment before responding.

"It was the absolute least I could have done." Garrosh remarked softly. Luna looked on as the two smiled like they had known each other for years. It was good to see that this so-called "beast" had a somewhat friendly side, even if it was nearly unfeasible to bring forth.

Ditsy then proceeded to tell Luna all about what had happened in the town square the day before; it was quite the shocking story. To hear that town hall had been completely destroyed was terrible, yes, but to know that the ferocious biped in-cause had gone out of his way to rescue a tiny little foal whom he didn't even know, gave Luna some much-needed hope in the situation. Maybe this "Warchief" was not the villain everyone suspected he was after all. Luna was then metaphorically struck by the fact that Garrosh was now waiting for Princess Celestia to show up. Knowing that it would be a small while before her sister would arrive, she just hoped that the orc wouldn't take this next bit of news badly.

"...I must apologize Warchief, but I neglected to inform you that my sister and I took a rather... unexpected visit to a place called Tartarus. 'Tis the reason I look as disheveled as I do, and my dear sister was injured during the trip. This is way she did not accompany me here to begin with, but rest assured, she will be along shortly." Luna tried to sum up what had happened shortly before she had been summoned to Ponyville, but she did not want to go into great detail. Unfortunately for her motives, Ditsy really wanted to know.

"Oh my! What happened to her? Why were you two even there, Your Highness?" Ditsy asked with the utmost concern. Luna didn't want to have to tell the story, so she decided that she would just tell a small part of the lengthy, confidential tale.

"Tartarus was having... an uprising. Myself, my sister ,Celestia, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and Captain Shining Armor traveled down to the gates of Tartarus to find out what was going on, and of course, to check on Cerberus. To make the long story short: We ended up fighting with two fearsome and very well-trained fel-pony culprits. So well-trained in fact, were forced to teleport from Tartarus before any of us were endangered further than we already were." Luna hoped that this short version would not make Ditsy more frightened; her plan failed miserably. "Uh... fear not! For these insidious rebels cannot set hoof outside of Tartarus thanks to our combined efforts."

Ditsy simply sat there on her haunches, her walled eyes about to fall out of her head, as they were as wide as they could go. "What is this... Tartarus?" Asked the orc inquisitively. Luna then told him of that horrible place, which sounded a great deal like a version of Hell.

He seemed genuinely interested in all she had to relay about the "Hellhole of Evil," both its history and its conditions. From the black-hearted souls that were consequently converted into fel-ponies in payment for their wicked deeds in life, to the demons that tormented them eternally. Garrosh was actually intrigued by all the information Luna had to share with him, and he also listened to Ditsy's old foal's tales about the "Home of Cruelty," some of which she had also told Dinky on Nightmare Night (apparently Hallow's End's equivalent in this world.) He soaked up all the intelligence he could about "Tartarus" with an un-shown glee.The final piece of information he learned was about the gate guardian of Tartarus: Cerberus. The massive three-headed dog that defended the gate of Hell tirelessly to the last of its breaths, it was quite the story to behold. However, after near of an hour of true facts and fairy tales of old, the three of them heard the grandiose sounds of trumpets blaring loudly.

"What is that? Is this settlement under attack?!" Garrosh asked as he got to his feet, readied in an flash. Luna rose with him, but she had a teacher's smile on her muzzle.

"That, my dear Warchief, is our sister." Luna uttered with a tone that bore many emotions hidden within it. Garrosh looked to Ditsy quickly, and she just as quickly got his signal to head out the back; he didn't want her getting in trouble. One sovereign may have spared and commended her, but that doesn't exclude the possibility of the other condemning and attempting to seize her. The Warchief then looked to Princess Luna, who was motioning him to accompany her outside. Garrosh Hellscream, Hoping for the best, expecting and planning for the worst, he marched out of the placebo-safety of the infirmary tent, preparing himself to meet this notorious, ever-famed... "Celestia".

Author's Note

Yes, I am still alive and well, and I am still writing strongly.

And yes, my friends, Tartarus will play a VERY LARGE role in the future of Garrosh's story,
as will the two fel-pony warriors that were thus far mentioned. But you'll learn more about them much later,
and no, they are not OC ponies of mine or anyone else's.

Also, a VERY BIG THANKS to MUFFINATOR for being my most active and supportive reader. Bless you, dear friend. :twilightsmile:

Chapter 8: Greeting the Sun

Garrosh Hellscream sauntered once again out of the false security of the medical tent, the bright rays of the now-setting sun once again blinding him for a moment. Looking to the skies, he instantly caught sight of a few pegasi still flying around, cleaning up any stray clouds in the area above. To him, it was a shame that they couldn't just leave the forlorn stragglers be; he rather liked the puffy white clumps that added to the already magnificently painted orange sky. For a serene moment in time, the Warchief stood to gaze upon the continuing process as hints of brilliant purple and vibrant blue streaked across the vast, open horizon, creating one of the most beautiful sunsets he'd ever seen.

By the time his eyes had fully adjusted to the piercing remnants of the slowly-fading light, he saw that Princess Luna was still holding her hoof over her face as a shield. Garrosh fully expected this; he also half expected this "Princess Celestia" to be deathly afraid of the dark, and gave a mental smirk at such a humorous prospect. Looking ahead in the mountain city's direction, Garrosh spotted an incoming aerial carriage. Upon naturally tentative observation, he deduced that Its frame was constructed purely of gold, but the outer middle of the gaudy transport was laden with a lavish, violet felt. The extravagant craft's wheels and hub caps were not skimped on at all either, as they too were built of solid gold; even its connector rods were made of the heavily pliable metal! It made Garrosh self-contented inside knowing just how easy it would be to crush such a fragile chariot if the need ever arose.

The orc's arrogant eyes then strayed to the soldiers who were pulling the pathetic device; they looked as intimidating as the carriage was fortified. The four stalwart creatures' coats were of a stainless white, but their manes were mostly obscured by their large helmets. The vanguards' armor was, yet again, melded from gold; it was also very oddly-built regarding their quadruped forms, thus making it fairly unconvincing, not in any risque way, but in an unpractical one. The orc finally concluded that the only aspect of the armor worthy of a positive note was its craftsmanship. The armor's detailing and shape was quite flawlessly done, meaning they surely must have had an extremely skilled blacksmith forge it on bulk commission. Garrosh decided to completely ignore their helmets though, seeing as how all they seemed to do was remind him of a Stormwind Trooper's helm.

The final thing Garrosh's eyes fell to, was the vague yet luminous silhouette of a female alicorn sitting rigidly within the center of the weakly construct. While it seemed everyone in the vicinity awaited her timely appearance with bated breath, the stubborn orc leader merely stood slouched and unaffected; he knew full well that she was probably scrutinizing his every move intently from the shadow of her carriage. Suddenly, a previously unnoticed, ceremonial-looking vanguard withdrew from his post at the back of the coach and proceeded to make his way to its side; this must have been the Royal Footman. "...Or "Hoofman.'" Garrosh inwardly snickered at his own meager jest as the small stallion slowly and theatrically opened the carriage door. Stepping lightly from the confines of the carriage with a thoroughly practiced grace and elegance, was something even Garrosh almost hadn't expected, and the admittedly curious orc once more set about observing this second divulgence. To remark that she was merely as beautiful as he'd been repeatedly told, once again, would be labelled an understatement punishable by execution; she could have easily rivaled the setting sun he'd just witnessed only moments ago: Her mane and tail, just as Princess Luna's, flowed exquisitely within the same unseen, ethereal current of wind. Just as Luna, she bore a crown atop her head and a breastplate at her chest, but unlike Luna's however, the ensemble was of the same gold as her coach and men and accented with a some kind of large, purple gem engraved in each. Also unlike Luna's, her mane was comprised of such soft and playful colors he would so often catch fleeting glimpses of whilst attending a Noblegarden festival: A velvety pink of direct imitation of the streaks across the evening sky, a mesmerizing and sparkling periwinkle blue, and a joyful sea-foam green. If one of these creatures were to tell him that the brilliant colors of the sky cast by the rising sun were all crafted in her image, he would have sincerely believed them. His eyes then scanned farther over to her coat. He quickly found that it was the sort of blinding, angelic white he only thought some other-worldly deity would be envisioned sporting; he now knew why the inhabitants of this land all thought her exactly such. Garrosh never thought something could look so uncontestably clean! He knew for a fact that she had been in the short scuffle in Tartarus that The Lunar Princess had just told him about, and yet, here this fur looked as though it were kept untouched and preserved religiously through the thousands of years of her supposed existence. The magnificent coat was only enhanced by the presence of such fine, pristine wings; he thought they might have compared to those of some of the healthier phoenixes near the summit of Mount Hyjal. Just as he had observed her sister before her, the last feature he beheld were her eyes; this was something that Garrosh had expected. As he peered into the deceivingly demure expression of her poised face, as he delved into those vast, violet oceans that were her stunningly sightless eyes, he felt a mirrored affect as opposed to her sister's gaze. Just as Luna's affect had been cold, dark, and imposing, Celestia's gaze felt warm, bright, and hospitable. Where Luna had caught him off guard, Celestia aimed to comfort him. Where Luna bore the crescent moon, Celestia bore the noon sun. Literally everything about these two were polar opposites! "No wonder one turned on the other after so long..." Garrosh mused briefly to himself. If he didn't know how naive and trusting this one decidedly was, he would have thought her a wonderful leader... based on her appearance. The problem for her was that.... He did know better.

"Please, Warchief, do try to make a good first impression." The orc heard Luna's voice whisper. He didn't find himself too concerned with this meeting, for he knew nearly all about this..."Sun Goddess" already.

Celestia finally made way from her carriage and started stepping uniformly towards him and Luna; it was at the point where she was facing him directly that he first took note of the small gash on her left side, as if a sword had sliced down her chest in between the base of her neck and her wing. "Perhaps the 'Lunar One' was telling the truth after all." Garrosh thought as he viewed the tell-tale injury. As he looked briefly from the wound, he saw all four of her guards take up their spears and fall into formation right along side their leader; it was a blatantly pious, and pompous act that made the Warchief sick to watch. As the group of five marched candidly up until they stood only a meter from the Warchief............ Silence was all that seemed to follow. Garrosh could see how Luna slightly shifted anxiously in his peripheral vision, and he could virtually smell the fear that the stone-faced vanguards thought they were hiding. However, The Solar Goddess' face was the only one he could not read; it was as if her thoughts were empty and devoid of any emotion, and yet, he could see her mind feverishly working behind those devious eyes: This one was a schemer for the millennia. The two envoys each stared at the other for nearly a half-minute, until the deafening quiet was mercilessly shattered by something all too recognizable. Nearly all in the area knew Garrosh's dietary status when his stomach decided to let out an unbelievably loud "Growl".

Luna all but face-hoofed as Garrosh casually thought back to the last time he had eaten; it had nearly been two days ago! It still enraged him to think about those "maggots" who had interrupted his hearty feasting the day before. The guards hugged their spears all the closer whilst subtly lowering them in his direction, but even with them outnumbering him (and with spears while he stood unarmed no less,) he still determined that they would not outmatch him. He would never know entirely for sure however, for Celestia, much to the surprise of everyone around, began chuckling!

After laughing for a few discernible seconds, she at last broke the wordless abyss. "Perhaps, we should talk over dinner?" Hearing her voice was indescribable. It carried so much ageless wisdom with one simple sentiment, and it sounded like the voice of an angel; her voice even somehow reminded him of someone, but for the life of him, he just couldn't quite figure out who at the time. Garrosh was far from fooled by all of that though, for he could practically feel the political guile and falseness emanating from her very core. Despite the direction of his feelings, he replied civilly.

"I have not eaten in over a day, Princess; I believe it would be wise to eat before we exchanged our stories." He leveled with her coolly, but he was not done yet. "But on one condition: I want all who fought with me when I arrived here present for this dinner." Celestia didn't look phased in the slightest, but still he was not yet done. "And we must make this relatively quick; I've already promised dinner with another tonight." It was this time that Celestia's mask of iron faltered for but a split second, showing a small amount of shock before it was quickly donned again.

"It shall be done, though it will take us near an hour to prepare this dinner, will that suffice?" Celestia asked with a calm and rational tone. Garrosh then threw a long glance to the old clock tower that sat on the other side of town; it took him a bit to see what time it was, but seeing as how it was only six in the afternoon, he reluctantly agreed.

"Very well, Princess, I shall be in my tent until you send word for me." He had only just turned and started for his infirmary tent when he remembered something critically important. "Oh! And please be sure that meat is on the menu." He spoke without turning around as he marched back to the tent. He didn't even bother peeking over his shoulder to see if they had likewise agreed, even though their reactions were most likely priceless. He didn't really much care; he was going to take a nap while they dawdled about preparing his food, and nothing was going to stop him.

Garrosh's eyes, unlike last time, didn't sting as he opened them. in fact, he actually felt rather well rested. The problem he found this time, was that he was most definitely not where he had fallen asleep a few minutes ago. Garrosh saw nothing but white mist as he rose warily to his feet, and he stood up only to find that as far as his eyes could see, there was nothing to be had but horribly dense fog. Garrosh could see nothing through these thick shrouds of mist; not even the ground he was standing upon was visible to him! The fearful orc was beginning to think that he was stuck in some kind of limbo; that was, until he saw something approaching him. From what little he could see, it looked to be wearing a black cloak and hood, and though it was a great deal smaller than he was, he still felt a nagging sense of uneasiness from it. "Who are you!? And where have taken me!?" He demanded to the mystic figure; after a response only of silence, once again he called out to it. "Is this some sort of conjurer's trick!? Show yourself, devil!" It was when Garrosh shouted these words that It ceased its approach, and removed its shadowy hood. The sight that greeted the Warchief when it revealed itself, though unexpected to him, was a face he did not mind seeing at all: Geyah.

"Hello, young Hellscream, it is good to see you doing so well in your new home so far." She said with much happiness in her tone. Every thing about that statement threw Garrosh for a loop; whatever did she mean by.... "new home?" A very large part of him was filled with doubt and befuddlement, for this part genuinely knew not what she officially meant. A very small, minute, and skulking part of him however, was filled with sublime dread, for this part knew exactly what she could mean.

"'New home?' 'Doing well?' What do you speak of, Greatmother?" He cautiously asked, a manifested confusion masking the fear in his voice. Geyah gave him a kind (if a bit cheeky) smile before she spoke his answer.

"Your time on Azeroth has long since come to an end, my youngling. Your time in this place, your new home, has only just begun." Garrosh inferred that he should place more trust in this minor part of himself from that point onward. That didn't matter to the Warchief though, for from the moment she declared that inevitable truth, every part of him was screaming but one simple phrase: "...Hell no!"

"No.... No! This is impossible! My time on Azeroth couldn't possibly be over now, surely I'll return there soon!" His anger boiled the blood that flowed through his veins at increasing speeds as he looked for something to smash with his bear hands in his overwhelming rage, but it then occurred to him that she had never lied to anyone before, and would not be doing so now. "Won't I?" As odd as it may sound, the manic orc's voice actually cracked as he asked her with an uncharacteristic desperation therein. Seeing as how panicked and how doubtful her poor pupil was, she did not hesitate to answer him patiently.

"You will not be returning to Azeroth, nor Outlands, not until you are ready, ready to face your demons and cleanse your name of all its past sins." Garrosh didn't want to admit it, but he knew exactly what most of these sins entailed. He had intended to absolve himself of those sins when his people finally realized what a force they were again and how easily kept safe they would be from all who would ever oppose them, but how to possibly make amends here in this alien world he had no idea. How to make himself "ready" to accomplish this seemingly impossible feat, on the same hand, he had even less of an idea, but judging by the look Geya was giving him as she said all these things, she knew what he had to do. It greatly eased his mind knowing that returning home someday, according to The Greatmother, was not going to be as impossible as it seemed.

"What does all of this mean, Greatmother? What must I do to be ready?" He asked with a potentially false hope swelling involuntarily in his chest. Even if she told him to crush a hulking army rear-end naked, he was certain he could do it if it meant granting his passage home.

"You must learn many things, Hellscream, but above all else, you must learn them before your sins catch up with you. For once they do, you will be faced with a choice... the choice to either become a great hero, or the villain that you proved you were before, and it will not be as easy as you think..." Garrosh once thought with certainty that all he would need to do was a few half-hearted good deeds, but after he allowed what she last said to sink in, he was left with confidence utterly cracked. "...I know that you will make the right choice, Garrosh." She spoke with her own benevolent confidence as she pulled her hood up, still looking him in the eye with a soft, maternal smile. "Now, I believe you have two dinners for which you mustn't be late; I leave you to them." She said with a small bow as she began to part away.

"Why must you always leave me, Greatmother?" He asked sullenly in an thinly-veiled attempt to make her stay. "Why must I do this alone?" It worked, if only for a moment.

"You are far from alone young one, you will have many companions; some new, and perhaps some old, if you know where to look." She cracked that compassionate smile one last time before disappearing into the enfolding mists.

Garrosh looked to his hands to see that he was once again fading, but he could hear a voice in the distance. As if a kind of cruel irony, he closed his eyes once more and very clearly heard the voice of a child repeat: "Wake up."

"Wake up, Mr. Garrosh!" The orc heard that same child's voice call out, and now that he had time to recall, he knew just what familiar voice was calling him. He opened his heavy eyelids to see a beaming Dinky Doo standing atop a short stack of books just to reach facial level with him (even though he was lying down.) He smiled (on the inside, mind you) as he sat upright, and finding he was indeed where he had originally laid down to sleep, he breathed a rare sigh of relief as he stiffly rose to his feet, the little filly still watching his every move from her humble perch. For the first time since meeting him, the unicorn child was now able to see just how immensely towering her new friend truly was. "Wow..... You're really tall!" She exclaimed in awed surprise. As Garrosh looked down at the beaming filly who stared back up at him, he could see an obvious want in the glint of her eye; he didn't need a crystal ball to tell him what she was about to say, or rather, ask next. "Can I sit on your shoulder? Um, if you don't mind." She asked with an abundance both of politeness and innocence. While he couldn't find the gall to refuse the adorable little foal, he was still going to metaphorically kick her for the gross misusage of the word "can."

"I know not, young filly." Garrosh declared nonchalantly after a cavernous yawn; he could have sworn Dinky was just picking up on where he was going with that. "Can you?" He asked with a mischievous self-satisfied grin. If he was going to end up giving a child a ride on his shoulders, he was at least going to have himself some fun before hand.

Dinky, looking down to the floor bashfully, began idly kicking at the dirt with her right front hoof while letting out a groan and mutterings along the lines of "Sounding just like mom." She then revised her previous request. "May I sit on your shoulder, Mr. Garrosh?" She asked, all but spitting the word "may."

"Good enough" He thought as he suddenly scooped her up in one hand and placed her with care upon his shoulders, the little rascal giggling the whole way up. Garrosh had to admit it: It was impossible to say no to this enchanting ball of fur.

The orc with his new shoulder-parrot marched out into the setting sun. seeing that the sun was nearly all below the mountainous horizon, he didn't know why no one had come yet to inform him that the dinner with the princesses was ready to begin. Then again, he may have been giving them far too much credit, thinking it would be ready by this time. Garrosh looked up to the clock tower to see that it was already 7:14 in the evening, confused and slightly insulted by their tardiness, he just stood at the tents entrance, waiting for these blasted equines to send for him.

"Soooo, what are the princesses like?" Asked the positively giddy pony on his shoulder. Tearing his gaze away from the direction of the clock tower, Garrosh turned to her in a quick, side-ways glance and replied.

"I've a few ideas, but none are for certain; ask me after this meeting, little one." The orc gave a tired sigh. "I believe... I am not going to enjoy this." He added with distaste. He was really not looking forward to this farce of a so-called dinner, for he knew they had not come to eat; they had simply come to ask endless, prying questions and study his every habit and idiosyncrasy. Though he knew it was something he could quite possibly do without, he also knew it was the only good chance he had that they would willingly let him continue on towards his blacksmith in the mountain city.

"Why do you say that?" Inquired the filly next to his left ear. Garrosh knew he couldn't start going on a rant, but if he could just somehow keep rational (something that admittedly never came easily for the temperamental orc,) he could calmly manage to explain to Dinky just how unbearably tedious this future task was to be.

"The creatures of this strange world have obviously never seen or heard of someone.... somepony such as me ever before." If there were one phrase in these creatures' customized vocabulary Garrosh loathed the most, it would most definitely be that one, but for the sake of Dinky, he would stoically bare it for the time being. Meanwhile, unaware of his un-Equestrian slip, the aforementioned filly gave an affirmative nod as if to trample any doubt that that was the case. Seeing that she'd so far understood him, the Warchief continued. "And so they've resorted to trying to keep me here as long as they can in order to interrogate me about my very existence." the Warchief scowled just thinking of their tactic.

"'In-te-rro-gate?'" Dinky slowly mouthed the word aloud as if the word were alien to her.

"...To ask many questions, or to question extensively." The Warchief explained its meaning like a teacher would. It took a second or two to register with her, but nonetheless it did.

"Oh!.... I hope Miss Cheerilee didn't teach us that word earlier and I just forgot about it." The lavender filly voiced her initial thoughts. Garrosh had no idea what a "Cheerilee" was; he assumed it was some sort of class instructor, but he forewent his curiosity in favor of continuing.

"I have a distinct feeling that those endless questions will be what this so-called 'dinner' is all about." Garrosh knew deep down that it wasn't the wisest or the most healthy of him to think constant and consistent ill intent of every single one of these simple creatures, but it was a habit that the Warchief always had and couldn't be bothered to suppress right then. This habit hadn't proved detrimental as of yet, for the one with whom he'd been sharing in this little chat had her mind in something else altogether.

"Well... Where are you trying to go in such a hurry?" Dinky asked with the unmistakably innocent tone of a young child, to which Garrosh sighed and answered her as best he could.

"When I arrived here, I didn't exactly have what an orc would need for a comfortable survival." Briefly glancing to the stubby little horn upon Dinky's forehead, he figured since these creatures would probably know all about magical properties, he could offer a bit further a depth to his explanation, so without a second thought, he carried on. "Being an orc, I was born into a world where you are... defined by your skill in battle. Because of this, an orc's three most important requirements are these:" He then raised his left hand holding up three fingers, and to emphasize his next point to her, began counting them off as he spoke. "Food, armor, and weaponry. I had none of these three necessities when I was suddenly teleported to this world. So naturally, I've spent all the time since I've been here looking for a place that could accommodate my needs." He paused for moment to see just exactly how much of his answer managed to sink in. He was certain he had just bored to poor filly to tears with such dry and mundane talk, but looking over to said filly, he found that she listening rather intently and thus, decided to finish his explanation. "That mountain city yonder..." Garrosh pointed off into the distance in the direction of the city. "...is obviously just that kind of place."

"Canterlot?" Little Dinky asked sounding mildly surprised.

"So that is its name;" Garrosh's thoughts were instantly drawn to how that name coincidentally resembled the term for the type of fast walk that a horse could make. "I sense an annoying pattern." Garrosh was starting to see these creatures as very self-obsessed, but he knew that this was just another maddening oddity that he just going to have to get used to while here. Not wanting to let Dinky onto his train of thought, and weary of continually talking about where he intended to go (this was sure to be one of the many subjects of this upcoming "dinner,") he suddenly chose to stick with answering: "Yes." Dinky unexpectedly nuzzled into the side of his neck and then said something even more unexpected.

"Well, I dunno where you came from or how long you'll be in Canterlot, but I hope you come back soon and visit me and Mom; I know I'll miss you." The dumbfounded orc didn't know exactly how to respond to what she just said, but he certainly knew how to feel about it: Conflicted. This young filly was truly beginning to tear at the cold, hard chains that had wrapped around his blackened heart with weathering age. At every turn, she never failed to surprise him with her unlikely fondness for him; it was something he knew he could never fully understand no matter how ardently he tried. Perhaps she indeed saw something in him that he couldn't see within himself; maybe it was the same thing The Great Mother happened to see in him. Or perhaps this behavior was attributed to some overbearing emotion going back to when he pulled her from the town hall's flames. The one thing Garrosh did know about this was that he was going to drive himself mad if went on trying to deduce it like this, so without further fueling the slight headache he'd already given himself, he responded in kind, bring his hand up to stroke her on the back as when they'd first met.

He and Dinky waited there like that for about another minute after their little conversation had occurred, when finally not one, but two silhouettes of ponies began to approach them. Focusing his vision on them, he found that one was the dubious leader of the mysteriously nameless flight group, and the other was the grudge-bearing Wave Chill. He gave them his best death glare since they too both looked like they wanted to kill him several times over. Dinky, seeing Garrosh's scowl toward them and realizing that they were the ones who had fought with him, took the initiative as well and gave her best glare down to the two pegasi, but only ended up coming off as a pouty face, far more cuddly than anything intended. After a probable few seconds which felt like long hours of them getting ever closer, they halted only a mere two yards from the brown colossus. Finally deciding to break the hateful, long-term silence, The nameless leader announced.

"The princesses are ready to see you now, Warchief." It wasn't her spitting his title in disgusted sarcasm that grabbed his attention; it was the raspy, almost demonic state of her voice. It sounded as though she'd been gargling nails with a hint of demon's blood! It was only after he heard it and remembered that he had punched her in the throat during the battle in the town's square that he started chuckling. What was chuckling then burst into a full-blown guffaw as her glare could probably burn a laser hole through any mere pony. Such a pity for her he was an orc (and a uncompromising warchief, to boot;) he saw such looks on a daily or even minutely basis in the past and thus, was used to it. After his boisterous laughter died down, Garrosh then spoke to the furious one who spoke.

"It looks as though I've done you a favor; your voice could curdle milk! It would probably be your greatest achievement so far, 'Miscreant.'" Perhaps next time you'll stop and think before openly challenging a Hellscream." He proclaimed these words as would a victor to his prey. He then continued. "Now, if you're all done giving my little friend here nightmares with your detestable voice, then lead us to this 'meeting.'" He demanded on a final note. Garrosh vaguely heard Dinky muttering that the miscreant's voice wasn't that scary, but he could tell immediately she was lying.

"As you wish, Warchief." Hissed Wave Chill, who's common voice most likely frightened Dinky nearly just as much as the "miscreant's" did. He did however take note of how he had referred to him by title without forcing it out like a grape stuck in his throat.

"Lead the way, Wave Chill." Garrosh responded with the same tone as he. Wave Chill did turn to him in meager surprise, but only for a split second before nodding trotting forward. As they walked, Garrosh thought of the many things he could discuss with these two before they arrived at the place where this meeting was to occur, but the most preeminent subject on that list that he kept circling back to in his head, was the bitch that had almost defeated him.

"So 'Miscreant,' how's your little electrified friend?" He asked with a very cruel jeer. Garrosh saw Wave Chill grimace knowingly as he asked that question, and he soon learned why. Garrosh barely had time to finish the question before the nameless one let out a chuckle, and not a humored chuckle in any case; it was the kind of aggressive, offended chuckle of someone who'd just had their feathers vigorously ruffled. spinning around on the spot with lightning-quick reflexes, she defiantly addressed him with a look and tone absolutely inundated with a homicidal kind of rage.

"My name... is not... "Miscreant!" It's Nightshade to the likes of something like you, you son of a bitch! And if you've got to know, my teammate is in a coma that she may not come out of thanks to you!" She yelled as if possessed as she hovered up to eye-level with the Warchief. Through with screeching through a battered larynx, she settled for using her demonic voice to her advantage as she carried on fuming at him. "Just know that if she dies, nothing, not even the princesses will stop me from doing anything in my power to make you suffer! Are. we. clear. on. that?!" Her unnaturally yellow eyes almost seemed to glow in the dusky setting as she annunciated each word with a boiling, unstable tone. It was a bit more violent a reaction than what Garrosh had expected, but he could work with it. He hunched over towards her until they were face to face and spoke again.

"Of course, but you don't have any power, do you?" He asked mockingly. Nightshade gave only a wicked, bided smile to his face as she turned around, fell silently to the ground, and kept on walking. It was only after that ordeal had occurred that he realized that a petrified Dinky was clinging tightly to his neck while looking away with her eyes clenched shut. He reached up subtly to calm her down by tousling her mane. Had he not been in the presence of those two toadies, he would have slapped himself upside the head for putting her through all that, but Garrosh was not quite done trying to rile these two, if for nothing else other than revenge.

"And what about you, Wave Chill? Have you been promoted due to Spitfire's failure? Or is she simply too frightened to attend this herself?" Wave Chill's reaction was more like what Garrosh had expected, he indifferently kept walking as he answered, paying as little a mind to him as possible.

"She will be present at the banquet, but she asked me to collect you in her stead due to the injury she has sustained in the line of duty." He responded calmly and almost robotically, but still a vessel for his dark manner. Garrosh just passed it off as Spitfire either being too lazy, or being too cowardice, either reason seeming to fit what he saw in her personality accordingly.

After his pokings and proddings at them, he remain silent for the rest of the walk there. Garrosh was not sure why he had decided to pester them in the first place; perhaps he still wanted revenge on the two teams for attacking and nearly killing him. Perhaps it was this so-called "monster" that The Great Mother kept saying was within him momentarily bubbling up to his surface. Either way, antagonizing them and testing their tolerance levels was surely a better option than remaining silent for the whole of this ill-intended trip.

The extremely disgruntled group of four trekked across the small earth pony town with relative ease; Garrosh got many different types of stares from the locals who were finishing up their day: Some that plainly despised him, others that showed caution, dread, or fear, but a few sparse equines actually muscled out smiles (Albeit small and unconfident ones) and waved their front hooves at him in a somewhat friendly greeting. Gradually, the town's inhabitants became more few far and inbetween as the group slowly but surely traveled out of the quieting town and into the surrounding plains. Garrosh was starting to wonder where in this bizarre, sylvan countryside these two buffoons were taking him. About five minutes from the time he began to question the destination of this unneeded venture, he concluded that it would be best to speak up to them before they got him lost; for all he knew, these two may have been setting him up for a coordinated ambush by both teams... or worse.

"Where in Ancestors' name are you taking us?" He asked in a loud grumble, earning only an exaggerated eye-roll from Nightshade who was now hovering along with one of her front hooves to her head. Garrosh was was just about to assume the worst when his decision to go no further was intervened by the words of a grounded, and more helpful Wave Chill.

"To the designated rendezvous point just up ahead; the princess' wanted nopony to interfere with 'intergalactic relations.'" Chill dispensed this information like a Gnomereganian medical assistant bot would have. Garrosh had to snort in an effort to conceal an already obvious outburst of laughter.

"'Intergalactic relations?'" The Warchief chuckled out. "Now that is truly something; at least you ponies are somewhat amusing." Wave Chill continued marching, easily ignoring the obnoxious orc's jabs at what he'd heard it entitled by Celestia herself.

The remainder of the trip persisted in silence, even on the part of Dinky who'd a while ago shared in a couple giggles at the orc's humor; that was, until they finally arrived at their destination.

Author's Note

First of all, I'm dreadfully sorry for my extremely late update and hope sincerely that I've not spoiled anyone's expectations for this story.
I know I'm in no position to be making excuses, but I thought you ought to know that the reason (if any) for the delay on this chapter was due to the fact that oral surgery is far from happy fun times.

So yes, you all go off and enjoy reading this chapter while I go mourn the loss of my four poor wisdom teeth.

On a side-note completely unrelated to anything whatsoever, 3+ to internet points to whomever can guess the person Celestia's voice reminds Garrosh of correctly.

I probably made that one too easy.....

Chapter 9: The Summit of Worlds

North Ponyville Outskirts, Early Dusk

"Oh, buck me!" Nightshade exclaimed out of pure exasperation. When the orc, two pegasi, and unicorn filly arrived on scene, they all were met with a spectacle that certainly didn't match the description of a word that Garrosh had been informed would be the very definition of this meeting: Secret. They looked like they had just gotten there, but at first sight there appeared to be at least a dozen frantic-looking figures on scene that definitely did not look like they belonged there. Dinky Doo, not extensively noticing any of this, had steadily perked up the courage to try and curtail Nightshade's foul language.

"Mom says we aren't supposed to say those bad words!" She suddenly accused her, to which Nightshade gave her a deadpanned expression that was even discernible through the visage of her newly-donned flight goggles and retorted.

"...Hate to burst that bubble around you, kid, but life's full of dirty things, including other ponies' mouths; get used to it." Her entire statement bore a sickeningly apathetic and cynical ring to it. Dinky just gave her a frown and looked away with a indignant "hmph!"

"Enough!" Announced the orc upon which she sat. "We've larger problems than this juvenile argument." Then, the one voice of the group left yet to sound off joined them.

"Agreed, enough observation and evaluation; assume an anti-riot stance." Commanded Wave Chill with his usual drone. Nightshade merely scoffed, shrugged, and slowly proceeded down the other side of shallow incline they'd treaded to enter the area.

The trespassers didn't appear to be active; in fact, they seemed to be trying to keep out of the sight of anyone in the rendezvous tent by hiding amongst the shrubbery near the border of the clearing, and judging by the lack of activity or response from anyone inside, they seemed to be trying successfully. Most were stallions, but a few were mares. Garrosh hadn't the slightest clue what they might be there for: Were they vandals? Pranksters? Protesters? Rebels? He couldn't even begin to deduce why they were there. All he could make out was their appearances and wares. For starters, they all were wearing hats of some kind; not a single one of their heads was bare. Garrosh also hadn't the slightest clue what these hats were called. From what he could tell, there were two types of hats: One was notably similar to a farmer's hat, only it looked more compact with the placement of a much smaller brim. The other type was something unlike anything he'd ever had seen on someone's head before. What it looked like was some sort of baggy cap/helmet that gave the wearer a lopsided silhouette; it was quite a different article of clothing. Garrosh then turned to the only other things he could see, their wares. He didn't know if these were weapons or not, but each one had in their possession a black, box-like apparatus of different size and shape each time either slung around their necks or standing in front of them on three stilts. To him, they had to be some kind of projectile weapon, because all of them had them pointed directly at the rendezvous tent. Garrosh, seeing how this could be no other case, instinctively began looking for potential cover from where he stood, not only for his own safety but for Dinky's as well. He had just seen that there was basically no place to take cover from bullets or lasers or anything these weapons fired except for the virtually false protection offered by a nearby tree, when the unexpected, unthinkable, and horribly dreaded happened just the way he didn't want it to.

"Hey!" One of the wide-eyed insurgents suddenly yelled out, causing every one of their heads to turn simultaneously in the direction of his pointing hoof. "It's him! It's Warchief!" Instantly, the dull chattering they were making grew into loud beckoning, calling, and cheering as the entire group of renegades frantically moved desperately towards the orc, the winged ponies among them quickly gaining the lead. The two bolts who were soon to be caught in the middle and overtaken by all this attempted to rush forward to deter them in some way, but it was plain to see, even by Wave Chill who insisted on doing everything by the book, that you simply couldn't orchestrate an effective anti-riot squad given only two individuals. Nightshade managed to shove a few of them down, but they mindlessly rose back up and just kept on going. Chill even got his legs taken out from under him at one point. Garrosh couldn't understand why at the time, but he then heard a giggle very clearly from Dinky who was sitting in his hand watching all of this ensue. Garrosh was a trifle grateful for this giggle, for it reminded him that he need to keep her safe no matter what was about to happen. He wasn't about to let a group of rabid ruffians endanger her after he'd pulled her from hellish flames! He was just about to tuck her into his arms as he'd done that day when the first initial strike happened. Through the noise of the approaching rabble, he heard a muffled but distinct mechanical click and shudder, accompanied by a near-blinding flash of light.

"Damn!" He reflexively shouted as he flinched, tucked the filly away, and dove for the false safety of the tree, naturally convinced that what he'd just seen was the muzzle flash of a somehow suppressed rifle shot, and that the frenzied mob was literally trying to kill him! It was as he was getting to cover with the filly in-hand that he heard many more mechanical shudders of the same sort as the first. Somehow, these simple-minded and peaceful creatures had invented a more compact version of the Kor'kron battle rifle, and they were firing them at him nonstop! This was it; This was where he was going to make his stand. If they wanted his blood, and were going to try and harm Dinky to get it, then he vied to make as many of them suffer as possible before he went down. "If this is to be my end, then I will meet it covered in the blood of my enemies!" His mind screamed in a final proclamation. Bottom line: He was not going down without a fight. He readied himself, steeling himself for what needed to be done. Any moment, any moment now they would all come barreling around that tree at once to swarm him mercilessly; he just had to be ready, and he might just make it out of this alive.

"I don't know why we're hiding from them; they just wanna take our picture." Came Dinky's voice suddenly from within his arms. She said something that Garrosh could not comprehend. What picture did he have that they wanted, and why were they shooting at him over it?

"What?" Asked the profoundly confused orc.

"They're just snapping our pictures." She explained matter-of-factly; this didn't seem to help him that much.

"..."

"...You know, with cameras?"

"What the hell is a camera, and how did they already have a picture of me?" These were some of the questions on his painfully troubled mind. Garrosh was sick to death of the last five days of his decidedly miserable life consisting of nothing but him not understanding things. He didn't even have another second to complain over this however, for right when he realized that the mob in question, for some reason, had not yet come barreling around both sides of the tree, did both he and Dinky hear the voice of Wave Chill shout very loudly: "HALT!"

Dinky frivolously hopped down from Garrosh's arms and made her way blithely around the tree trunk to see what was happening, much to the Warchief's unending worry.

"Dinky, w..." was all he could whisper out before he lost sight of her; having enough of this defensive behavior, he took the initiative to peek around the corner. From there, he saw a very abnormal turn of events ensue. Dinky was right next to him still standing up against the trunk of the tree whilst watching and listening to both Wave Chill and Nightshade, who both had landed themselves between these apparent "fame seekers" and the Warchief's current position, goggles down and wings extended.

"By order of Princess Celestia--" He was briefly cut off as Nightshade butted in without even so much as looking to her side.

"And Princess Luna..." She added. Giving a quick grunt, Chill grudgingly continued.

"And Princess Luna, the Warchief and his escorts are to remain undisturbed until otherwise decreed; please remove yourselves from this premises." He issued out, the results of which being less than positive.

"And just who the hay are you?" One of the ponies on the front lines with a farmer-like hat and some kind of strange neck-ware lashed out. To his credit, Chill gave an unbiased response.

"Wave Chill, Wonderbolts Acting-Captain." It only took a half second for the same one to respond in the same tone as before.

"Who do you think you are? Spitfire?" It was when he said this that the rest of his crowd behind him upstarted in agreed protest. Garrosh mentally debated stepping out of cover and standing up for his own pathway, but he really wanted to see how things would pan out for these two. Just then, a few more crony voices behind the lead offender could clearly be heard.

"Yeah! Who are you to deny the public's eye?!" The flashes of these "cameras" started showing again as they tried desperately to catch a good picture of "Warchief" from behind the obscuring tree.

"I wanna see some I.D.!"

Wave Chill huffed intolerantly.

Come on! We wanna see the monster!"

Nightshade's right eye twitched violently.

"Let us by, you thugs!"

Garrosh and Dinky continued to observe intently.

"We don't gotta take this! there's just two of 'em! Come on, boys! Let's pass 'em!" Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and it was in this slow moment that Garrosh, in his intent observation, noticed something critical that made him crack a smile: There appeared to be two, small, heavily sewn eyelets in each wrist of Nightshade's flight suit, and her readied fetlocks looked slightly and unnaturally bulkier by comparison than any other equine's around. The Warchief didn't need to be told what was to come next.

"Clever girl..."

Without the tiniest inkling of warning, Nightshade lunged forward to snatch the lead offender's neck-ware in one hoof, yank him forward at full-force, and deliver a debilitating blow to his snout with her other hoof, snapping his head backwards with frightful speed. With the force of that punch, Garrosh wouldn't have been surprised if his nose came out the other side of his head; it certainly had no trouble knocking his hat clean off. The postal mare didn't stop there; Garrosh knew she wouldn't. She used the forward momentum of the clearly unconscious stallion to perform what looked like a roundhouse kick maneuver to plant both her hind hooves firmly onto his falling rump, and used this to effectively launch herself into the air towards two of his associates who stood behind him now in initial shock. Arms extended outwardly as though a veteran savannah huntress of The Barrens, she was about to see to it that these poor fools never stood a chance. In mid-air, there was heard by all the unmistakable metallic sound of blades unsheathing as she hit both her marks without fail. As soon as she'd made contact with the two baggy-capped ingrates, it was still only known by Garrosh that she had drawn two pairs of hidden, stainless steel "hoof blades" right from her sleeves and was now poised to reek gruesome and irreparable carnage upon her prey. Through a series of undeniably well-trained movements, she was able to slash both of their chests deeply, one across the right cheek liberally, the other in decisive locations on the flank so as to maximize the level of pain experienced but as not to cause certain death. There was an immaculate amount of style and finesse to be had in her fighting technique; it was as if she'd been practicing for months for this exact situation. With her feats nearly accomplished, and her foes positioned perfectly within hoof range on either side of her, she enacted her finale by giving one mighty swoop of her wings to propel herself straight up into the air, and catching both stallions squarely in their jaws with a split kick of her hind legs. Her victims hit the ground before she did as she landed gracefully to assume a very theatrical, martial artistic stance without even looking out of breath. In only a mere couple of seconds, groans, and screams, she had uncontestedly incapacitated three fully-grown stallions and had made it look easy.

Garrosh, being the calculator that he is, knew precisely what kind of damage she had done to them as follows: Stallion one had a thoroughly broken nose, two black eyes, and possible further mental damage. Stallion two bore shallow cuts to his chest and left shoulder, a grotesque gash spanning his right cheek which would require much stitching, and a busted left jaw hinge. Stallion three had suffered deep cuts to only his chest which would prove fatal if left untreated, a crippling bout of injuries to his left side and flank, and of course, a busted right jaw hinge.

It was right about then that Garrosh realized that she'd done all of this without killing any of them, something that made her display far more difficult to match. "Perhaps Luna has ordered her not to kill anyone while under her." He thought.

Lifting up her angular goggles after these few short seconds, Nightshade looked around to see that everyone was wide-eyed and slack-jawed, but everyone was unfortunately still present, something that, by her decision, was soon to be addressed very simply.

"Need I say more?" Instantaneously after she asked this casual question, the whole group of fame seekers quickly and even more frantically dispersed without any further resistance. Nightshade, after smashing their three cameras, then retracted her assassin's blades and turned silently to step lightly past her three writhing victims to assume her previous position beside an admittedly dumbfounded Wave Chill. "You can come out now, you stupid lug head!"

"I must admit, that was quite impressive; perhaps you ponies have hope after all." He said, ignoring her pathetic jab at him as he scooped an excited Dinky up in his arms again. When Dinky was on his shoulders again, she whispered something that he guessed was more to herself than anyone else.

"That was so awesome... I've gotta tell Scootaloo!" First a "Cheerilee," now a "Scootaloo," he decided he was going to ask about it this time.

"What is a Scootaloo?" The Warchief suddenly asked, taking Dinky by surprise.

"Oh! Um, Scootaloo's one of my friends at school; she gets into stuff like that, that and Rainbow Dash." Rainbow Dash, he knew that name. It was the name of the first pegasus he'd ever fought; the one who showed her loyalty and courage that day and saved her friends. If the princesses adhered to his requests, then he would be dining with her and her friends very soon. Not wanting focus too harshly on the subject, he instead turned his ear to the unlikely conversation between Wave Chill and Nightshade, and found that it was indeed more of an argument than a conversation.

"You could have handled that less drastically, you know." He spoke as though he were debriefing her as a superior, to which the Shadowbolt quickly replied.

"Oh... You mean like standing there like you did? Please..."

"You could have done something that required a bit less bloodshed; we're escorts, not thugs." He shot back as he lifted his goggles up off his face, still maintaining his morose, robotic tone.

"Thugs? Really? I get things done... Without looking down my snout at everypony every two seconds; if that makes me a thug, then a thug I'm happy to be."

"You cast a poor reflection on the Princess' image." He berated her with slightly less of his robotic nature and more of a condescending one.

"Oh, Dear Luna! Why don't you just go choke on that little halo on your head?!" Having had more than enough of Chill's nitpicking debate, she increased her gate's speed to get away from him. Garrosh could plainly see that even though their two sovereigns claimed to be reunited, they themselves were still just a disjointed as ever, and he scarcely even wanted to imagine what could still be lurking between the three equine races. It reminded him a lot of himself and Vol'jin, something else he didn't even want to think about lest he lose his temper for no apparent reason to the outside world. As soon as they all reached the rendezvous point, Garrosh was quick to take note of a few certain prominent things.

This rendezvous tent was made exclusively for royalty; there was no doubt about that. The enormous thing was made mostly of thick ivory linens, and its trimmings were composed of yet more regal violet with small hints of a golden cloth woven expertly into it. Garrosh just knew the Royal Sisters were going to do something like this, but seeing it personally made him more angry than he thought it would. It nearly made him lose his enormous appetite thinking of how much of a peacock the sister of the sun was.

"Both princesses are just inside, Warchief. We are aware that you've requested the presence of both flight teams; Myself and Nightshade will attend if you still hold this request." Wave Chill stated with no emotion as per usual.

"I requested all who fought with me to attend this summit." Garrosh specified bluntly. Hesitantly, and after Nightshade gave a scoff, the two ponies began to step inside ahead of the orc as he himself scooped Dinky off of his shoulder and placed her on the ground. "Wait, Wave Chill." He said, catching the Wonderbolt's attention. As soon as he was sure that they were out of the other's earshot, he began speaking again; the last thing he wanted was for Nightshade to think that she could somehow use little Dinky against him. "...End of the ride, little one." He mumbled to Dinky as he contentedly stood back up with a stretch. Dinky, on the other hand, did not look so content.

"Aww! Why can't I go in with you?" She asked desperately with irresistible, shimmering eyes. Garrosh had well anticipated this, and was prepared to say no, even to a face such as hers.

"I must do this alone, Dinky. You must go home to your mother while there is still a faint remnant of light left; she's probably worried for you." Dinky hung her head, partially from dejection, and partially from guilt, but Garrosh was quick to try and lift her spirits. "I shall see you in a few hours." He confided to her softly. The Warchief then turned his attention to Chill, who was patiently waiting for whatever the orc had him standing around for. "Captain Wave Chill, I need you to take Dinky home to her mother; it is far too dangerous for a young one to travel these plains alone at dusk." Unexpectedly, Hellscream knelt down on one knee and put himself face to face with Chill. "I do hope I can trust you with this..." He challenged in a low tone of voice as he looked searchingly into his gloomy, gray eyes. Chill, knowing just how much of a challenge that just was to his integrity, responded accordingly.

"This will be done, Warchief." Momentarily losing his emotionless disposition, he answered as defiantly as he possibly could, which was to say fairly evident.

"Hmm..." Without another word, the orc stood back up to full height, broke eye-contact with the acting-captain, and started his few steps toward the tent, turning around to watch at its entrance. Chill lowered himself to the ground, stiffening his wing to allow Dinky to board his back, and she haphazardly did so.

"You'll have to tell me where you live." He said simply to Dinky, who didn't seem to mind.

"Don't worry, Mister Chill, we won't get lost." She reassured the increasingly uncomfortable Wonderbolt as he lowered his goggles and prepped to take flight.

"Hold on tight..." Was his only warning to the little unicorn as he took off into the darkening sky.

Garrosh was just about to take a deep breath and step inside when he heard Dinky call something back to him.

"Don't forget!" That was all the drive he would ever need to get through this imminent summit. Garrosh was not about to forget; his dinner with Ditsy and Dinky was far more important than whatever this meeting was or would be to him, but he had to go through with this to get it out of the way. He formed a mental note to remind him not to forget that he couldn't stay here for too long, for he had a blacksmith to see in the mountain city of... Canterlot. Garrosh took one last look at the steep mountain as well as the small rural town that he had, by some odd twist of fate, stumbled upon, before entering the summit.

"Welcome, Warchief Hellscream! My sister and I hope that this meeting will be to your liking." Princess Celestia announced in a soft and kind manner to bring the meeting to order. Garrosh barely even heard her voice as he was too busy looking at the inside of the tent. It was unbelievably beautiful, and it was much bigger than it looked on the outside, with royal guards lining the sides all the way to the corners. Looking upon this spectacle, even by his standards, he had to admit that he was rather impressed that they'd set all this up in only near of an hour and a half, even if it was just a large circus tent. However, what had stolen the rest of his attention was the table; it was not only made of a fine, shiny wood with silver plates and cups lining it all the way down, but the vast and veritable varieties of food placed on the table before him were almost literally endless! Ripe Fruit, steaming vegetables, freshly-baked bread, delectable-looking pies and cakes, delightfully frothy ale, sparkling red and white wines, and above all else, plentiful, succulent meat were all here and accounted for! It was a banquet fit for several kings and queens!

Garrosh still kept his relaxed, indifferent demeanor as he approached the table, despite the tempting mountain of heaven that lay in front of him. He calmly sat down at the end of the table that was farthest from Celestia and Luna, who were both sitting at the other end of the massive table right next to each other. Garrosh then looked to those who had attended, seeing if these equines had honored the agreement; they had. The first six he had run into, The Elements of Harmony, were taking up some of the left side of the table, and the Wonderbolts were also seated on that side as well, one of which was already stuffing his face full of one of the pies (You could probably guess who.) The nameless team's remnants however, were seated on the right side of the banquet table with the moon princess, every one of whom had already started eating. That aside, Garrosh was actually genuinely surprised that they had done all that he had asked; they had even gotten his meat onto the menu.

"I see all are here, good, very good." He said dully. Celestia gave him that same unsettling smile she did when they met as she elaborated on that.

"I did all within my power to make sure you would find this enjoyable, have I succeeded?" She seemed very overly-confident, almost arrogant, and Garrosh did not like that at all. He debated with himself how to answer her as he reached over to the plate that held a type of meat that he and his people very rarely got to eat: chicken. As he grabbed the plump bird and placed it down in front of him, he answered her evenly.

"It is to my liking, you have indeed succeeded with flying colors." He proclaimed, trying to build up her ego and make her more comfortable. His plan seemed to work, as he heard her let a small, self-satisfied titter escape her lips. Garrosh then without any further hesitation, dug into his chicken with reckless abandon. He heard a few groans and concealed retches, but the food was too well-prepared for him to pay them any solid mind. That was, until one of them muttered sullenly.

"...Hope ya enjoy that one, ya pig killer." Garrosh linked the voice and accent to the one pony in the room that had a hat on at the table. He took the biggest bite he could, swallowed as loudly as possible, and proceeded to call her out.

"You have something to say to me aloud, farmer, for I do believe we would all wish to hear it." He said with a semi intimidating tone. The farmer, for her part, only mumbled something before biting her tongue and turning away from him, hooves crossed. He wore a small smirk as he returned to his dinner, only for another pony to step up to the plate.

"Who do you think you are?! You can't order any of us around!" Came an outburst from Spitfire, who he just now saw was wearing a medical head band complete with some sort of ice pack. He was about to retort when Celestia did so for him.

"That will be enough of that, Captain." She spoke firmly but still softly. Garrosh briefly shot the mare an evil, mouth full grin as she was put irrevocably back in her place.

"Yes, Your Highness." She grumbled forcefully after a moment before allowing Celestia to continue.

"I trust your journey here proceeded... smoothly?" She asked, knowing full well that something violent had happened outside the tent just moments ago.

"...You could say that." Garrosh rather liked toying with her, giving her vague, undetailed answers.

"Warchief, if I may, should we begin the meeting now in earnest? Or do you wish to finish your meal before hoof?" Celestia asked him.

"Please, I did not summon you all here merely so that you could watch me dine, it is a feast for everypony after all." He said as he took a generous swig of the ale he'd just poured himself, getting into a very rare diplomatic mood. Thrall may have gone soft and pitiful on him in the end, but he still taught him a few things of the ways of an ambassador. Celestia nodded comprehensively to the rest at the table, and they all began to grab, and pass things to one another. The rest of the feasting part of the summit went by relatively uneventfully, as most of the ponies focused on talking with each other. No one bothered the orc as he continued his meal uninterrupted. Suddenly, one of the Wonderbolts' mares blurted something as Garrosh was finishing a very hefty sandwich he'd constructed using the bread, vegetables, and chicken.

"Hey! where the hay ith Wave? Hath anypony theen Wave?"

Garrosh quickly finished his last bite of food as the mare who asked was receiving shakes of heads from all around the table, even from the lunar side.

"Hmp, I hope you don't mind if he's a bit late; I sent him to see my little friend off home." He explained shortly before washing his sandwich down with yet more ale.

"Little friend?" Several of them asked, including Celestia. This was exactly the kind of question he was trying to avoid. He knew he would have to answer, but he also knew that as soon as he did, he would have to make it abundantly clear that he didn't want her any further involved in these politics.

"...A little unicorn filly whom I happened to pull from this village's town hall fire." As deftly as he appeared to have evaded the question, the fact that he was deliberately trying to keep from divulging her name was a bit too obvious, for one of them knew it.

"Oh, for pony's sake..." He vaguely heard Nightshade mumble to herself as he was taking another swig right before she did something he could have killed her for. "Her name's Dinky, Dinky Doo, and she lives on the north/east side of town with her single mother, Ditsy "Derpy" Doo. Her mother was delivering mail to the town hall with Dinky in tow when the building caught fire during our little scuffle." She explained in heavy detail as she sat back with a smug little grin on her face.

"Nightshade! hold your tongue." The voice of Luna rang out as the rest of the unnamed team members looked at the still cheesing pegasus with a look that came off as impressed, some of their mouths still stuffed full of the banquet's food. Slowly setting his mug of ale down on the table, Garrosh was sure everyone knew how much he furiously hated her at that very moment, for he was giving Nightshade a glare that could easily give any one of these ponies nightmares for the coming weeks; this was to say nothing of the finger marks he left on the mug before releasing it from his fuming grip. Celestia was not the only one to pick up on the fact that he adamantly didn't want Dinky's name or place of living to be brought to the front of conversation, but she was still the first to voice that she knew.

"We know what you're thinking, Warchief, and you needn't worry; We've no intention of even approaching her for any reason that you would want us to approach you for." She assured him with a voice like fine silk, but he was not quite convinced; he wasn't about to take any chances. It already didn't sit well with him that he had to ignore Nightshade's blatant shot at him through Dinky for the sake of the continuation of this meeting.

"Is her and her family's safety and protection guaranteed, Princess? I didn't pull her from roaring flame just so that your loyal dogs may endanger her again." He commented as he savagely ripped the left leg off the roast pig set before him as well as the "cactus apple" in its mouth.

"Of course not, we have pardoned them both of all involvement, remember?" Luna asked, referring to the time in the infirmary tent where she'd met Ditsy and commended her for bravery. Garrosh, remembering it well, nodded to her in confirmation of such. Bringing the hog's leg to his plate and looking at the "cactus apple" in his hand, he realized just how ornately, skillfully, and carefully everything had been prepared, especially the meat. Taking a large bite of the leg and taking a moment to savor it, he decided to use this realization as a means of changing the subject.

"I wager it's safe to assume that you creatures do not normally partake in eating or preparing meat, yes?" Though his statement seemed to come out of nowhere, all present knew that it would come up eventually.

"Not usually, and we certainly never eat it; our stomachs cannot digest such things." Luna was the first to explain, and her sister was soon to carry the conversation in a direction for which Garrosh had been planning.

"Why do you ask, Warchief? It isn't ill-prepared, is it?" The collected alicorn asked, masterfully keeping up a mask of worry on her face.

"It's perfectly cooked... And well-seasoned..." The Warchief once again used this to his advantage. "...Which begs the question: How have you accomplish such a fine work of art if I'm to believe you lack personal experience with carnivorous diets?" To this, the Sun Goddess cracked an engaged smile as Garrosh was starting to think she'd anticipated such a question. Giving her signature titter, she responded.

"Why Warchief! Whoever said we lacked experience? Quite to the contrary really, we've had long for our professional chefs to gather much experience due to the customary needs of some of our surrounding nations' ambassadors." The orc knew this was a very clever being and that she'd just set a tempting trap, but to what extent, he knew not. The one thing he knew for sure, was that the proverbial battle lines had just been drawn. Seeing no other option laying before him, his next move had to be: Spring the trap.

"Surrounding nations?" The Warchief inquired cautiously.

"Of course! There are many nations that lie across the seas at the borders of this continent, and there are many of which who's inhabitants consume meat as commonly as we here consume hay..." She carried such wisdom as she spoke, perhaps Garrosh should have started believing that she and Luna had been alive for thousands of years earlier. "...the most frequent tourists and politicians to visit here being the griffons and minotaurs." Garrosh was just taking another bite from his boar leg when she said that last part, and it took him quite some effort not to choke on it right then and there.

"Griffons?! Minotaurs?! What is this place that even griffons have humanoid intelligence?! And minotaurs! Did she mean tauren? Is this place really all that different from Azeroth apart from the horse creatures?" His mind overflowed and ran over with an uncontrollable host of brand-new curiosities. The sentence she just spoke unto him brought with it so many more unanswered questions, but Hellscream knew he'd have to settle for finding out most in due time, lest he make an ignorant, foolish child of himself in front of this so-called royalty, especially during this little game he was playing. Inwardly calming himself, He approached this new revelation minimally. "Minotaurs? As in 'tauren?'"

"Well, I suppose you could call them that, though, I don't know how they'd react." She chatted idly before shooting him a question of her own. "Why do you ask, Warchief? Do you happen to recognize their kind?" She asked with a notable level of intrigue. Now he'd gone and done it. He knew she was eventually going to ask where he was from, and with all that that implied, he could be stuck here all night; he didn't have all night. Still, he opted to hold out as long as possible before she did ask, and replied as vaguely as he could.

"I do not yet know, Princess, but by your description, they seem to be a bit..." Just then, something off to Garrosh's left attracted his attention. "...familiar..." His eyes automatically averted to see what it was. To his surprise, the one who was nearest him (which is to say fairly far away) was scribbling away on what appeared to be a notebook with some sort of writing implement pinched between her hoof as fast it looked like she could, and judging by the considerable clump of pages she had tucked behind the notebook, she'd been doing this for a while now. Looking directly at her as the silence dragged on, one by one gaining everyone else's attention, he suddenly recognized her as the fledgling magus with whom he'd first sparred at the whimsical cottage on his first day here, and still as the silence dragged on, she kept on jotting things down on her notepad with tremendous speed, blissfully oblivious to the fact that she was now the star of the table. The pinkish imp, exaggeratedly clearing her throat, decided to rescue her friend from her ignorance by giving the engrossed mage a gentle nudge with her elbow to bring her out of her captivating note-taking as quickly as possible. She looked up at the pink one as if to say, "What was that for?" before whipping her head to where her fellow element was subtly pointing. What she saw made her visibly jump, for staring quizzically back at her with those same piercing yellow eyes as from before, was the very behemoth about whom she was undoubtedly writing. As the two made eye-contact, Garrosh never said a word, and what had started for her as a sudden jump-scare, gradually transformed into a creeping and unbearable embarrassment as the poor magus' face steadily turned more and more red. After a few excruciatingly awkward seconds, the humiliated alicorn forced out a degraded, bashful, and mistaken chuckle (The kind one makes when one has been found to have made a terrible slip-up) before very quickly hiding her notebook from sight and attempting sorely to account for what she was just doing.

"Ehehe.... Sorry, I was just, uh... documenting this meeting's dialog... yeah, don't mind me." She stammered as she gave a shy, unsteady wave with her hoof. Unpurchased, unpurchased at best, Garrosh didn't believe her for a second; she was clearly studying him, not that this made all that angry. Still, he decided to take this opportune moment to toy with her.

"You need not apologize, Magus; I was merely observing you as much you were observing me." He admitted as he aloofly leaned back in his seat, causing her to become an impossibly deeper shade of crimson as she bit down on her lip. Swiveling her head briskly from side to side, she then realized that by now everyone was silently and blankly staring at her, even the unnamed bolts and Celestia. With sweat rapidly beading on her tensed brow, the poor scholar looked as though she could keel over from the sheer embarrassment at any moment, but as a sudden saving grace for her, it came to her attention that he had just referred to her as "Magus."

"Oh! Um... Twilight, Twilight Sparkle." She uttered as a last ditch attempt to shed the intense scrutiny she'd just gotten. Unfortunately for her, Garrosh had no idea what she had just said.

"...What?" The Warchief asked after few passing seconds as he kept his eyes locked on her, a perplexed expression already spread across his features.

"It's my name... Twilight Sparkle, student of Princess Celestia." She explained simply appearing to show a hint of pride at that last statement, seeming to be convalescing smoothly after her unpreferred introduction, her face already having lost most of its previous reddish tint. That was, at least, until another one of her fellow elements whom Garrosh immediately recognized as the one who fainted on-scene before the first battle leaned over past the pink one to whisper something in her ear. "Oh!" She exclaimed as though she'd missed something that was staring her in the face. Her blush resumed , and becoming more bashful by the minute, she then revised her title.

"Um, Princess Twilight Sparkle..." Garrosh felt like rolling his eyes, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little surprised. The primary reason that her being a princess was a tad surprising was not only because she didn't look that much like the two others (especially seeing as how she wasn't even sitting next to one of them,) but also due to the fact that she was literally useless as one. If Celestia was the "Goddess of the Sun" and Luna was the "Goddess of the Moon", where did that leave this awkward magus?

"Perhaps she is the one of the stars; it would seem befitting to her name and mark." He contemplated, getting a bit more interested as he formulated his next question.

"If the sun and moon both have their caretakers, then what is it that you represent?" He asked, amazingly succeeding in hiding any form of mockery in his tone. Twilight swiftly opened her mouth to respond to his semi-philosophical question, but reluctantly closed it soon after. Twilight then repeated this series of motions once more before finally speaking, all the while rubbing her lavender hooves together in a obvious sign of sheepishness.

"Well... we- I mean, I don't actually know... yet." She admitted with a hint of shame in her voice. She was about to continue, but Garrosh intended to spare her the considerable pain. Instead, he did something he had seen Thrall do dozens of times at his summits: Effortlessly turn the pain and scrutiny of conversation onto another, more important target.

"Should one of these co-ruling alicorns not have informed you of your role in royal society?" The orc asked, looking Celestia dead in the eyes before cruelly adding more to his question. "...or the lack thereof?" The regal white princess was just opening her mouth to patiently explain her answer when Garrosh's masterful scheme was all but ruined by yet another bystander, That so-called "bystander" being the bizarre, pink demon upon whom he'd yet to exact his revenge.

"She does too! She has a role! She's the Princess of Friendship, silly!" The demon blithely cheered. The damned thing seemed to have no indoor voice whatsoever, and as far as her statement went, Garrosh almost thought he did roll his eyes. The Princess of Friendship? This was a civilization that entitled one of their own leaders as the keeper of a worthlessly petty ideal?! Now he was sure he'd heard everything! Perhaps the next "princess" he would meet would be one of gluttony or of fear! All of this and much, much more were cycling through his head like an insufferably warped parade, nearly causing him to start scowling profusely, but remembering some of the words The Great Mother had spoken unto him, he caught himself at the very last moment. What little interest in these creatures' customs he'd managed to accumulate was now gone, and it would take quite a lot to bring it back. "I'm Pinkie Pie by the way, nice to meet you, Mr. Orc!" Garrosh just sat there staring at her fizzy, grinning form, blinking several times in torpid confusion. He didn't have much time to comprehend just how dumb such a name was though, for she unexpectedly continued; She also seemed to know what he was thinking at that very second. "I'm sorry about the whole 'shooting myself at you' thing, but now that we know you're not a really big meany, I won't ever have to do that again. We can all be friends!"

"..............!" Garrosh's blood froze in his veins as he searched his ears back a moment and heard the word, that one, key word. "How did she know I was an orc!? I never disclosed my race's name to anyone but Ditsy and Dinky!" Garrosh was somewhat unnerved at this new problem, yet he was not the first to speak up about it. Even Celestia, much to his surprise, was beaten to the punch by someone who must have caught it at the precise same time.

"Wait a moment... Pinkie Pie dear, what is an... 'Orc?'" Asked the pampered-looking mare who had fainted at the mere sight of him back at the cottage settlement. Her accent, tone, and voice was one of the strangest things he had ever heard in his life; no creature on Azeroth had ever sounded like that. Though, it almost sounded like it could have been a severely heavy-handed, aristocratic blood elven inflection. She quickly continued, realizing she'd forgotten something. "Why! Where are my manners? I am Rarity: Element of Generosity, and may I just say, it is pleasure to make somepony of your stature's acquaintance, darling. A new species in Equestria! What could be more exciting?" She finished prattling with an feminine giggle and a radiant, flashy smile. Though she struck him mostly as just another showboating peacock, Garrosh was still not fully certain on what to make of her; he would still need to keep an eye on this "Element of Generosity" for a bit longer before coming to any ultimate conclusions.

"Silly Rarity, that's what he is; he's an orc!" Pinkie Pie chirped, not at all bothered by the many looks of confusion she was receiving, or by the fact that she knew what she was happily explaining spontaneously. "Look at him and you'll be able to tell: For starters, he's ginormous, then look at his teeth, and he has no fur! All those point to one thing: Orc!" The certifiable pink creature finished her observations with a smile as wide as half of her entire face. Looking at this hellish, carefree harlequin, Garrosh wanted nothing more than to reach over and smack that stupid grin right off the demonic pony's face.

Yet, even after the final fortifications of his limits had been tested so, still he remained calm and diplomatic. Thrall would most assuredly be envious, but after remembering that he and Princess Celestia were basically at war with one another at this dinner table, it wasn't a terribly difficult feat. "Well said, Pink one, well said, but for all your calculated musings, you left out one decisive detail:" He started to lean over the table towards her as he spoke. "If you know of orcs, then where are we from?" It was over; he had won, for there was no possible way that she could know anything of this.

Leaning forward as well and narrowing her eyes to Level equally with her apparent challenger, Pinkie Pie put both her hooves to her head in an awkward position and stuck her tongue out in over-exaggerated thought, looking as though she were mentally fumbling to form a cohesive answer, but incredibly, she did answer the Warchief with her usual beaming smile in only a few short seconds. "Well, you're brown, so...." All at the table, even Celestia and the already leaning Warchief leaned in closer to hear what the pink ball of fur was about to proclaim. Incredulously, Garrosh was beginning to think she was onto him. "That means your from..." She paused, undoubtedly for dramatic affect. "...The desert outlands!"

"... Impossible..." This was the only word Garrosh's mind seemed able to resonate, and the orc-in-denial was the only one to remain silent as he leaned back into his seat, utterly defeated. By the time Garrosh's back had hit his seat rest, nearly all at the table had joined in an uproar, wondering madly why Pinkie's answer had such an affect on the orc. While the other members of the table apart from the two overwhelmed lead princesses were all begging him to tell them what and/or which of their planet's desert outlands he was from, he silently persisted in his stupor, staring straight at Pinkie Pie, who stared straight back at him, and winked mischievously. "I... lost..." He could have sworn he heard himself mumble through the burdensome ongoing noise.

The next thing Pinkie Pie did was yell "Quiet!" to the overly excited crowd. Huffing comically, She then leaned forward again, motioning toward Garrosh; he knew damned well what she wanted him to do and what she wanted him to say, and he did not want to do it. He was not going to do it. He would not stand for it! Right then and there he vowed not to show any further signs that he had lost anything to such a pathetic, lowly, pitiful creature, especially in front of the pious sun goddess who he could tell was just itching to see him writhe and bend before her will. It was in the midst of the host of his boiling mental tantrums and stewings that he suddenly conjured a new plan; it wasn't much, but he was sure it would work. It had to work! The only thing that needed to be done was to stall them with themselves until either they'd forgotten about that horridly loaded question, or it was far enough into this dinner that he get by excusing himself from it, leaving them only with a brief synopsis of where he came from. It appeared positively fool-proof, so Garrosh put it into effect.

"You were only half correct, my little pink friend." He chided whilst failing to hold back the ill-intended venom in his response, which strangely enough was lost on the still-grinning equine. All at the table, especially Celestia, were waiting impatiently with baited breath for the cryptic orc to continue.

"It seems the whole of my stalling has thus far come to an end." Garrosh was sure that some (especially the magus) were just short of salivating in anticipation of his long awaited explanation; pity for them that they were not about to get it right away. "But," The fact that at just the mere mentioning of the word changed some of their facial expressions for the more discouraged (once again, especially the magus') made Garrosh crack a small grin of his own. "...You all will need to tell me of your names, titles, and perhaps even a bit about yourselves if you wish before I tell you anything of my realm and world." As expected, most of the insistent members of the summit seemed to relax a little at the prospect of an info trade, some of them even gaining a look of pure awe that he said the word "world." "I demand only to know with whom I share my stories. What say you?" He offered, looking back up to the two lead alicorns. He knew he didn't have to ask, for he knew they couldn't possibly refuse him and risk never knowing. After a brief amount of no-doubt cunning consideration, Celestia was the first to finally confirm agreement to him.

"...A fair and understandable trade, dear Warchief, very well." She spoke charmingly. Then, as if to further elaborate on her sister's answer, Luna chimed in warmly.

"Of course, 'tis the least we could do." One by one, and two by two, everyone at the table reluctantly agreed. Garrosh couldn't be more pleased with himself, for now he would know those with whom he fought and would most likely be fighting again in the not-so-distant-future.

"Now," He announced. "Let us begin..." He finished before abruptly pointing to the leader of the unnamed flight group; he decided on the spot that he was going to kill two birds with one stone. "You, I've a question that has plagued both my mind and the minds of certain 'others' ever since our little skirmish yesterday." He bluntly explained before enlightening further. "What is the title of your faction and its function?" He demanded. What he said was indeed true; he did want to find out what they were called ever since he'd made it his mission to do so back at Ponyville General Hospital, and though he could have quite easily guessed that its function was primarily to serve the moon goddess as their mirrored counterparts served the sun, there was something telling him that he needed to make sure. Nightshade peered back at him in silence for a moment as if stubbornly unwilling to speak. It was extremely minute, but the orc still caught it: Nightshade had cast a very quick side-long glance at the Wonderbolts' captain from across the table. Garrosh then knew exactly why she didn't want to answer. She didn't want Spitfire to her voice. Nonetheless, she eventually spoke up. In fact, she sounded like she was once again using it to her advantage, for she sounded noticeably more sinister than her considerable usual.

"And what makes you think that I'm at liberty to tell you?" She answered his question with a more defiant one, but Garrosh was too preoccupied gauging the magnitude of Spitfires reaction to her disembodied rasp (That being the slight widening of her eyes and gaping of her mouth, making her look genuinely surprised.) Before any heated arguments could break out however, another voice met both their ears.

"...Because I'm giving you that liberty, Nightshade." Came the voice of Luna directed solely at her, her brow now arched in sore disapproval. Muttering savagely under her breath, Nightshade soon straightened her posture, popped her neck sideways, gave a composed sigh through her nostrils, and grudgingly complied.

"Title: The Shadowbolts; primary function: Merc team," She recited to both him and everyone present, still holding her intimidating tone and voice. "though we've been known to take part in... our own certain 'pastimes' every once in a blue moon." She added, forming a devilish grin. "And before you go around asking behind my back, yes, we're under long-term contract of one Princess Luna. Escort, adviser, bodyguard, recon, asset, undercover operative, tactician, hit squad, you name it; it's all our forte." she finished with a crooked, cocky smile. Garrosh then knew to always listen to that small voice in the back of his head telling him to be sure. These were mercenaries, hired thugs, loyalists only to money, and he never would have guessed it. The orc could swear he saw her chest broaden slightly as she bragged, but he had to admit it; that was quite the resume to boast about. Based on her her dossier, these dark equines could be anything from vigilantes to outright terrorists, and it clearly showed.

"So you are working under Princess Luna! What kind of 'long term' are you talking about here?" Came the aggravated, accusatory voice of Spitfire from across the table. Thinking that they'd no more secrets or surprises left to spring on the Wonderbolts, several members on the Shadowbolts' side started shifting uncomfortably, but Nightshade only gave an arrogant scoff in her direction and retorted.

"Why, Spit? Afraid you'll have to work alongside me too long? Afraid you'll warm up to me?" She teased relentlessly with that same "almost sensual" tone he'd heard from the day before. Very few may have caught it, but he definitely heard Spitfire mutter, "I could never with a wretch like you." Before anyone else could either remark on it or stay them attacking each other so, the jubilant blue stallion next to Spitfire blurted a sudden question out.

"Why the hay does your voice sound like that, Shade? Am I the only pony here getting creeped out?" Weirdly, there wasn't even a hint of malice in the question, but Garrosh just chalked that up to his evident disposition. Nightshade must have thought that way too, for her next comment sounded more of a rivaling banter than a ferocious jab.

"You try sounding sexy when you've got a plastic tube lodged down your throat just so you could keep on breathing, wimp." She deadpanned to the now remorseful, wincing stallion. Garrosh had no idea why she would want to sound "sexy" at all, for she was plainly addressing a female. Garrosh was sure that even these ponies did not attempt to breed with their same genders. Yet, there was nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he was wrong. Still, he blew it off; there were a good few aspects and customs of these creatures he supposed that he would never comprehend. Nearly all at the table but he and Celestia were wincing by now as the two pegasi leaders were about to continue their squabbling when the mildly disturbed voice of Luna cut in for a second time.

"E...Enough of this, the both of you." She demanded, still choking on her sip of red wine she'd taken prior to Nightshade's unsugared description. Garrosh knew not why she stopped them, for he was just starting to enjoy himself; it would have been a good way to figure out a few things about them without even asking them, even though Celestia seemed to notice his little scheme.

"Well, I suppose not everything comes that easily." The Warchief thought, sighing as he resigned to continue his crafty works. "I'm going to go out on the branch here and assume that their's a great amount of bad blood between your two flight teams." He commented smugly, all but beckoning at least one of them to further elaborate on the subject. His move looked to be succeeding in full swing as the both of them seemed to be opening their mouths to explain, when the jubilant one who'd intervened earlier beat them to it.

"Well... to them, that'd be a little bit of an understatement, but seeing that even though we're rival squads, we don't really get along as badly as you might think." He stated the unexpected in the faces of two disagreeing team captains before continuing. "I mean, apart from them and Wave Chill, we can actually talk to them without things getting too nasty." He finished, earning a punch to his elbow from his scowling superior. Ignoring that thoroughly predictable reaction, the orc just settled for shifting his attention to the one who answered.

"Hmm..... And, who are you?" He inquired to the outgoing bolt.

"...Me?" He asked semi-dumbly, pointing at himself with a hoof. Garrosh gave an uncharacteristically patient nod to the decidedly slow-minded stallion, indicating "yes."

"Uh... Soarin, 1st Lieutenant of the Wonderbolts; nice to meet you." He said, a welcoming smile forming on his muzzle. This had virtually no effect on the brown brute, but he thought it was definitely worth the try.

"I take it you're the 'sunshine' of your division?" He asked with a tone in an uncertain place between jest and mockery. It was Garrosh's turn for some of his to have no effect this time, for the stallion of the conversation actually seemed only to brighten at this sentiment.

"Well, I'd like to think so, but some of these characters might disagree." He answered, now sounding as though he were having a friendly conversation with someone he's known for years. Giving a brief chuckle mostly to himself, he pressed on.

"What do you think, guys? Am I your friendly neighborhood morale officer?" He asked his team mates, nudging Spitfire with his elbow; rolling her eyes, she only seemed to look away and cross her fetlocks, but Garrosh could easily detect the tiniest smirk on her face as she did so. Then out of nowhere, the bolt to Soarin's right suddenly spoke to the orc about his comrade.

"Honestly, I suppose he is. I mean, he's always there to lighten any tense mood, though whether that's prudent or not depends on the situation, but I think 'sunshine' is the perfect analogy." The stallion smoothly replied. "I'm Rapidfire by the way; pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Another pony with the last name of 'fire,' perhaps the two are related somehow?" He viewed it a possibility until he looked between him and Spitfire a couple times. "Probably not...." Garrosh once again didn't know what to make of this one's voice, but it sounded very close to that of a human's, something Garrosh didn't like much at all. Meanwhile, as he was all processing this, the stallion took his silence as confusion and thus decided to elaborate on it.

"...You know, the first one you punched." Even though Garrosh knew that already just by looking at the small bandage on the top of his muzzle, he still had to hold back a grin from the way he worded it. "May I just say, dear sir, that you have one tremendous right uppercut." He added with the same grin as the Warchief was holding back. Something told him that this particular pony seldom held any hard feelings whatsoever. Grabbing one of the pies from the table with a curious hand, he was just about to reply to the bolt when the fourth to his right suddenly struck up.

"Where the heck'th Wave Chill? He should've been back here by now." The smallish mare inquired, sounding more nervous and worried than probably intended, her head on a swivel as she looked about the room. Garrosh was just about to start looking around himself when he heard a voice coming from the tent's entrance, namely the one right behind him.

"Reporting for duty..." The unmistakable voice answered the mare, seeming to have been waiting for such a question. The Warchief for one was astonished that Chill had managed to sneak up on him like that, but there was absolutely no way he was ever going to admit that to him, or anyone else for that matter. Garrosh merely leaned back in his chair, not even turning his head as Chill's aloof voice then addressed Celestia. "My apologies for my tardiness, Your Majesty; that little filly does not know how to give directions." By this time, everyone in the room knew to whom he was referring.

"It's quite alright, Lieutenant; we all were aware of what you tasked with doing." The Sun Princess returned understandingly, to which Chill gave a loyal bow before heading to his seat next to the unstatuesque mare who first inquired where he was. As soon he'd heard exactly what Celestia had said, Garrosh's angering eyes instinctively and discreetly trailed over to Nightshade, who seemed innocently preoccupied whispering idly amongst her team members. Unconventionally folding the tin dish that housed the unfamiliar dessert back, and taking his first humongous bite into it, the tentative orc was still looking over at her when Wave Chill spoke again.

"So, what'd I miss?" Swallowing the chunk of very sweet, encrusted confection, the orc set about humoring the lieutenant's question with a tangible amount of snark.

"Oh nothing, Wave Chill, you all were just bearing your souls to me in exchange for mine." He answered the unsuspecting stallion with his own smug grin before taking another generous swig from his ale mug to wash down the pie, knowing full well he wouldn't have any idea of what he was talking about. His trivial prank working perfectly, the dark pegasus soon sported a look of utter confusion (even visible through his flight goggles) as he looked to his fellow bolt to the left for a possible explanation (that only turning out to be an unknowing shrug from her.) That was at least, until The Princess of the Night decided to spare the poor stallion by summarizing for him.

"What The Warchief means, Lieutenant, is that we were just telling him a few things about ourselves in return for some of the stories he can tell from his realm." She explained, prompting Garrosh to casually lift his brow and nod in agreement. Wave Chill, lifting his goggles from his eyes, stared blankly at the princess for a moment before understanding completely.

"Oh.... Well then," He said, turning to the Warchief, his expression still somewhat blank. "Wave Chill, Wonderbolts 2nd Lieutenant; favorite environment of operation: Sea and water mass." He recited, impossibly sounding more robotic than ever. After a few awkward moments of silence, Garrosh quickly gathered that he had nothing else left to say.

"Fair enough..." He spoke before unexpectedly turning his attention to the final one of the Wonderbolts left to meet. "What about you, small one? What are you called?" He asked, purposely looking her in the eyes, daring her to step up.

"Hey! I'm not....." She never finished; in fact, she bit her tongue, and the orc knew why. It was no secret from him that she was deathly afraid of him, but seeing as how there was no evident way to go about this without intimidating her in some way or another, Garrosh simply stopped caring, sighed intolerantly, and spoke freely.

"Perhaps your stature is, perhaps, but is the rest of you? I'd say so, for I've given you a bountiful number of chances to show me that your heart and courage are not, and none have proven worthy of my effort." His expression intentionally taking a turn for the more gravely disappointed, trying to coax something out of her. "I suppose you've still much growing left to do." He uttered with finality, still glimpsing the ever-present fear that refused to leave her fuschia-colored eyes. He was becoming fairly certain that she wouldn't take the bait that he was prodding at her with, that was, until something rather amusing he had not foreseen occurred.

"Ya know..." came a signature "goblin" voice suddenly from across the table, causing everyone's heads to turn in that direction. Garrosh looked to see the goat's bearded one with a slicked mane leaning back in his seat, a palpable look of hatred visible even through his obscuring, angular goggles. "She may be a Wonderbolt n' all, but I draw da line here!" He proclaimed, slightly raising his voice.

"Charger--" The ghostly grey Gilnean stallion next to him on his left attempted to mutter, but was quickly cut off.

"No! I may come from some horse-apple hole up in Manehatten, but at least I know how ta treat a lady! You! You just pop up outta no wheres and try to strong-arm everypony inta thinkin' dat they're a bunch a' limp pansies? Judgin' 'em like you're so perfect!?" The heavily accented equine asked, now quivering with rage. The hypnotic-looking mare on his right tried to throw a feeble hoof over his mouth in a desperate attempt to derail the inevitable disaster, only to have it lightly swept away by the ranting Shadowbolt. "And as if dat weren't enough, you had to go and hospitalize Blitz!? My comrade, and one a' my best friends, and you expect me ta just sit down and eat in front a' you like nothin' eva buckin' happened!?" Garrosh was now too enthralled to say a word, but it was then that even Celestia tried her hoof at wrangling the rabid pegasus inward.

"Charger, I demand you hold your tongue." She spoke quietly but quite firmly, but to no avail.

"One sec, 'Ya Highnee,' freedom of expression in action here!" He said without even so much as taking his obscured eyes off the orc. "So yeah! I'm gonna take it upon myself to say what I think should be on any halfway decent pony's mind at this point:" The inconsolable stallion then leaned forward out of his seat, wings now on display, and proceeded to make a universally inappropriate gesture with his hooves that he'd seen several humans make on occasion. "Up. Yours." He seethed dramatically. "Up yours, buddy! Up yours for what ya did ta Blitz!" He shouted, pounding the table with his hoof for emphasis. "Up yours for what ya did to us and 'dose idiots ova 'dere!" He shouted, motioning over to the Wonderbolts' side of the table. "And most of all, up yours for gettin' da nerve to even show your face around here after all ya did!" He finally finished, sitting back in his chair, huffing in both anger and excursion from his unending rant to the still-enthralled Warchief.

Nary a sound could be heard throughout the room apart from the subtle chirping of crickets from the outside (And the little snickers that came out of Nightshade who was holding a hoof over her own mouth.) The lunar side of the banquet was seen doing everything from face-hoofing to hoof-biting while the solar side of the panel held faces stricken with both shock and amazement, but both sides had some who looked frightfully over at the bombarded orc, who had scarcely moved a muscle since the hot-headed Shadowbolt began. He just sat there, staring at the defiant bolt, not giving any discernible reaction. It wasn't far fetched for some to be thinking that this first-contact rendezvous had been totally ruined. Suddenly, a low rumble resonated from the orc in what most would say sounded undoubtedly like a growl. Most of the feast attendees were fearing the worst, but that all turned to profound perplexion in the blink of an eye when something changed.

The noise Garrosh was making steadily turned from the "growl" they'd been hearing to a low, booming chuckle, and then to an all-out guffaw as the massive beast leaned back in chair and slapped his knee in a fit of jolly, boisterous laughter. There wasn't a single face at the dinner that didn't look at least a little confused as to what could possibly have the big brute in stitches at a time like this, but they were all soon enlightened as he next spoke.

"Finally! Finally one who has the stones to tell what's really on his mind, one who has the guts to try and confront me, even if it was rather amateur." He cheered, wiping a very small tear of humor from his eye as he looked back and forth between the courageous stallion and the two on-looking lead alicorns.

"Oh come on! Wha...." Was all the offending bolt could muster out before Garrosh continued.

"Charger, was it?" The Warchief asked rhetorically, for the stallion in question didn't even need to answer. "I like you; you've shown me vast bravery where I'd given up hope on finding any. I look forward to our future dealings." The strangely chipper orc stated to him with another chuckle, to which he gave dissatisfied scoff slumping back in his seat again and crossing his arms.

"Yeah yeah yeah, laugh it up, leather face." He grumbled angrily, more livid than before that his rant only served to brighten his target's mood. Right after he did this, the petite Wonderbolts mare across from him reacted to his gesture.

"I didn't need a Thadowbolt to thtand up for me anyway, you know." She muttered almost indignantly as she stiffened her spine. Garrosh could now detect something different in what was just said; namely the obvious lisp that just came forth from the indignant Wonderbolt. Garrosh briefly had to wonder why he hadn't managed to catch something like that up until this point as the two sides' bickering carried on.

"Really? A bit late for dat one, toots, don't ya think?" Charger deadpanned shooting a rueful glance in her direction, only to have the chance for any consecutive retaliation snuffed out by a frightfully insistent regal voice.

"Enough! All of you." Celestia announced more seriously than before, no doubt not wanting to take any more chances angering her guest, thwarting her plans for him and thus jeopardizing the entire purpose of this meeting. Many were shocked that she hadn't ordered some of her guards to escort Charger from the room after (or during) his outburst. Garrosh surmised that if she had, it would have been a spit in the face to the power she'd granted back to her younger sister.

"Yes, Princess, I do believe it's back to business. So, I shall ask again: What are you called?" Garrosh asked the smallish mare, pointing in her direction. Grumbling under her breath, angry about being put on the spot again, the bolt answered him this time, and without the slightest hesitation or fear.

"Fine... You know what? Fine, the name'th Fleetfoot, firtht Lieutenant of the Wonderbolth." Even though to him that noticeable lisp was found close to intolerable, Garrosh also found himself focusing harder on her name.

"Fleetfoot? It must be a title given to someone with a gift for agility and speed..." This was what his mind had concluded about her, but before he could ask her this for the sake of verification, Fleetfoot suddenly extended her profile with something delightfully unexpected.

"And jutht becauth I'm thmall compared to the likth of you, and jutht becauthe I might theem afraid of you, doethn't mean I won't knock your teeth looth like I did latht time." The impeded Wonderbolt added with a small, snooty "hmph."

"That's the spirit!" The surprised orc boomed. "Now was that so hard? We've delved through an entire faction at this table already." He pointed out to the lot of them, Fleetfoot only rolling her eyes.

"Wait, so you're not going to ask about me or my rank?" Spitfire asked him with a near-undetectable tinge of misplaced disappointment in her voice. Garrosh only sneered at the obviously narcissistic captain before explaining this decision.

"I already know everything about both you and your depraved counterpart thanks to your petty incessant squabblings, Spitfire." He stated matter-of-factly as he subconsciously noted how the rainbow-colored one seemed to scoff at this statement as she blew part of her mane out of her face. leaving a mental note to bring that up later into the dinner, Garrosh then turned his head to face the right, more sinister side of the table just in time to hear Nightshade plainly mutter, "Well that's just not fair...." Ignoring her little remark, he instead chose to address the someone he'd been wanting to find out more about for a while now: The scarred ghostly stallion who sat next to his leader. "You there..." The Warchief said simply to gain his attention, gaining the attention of the wrong one.

"Yeah?" Nightshade asked, her elbow on the table, and a hoof under her chin.

"Not you," He snapped irritably. "the one next to you..." He clarified, finally catching his attention.

"What?" He asked guardedly through his scarred muzzle in a low, gruff, accented tone.

"You seemed to handle the task of sparring with me impressively; I'll give you that." The brute of stallion seemed to show no readable traces of emotion or reaction to him, and even though his ears were visibly tuned to his every word, he never once made eye-contact or turn his head as the orc went on. "Judging by your scars and attitude, you must surely be a seasoned veteran in the field of bounty hunting." Garrosh purposely narrowed the his guess of the stallion's field of expertise in a veiled attempt to draw out any corrections from him, and not only the Warchief, but most of the room had drawn an inch closer in silence to hear the ghostly veteran's response to it.

"....Among other things...." The aloof stallion responded vaguely, still not turned towards Hellscream. Garrosh had cracked a grin at this little game, and the Shadowbolt knew that he was not about to let up with his inquiry. locking his eyes squarely onto the Warchief, he told all he would.

"Look, I'm sure you don't want to know just because you maybe interested, and for your information, you're just another mission to me too, and I'd like to keep it that way. My name's Stratus of the Shadowbolts, and that's all you need to know." Stratus coldly concluded, turning his attention back to the meal he was still eating.

"A respected answer well said, Stratus." The still-smirking orc said, bowing his head briefly. What Stratus had told him was fairly self-explanatory, not to mention in a respectably unlikable manner; it was simplistic "sod off" kinds of statements like that that the Warchief wished he'd had the luxury of telling many he'd had the mind-aching displeasure of tolerating and dealing with back on Azeroth, and to tell the truth, it was something that made him just a tad envious of the pegasus.

Things so far seemed to be going exceedingly well for both the political hosts and the guest-of-honor of this dinner, but even by The Warhief's cunning standards, this scheme of distraction he'd put into effect was taking way too long to drag out. This needed to be moved along more quickly, so with a trifle impatience, Hellscream's attention jumped suddenly ahead to the final Shadowbolt who sat the farthest away from him, just a corner away from Luna's seat.

"...And what about you?" He sprung the sudden question on her, knowing that she knew she was next. This mare was one of the more composed of the lot; she may have blinked, but it was the distinct, deliberate, practiced flutter of eyelashes as she fixed her piercing gaze upon the Warchief with those crystal-clear blue eyes.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Garrosh's ears were struck with her voice, and he was both shocked and somewhat appalled to find that the voice was undeniably that of a text-book temptress. Why a creature like herself would even begin to strike such a tone with something as alien (and probably ugly) to her as an orc in the first place was something that was well and sincerely beyond him. Nonchalantly shrugging it off as a little mind game she was trying to pull on him, he answered her question to his question.

"I mean: Your partner in crime thinks of me merely as 'just another mission' as he put it. So what is it that you think of me?" He asked her shrewdly. This one was a temptress alright, and a shameless one at that. Hellscream could tell that every single one of her mesmerizing movements and expressions were honed and designed specifically to lure in and trap helpless masculine eyes. Her head dipped subtly and so too did her eyes, her expression deepening, and after pausing for a moment, she brought only her eyes back up to lock firmly with his as she smiled a deceptively coy, demure smile.

"I'm truly touched that my humble opinion would mean so much to you, Garrosh." She cooed flirtatiously through that same expression. Hellscream intuitively took note of the fact that she was one of the first ones at the table to address him by his first name as she leaned slightly forward and continued. "Don't mind Stratus over here, hon; he thinks that way about almost everyone." She assured him with that same fluid, silver voice as she brought a dainty hoof up to her chin to assume a convincing contemplative pose, a refined look of genuine thoughtfulness alighting her delicate features. "As for me... I think you're more of a new and... interesting face." Garrosh fought gallantly with the overwhelming urge to shudder; he may have been an orc purely of tradition, but he knew damn good and well what that vague, seductive pause was most likely hiding. Alas, any poor naive fool off his guard could be considered indelibly as an easy prey and/or meal for this professional strumpet. "Ahh, but hear me ramble, you wanted a name, didn't you, handsome? You can just call me Starry Skies, or 'Star' for short."

"Starry Skies? What kind of a name is that?" Garrosh thought as he readjusted his posture in his seat. He supposed it could have been an alias, which was not an uncommon practice in the immoral hobbies in which she probably partook. Wanting no longer to persist in beating around this particular bush with her, the Warchief decided to curtly move this trade along and conclude the introduction.

"Thank you for your humble opinion, Starry Skies" He made a point to spit her name, and to her credit, she stayed in character as if he hadn't.

"Anytime, hon, anytime." She cooed once again through a sly smirk. Finding himself far more glad than he thought he would be to be rid of dealing with anything that one had to dish out, Hellscream turned his voice to all of them.

"Splendid! I now know almost everyone here.... almost." He murmured, setting his sights on the two remaining individuals sitting there doing absolutely nothing.

"Who's goin' first?" The hat bearing one muttered crossly over to the full-spectrum mare in that same alien accent the orc had heard in the very first settlement he'd discovered.

"Ehh, you can go first." She replied as if disinterested as she leaned her chair back precariously, idly flapping her wings a time or two.

"Fine..." Was all she mumbled, sounding very obligated as she quickly lifted her large hat off her head for the first time, and set it firmly on the table in front of her. "Ya'll wanna know who Ah am, pig killer? Fine by me! Name's Applejack, honest element, an' farmer from a family a' honest hard workers, not that you would git any a' that at all. An' as far that little somethin' ya wanna know 'bout me is concerned, Ah reckon Ah'll jus' skip that part and tell ya that my brother, Big Macintosh, who's a might sore between his hind legs since ya kicked 'em there, says 'hi!'" The obviously irked farmer huffed, looking thoroughly offended by his audacity as she slapped her stetson hat back on her head aggressively and sat back, still fuming. For a minute, Garrosh didn't know what to say to her; she was admirably gritty and tough, but the unflattering title she had for him didn't sit well with him at all. Still, he didn't exactly want to divulge that what she said was actually starting to get on his nerves, that and there was this blood related Big Macintosh she mentioned. Garrosh searched his memory for anyone that could fit her description, whether it be from the name, his affiliation with this farmer, or the injury he supposedly inflicted upon him, and for moment he couldn't remember. That was, until he recalled the very large, bulky-looking stallion who was trying in vain to pry his lumber axe from a vendor's cart bearing fruit that resembled the mark of three upon the farmer's flank perfectly, and how he kick-lifted him clean over said fruit cart into the bushes next to it. This was too juicy an opportunity to go unexploited for our Warchief.

"Hmm... Well, perhaps this so-called 'honest worker' will think twice before touching the belongings of another next time." He replied with a smirk and a neglected fury barely hidden just beneath his collected voice. Applejack's however, was not so hidden.

"Why you--" She boiled, her face reddened with rage as she lifted a clenched hoof before being interrupted by the subject of her hatred.

"And please, be sure to return him my greetings when next you see him." As Luna rolled her eyes at yet another foreseeable standoff, and as Celestia contemplated cutting in again before it was too late, that sarcastic request from him was apparently the last straw for the disreputed farmer.

"You'll have plenty a' time to git ta knowin' each other when he's puttin' ya in yer grave, ya pot-bellied son of a--" Just as Garrosh was looking forward to another fervid rant on another pony's part, everyone's ears were rescued in the nick of time as the multi-spectrum mare abruptly butted in.

"Oh for pete's sake, Applejack! Quit wasting your breath; we all know he wants you to go off on him!" She raised her voice at her friend for her evident stupidity.

"This warrior's more perceptive than she looks..." Hellscream thought, most engaged. After a few seconds, the poor farmer knew that she'd been completely had, but she was not about to go down without at least getting in the last word.

"Fer once, Dashy, yer right; 'sides, I probably shouldn't say what Ah'm thinkin' a' callin' him." The farmer sat back and gave out a final huff, crossing her arms bitterly. Garrosh decided right then to repeat the one thing on his mind at that time.

"...Dash..y...?" He asked as if monotonously underwhelmed. After shooting him a steady glare, the warrior elaborated.

"Yeah, that's right; my name's Rainbow Dash, element of loyalty, fastest flyer in Equestria, and 'Dashy' to only my friends, and if you've got a problem with that, then you can shove it up your flank."

"Element of Loyalty, hmm? Well, that explains a few things." Garrosh mused. He liked this mare. He liked the way she stood up to him for her allies at the cottage, and he liked the way she was standing up to him for her allies now. It was this heady mixture of courage and defiance that he could freely admire, even in such a creature, but he reasoned that he shouldn't voice that too clearly just yet.

"Well done, Prism Warrior, I was beginning to think my expectations for you were all for naught." He fessed up to her in an equally haughty tone as hers.

"Can it, dude; I know you don't really mean it. Personally, I'm just waiting for 'round two' where I smack you face-down for what you did to my friends." Yes, he liked this mare a lot; her confidence was outstanding, even though it was rather disproportionate to her size. Giving a short amused chuckle, Garrosh responded.

"Hmph, I suppose I lied when I said that Charger was the first here amongst this rabble to show me true courage, and I would indeed also be lying if I said I were not impressed by both what I saw back at the strange cottage, and by what I see before me now." He confessed willingly to her, lightly bowing his head in respect. Narrowing her eyes, she looked him over as if sizing him up for five full seconds before replying.

"......I don't buy it... I just wanna hurry this up, 'cause I don't give a feather about any lame stories you've got." This mare had to be trying to cut him to the quick, and in a way that no one else had tried before, but she'd have to do better than that if she was going to get a rise out of him. Immediately after Rainbow had spouted her corporeal distrust for the sincere orc, Twilight leaned over past Rarity and promptly hissed something directly at her.

"Shh! Rainbow! Don't--" She whispered sharply. Hellscream knew for sure that Twilight didn't think that the stories he'd have to share with them were, as Rainbow put it, lame. In fact, he believed her to be totally obsessed with the prospect of hearing them. Even so, the prism warrior openly ignored her friend in favor of recanting cleverly to Garrosh.

"Oh! And speaking of the cottage, that reminds me that I'm not about to let you get Fluttershy last." She said, pointing a hoof to the now-slightly-quivering pegasus sitting to her left... farthest away from the orc. Garrosh just sat there silently, stroking his chin as if he were having a difficulty understanding her; Rainbow Dash, for her part, was onto him. "Yeah, I knew what you were up to, and it won't work. This is Fluttershy, Element of Kindness, don't make me have to tell you the meaning of it." The pegasus then sat back with self-satisfied grin on her cyan-colored face. "There, now you can't tease and scare her by putting her on the spot." The orc could swear he heard the timid butter-yellow pegasus nearly inaudibly whisper "Thank you" to her friend. Garrosh was still at least going to have a little fun with this, even though his little side-scheme had backfired.

"What makes you think that I hadn't just forgotten her? She has, after all, not uttered a single word since we began." He leveled with her as if he truly had forgotten the painfully timid mare.

"Come on, baldy, how stupid do you think I am? I've seen how much guff you've given the others; you didn't forget about her for a second." She leveled back, spitting her words accusingly, but Garrosh was still determined to slip her up.

"I honestly think you're mistaken, 'Dashy,' for I think I actually did forget about her; just look at her," He motioned over to the delicate pony distastefully, who flinched before looking eye to eye with the brutish entity for the first time. "she's so... unmemorable, and so cowardice, she'd probably feint from from sheer fright if I so much as spoke to her." He continued, now confident that he had her riled enough for an outburst of her own. Face reddening from anger just as the farmer's had, Rainbow definitely looked like she was about to lose it, but Garrosh would never know; he had to perform a double take when a soft new voice met his ears from an unlikely seat at the table.

"You're right, Mr. Warchief..." Almost everyone in the room went silent as Rainbow looked at the subject of her defense as though she'd betrayed her, and Garrosh had to check his ears just in case he was hearing things.

"Come again?" He asked, a pleasantly surprised look now adorning his face. It took her quite a while to answer him; it was as if it were physically causing her pain to be in the spotlight of conversation. Nonetheless, she persevered.

"...Um, I said... you're right; I probably would have feinted if you just started speaking to me without any warning..." Garrosh had never heard anything so pathetically inconfident-sounding in all his numerous years, and that was saying a lot. He didn't even know what to say to such a sentiment, so it was a very good thing that she perked up the courage to continue, lest this pitiful, whimpering soul be the reason he finally loses his calm at this dinner.

"....Oh...And, um... I forgive you." She murmured out strangely warmly as if he somehow knew what in the world she was going on about.

"What?" He asked her, still maintaining that same, hopelessly confused tone he'd had since she first opened her mouth. Sounding just a little more confident, she explained her earlier statement.

"I forgive you, for... what happened back at my cottage. I can't blame you for being hungry; you were probably starving out there in the forest." She exclaimed quietly in a misplaced maternal tone that mildly disturbed the Warchief. "Even Mr. Bear and Mr. Manticore have little problems with that sometimes," She bore an expression like she was recalling some kind of fond memory when she mentioned those two bizarre names before she looked back up into the orcs eyes deeply. "so....I forgive you." She concluded, sporting a soft, welcoming, and wholly unexpected smile.

Let's just say that if any surprise attack launched by The Alliance or Vol'jin had caught Hellscream off guard by this much, he would have been killed right then and there, and by the looks of things, he wasn't the only one in this predicament. It was now Applejack's turn to cast a betrayed look toward the soft-spoken mare, where as Garrosh's expression remained that of comically poetic perplexity. Still bearing this same expression, he looked over to the prism warrior for even the smallest inkling of enlightenment, but all he received was a shrug; she plainly didn't know anymore about what had just happened than he did. Though he had a few things to ask her, he felt he should start off with a very important and simple fact.

"First of all: I never apologized." The bemused orc assured her before moving on to his questions. "Second: Who in Azer... this world are 'Bear' and 'Manticore?'" He asked, not liking the sound of either of them. "And thirdly: It is you who owns that night elven hovel with the many creatures?" He inquired, genuinely curious about her answer to both these questions. Still within the glow of the spotlight of conversation, the butter-yellow pegasus dipped her head down bashfully and gave such a reply.

"Yes, It's where I take care of them all; I wouldn't have it any other way. Mr. Bear is one of them too; I'm surprised you didn't meet him already." This mare was really something, there was no denying that. She spoke unto this hulking brute she'd been afraid to look at a few minutes ago as though she were speaking to a good friend, not a single insecurity about her certifiable habits. Though this didn't please the Warchief too much, he had to admire her defenses; he could already tell just from how she'd taken everything he'd said so far that there was no defeating her, for how could you knock something down who's already on there knees. So, letting go of all mischievous or foul intent, Garrosh went ahead and engaged with her.

"And this... 'Mr. Manticore?'" He pressed with a hint of reluctance, to which she happily replied.

"Oh! I met him in Everfree Forest with my friends, um... about two years ago. The poor little thing! Everypony thought he was angry at them and wanted to hurt them when we found him, but he just had a thorn stuck in his paw." Garrosh was beginning to have a very serendipitous, very terrible hunch, and he hoped he was just being overly suspicious.

"What exactly is he?" She seemed confused by his question; hopefully what she was about to describe did not fit the bill for what he was thinking.

"Um, well--" She started, unsure of where to go from there. Luckily for her, Rainbow once again stepped in for her.

"For Pete's sake! He's a manticore. What, You're telling me you don't have any of 'em where ever you're from?" She asked incredulously with impatient undertones. Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in fatigue, the mentally exhausted orc gave an aggravated sigh.

"What does one look like?" The spent Warchief asked almost desperately, willing to word it any possible way he could to garner any possible answer from these impossible equines. Fluttershy, being well versed in her craft and interests, candidly obliged with one.

"Oh! They have the body and head of a lion," Garrosh felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his full stomach as she continued. "the ears and wings of a giant bat--" He felt himself wince slightly as his eyes trailed downward, as deep down he knew that she didn't have to finish her description.

"--and the tail of a scorpid." Garrosh finished her thought without daring to look back up at her. "Well, there's always the chance that it wasn't the same manticore..." He thought, dreading reality, for the last thing he wanted to happen was for it to be discovered that he most likely hunted, mercilessly killed, and guiltlessly devoured yet another of the creatures under her close care. Meanwhile, outside of Hellscream's mind, the table had once again gone silent ever since the orc's newest utterance. That was, of course, until the caring pegasus spoke up gingerly.

"H-How did you... know?" She dumbfoundedly asked, developing a well-founded worry in her large, ocean eyes. "You didn't.... meet him in the forest, did you?" She asked, her question specifying as she began to fear for what might be. Everyone, eyes now widened and brows raised, leaned in ever closer to hear the orc's next words. This was it; this was the moment of truth. He would need to choose his next words very carefully, for if he didn't, it could open up a whole new level of drama the likes of which even Garrosh would never want to see. Forming a plan in the heat of the moment, and looking back up to meet the yellow pegasus' gaze, he dove in.

"What was your name? Butterfly?" He asked casually, as if he hadn't a care in either world. The one to whom he spoke answered rather quickly for her usual.

"Fluttershy..." She squeaked, not even noticing his humorously failed guess at her name. In fact, she looked to be bracing for bad news.

"No..." He finally said, still keeping up his casual ruse.

"No?" Rainbow Dash questioned warily, sizing him up again.

"No..." He said again in the same tone.

"Then how did you know what she was talking about?" Rainbow was grilling him now, but he was planning on it and had the perfect answer.

"We apparently have manticores where I come from." He was making frivolous conversation, and it appeared to be working.

"You do?" Fluttershy asked, genuinely interested, but not without her lingering fear.

"Yes, we just call them wyverns, and my people use them to fly from city to city." That was that; they had to believe him now. Garrosh had to keep from smirking to himself as the interested percentage of the dinner members looked completely taken aback by this information; he even saw a few of them zone out, no doubt trying to imagine such an epic spectacle. This was to say nothing of the reaction he gained from Twilight who instantly started writing away like a maniac as soon as the words left his mouth. Seeing this, Garrosh decided that he could risk playing his hand a bit further. "...And, of course, for riding into glorious, airborne battles." He added, deliberately vying to impress them. This seemed to work, and for more than he thought; even some of the Shadowbolts looked impressed by this point.

"Wow!" The child-like voice of Pinkie Pie was heard exclaiming. "You're kidding..."

"I kid you not, my fuzzy, pink imp; they are real, and they are elite." He spoke these words with the utmost pride. No sooner had he spoken the words could Captain Spitfire's voice be heard breaking into the conversation.

"Your kind is wingless, and yet you've actually managed to create an air force through the wings of other creatures?" She asked, trying and obviously failing to bar the excited impression from her tone. Though he could have easily made fun of this, He gave her an unbiased answer.

"Of course, Captain, though it's far from the most innovative things we orcs have ever accomplished." Once again he spoke pridefully. He could practically see the knowledge-crazed glint in Twilight's eye as again she continued to jot information down at the speed of sound.

"You're not... mean to them, are you?" Fluttershy suddenly inquired, the same, evident traces of fear and worry in her voice. Garrosh was quick to set her mind at ease.

"Not normally... We are, as the captain puts it, wingless creatures, Element. Where do you think we'd end up if we mistreated the creatures that sometimes carry us hundreds of feet above the ground?" He quizzed her, sounding a tad snarky.

"Oh, when you put it that way, I guess it does sound a bit silly." She commented, an extensive, bashful blush spreading rapidly across her face. Garrosh then realized something, something he had forgotten to ask, something that made him lose all other trains of thought, so without hesitation, and before anyone else could throw another question his way, he addressed this error.

"Wait... I know almost all of you six's titles, all except..." His eyes trailed to Twilight, so he gestured to her. "You, Princess or Magus, what is your elemental title?" He asked after a moment; though taken by surprise, she still replied truthfully and proudly.

"The Element of Magic, Warchief." She said with a smile.

"The Element of Magic?" The Warchief repeated in his head, thinking back to the showdown at Fluttershy's cottage where the only thing she managed to strike him with was a meager bolt of arcane energy. He stopped himself from paying it any further mind; he needed to move this farce along now, or else he would risk falling asleep. "Sensible, and what of you, imp? Are you the Element of Mischief?" He direct his questions to Pinkie Pie, who seemed to brighten ever still at the potential idea of a little game to play.

"Nope! Guess again!" She chirped, ecstatic that she was finally able to play her first game with him. Garrosh, on the other hand, despised games; he despised guessing games, and above all else, he despised this mare. Amazingly through some strangely inert manner of thought, Garrosh decided against starting an argument or hurting her feelings (if that was even possible) and in favor of humoring her little game in order to conclude this all the more quickly.

"...Guile?" He asked her simply, hating that he had to stoop to an area of her strengths.

"Guess again!" She chimed, sounding all the more merry that she seemed to be winning.

"...Curiosity?" Again he made a guess.

"Agaaain!" She sing-songed, now giggling at our Warchief's obvious plight. Garrosh was confident that if he had any hair atop his head at the moment, he'd be tearing it out right now. He wanted so desperately to shout out "insanity" or "depravity" as viable guesses, but he chose instead to give a more vested word of the same meaning as the former.

"...Mania?" He croaked out wearily, knowing full well he was incorrect, wanting to just pummel her where she sat and be done with it.

"I kinda like that one, but wrong again! Ya give up?" She asked him, giddily excited by this whole scenario. That, unfortunately, was the question he'd been waiting for. Letting out a sound that could easily be classified as something nestled snugly between a sigh and a groan, he replied.

"Yes, Pinkie, I do." He spat her name at her as he rubbed his temple with the hand into which he was leaning his head. The maniacal mare's smile couldn't be any wider as she laughed joyously at her triumph.

"The Element of Laughter, silly! I can't believe you didn't guess it!" Greatmother is his witness; there was no closer moment than this where he was about to leap from his seat and strangle his very first equine. Also Greatmother be his witness, he positively didn't remember how he refrained from doing so. He looked up to her with such a hateful look, it could have kept a pony awake for decades, his glowing, yellow eyes burning with the fire a thousand of Celestia's suns couldn't hope to surpass. Though Pinkie survived this demonic gaze, Twilight saw and understood what was about to happen should she not intervene, so realizing that the lives of those at the table might be at stake (not to mention any knowledge she could gain from the unstable orc,) she did just that.

"Okay then! I believe that was just about everypony! What do you say we move onto all the interesting stories about you then, huh?" She fastly suggested through a fake, cheesy grin. Giving up hope of ever understanding or caring about the titles or bearers of these obtuse elements, Garrosh slowly got over his blood-boiling rage towards the pink nightmare, gradually turning to Twilight to address her.

"Very well, Element, I suppose I've kept you waiting long enough." What he said was true, for in a way, he understood how she felt. It was just as well; he was almost happy to move on to telling them a bit about himself, for it meant that he no longer needed to put up with each and every one of their dilapidated details. Celestia, being the host of this summit, then gave the official transition.

"Yes, I believe we've all waited a suitable amount of time to ask this question, Warchief; Where are you from?" She asked with a light-hearted smile, notably with hints of excitement therein.

He'd done it; they were his now. He could basically do whatever he wanted. He could get up and leave whenever he felt he wished, for no matter the level of detail in his summary, they would soak it in gladly. His diabolical scheme had paid off; they were putty in his hands! Garrosh aimed to make full use of this fact; grinning wickedly, Hellscream set about reaping the benefits of his well-spent patience.

"Well, where to begin....?"

Let it just simply be said to you, my good readers, that our dear, humble Warchief was not in any way cut out for diplomatic work of any sort. Warchief Garrosh Hellscream had ended up unknowingly surrendering his entire original intent and eventually found himself telling the princesses the story of his whole life, existence, and of his world, correction: Worlds. He began by teaching all at the table of the vast, unique worlds of Draenor and Azeroth. It went surprisingly smoothly, and a few at the table even began to lose their unbound hatred and loathing for him as he skillfully shared such unbelievable information with them.

Garrosh first spoke of how the First Horde was collated and formed under the leadership of the beguiled and foolish, Ner'zhul, and his student; the demonically corrupted warlock, Gul'dan. His words of how Gul'dan had betrayed Ner'zhul for yet even more power, and all to bind and enslave the entirety of his own race was difficult for most ponies to understand. It was by far the hardest for Twilight Sparkle to bear, she who viewed the event as if she were to betray her royal, life-long mentor, Celestia, the very thought making her visibly cringe and shudder. Still, no matter how much Twilight hated the very concept, Gul'dan had done it, and there was nothing she could do but keep documenting Garrosh's tellings, her pencil racing ridiculously quickly in the grasp of her horn's telekinetic magic.

Garrosh spoke then of how his late father, Grommash Hellscream, had believed Gul'dan's talented lies. The ponies then were revealed that it was Grom, Garrosh's own father, who was the first to drink in the blood of a demon, and that Grom was the disgraceful orc that opened the door for the enslavement and unspeakable torment of his people at the merciless hands of the demonic Burning Legion. The Burning Legion... Even the mere name seemed to strike a resounding fear into most of those sitting at the table, their mind's eyes unable to comprehend that this legion of demons was the source of all evil in the entire galaxy.

After his dark speech of the wicked, cruel deeds of the Burning Legion, he began relaying how the orcs were then used via absolute control to slaughter another martyred race that the legion had long been chasing and hunting: The peaceful and innocent Draenei. The orcs had executed the Dreanei viciously, down to the last swaddled infant, or... so they and the demons had gleefully thought. In reality, a small number of Dreanei refugees had escaped from their inevitable demise to a world called Azeroth. There, in the confines of this turmoiled new realm, they would soon come to join the staunch enemy of the Horde: The Alliance.

Back on the remnants of what was once the stunningly beautiful realm of Draenor, with the demons thinking their mind slaves had flawlessly fulfilled their barbaric duties, they sadistically abandoned the orcs to the very Blood Lust that the demonic blood had instilled within them. The twisted, black, macabre tales of the orc clans even going so far as to destroy each other just as they'd destroyed the Draenei was sure to grant many at the dinner a few vivid nightmares, and yet Garrosh's stories were nowhere near finished being told.

Seeing that his people were using their incredible gift for battle and warfare for nothing and on no one but themselves, Gul'dan acted quickly to stop their brutish fighting. There were collective groans heard from around the table, Twilight and Rainbow instantly lodging a small verbal complaint, thinking that Gul'dan's part in the story was well and truly done with, but Garrosh patiently assured them that his time was not over.... yet.

Picking up where he'd left off, Hellscream told them that Gul'dan admittedly saw that he could not lead the orcs by himself, even with all the terribly limitless power he had amassed. The warlock then used another to act as leader, but to report only to him as his manipulated puppet in secret: The ruthless Blackhand the Destroyer, the first official Warchief. Gul'dan used Blackhand to command the wayward orcs to construct the portal that would lead them from the remains of Dreanor to the lands of Azeroth.

Garrosh proceeded to go into detail about how he was stricken during this time with the extremely unforgiving malady known as the Red Pox, a disease from which any orc was yet to rise, and was not present for what was quickly entitled The First War. Instead, Garrosh told them all that he could about every excruciating battle that took place during this First War, starting with the trivial raids the orcs began making on the human military camps within the marshes of The Swamps of Sorrows.

Next, he moved on from the meager raiding, to the all-out attack on the human capital: Stormwind. The attack failed miserably to say the least, the orcs having no sense of order or tactic in the battle under Blackhand's primitive and brash leadership, but that all changed when one Orgrim Doomhammer took command. Doomhammer was by far one of the most feared orcs to ever walk either the battle field or anywhere else. With his masterful understanding of what an orc's body could withstand before its final gruesome breaking point, he launched his own siege on Stormwind City. Due to being cripplingly ill and admittedly foolishly not paying the closest attention to Thrall's many detailed stories, Garrosh failed to tell them all that Gul'dan had fallen into a persistent coma for an unknown reason, ending up merely stating that Gul'dan had gone missing.

Garrosh then went into more detail then he should have when describing the long, strenuous march the Horde began North, slaughtering droves of the explained races known as dwarves and gnomes. The battle stopped only for a few sentences when he spoke to them of The Horde building a forward command center in the hold of Blackrock Mountain. The march North also yielded allies for the orcs in the forms of the races: Forest troll and ogre.

The tale of The First War went on nominally from there: his story detailed the attack on South Shore, the many skirmishes fought by the high elves, the battle fought at the very gates of Lordaeron City, all the way to the war's tide turning in favor of the Alliance of Lordaeron. Rainbow cheered and Twilight was noticeably more relieved (chipper even) hearing the fate that befell the treacherous Gul'dan; it disturbed the rest of her friends a bit, seeing as how she was practically happy that someone had died.

The fighting down Southward was almost too much for many at the table to bear, what with the grieving loss of The Lion of Azeroth Anduin Lothar. The story of The First War ended with the final real battles being those of Blackrock Mountain, and the last stand made by the orcs at the Dark Portal. Garrosh had downed quite a few ales both to keep his emaciated throat from going dry as a desert during his prattling tales, and to secretly prepare himself for what needed to be told over again. He was by now feeling the affects of the semi-heavy drinking, his storytelling becoming a trifle more loose for sure.

The tales of Thrall, and the formation of the Horde he told without flaw, mostly due to the fact that, like a small child being tucked into bed, even he still liked those stories. Celestia was very intrigued by the tauren, seeing as how the way Garrosh described them seemed to make them like a carbon copy of Equuis' minotaurs. It made both the royal sisters think that maybe this "Azeroth" was not too different from Equuis. The ponies were both shocked and horrified when Grom came back into the story, yet again drinking the blood of the demon. Only this time they learned the name of the demonic blood's owner: Mannoroth the Flayer.

The ponies seemed to internally cheer (though Pinkie's cheer was a bit more embarrassingly literal) when Grom was freed by the efforts of Thrall and a human by the name of Jaina Proudmoore. Garrosh was definitely not looking forward to the rest of this parable; it seemed to snap him out of the approachable, tipsy condition he'd worked so hard to build up for this very part. Not a single pony at the table failed to notice his change of demeanor.

When Garrosh told them of his father's battle, and unacceptable death at the hands of Mannoroth, he had expected some sad faces, yes, but what he got was full, unrestained tears! He did however take note of all those who had wept for his father's untimely passing: Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Soarin (oddly,) and, before she could wipe it away from sight, he saw Starry Skies had shed a single tear for his memory. However, his story still was far from done; he told them of how his father had died one of the most heroic orcs in history, and how Thrall had built his race a home at last. The next part of the tale would become even less savory than his father's demise though.

Hellscream also did not very much look forward to the tale of the war in Northrend, yet it was just too important to simply leave out. It would have been a true crime for him to have neglected it when teaching these impressionable equines the history of his people until the present day. It all began with the son of the King of the Alliance of Lordaeron: Arthas Menethil. The story was far darker than any of the ponies would have ever considered, and it took quite some time to get them to understand just what exactly an "Undead" really was. The debate to prove to any naysayers that the undead really did exist was ultimately won By Garrosh, when the orc showed all at the table a gnarled gash of a battle scar that trailed from the middle right side of his forehead, all the way down to the cusp of his upper lip on the same side, and how he'd received it in the frozen wastes of the Northrend campaign. The ponies, even the three princesses remained dead silent for the entire story of the war with Arthas, or, as they ponies came to know him, The Lich King.

Yet, even after the morbidly grotesque story of The War in the North where the casualty count was innumerable and beyond imagination, Garrosh told his listeners something that filled each and every heart with dread: The worst is yet to come.

Garrosh steeled his nerves as he began to speak of Deathwing, and the tortured, maddened, omnicidal dragon's rise to power and all he had decimated and murdered. A few more of the ponies seemed to get a little misty-eyed, unable to emotionally stand all the carnage, madness, and death to which his world fell victim. He then mentioned how Thrall had then left on a crusade to deal with the calamitous beast, and how he, Garrosh Hellscream, was then officially dubbed The Warchief of The Horde. He spoke of his many tedious battles with the night elves in Ashenvale, and his duel-to-the-death with the tauren Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof. His teachings continued all through the time of the duel, to the fall of the horrid Deathwing, and finally to his discovery of the new continent: The Isle of Pandaria.

The story, as he had warned them explicitly, became noticeably worse from that point onward, most of the ponies continuing to remain absolutely silent as he disclosed all the information that had lead him to his time in their own world. This time, the subject of their fear and loathing was not merely some faraway villainous demon, scourged king, or sociopathic dragon, but rather the one who sat before them, and how he lost himself in the blood-thirsty scramblings of his realm. Some seemed nervous, others seemed stoic, while a small few looked upon him with a renewed hatred and wariness. Garrosh told them of how he tried to turn the Horde back to its original state, back to the days of The Orcish Horde, back to the days of Gul'dan and Doomhammer, and how he had cunningly usurped the mystical and awesome powers of so many dark gods and relics to see to it that he did not fail in his terrible task. The engrossing tale ultimately ended with his defeat to the forces of the whole of Azeroth, but in the end, he claimed that he would have made his father proud, and that was all that mattered.

"And that, my small ponies, is where my story in Azeroth ends, and where my story here begins." He said before he took a large gulp from his ale mug to help his dry and beaten throat, silently vowing never to tell a story of this deplorable length again. Most of the ponies just stared with blank faces at him; it became annoying for him rather quickly. "Come; voice your opinions." He uttered gruffly as he ripped the wings off of the third chicken that had been prepared for him, he took half the wing off the bone in one bite. He had failed to realize how hungry and thirsty he was after two full hours of nothing but pretentious storytelling and monologuing, even with all the ale he'd polished off. He briefly wondered how Thrall had not gone insane from all those laughable peace meetings he had hosted.

"Those stories were quite... interesting, don't you agree sister?" Celestia asked Luna with her usual calm demeanor. Luna's mouth was agape by the time his story was done, but she did snap out of her stupor to answer her sister.

"W-why yes, 'twas quiet the riveting tale, if a bit... dark." Luna mumbled something about "...even for me." under her breath as she sipped her third glass of red whine away. "What did you think of it, Princess Sparkle?" Luna quickly asked to get the attention off of her. The fledgling princess stammered a bit before forming a coherent response.

"It was... sad and dark at times, and hopeful and triumphant at others, and it was... full of knowledge." She said, shuddering almost euphorically as she looked down at her scribble-darkened notepad; snapping back to her senses, she soberly continued. "I-I liked it for the most part." She added to overall her review with a slight conflicted stutter still lingering. She then turn the metaphorical gun of attention on her friends. "What did all of you think of it?" She asked fairly quickly. Rarity was the first to answer.

"Well, it was bold... um, adventurous and... very action-packed I must say, and..." She paused for a moment, as if looking for the proper wording of her next sentiment. "I am so... so very sorry about your father and what happened to him, but just as you said, he... perished the w-way he would have wanted to." After saying that with a strained voice, her eyes started irreversibly tearing up. She pulled out a white lace handkerchief to dab her eyes lightly with it, parts of the delicate white fabric staining black from running mascara. On the other end of the spectrum, the ruff and tumble Applejack was the next up.

"Uh... It was... downright brutal? Yeah, ah think that's the right word for it. Imma' thank mah lucky stars right now that all we got ta deal with here is folks like Discord, and ah gotta say, ah'm mighty sorry 'bout your pop too." Removing her hat, placing it at her chest, and bowing her head, she paused for only a second before speaking again. "Now Ah can't really blame ya for bein' real grumpy most a' the time." ....He didn't like her; not one bit did he like that farmer, but at the very least, she meant what she said. The next to speak, or act rather, was one he could have gone his whole life and afterlife without: Pinkie Pie.

The pink, normally unnervingly cheerful and energetic pony had been sniffling since the very minute he had said Grom had died.... period, and she almost looked broken ever since he told them of what he himself had become in his final days on Azeroth. Her wildly unkempt mane style had somehow remolded itself altogether to fit her manically depressed mood, and when nopony else would go up to speak, she simply hopped down from her seat and trotted over to the orc's chair. Garrosh had no clue what she was doing until she did it; she hopped onto his neck in the same hugging fashion that Dinky did, and started flat out sobbing in front of everyone.

Garrosh just sat there, and allowed the pony to weep. "Are all of these creatures this sensitive?" He thought to himself as she kept on crying. Before Garrosh even knew she had moved, Fluttershy was then hugging his left arm, crying almost just as ardently as Pinkie was. "Oh! For the Ancestors' sake!" He thought as the two weeping mares held him there, unable to keep themselves from crying out in grief and mourning. After deciding he had been embarrassed quite enough, he gave the rest of the Elements a reserved head signal to tell them that he would have liked them off of him. "They're adults, for Ancestors' sake! No matter what species, they should at least show half of a backbone!" He ranted internally.

After Rainbow Dash finally grabbed Fluttershy from his arm, she allowed her to hug her instead, Rainbow then lead the hysteric yellow mare back to her seat. Twilight had to do the same with Pinkie Pie seeing as how Rarity seemed to be too heavily preoccupied sniffling quietly into Applejack's shoulder with a handkerchief once again at the level of her eyes. "What is wrong with these infernal creatures!?" Garrosh thought manically as he watched the dinner tent not-so-slowly transform into an ongoing soap opera. The Wonderbolts and "Shadowbolts" as he learned they were called, seemed to be holding up rather well against the unstoppable onslaught of sadness, until Soarin blew his nose loudly into his napkin and Fleetfoot sniffled. Garrosh honestly wanted to be anywhere but where he was at that moment, seeing the "ever so masculine" Soarin now leaning pitifully on poor Spitfire (Who looked just as uncomfortable as Hellscream was, if not more.)

"What is the time, Princess?" He tiredly asked Celestia, hoping beyond all hope to be told he was free to go before this got any worse. What the orc heard in response, was a very large red flag to him. Celestia looked to her sister for an answer, Luna closing her eyes as if in meditation. It appeared she was feeling the connection to herself and the moon to tell approximate timing throughout the night. This was all Garrosh could reason it to be as she reopened her eyes and told him the time.

"It is 10:07 in the evening, Warchief." She said emotionlessly. The words hit Garrosh like a stampeding herd of clefhooves.

"Damn!" He shouted suddenly for no apparent reason as he shot up from his seat.

Before anypony could even think of asking him what was wrong, Garrosh snatched his survival bag and flew backwards, bound for the exit as he yelled back very simply. "I'm going to be late!" He bellowed urgently as he bolted from the table and for the tent's entrance. He didn't know how in the world he had wasted almost four entire hours telling them his life story at this meeting, but that didn't matter; all that mattered was getting to Ditsy's house and apologizing to Dinky. "She might still be awake!" He thought hopefully.

Garrosh Hellscream tore the tent's version of a door from its hold, the cooler night air hitting him like a frozen brick wall. The frantic orc didn't even shiver as he shot past the two ignorant royal front guardsponies and continued running full speed to... well, he didn't exactly know where, but unfortunately, that was the very last thing on his mind.

Author's Note

*Mops forehead with handkerchief* Yep, this was a big one, folks!

At least now you all know what took me so long to update it. I felt it a wonderfully opportune moment in the story line to introduce any and all characters you may have thus far been unfamiliar with. That, and I couldn't stand to simply montage through so much deliciously irresistible content. Please, readers, don't be afraid to let me know in the comments if this has become a bit too much to bear, if you would like me to scale it back a little, or if you just want me to continue blustering all your ears off like the windbag I naturally am.

Be it all as it may, my dear brothers and sisters, enjoy this immense new chapter. :scootangel:

Chapter 10: An Orc of his Word

"The hay do you think you're going!?" Garrosh heard Spitfire screech, but he couldn't care less about bad impressions towards them now. He had to show up before Dinky fell asleep. He had to keep his promise; he had to honor his code. As he kept on sprinting unrelenting, the motto of his people just kept repeating and repeating in his head like a jungle drum, " A true orc always keeps his word." His knee joints ached from sitting still for so unbearably long, begging him to slow down and stretch them back out, but he wasn't about to stop now, not for a split second. He just kept on running, not even bothering to look back.

He was confident he had just put a very good distance between him and the royal rendezvous tent when Spitfire suddenly landed right in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. She then sat upon her haunches, holding her bandaged head tightly with both her hooves as if it were about to explode. "Hold up there, big guy. Where in Equestria do you think you're off to so fast?" She asked as she continued to hold her throbbing head; Hellscream shouting his next statement probably did not help her one bit.

"I must get to the house of Ditsy Doo! If you try to stop me, I promise I will not make your death painless!" He yelled, even though she was right in front of him. She looked like she was grinding her teeth together as she bellowed back at him.

"Why... do you need to get to this mare's house so quickly!?" Spitfire yelled back through still-clenched teeth, wishing she hadn't raised her voice too.

"The daughter of that mare, I made a promise to her that I would join her for dinner tonight! And if I can't show up for dinner, then by the ancestors, I will at least see her to tell her why!" Garrosh growled loudly.

"Do you even know where she lives?!" Yelled up a gruff but feminine voice from way behind him. Garrosh turned around to see Rainbow Dash flying brusquely towards him, and within an instant, the aerodynamic mare skidded to a landing right in front of him. "Because if you don't, then Dinky will definitely be asleep by the time you find it." She said with an emotionless voice.

"Then will you take me there?" The orc rasped out the question a bit too frantically for his liking. This mare was going to lead him there even if she said no, even if he had to tear her wings off.

"Sure... but I sure as Tartarus am not doing this for you, I'm doing this for Dinky." She said coldly.

"Hmph... So long as you do it." The orc responded. Both he and Rainbow gave disagreeing huffs toward one another as she started leading him onward into town. In those moments, Garrosh didn't even want to look at the annoyingly obnoxious mare, so he just opted to look around at the considerable damage for which he knew he'd been responsible the mere day before. Looking directly down the dirt road of their main street, Garrosh then knew that these tiny creatures could really clean up quickly. He didn't see a single scrap of paper or splintered plank of wood on the main road, and even the vendor's carts that were smashed to bits during the barbaric fray (though completely empty due to how late it was) looked to be sturdily repaired and back in proper place! As the yet again impressed Warchief beheld the admirable sight, he caught himself wishing morosely that his peons back in Orgrimmar could have accomplished such fine feats as these creatures did without vigorous motivation. However, he soon learned why they had chosen to clean the road, rather then the burning building he had seen.

"Sweet mother of Doomhammer..." He whispered as the town's center building came into view, or more accurately, the lack thereof. It was gone, just completely gone. All that stood in their battle's wake was a pile of emberless, wafting ash; nearly nothing stood more than a foot from the ground. Still, even unto this calamity, something could be said for their diligence, for even at this late hour, Garrosh could glimpse a lone, yellowish stallion with a muddled brown mane standing on his hind legs, idly sweeping at the remaining debris with an old, beaten-looking broom held in his hooves.

"Yeah, I know what you're thinking, and thanks for that by the way." The rainbow-maned mare spat at him sourly. He turned back to her to see that she was glaring at him. Even if he was not really in the mood for a petty argument like that, he was not about to let her get away with just saying that. He scoffed at her as he retorted.

"This was your flight teams' fault; all I did was break a few useless market carts." He shrugged off her accusing blame with his own, the statement seeming to make her all the more temperamental.

"If you wouldn't have even shown up in the first place, none of this crap would've ever happened!" She said with a noticeably raised voice. "Oh! And those 'useless carts' you're talking about make this town! All those carts were important! You're just lucky Princess Celestia hasn't turned your sorry flank to stone or something!"

"Cadet Dash, that's enough!" Spitfire ended the Rainbow's harsh rant as Garrosh immaturely looked at her with a smug little grin. "Don't think that just because your not at my academy right now that I can't cut you for indecent behavior on outer grounds; just finish leading him where he wants." Leaving Dash grumbling furiously under her breath, the captain readily turned to address Garrosh with the same toughened attitude. "The princesses are heading back to Canterlot for a few days to make an official statement to the press, so the..." She paused for only a second to glance over her shoulder at the Shadowbolt who trailed behind, appearing to be revising something in her head. "...Bolts are in charge for now." As if to accentuate her point, the Bolts known as Wave Chill and Starry Skies walked up behind her.

"With Bolts like these, who needs nuts?" Chill droned his sudden and derogative joke as he gestured with his head over to Starry, prompting her to condescendingly roll her eyes at such a cheap shot. Spitfire was not having this; the headache she already had without any of their help was clearly enough for her.

"Cram it, Lieutenant! Like it or not, we're all in this together now." She growled tensely at her subordinate who merely nodded dumbly after that. Sounding more and more like a Kor'kron drill sergeant to Garrosh by the minute, Spitfire just as quickly turned her focus back to the aforementioned orc. "Hellscream, before I accompany them back to Canterlot, I need to speak with you alone;" Still just as quickly, she briefly turned her attention back to the two Bolts again. "You two wait here with the cadet."

"Very well, Captain." Garrosh complied indifferently, following the flame-colored pegasus into the seclusion of a nearby alleyway. He glanced back at the three others who were ordered to wait there, half-expecting them already to be bickering, only to see them obediently standing where they were left. He then though he'd mention the stability of Spitfire's decision to her, if for no other reason than his own amusement.

"How do you know they won't be ripping each others' throats from their necks upon your return? What with the undeniable security of your teams' unification, of course..." He added snidely to his already snarky question. The captain, who was by now hovering just so she could keep a hoof to her aching head, gave an aggressive answer.

"You're arrival didn't really give us much of a choice, now did it? We can cooperate with ponies we don't like because it's for the good of all Equestria, which is probably more than I can say for you." Something told the orc that whatever thin charade of politesse she would have otherwise managed to keep up had shattered along with her skull. "You can whine my ears off about our politics when I'm off duty, but for now, I've got a job to do." Garrosh decided against his natural judgement and remained silent after she huffed her response; after all, he didn't want to drive her insane too soon.

Once they entered the alley, he saw the silhouette of Nightshade hop casually off a trash bin to trot silently towards him. Now he was wondering with true curiosity what this was all about.

"With the princesses leaving, we've been put in charge of safeguarding you from.... " She paused, knowing how stupid this was going to sound. "...Anypony dumb enough to try anything funny, and to keep you from causing anymore damage to our property." She finished just in time for Nightshade to cut in.

"Spit and I have decided to leave one member of each of our teams with you at any and all times. You may not be okay with this, but it's how we're gonna deal with our orders. In short: Are you gonna be a flank hole about it or not?" The Shadowbolt asked smugly. Even though he was not pleased by this news in the least, especially since it was delivered by an insignificant little devil, he knew she wanted him to disagree with her, and he was determined not to give her any such satisfaction. One of the last things he wanted was to have two bodyguards following him around everywhere he went, but for the time being at least, he knew he would have to deal with it. Giving it some thought, he figured their presence might even prove useful somehow.

"So long as these 'two members' of yours keep their distance, we can agree to this without further bloodshed." The orc said simply. Nightshade was opening her mouth to protest when Spitfire spoke first.

"Deal."

"...What!?"

Garrosh had to suppress a chuckle as Nightshade grabbed Spitfire by the shoulder to lead her to the other end of the alleyway. He couldn't make out anything they were saying, but he knew that their vindictive bickerings were all but pointless. Seeing this, without any further consideration, he sauntered carelessly back to the three who were left behind.

"Well, what did they tell you, big boy?" Starry asked him. He didn't like her relaxed attitude about the whole situation, nor did he like the tone she was once more striking with him. It was almost as if she were looking forward to being his escort, or at least, Garrosh surmised that's what she wanted him to think. Looking to his second soon-to-be escort, he didn't find much solace, for he hated the cold, glum, indifferent Wave Chill nearly just as much.

"You are to become my new bodyguards, for a time, but the accord was that you two, along with anypony else who shall guard me in the future, keep. your. distance." He said, more as an order then an answer. Both ponies nodded, so Garrosh addressed "Cadet Dash."

"Lead me to the house, Element, then you may go." He commanded her bluntly, knowing that just saying that (or anything to her for that matter) would get under her skin. She spoke nothing to him as she continued leading him on, never even looking back to see if he was following. As the trek to Ditsy's house restarted, Garrosh cast a small glance back at the alley, only to see that those two so-called leaders had not even seen him leaving yet.

"Hmph, worthless." He mumbled, scoffing at the pitiful sight as he turned back to his two new "friends." Just as they'd agreed, they were keeping their distance from him. They also appeared to be talking with each other, which Garrosh supposed was either very good or very bad for them in any case. All it took for him to guess the latter was one look at the lieutenant's face; Wave Chill was obviously not enjoying the conversation, not that he could blame him for being repulsed given that particular Shadowbolt's lechery. It surprised even Garrosh when the carnally depraved mare leaned in towards the helpless Wonderbolt with puckered lips, making him flinch back an astonishing three yards, Starry letting forth a coquettish, teasing laugh as he righted himself and straightened his uniform. The orc couldn't help but crack a devious, spectator's grin at how different those two were, leading him to wonder if they would even survive the night with how things seemed to be going. "...Probably not." He thought, looking forward to the prospect of watching their integrity crumble around him.

Bored with their body language, Hellscream looked nearer to him, down to prism warrior who lead him in what he hoped was the direction of Dinky's home. Still she remained silent, her normally presumptuous demeanor faded, her normally loud mouth shut. She either was too preoccupied in her own thoughts, or she was stewing after what Spitfire had told her she might do.

"Your country's 'mighty air force' is quite comically amusing, would you not say so, Dashy?" The curious orc commented.

"..." Bafflingly, she still remained silent. Garrosh knew then that she was concentrating on not saying anything that would qualify as "indecent behavior on outer grounds." The "troll" in Garrosh once again taking over, he asked her a question that he sincerely wanted to know, but also knew would pester her further.

"If you are supposed to be the fastest pegasus in the land, then why are we not there yet?" That was it, and Garrosh knew it. Not because the reaction was instantaneous, but because she then glanced around to see if Spitfire was near. She wasn't.

"Sweet Celestia! Spare my ears from having to hear your ugly, annoying voice for another second! One: It's the fastest flyer in Equestria, Two: We are there, leather head!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, no doubt trying to sound intimidating. Of course, this had next to no affect on Garrosh, for no matter how hard they tried, these creatures would never sound threatening to him.

"Then be gone, irritant, spare me the pain of looking upon your garish form any longer." Garrosh shot back at her. Fuming ever hotter, she merely flew off as fast as she could, leaving the orc huffing in disdain at her display. "You two," He half-yelled to get their attention, their heads snapping to him as he had wanted. "Wait in front of the house while I approach." He commanded gruffly; they nodded apathetically before going back to their previous whisper-shouting match, Garrosh rolling his eyes as he turned to face the shadowy house.

The house's lights were off; the home lay dormant.

"I did not make it..." Garrosh thought bitterly. "I could not keep this promise, even when it was a promise to a child..." The embittered orc could only desperately hope that Geyah was not looking down upon him now, for he knew that if she were, she would be looking upon a tearful disappointment. It was the least he could have accomplished, if for no other reason than to prove to the Greatmother that he was not the heinous monster she saw within his soul. As he stood there, the helpless victim of ill-spent time, and the very definition of defeat, he slowly came to realize that the Greatmother's well-meaning retribution as well as her guidance and encouragement, was the only thing keeping him going at this point, the only thing keeping him from going mad with the darkness of all his wicked deeds and miserable failures, the only thing keeping him from reverting back to the monster he knew he had been before.

"No! I must keep this promise! For this innocent child! For my Greatmother!" With a last-ditch ambition and a newly-found drive and determination, he walked the perimeter of the darkened house, hoping to find another way in, for he didn't dare knock and risk damaging the depressing situation even further. The front door, again, was the size of his calves. He was really starting to hate equine architecture. Garrosh crept around the house's left side once more, only discovering a window to their kitchen through which he could probably just barely fit his head. He kept on going until he reached the back of the small home, only to sadly find that the back of the humble abode didn't even have a window.

"There must be some way in!" His mind continued to wail and roar. He went along the right side of the house once more. There was a window, yes, but only this time it was left open. He stuck his head into it hopefully and finally found for whom he'd been searching: Dinky. There she was, the tiny little filly in her bedroom, sleeping peacefully in the warm blanket of her tiny bed. Despite this find, Garrosh then knew he had failed completely, for he dared not wake her from her slumber. Withdrawing his heavy head from the bedroom window, the deflated orc glumly sat down, leaning his back against the wall of the tiny home.

".....I can at least be here to greet her when she wakes." He mumbled to himself in utter defeat, but it was right after he had said this that he heard something.

"...Garrosh?" A small, groggy voice called quietly down from the window. Faster than he though he would, he jumped to his feet and peeked into the small porthole to see if he was not simply hearing things. There she was, little Dinky in her little bed, but not asleep as he thought he'd come to see. She was sitting straight up, her covers flipped completely off of her, quickly rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she looked over to the window, over to a face that he never thought in a million years would bring joy to a child.

"A true orc always keeps his word." He whispered to her as soon as she saw him. Garrosh had never before seen such a reaction to his presence; Dinky's eyes lit up like a fire work as she got to her hooves and jumped faithfully from the window. Luckily for her, Garrosh was quite the skillful pro-bowler for the Feast of Winterveil when it came time for him to host such festivities, so catching the ecstatic leaping ball of fur was easy enough. He scooped the giggling filly up in his arms, chuckling softly at her display of grateful joy.

"I just knew you'd keep your promise." She burbled as she nuzzled his neck. He gently placed his hand on her back, just as he had done when she had first met him. He figured he couldn't do much else since he couldn't really hug anything her size back.

"I know I missed dinner, little one, but I shall be here for breakfast; you can mark me on that." He assured her as he placed the foal back on her bed and tucked her in.

"Mom said she'd take me out for ice cream if you couldn't come over for dinner; maybe we could even go out together." She fancied hopefully. Garrosh didn't suppose there was a good possibility for that, seeing as how he was trying to reach a blacksmith in another city, but there was no way he was going to count it out either.

"Hmm, I shall have to apologize to your mother for letting her go through such troubles for naught." He uttered through a small smile. "Now you go to sleep, little one, I will be just outside when you wake." He assured her again as he used a finger to sweep a few strands of her mane off her face. She looked far too excited to sleep as she snuggled up again for the night with a giddy grin, but he knew she would eventually find the realm of dreams now that her mind was calm and her worries were cast away.

"Goodnight, Mr. Garrosh." She whispered as she buried her face into her pillow. He slowly pulled his arm from the window and sat back down again.

"Goodnight, my little Dinky." He whispered back to her.

As he sat there, going back through all that had happened in his time here, he wondered if the Greatmother would be disappointed in him, or if she had brought this little filly into his life for a reason. As stubborn as Garrosh was, and as much as he didn't want to, he had to admit that this world (or at least this child) had begun to change something in him, and he had to briefly wonder if this chapter of his days would be the catalyst or key to fulfilling the Greatmother's task, and turning his life around.

"Gee, I sort of figured you had a stony little heart beating in that chest of yours, but I didn't think it could melt so easily at the hooves of a little foal." Goaded the silky voice of Starry Skies coming from around the corner of the house. Garrosh just rubbed his face exhaustively and raised a hand to point at her without even looking.

"A word of this to anyone, and I shall skin you alive." Then again, it would probably take a lot more time than that to make any significant changes for the better.

Author's Note

This chapter, as directly opposed to the last one, was shortest one yet (I am perfectly well aware,) but nonetheless, you surely must see that it was an important one all the same. I wanted to give this part in the story its very own chapter with nothing else to get in the way.

I do hope you all will savor it. :pinkiehappy:

Chapter 11: Bonding With Bodyguards

When Garrosh sluggishly awoke, he didn't know what time it was, nor did he truly care. He was confident that the relief of success he felt before the brightened eyes of Dinky Doo was enough to shield him from almost any coming adversity this day. In his eyes, He'd kept his reputation intact and had made amends, or at least he was well on his way to doing so. With the profound resolve to rise and conquer yet another day in this extraordinary new world, he was just about to get to his feet when he felt something lightly shift about within the crook of his right arm. He looked down to see that little Dinky Doo had not only climbed out of her window sometime in the night, but had also grabbed her blanket to sleep outside in his arms.

"...You certainly are a quaint and adorable creature." He chuckled a bit at his own queer thoughts. The battle-hardened orc supposed with certainty that if any hapless Azerothian were to witness such a spectacle as this, they would have truly believed themselves to be hallucinating in the most silly of ways. "Hmph, pity they would not live to tell anyp...." The orc's thoughts froze for a moment, realizing the obvious. "Was I really about to say that?" The orc asked himself incredulously. "Is that insufferable variation of the human language really that potent?" His mind continued to question irritably. He decided to embrace the reaction that was the most mentally healthy for him and ignored it; annoyed with himself, he then turned his attention towards the sleeping filly within his arms.

The Warchief ever so slowly scooped the small foal up and gently placed her back in her bed, rewrapping her in her blanket soon after. To his amazement, Dinky didn't wake from the movement, for the most she did was shift again. Shutting the window to her bedroom quietly, he then set about waking himself up. He stretched out his back, earning dozens of loud, peeving Pops. He cracked his stiff neck, earning even more of the same. As he stood up to full height, poised to walk around the house both to stretch out his legs and check on his new escorts, he was legitimately startled by a very unwanted sound, a sound that pierced his eardrums, a sound of which he thought he'd heard the last: Another scream.

"AAAAAAHHH!"

His signature scowl quickly found its way onto his face as he whirled around to where the annoying sound had come from. His eyes scanning balefully, he quickly located the source of the confounded noise. Standing a meager twenty feet from him among the vegetables of the garden next door was the terrified frame of a goldenrod mare, her flank bearing what Garrosh assumed to be the vegetables amongst which she was now standing, her puffy, curly mane a rustic orange. She looked as though she'd been happily irrigating her produce with an old watering can (now resting upon the ground) held in her mouth right before she saw him.

"Truly, truly! Truly you must be joking! Not only have next to none of you a spine, but your first line of defense against something you deem frightening is to make a sound that would only make it all the more tempting for it to rip your throat from your neck!?" He shouted more irritably than furiously. Surprisingly, the female pony was now looking a bit sheepish due to his choice of wording. "Must all of you infernal horse creatures react to my presences in this same damned way!?" He yelled again, stamping his foot hard enough to create a small crater in the earth. "Am I to endure the same torture for every new face I see here!?" He blustered on, making the poor defenseless mare repeatedly flinch. "Ancestors be my witness when I say that if The Greatmother had not have stopped me from destroying everyone who ever stood in my way, I--" Suddenly catching himself, Garrosh realized that he'd just now engaged in his very first verbal rant since arriving to this place, and it was far too early for setting that kind of record. His rant would end abruptly there, as he found massaging one of his throbbing temples to be a far more enticing a choice than continuing it. The pony had recoiled considerably, extremely nervous as she had lowered herself in an impulsive attempt to seem more feeble and inert, but she did, to her credit, try to make up for what she saw now as her rudeness.

"I-I... I'm s-sorry; I-it's just that... you d-don't look like the f-friendliest... p-p-pony around." She managed to stuttered out. The sentiment was flimsy at best, but the look in her emerald eyes (Which were, as usual, ridiculously huge by this point) told the orc that her apology was indeed sincere.

Garrosh grunted as his arm abruptly fell from where it was rubbing the side of his head, looking at her with plainly grumpy eyes. "Hmph! Perhaps next time you'll make certain it is an enemy standing before you before you decide to make anymore infuriating noises just to see what happens, and as for another matter, I am not a pony." He muttered, his tone of voice gradually growing more deadpanned. She whispered out another "sorry" as she rose from her basically prone position in her vegetable garden and began to back up towards her house's back door. Garrosh heard what sounded like... laughing? Giggling? He turned to Dinky's window to find that she was now hanging out of it, wide awake and laughing at him! Garrosh shook his hunching head as he cracked a very small smirk at the whole situation; this simply had to be the weirdest morning of his life. What had made Hellscream decide that this was the strangest morning in his lifetime was not merely Dinky laughing at him or the minuscule mental breakdown he'd just suffered with the vegetable gardener, but the fact that he knew deep down that he was actually starting to grow used to these crack-potted beings. "Perhaps... Perhaps they are not so irredeemably pathetic after all; just look at what this child is doing now. Even an orcling from Orgrimmar has yet to grow fond of me in any sense." He mused a bit as he stood there, suddenly finding himself a tad homesick.

"That's Carrot Top, our neighbor. She's really nice once you get to know her." Dinky said as she waved cheerfully at the goldenrod/orange mare. "Good morning, Miss Carrot Top!" She called out blithely to the aforementioned mare. The earth pony mare named Carrot Top shakily waved back at the little filly, sporting a weak, forced smile before skittering inside her home as fast as possible. "...See?"

"Yes, I see that she is friendly to the likes of you, little one, something that is not very difficult to do." Garrosh retorted, almost as though an affectionate father. "Should you not be getting ready to start the day?" He asked, trying to coax the filly from the windowsill.

"Yeah, I've gotta get ready for school, but not before a nice, filling breakfast." The cute little filly recited; no doubt it was something her mother often said. If it was even believable, Garrosh, a humungus hearty orc, had somehow forgotten anything to do with breakfast, so thoroughly so that just its mere mentioning prompted his stomach to growl uncontrollably. "You won't leave while I brush my teeth, right?" She urgently asked before she hopped off the windowsill into her room, bouncing off her bed shortly after. Garrosh smiled sincerely for the first time that day before speaking quite confidently.

"As I said, little one: A true orc always keeps his word."

"Okay!" She cheered with a giggle, a youthful smile overtaking her soft features. She skipped merrily out of the room and out of his line of sight. Looking around briefly as if gaining his bearings and taking in his surroundings, Garrosh suddenly remembered what he was doing before the gardener known as Carrot Top interrupted him. Finally seeing nothing else to stop or preoccupy him, he trudged lightly around to the front of the small abode to check up on the status of his new "bodyguards." Upon arriving at the house's front yard, he soon came to the realization that he was left wholly unguarded. They were nowhere to be seen; they weren't even in the near vicinity to Garrosh's eyes.

Seeing as how he was truly left in peace for the first time since his tedious envoy, and just how rare an opportunity this truly was, he took these few moments to relax a bit as he quietly plopped himself down the slump against a front portion of the home and closed his eyes. Seeing that his groggy mind could conjure nothing to take his thoughts off the boggling situation in which he had found himself, he soon grew restless of trying. Eventually all but giving up trying to make use of the rare quiet moment, he reopened his tired eyes and again took in his surroundings.

The house's front yard itself was rather lacking in terms of decoration, the only noticeable ornament being a small bird bath, which at the moment stood stagnant and lifeless. Garrosh's eyes slowly trailed back down to his own lap to look at his scarred, pierced arms and callous hands. Taking in few careful whiffs of air through his nostrils, it came to his attention that he would probably have to find somewhere to take a bath soon, as he was beginning to pick up his own scent. It was something that made Garrosh angrier and angrier the longer he thought about it. This was to say nothing of how hungry he discovered he was, and no matter how hard he endeavored, his thoughts would always settle back down onto that fact. Needless to say, he wasn't any longer feeling very chipper this morning, for a hungry orc is a grumpy orc.

Opening his wearied eyes, he still continued looking around silently, regardless of his lingering hunger. He knew not the exact timing, but whatever it was, it was definitely early. Yes, the sun had risen high, yes, the mist and morning fog enshrouding much of the rolling hills of this land had by now all but faded away, but it was still early enough as to where he saw no one outside their homes as of yet, not a single one. He supposed it was that time of morning where everyone was either still enwrapped in sleep, or preparing themselves to begin their day, grooming, gearing up, or eating breakfast and such. Once again, at even the slightest thought of any meal-related ritual, Garrosh's stomach began to kick and scream at him. He wouldn't even think of saying anything against her, but he did so wish that Dinky would hurry up with her teeth brushing; his stomach felt like it was imminently to tear through his abs, leap from his belly, and go rampaging through the desolate dirt roads. The very last thing he wanted to relive or even remember at the moment, was how close he came to collapsing out in this land's desert from lack of food, water, and hope. Clenching his eyes shut and hanging his head once more, he groaned as he silently cursed his luck for promising Dinky that he wouldn't leave the premises, for if he could, he knew that he could, at the very least, solve his hygiene-related dilemma. He could even hear the babbling of a nearby brook in which he could wash himself off, but no, he would not risk damaging his reputation yet again.

Just then, as Garrosh was stewing over his heavily conflicted brain, he suddenly heard the flutter of feathered wings in close proximity. At first inferring that it was probably one or both of his "escorts," his eyes instantly snapped back open and began looking around. Feeling puzzled that there was neither sight nor trace of any Pegasi in the area, his eyes slowly trailed to the one bit of movement that was in his line of sight. There, perched anew upon the threshold of the stone bird bath, was a lone crow-like bird preparing itself for a leisurely rinse.

There were a few inspired, choice words with which one could describe the winged creature: Forlorn, dark, majestic, healthy, but to Garrosh, only one word struck the mind resoundingly: Scrumptious. With the fairly sizable scavenger preening its inky black wings, faced unwarily away from where the orc sat, it gradually became a more resolute, unyielding fancy to simply spring forward and ensnare the unwatchful creature. The orc positively knew not how the continual growl of his spasming stomach hadn't alerted the bird to his presence, but it was something of which he sought to take full advantage. The longer he sat staring at the wretched animal, the more the primal, barbaric, instinctive beast began to take him over until there was not a single reason he could think of for not not indulging in it, not even how disrespectful it would appear if he were caught. So, without giving it a second thought (or even a first for that matter) the famished orc quickly lunged from his seated position, lashing his hand out as though a cobra striking its rodent victim, snagging the bird firmly by its right wing. Garrosh then reeled his hand inward so incredibly fast that the poor creature had time to let loose but one, helpless squawk before he wrenched its fragile neck from its hold, silencing it for good.

Holding the broken carcass in his hand, and content with a successful stealth kill, he briefly glanced around to make absolutely sure that it was indeed a stealth kill. Still desolate were the streets and windows of the sleepy town, save for that same lone, yellow stallion with a trio horseshoe cutie mark he'd seen the night before crossing one of the streets in the distance. Judging by the poor stallion's spent, crumpled posture, his slow, weary trudge of a walk, and the monstrous dark circles sagging beneath his glazed eyes, he'd been up all that night sweeping the courtyard of town hall.

"Pitiful, he must be truly desperate to scrounge out a living..." The Warchief thought to himself, lightly shaking his head. Unsurprisingly, the stallion hadn't seen what grotesque massacre Garrosh had just enacted; Garrosh didn't even think he'd seen him. The orc sat stalk-still as the stallion passed, not wanting to attract his attention, though he doubted that he would notice him in his state, even if he were moving. Just as quickly as the stallion had appeared, he disappeared between two of the many whimsical homes of the nearby neighborhood.

After a short wait just in case, he started offhandedly stretching the bird out to better display its belly, only to become rather nonplussed when his harsh ministrations to the carcass resulted in the thing's head rolling off of its shoulders onto the ground.

"Perhaps... I do not know my own strength." He thought idly after a few dazed seconds of looking down at the head. Seeing as how probably no one in the overly-innocent town of Ponyville would take kindly to discovering the head of a crow lying in their front yard under any circumstances (especially these,) and seeing as how he couldn't really eat such a thing, the careless orc simply resorted to chucking the useless body part in the general direction of the treeline from which he first entered the tiny town, leaving whether or not anyone would find the thing up to pure chance. Wiping the bit of blood on his hand from what remained of the creature's neck on the grass beside him, he gave a small shrug before turning his attention back to his morning snack. Given that the thing was just a mere morsel in size, even with the feathers still on, Garrosh almost figured it'd be a waste of his time, but then he realized that this might just be the last time he would eat meat for a fairly long while, even if it wasn't even cooked. Grabbing hold of a fist-full of the bird's belly feathers, he ripped them all out easily, at least securing a convenient biting place on it. After doing this several times, he quickly settled for stuffing the incriminating feathers into the house's unkempt shrubbery next to him to hide all evidence.

"If you value what relations you have with ponykind, I suggest you not do that again." He heard a monotonous voice from above him on the rooftop say. Garrosh didn't even need to raise his head and face him before retorting.

"Why the worry, Lieutenant? Do you fear they will attempt to arrest me again?" He spat as he resumed his work. Garrosh knew full well that it was Wave chill, for only one pony he'd heard so far sounded regularly like a living wet blanket.

"Not at all, Warchief, but getting caught doing things like this would not earn you any favor with the locals. I couldn't care less for a single bird, but they would." Chill explained with all the manner of a correctional officer. Garrosh didn't much feel like discussing anything involving those bizarre locals, especially with the likes of Wave Chill, so he just opted to change the subject.

"Speaking of a little bird for which you would care not, where is your Shadowbolt counterpart?" Garrosh asked nonchalantly. "Did you kill her off already?" The orc snickered after saying that, hoping to get a rise out of the sentient statue with what he hoped was a joke.

"No, Warchief, we knew you were going to stay here all night, so she voted to take the night-watch. She fell asleep a few hours ago." He stated, again without any discernible emotion. Garrosh keenly noted that he always responded or spoke as if he were talking to a superior. This disposition of his reminded him much of Malkorok, and he was actually starting to like it.

"Well, I do hope you and your teammates are ready for a trip following breakfast, for we are heading to the mountain city." Garrosh stated calmly as he finished plucking the majority of the bird's feathers from its body. Wave Chill's aloof demeanor faltered only slightly at this statement, but it quickly regained.

"Warchief, we had strict orders to keep you here until the Princesses returned from Canterlot, after fulfilling more imminent duties." He explained, his words lacking a little of their usual calmness. Garrosh remembered the name Canterlot; it was the name that Dinky had given the city the night before. Still, he supposed that he couldn't be too careful with his information.

"Canterlot, the mountain city?" The orc asked the lieutenant, looking up at his position atop the house's roof for the first time since their conversation began. After a brief moment of confusion due to the orc's strange wording, the Wonderbolt gave an affirmative, if uncertain nod. "Perfect, then that is where we too shall go, Lieutenant. Wake your "friend" if you wish; we will be leaving in an hour or two." Garrosh commanded, making it transparently clear that he was not engaging in a debate over it.

"....Very well, Hellscream." Chill reluctantly conceded, abandoning the very thought of convincing the orc to do otherwise. Garrosh gave the pegasus a gruff grunt and nod as if to say "good" before he lifted the pale, freshly-plucked body of the crow up to his mouth to take his first bite, prompting Wave Chill almost to avert his eyes in silent disgust, but right before he could, a little purple head poked its way through one of the second story windows to call down to him.

"Breakfast's ready, Mr. Garrosh!" She joyfully chimed, blissfully ignorant of the decapitated bird Garrosh had just so frantically hid on the side of him opposite her view. "Sorry I took so long; forgot to pack my books for school. Anyway, I asked Mom, and she said we could have breakfast in the backyard like a picnic so we won't have to pass food through the windows." She jabbered excitedly, then suddenly craning her neck to look up at the lieutenant with the same joyous grin. "You can come too, Mr. Chill!" Finishing her invitation, she just as quickly withdrew her head from the window, leaving an arch-browed Wonderbolt wondering how in the world she knew he was there, and an orc growling frustratedly as he tossed the meat he knew he wasn't going to be allowed to eat into the nearby shrub.

"I'm invited to this, Warchief?" Wave Chill asked skeptically, not entirely sure he was buying into it.

"You heard her." Hellscream grumbled simply, still quite angry after having gone through all that work to end up with nothing. After a moment of random thought, looking up at Chill through the corner of his vision, Garrosh had one last little trick to try and get under the living statue's stony skin.

"I think I shall just call you 'Malkorok' for now; it seems fitting."

Out in the backyard, a fairly sizable red and white checkered table cloth was laid forth by Dinky (with the help of her mother before she scrambled happily back inside to begin bringing out the food) as the orc and Wonderbolt made their way to the scene.

"Are you not going to wake the other one, Lieutenant?" He had disinterestedly asked Chill as they both sat down at two of the blanket's corners.

"She fell asleep just a few hours ago; it'd be cruel to her to wake her now, and cruel to me to subject myself to anymore of her than I should." He had responded as the orc snickered at him, Chill being quite unaware of the figure of deprecated humor he'd just made of himself. As Ditsy brought out breakfast's main course, Garrosh could have sworn he saw Wave Chill grow a bit nervous. Try as he might, he just couldn't guess why a few of those oddly-shaped, sweetened bread pastries Ditsy had shown him just a day ago would provoke such a strange reaction from the militant Pegasus. He just sat there, staring at them, as if he didn't know what else to do with them, and again, Garrosh couldn't figure out why. It was only when Ditsy brought out two other dishes (namely a few bowls of oatmeal mush and some pieces of dry, toasted bread,) did Garrosh finally deduce what he was thinking. The key gesture from the Wonderbolt when she brought these things out was a barely noticeable sigh of relief, as if it were held in in suspense. He was health-conscious. After Chill had started moving some of the dry toast to his plate following voicing his thanks, the bright smile Ditsy gave him soon turned to a look of perplexity as she looked down at the bread. After a few seconds of staring, she suddenly gasped in realization.

"Oops! I forgot the butter!" She exclaimed in mild alarm, only for the lieutenant to calm her back down.

"It's alright, miss; I like it this way." He assured her before taking a large bite out of one of the pieces as proof, prompting an eye-roll from Garrosh, and an amused giggle from Dinky as she sat down. Yes, he was extremely health-conscious indeed.

"Oh..." Ditsy said simply before the smile once again slowly returned to her face. "O-okay..."

"Pitiful, warriors fighting hearty battles should feast upon hearty meals, and they call themselves military? Hmph, pitiful." The prideful orc thought before he and the rest of them started digging in.

It may have mostly just been more of those "muffins" he'd recently encountered, but Garrosh could not recall a more enjoyable breakfast in all his long years of life. The stories he and Dinky had exchanged across the picnic blanket were priceless; hearing all about a group of three fillies called "The Cutie Mark Crusaders" made him laugh more sincerely than he had in a very long time. The "C.M.C." as they were called, partook in many, many a wacky and crazy adventure, some of which even Dinky had been a part. Even Ditsy, or "Derpy" to her friends and loved ones as Garrosh had come to know, had hosted a sleepover with her daughter and the three members of the crusade, and according to her, it was one of the worst mistakes she had ever made, not that it didn't make for one hell of a story to tell.

Dinky had asked Garrosh to share a few adventures and stories of own, but of course, for the sake of both her and her mother, the orc was careful to keep only to the "safer" tales, ones with semi-happy endings, not wanting to ruin the morning for the mare and filly; Wave Chill, for his part, didn't have all that much to say, as usual, but nevertheless, he listened intently. The Warchief told the mother and daughter the story of how he slayed the monstrous dragon deep within cavernous bowels of the Everfree forest, and how he had defeated Thunderhooves: Chieftain of the buffalo, in a duel for Appaloosa's plunder. His last tales were of how he battled the wooden wolves (or "timber wolves" as he soon found out from the lieutenant,) the ravenous, roving wyvern, the loyal Wonderbolts, the shady Shadowbolts, and even their very own Elements of Harmony. He made a point to tell all of them just how stupid he thought the name "Elements of Harmony" sounded for such a powerful, omnipotent set of artifacts, to which was Wave Chill's turn to roll eyes.

Through all these high jinks that both baffled and bewildered the mother and daughter, however, Garrosh's hearty morning would be slightly dampened yet, not by any story of his telling mind you, but by several corresponding stories Dinky told him of the schemes and humiliations wreaked upon her and her friend by the two school fillies known as "Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon." The stories of how they made fun of and belittled not only Dinky, but the three crusaders and the rest of the school children Dinky knew were not accurately stories to be frank, but were more akin to that of a daily damage report, one that made even her mother cringe. Derpy had consistently spoken to their teacher, Miss Cheerilee, about the numerous incidents, only for her to find no evidence left by the fillies of such acts in the end. It was downright infuriating to the likes of Garrosh, and as if all this were not enough, when Ditsy had gone back into the house to wash dishes, he found his muscles clenched in seething rage as he learned from Dinky of some of the names they had called her mother, and how they always thought they were far better than all others merely for their supposed "privileged lifestyles;" this, of course, was to say nothing of how they constantly and consistently bedeviled the four of them about their lack of cutie marks, always telling them that they were worthless, having no talent whatsoever, and how they themselves were far better than them for achieving their own marks already. The orc had kept mostly silent for all of Dinky's explanations, but that was soon to change, even if he had to say something to her that her mother wouldn't likely approve of. Garrosh simply had to say something, for when he saw the innocent little filly so depressed and downtrodden, it frightened him to think of what would happen should he ever get a chance at those who made her like that, even if they were just two, bratty children. Though he still said nothing, Garrosh could also tell that it angered Wave Chill beyond belief, so potently so that he politely excused himself from the blanket to go find something else to do. When he was absolutely sure that Ditsy would be gone for awhile doing dishes, and that the Wonderbolt would be absent waking Starry Skies on the rooftop, Garrosh leaned in towards Dinky to speak in a surprisingly hushed tone.

"Now you hear this, little one. I have seen my share of worlds in my time and can tell you this: There was not one without its share of tormentors. As of this moment, you've but two choices you can make." The orc then held up a hand with one finger outstretched to emphasize his coming point. "One: You may choose to kneel, to surrender, to cower unto them, granting them victory against you time and time again, and willingly making yourself a slave to their devices." Just as quickly as one finger rose, a second joined by its side. "Or two: You stand tall before them, and show them no fear and that their words mean nothing, that actions would speak louder than they ever could. That being said, I can also tell you this: No refugee ever won back his home, nor prisoner ever gained back his freedom, by falling to his knees before his enemies." The Warchief fixed his gaze with hers intently. "So tell me, young Dinky, what do you think you must do?" The filly being questioned seemed almost hypnotized by his inspiring words, the sudden question snapping her from her stupor.

"Wow...." She breathed in reverie, her eyes still locked with the now smirking orc. "Okay, I get the picture, and... I... I'll try to do my very best." She promised him with a new-found hope as she bounded over the picnic blanket to wrap what she could of him in a hug. Garrosh was utterly astounded by what this little soul could reduce him to so easily; what Dinky could do with so little effort could make him forget that he was himself, if only for a moment. Chuckling surprisingly at this affectionate display, he reassured her more softly than he had before.

"In the end, little one, I would hope that you not allow them to rob you of the joy of your youthful days." The orc murmured, closing his eyes as he lay an uncharacteristically soft hand upon her tiny back.

"I won't, not when I've got you and Mom!" She assured the orc as she looked up at him with a confident happiness he had not seen since his days in Nagrand.

"Right then, you had best get going; your mother would not look kindly on you missing lessons."

After breakfast had ended, Garrosh had told Ditsy and Dinky (shortly before she bounded excitedly off to school) very quickly of his plans to visit Canterlot, but he reassured them that he, and all accompanying him, would return swiftly. Unbeknownst to the both of them, the orc had a brand-new mission in mind as soon as he returned from Canterlot. It would be a surprise that would work flawlessly, as Dinky would still be in school by the time he returned. He was about to become the ultimate, greatest, most legendary "Show and Tell" object that school had ever seen or would ever see again! Having to keep himself from giving out a diabolical chortle at this surprisingly petty, uncharacteristic scheme of his, he was just about to exit the yard's premises bound for the street to wave down his two body guards when Derpy suddenly called out a question from the kitchen.

"Um, I seem to be missing a bowl, and I know I didn't drop it (this time.) Do you see it lying around somewhere?" She yelled up, sounding only slightly concerned. Garrosh's first instinct was to look to the picnic blanket where it most likely would have been, but looking there, he found no traces of it, even anywhere in the near vicinity. He was just about to answer Derpy's question when he overheard a conversation taking place on the roof.

"Don't even start to read anything into this; I just don't want your low blood sugar weighing us down." He heard the lieutenant say in a revealingly defensive tone. What he heard next was the unmistakably provocative voice of Starry Skies, and as if it were even possible, even when just waking up, her tone sounded just as drippy as ever.

"Mmm, say all you want, soldier colt, I know that's not all this means. Why else would it have taken so little for me to convince you to let me take the night watch? You know, the one where I watch you sleep, the one where you're all vulnerable and helpless to my..." She laughed coquettishly before revealing the key word in her depraved mind. "ministrations."

Garrosh heard nothing from Wave Chill in response to the equine vixen's shameful remark, and soon heard a smug, satisfied giggle from the Shadowbolt as his silence persisted. The orc genuinely would not have been surprised if the stone-cold Wonderbolt were nonchalantly tugging at his jumpsuit's collar, an off-looking shade of red adorning his lifeless blue features. Finally, after Garrosh was somewhat certain Starry's attention had gone back to the oatmeal the lieutenant had just brought her from the picnic, he heard him speak up for himself.

"Yes, well, a real gentlecolt allows a mare to keep up whatever delusions she suffers from, not that you would know what a gentlecolt actually was. Just finish it quickly, we've got a long day ahead of us." He said, regaining his no doubt dented composure. Acting as though he'd said nothing except, "we've got a long day ahead of us," she hurriedly swallowed down a mouth-full of oatmeal before replying.

"What do you mean 'long day?' All we have to do is foalsit the irritable, brown meat head until the princesses get back from selling the whole world whatever political scam they managed to cook up." She plied him with a cynical casualness. After she'd said that, the only thing keeping Garrosh from caving the roof in and smashing the mouthy minx down into the house's basement (if it had any) was the fact that it was Derpy and Dinky's household. The lieutenant, for his part, found her question rather opportune.

"It's odd that you'd mention the princesses, because that's exactly where 'Warchief' is planning to go." His voice grew noticeably more hushed when speaking those words, though the same could not be said for the other as of that moment.

"To Canterlot?! Hey, hold up; I don't like where this is going." She spoke just on the verge of shouting, poised to interrogate Wave Chill further about what he'd heard, but thankfully, she would never get that chance.

"Nonetheless, it is where you shall go if you wish to follow your captain's orders." Garrosh's voice boomed just a bit louder than it should have. The response was almost instant; Starry quickly peeked her head over the edge of the rooftop, clearly just finishing up her breakfast, to look down at the disgruntled orc below.

"Oh, come on! I'm fairly sure at least part of the deal you made with Nightshade was to stay here until the royalty got back." She protested. Garrosh found it strange yet fortuitous that the deal made with Spitfire and Nightshade had not included a single requirement to stay where he was. It reminded him of just how dumb these creatures were; if they believed that he was simply going to cater to their assumed wishes, go according to their rules of civilization, or not take full advantage of any bargain-related loopholes that they had left open for him in their lack of foresight, they were grossly mistaken. This all being said, there truthfully was no part of the bargain that barred him within the boundaries of Ponyville, but Hellscream wasn't about to pander completely to her whining.

"Then you are gravely mistaken; there was no part that said this; and seeing as how you are separated from your command, you will just have to take me for my word. Until you can reach them, and if you don't want to be left behind, I suggest you fall in and follow this irritable, brown, meat head." Garrosh told her with an indignant snort from his nostrils as he reached up onto the roof and unceremoniously snatched the empty bowl from her hooves, turning to return the dish to a patiently waiting Derpy. Starry, having recovered from both The Warchief's sudden jab at her earlier remark and the smug snigger given behind her back by the Wonderbolt, pinched the bridge of her snout with a hoof as she sighed.

"Well, there goes the ploy that your 'illustrious' sun goddess is probably feeding the press right about now." With that said, she and the lieutenant apathetically hopped from the roof while Garrosh returned the dish to to host of the morning meal, Starry alighting to the ground back hooves first with all the profound gracefulness of a butterfly, whereas Chill landed with more of a rough-and-tumble thud.

The Warchief then bade the kind mail mare farewell with the full intent of returning by sunset before he slowly turned to begin marching in the direction of forlorn peak upon which the mountain city known as Canterlot was crested, leaving the Derpy to trot back inside to prepare for her job. Now, Garrosh couldn't quite be sure, but he could have sworn he'd heard the clatter of glass breaking and the phrase "Oh, for crying out loud!" whined shortly thereafter behind him. He knew full well what it could be, but not wanting to take up anymore of his or her time, his decision was made in favor of continuing his stride. The two Bolts soon formed up on him, falling into step with each other as they composed something of a "V" formation with the massive orc as they marched.

"Now then, you two, lead me to this city's tram so that I may finally be on my way." Hellscream issued suddenly in-stride, but was met only with a stunned sort of silence. That was, until Chill spoke up.

"....What?" Was all he managed to force out.

"The tram leading to the mountain city, I see it leading there off in the distance." He said, pointing yonder just to the right of where Canterlot hung forth. What he said was true; if one looked long enough at the slope of the mountain, they could see the outline of a series of winding tracks all gradually leading up to the Canterlot's foundation. The ignorant orc just didn't know the proper terminology for the thing that rode these rails. Starry Skies slowly opened her mouth, looking like she was about to correct this error on Hellscream's part, when she was interrupted by the synchronized landing of a hodgepodge of different jumpsuited Pegasi before them.

"Finally! Who'd of thought you of all things would hard to find in this place." The still-fairly raspy voice of Nightshade rang out, cutting through the morning air like a knife. "He's not giving you too much trouble, is he Sky?" She asked, suddenly directing her attention towards Starry Skies.

"Why never, He's been a peach, haven't you, handsome?" She answered sultrily with a question shot Garrosh's way. The increasingly irate orc, having had it up to just about here with her mock flirtations, gave a low, menacing growl from the side of his mouth before he made a fake attempt to lunge down at her, making her flinch so hard at the feigned lash-out that she was hovering in flight by the end of her dodge. Still, it didn't deter her from letting forth a satisfied titter at him. "See?" She once again spoke to her leader, gesturing toward Garrosh with a hoof as if to demonstrate some kind of nonexistent good behavior. "Just peachy."

It was by this time that Hellscream had elected to ignore her, seeing as how he'd probably only make a fool of himself trying to catch her so he could snap her neck. He chose instead to evaluate the status of what had just landed before him. As far as he could tell, the two flight teams looked little to no worse for ware; the only difference he could make out was the absence of two party members (not including the crazed one he'd hospitalized:) The Wonderbolts' captain Spitfire, and the Ghostly white stallion with whom he'd fought gallantly. He was just about to ask one of the Wonderbolts of what had become of their leader when the lieutenant to his side beat him to it.

"Where's Captain Spitfire?" Asked the bright-eyed, jubilant Soarin' as he began trotting up to the mixed group. Unexpectedly, it was Fleetfoot who answered his question.

"You left too thoon to hear thith, but she didn't want to go back to the hothpital, tho she went along with Thelethtia for debrief--" She was cut off mid-sentence when Rapidfire suddenly cut in from behind.

"--And then back to the academy to do the paperwork on the... scuffle that took place here yesterday." If that was not enough to demonstrate to Garrosh what considerable disarray the group was suffering, what happened next struck the nail on the head.

"Aw man, That's where she went? I knew Spit's head was feelin' bad, but I didn't know it was feeling that bad..." Soarin' randomly prattled on, causing more than a few sniggers and eye-rolls to ensue throughout the mixed group, and causing a face-hoof by Fleetfoot of epic proportions.

"You were there when she told uth where she wath going, you dumby!" She snapped back at him, quickly recovering from her own gesture, earning an insulted "Hey!" from her target. No matter how much Garrosh prepared himself, he just couldn't muster up enough mental fortitude to go up against that lisp of her's successfully. His apparently vast sanity draining more quickly than anyone would have liked, Hellscream put an end to whatever ludicrous potential arguments that might have otherwise been spawned.

"Enough of this!" He barked, demanding the attention of all, even a few now-frantic passers by who had then left the sanctity of their homes. "Miscreant, why are you here wasting my time?!" Bellowing his first question towards Nightshade, he then asked his next in a more sinister, suspicious manner. "And what has become of that white stallion of yours?"

"First off, it's Nightshade; even a foal could have figured it out by now, not that I would expect that much from you." Hellscream merely rolled his eyes at her colorful rebuttal. "Second off, the only thing you need to know about Stratus is that he's off duty right now. Third off, speaking of ponies who are off duty," She suddenly pointed a hoof to the Shadowbolt beside Garrosh. "Starry! You're relieved for now; we're rotating." Starry Skies simply nodded silently as she moved to join in with the rest of the group.

"Wait, she's off already? Who's gonna watch him?" The goblin-like voice of Charger sounded as he raised a hoof at the orc.

"You are..." She answered casually.

"Whaaat?" Charger whined, fully disdaining where he knew she was going.

"You heard me." She responded, now issuing her next statement to the whole group as Charger trudged wearily over to The Warchief's side, clearly not looking forward to today. "This is gonna become a regular thing for the time being; every twenty-four hours, we're gonna rotate for debriefing and r&r. We don't want one guy getting stuck with this lug for too long." Just as she was finishing, a stressed-looking mare came out of nowhere and made her way to the scene. She appeared to be sporting some sort of white uniform, prominently bearing the humans' healing mark upon the uniform's hat. She also had a rather peculiar style to her powder-pink mane, something closely resembling a done-up hair bun, though by the state of it, she'd had quite the taxing morning. Panting profusely and galloping with all her might, she skidded to a halt relatively near the darker portion of the mixed flight teams.

"P--Pardon me, but is there-- is there anypony here by the name of... Nightshade?" She croaked out feebly between pants. The Shadowbolts, for the most part, only seemed to shuffle about uneasily for a moment, that was, until their leader finally spoke up.

"Who wants to know?" Nightshade asked cautiously, to which the frantic medical mare brightened only a little.

"I have urgent news, news that your friend said you'd want to hear as soon as possible." She explained, finally managing to catch some of her breath. Nightshade didn't skip a beat; in but a split second she silently excused herself from the group to briskly approach the mare, bringing her ear in close to her to hear the news, and after just a short bout of indiscernible whispers from the nurse, Nightshade's expression changed just barely for the more surprised.

"What? What is it, Night?" Asked a concerned Charger.

"Starry, form up; we're headed to Ponyville General. Charger, you stay; you're on escort detail." Nightshade's need to voice that again was more founded than she would have liked, for as soon as she said that, she could have sworn she heard him mutter "shoot" before ceasing a barely begun stride. Content that that was well taken care of, she then turned to Hellscream. "If you aren't back in Ponyville's immediate vicinity in twenty-four hours for rotation, we've got clearance to engage you on site, so don't make us come looking for you." Garrosh almost thought of saying something sarcastically witty along the lines of "ancestors protect me..." before something annoying dawned on him. "Yeah, I know about your little trip to Canterlot; just be back here by nightfall." She said irritably before turning to trot past her rivals and taking flight. "Move out!" And with that, both she and starry Skies sped off in the direction of the hospital.

"Pfft, wath that thuppothed to make her thound cool? It jutht made her thound like a moron." Fleetfoot jeered as she watched the scene.

"Lieutenant, I'm still on standby for escort detail." Suddenly blurted Wave Chill, the comment sounding as though it were something between him reminding her and him readily defending his current task.

"Nah, I hate to admit it, but she's got a point. Whoever wantth to watch him overnight, go take a nap. I'll take over for you, Wave; thith trip to Canterlot thoundth a little thketchy." She finished, casting a side-long, distrustful look at the orc who merely shrugged impatiently at her. Wave Chill, who knew that he did not equal her in rank, stood there conflicted for a few seconds before giving her a very stiff salute, moving to join his two other comrades and allowing Fleetfoot to take up his previous position. Despite his impatience, Garrosh waited for them to decide all this, thanking the ancestors that they didn't argue about this and waste more of his time like they did all other times.

"Are you certain you... wouldn't want us going with you, Fleet?" Rapidfire spoke for the first time since landing, and already he was letting his preferences reveal themselves.

"Hey now, that would be breaking the deal we made with the Shadowbolts; they're supposed to be the shady ones, remember?" Soarin' spoke an intelligent sentence for the first time since landing, and already he was virtuously defending the Wonderbolts' core values. Fleetfoot took a bit of time to consider both courses of action. She herself had to admit; it was very tempting to take Rapid up on his suggestion, for not only would it be exercising the visual strength of the Wonderbolts for all to see (not to mention in Canterlot,) but it would also make her a bit safer knowing that they outnumbered both the big brown brute and the womanizing stallion from an "enemy camp." In the end, however, the more moral of the two choices one out by a strand of thread. They were supposed to be better team after all, and given the burning rivalry between Spitfire and Nightshade, it just wouldn't be right to blotch her record for her.

"Thoarin'th right, Rapid; it'th a no-brainer. If Thpitfire were here, she'd of thaid the thame thing." Soarin' looked somewhat flattered at her honest words, whereas Rapid looked completely shot down. "Hehe... Bethides, we all know that you athked that jutht tho you could weathel outta thtaying in Ponyville." She added in, to which Rapidfire gave an indignant "Hmph!"

"Are you finished yet?!" Garrosh abruptly butted in, making everyone in the group flinch.

"Yeah, yeah, hold your hortheth!" Fleet barked angrily up at him. Garrosh had just about had enough of this; daylight was burning, and these ridiculous circus clowns were holding him up. He'd then made up his mind that he wasn't going to sit there much longer, even if he had a brand-new phrase to think about that didn't make any sense coming from an equine.

"Anyway, relaxth, Rapid, you'll get your chanthe yet. I'm thending you guyth back to the academy to catch a break, go through debrief, and to check on Thpitfire. After that, meet up back here at eighteen-hundred hourth for rotation." All the Wonderbolts nodded affirmatively and took to the air bound for the academy save for one.

"Oh! I call dibs on the night watch! Can I stay here and take a nap?" Soarin' asked her with a very odd, spontaneous enthusiasm.

"Uh... okay?" Fleetfoot stuttered, unable to guess what had the stallion so excited to stay.

"Thanks, Fleet! You're the best!" The blithe stallion yelled as he sped off for the town's local inn, leaving Fleetfoot shouting after him, "Don't forget the rendezvous point!"

"At last!" Garrosh suddenly rejoiced. "Now that you creatures are finally through with your endless blatherings, we are leaving for the mountain city!" The orc decreed insistently before pointing at Charger. "You, lead me to this settlement's tram." He ordered, but for the second time, he was met only with confused silence. With his guard being officially switched for the day, Garrosh would've thought there would have at least been some differentials as far as intelligence went, but as Charger finally spoke up, he realized that these two were both proving to be just as stupid and useless as the last pair.

"Uh... What da buck's a tram?" The dimwitted city-stallion asked him. Garrosh reached up to tend his horrific headache, wondering how in this insane world they both could not know what a tram was. Nearing the end of his tether, he called it something else.

"I grow weary of this! The train to the mountain, you fool! Lead me there!" He growled to the Pegasus as he once again pointed yonder. Charger, now name-called, was not budging an inch or saying a word; he was now just standing his ground, teeth clenched in a scowl as if readying for a stand-off. It was fairly easy to guess that this particularly defiant stallion, having been hardened in both body and heart by street life, did not handle being bossed around well. Garrosh, now at the end of his tether as he dropped the bag from his shoulder, was kindly about to grant his obvious death wish when a small body and a lisped voiced dropped between them to intervene.

"Alright, alright! We get it, Okay?! According to thith map, the train thtation's just patht 'Breethy's General Goods Store' and 'Golden Oaks Library! We'll take you there quietly if you don't throw anymore tantrumth, okay?!" She spouted out as fast as she could as she held up a map in her hooves, panting heavily for a bit after she finished. Garrosh, only partially satisfied with the results of his threats, allowed himself only a small smirk as as he stood back up to full height, righting himself as he slung his bag over his shoulder again.

"... Good, now, lead me to this train station before we must butt heads once more." He addressed her with the tone of a classic bully. Fleetfoot's saucer-like eyes grew slightly wider, the moment of dread noticeable even through the flight goggles she'd just donned as she recalled the pain dealt to her from the first incident.

"Fine..." Was all she muttered in compliance as she began to lead him to his desired destination.

"Speak for yourself, ya little chicken!" Charger shot at his partner, feeling considerably betrayed. "I ain't h--" No sooner had he decided to keep ranting did Fleetfoot forcefully shove a hoof into his mouth.

"Shut up!" She whispered harshly to the shocked stallion as she pulled her hoof out of his mouth, taking a moment to distastefully wipe the glob of saliva she'd gotten on her hoof on his jumpsuit. "The thooner we lead thith big baby where he wants, the thooner we can get him back here, and the thooner I can get away from both of you!" She continued hissing at him, who was now making immature mock-talking gestures at her. "I am not about to go up againtht that thing with just you ath backup." She mumbled as a final, even though the orc could clearly hear her every word.

"Excellent, just keep proving useful and you shan't part with your skull." The orc said, trying not to cackle at how much of a conformative coward the mare was being right now. "Perhaps having these two stooges around will not be a total loss." The amused orc thought to himself. The odd company of the two ponies and Equuis' newest species then began their walk down the three streets to go until they reached the train station.

Garrosh, for his part, was quite surprised to see that the town's natives were not skittering away at the sound of his tremoring footsteps or recoiling in fear as he and his escorts passed them by through the streets, even though they were still keeping a firm distance from him. Despite their healthy distance from the Warchief, the natives' actions took a turn for the more dumbfounding when some of them even started positively acknowledging his presence, that acknowledgement being, by his count, five ponies who actually bore the courage to wave their forehooves at him in a friendly greeting. So unexpected was this to the orc, that he could do little more at the moment than keep staring in their direction, giving a small, awkwardly aloof nod, doing his best to return their greeting. "For being so pathetically sheltered from any real change, these creatures seem to adapt quickly; this may be useful." He mused placidly as the trek carried onward. The orc also saw that a couple of the five ponies who had greeted him had seen him before, such as the ones called "Carrot Top" and "Roseluck." He was not certain if he'd already gained the supposed "friendship" they all held so dear by simply talking to them, or if they had just been raised and taught to display this queerly bizarre behavior to anyone who didn't immediately want to harm them. Before he could reach any satisfying conclusion, Hellscream decided to drop his mind's subject before risking yet another mental breakdown. He dreadfully surmised that this was just one more in a thousand other aspects of this wretched world that would threaten to do the same for as long as The Greatmother kept him here.

"You know..." Fleetfoot started all of the sudden. "You do realithe that going to a city on the thide of a mountain crawling with Thelethtia'th royal guardth ith not the brightetht idea, right? I mean, I know that you can throw your weight around and all, but that jutht theems like a bit much, even for thome one with your fat head." Despite her meager little jab, she actually made a fair point, but Garrosh was not turning back now, not when he was so close to getting rid of the horrid overalls he'd constructed out of desperation, not when he was so close to avenging his Tusks of Mannaroth, not when he was so close to finally donning some decent armor.

"Even should they defy the direct orders given by their princess, if they are trained in the same manner as your teams, then it should be prove simple to cut through them." The orc retorted callously. Surprisingly, Fleetfoot said not another word, and given the relationship between the two of them, Garrosh knew that she'd deliberately cut herself off to avoid going too far and provoking violence from the orc that she knew she could not control. Charger on the other hand, lacked any trace of this self preservation, and just couldn't bring himself to keep his ever-widening mouth shut.

"Oh yeah?" He spat what Hellscream indelibly knew as a very unintelligent, very unrhetorical question. Intentionally leaving the ridiculous caricature of a stallion hanging awkwardly, Garrosh let him stumble through the moment of silence he gave him before allowing him to start what was to be yet another brash rant. "Just try to take us down again; I dare ya. You know darn good n' well dat you just got lucky last time." The rebellious Pegasus finally challenged.

"Once again showing foolishness masked as courage I see." Garrosh jeered, giving a bit of a chuckle to himself. "You are confident in your teammates' combined strength, Charger, but you have forgotten a very important factor." He admonished as he then made direct eye-contact with the Pegasus, glowering down upon him with dagger-sharp eyes. "They are not here." The theatrical beast allowed himself a menacing smirk. "The 'battle' would consist only of you and myself. Do you think you, in your vast prowess, could bring me down alone, rodent?" Looking back through his memories of the standoff he'd had with the two flight teams, he was quite pleased with how his brief one-on-one interlude with Charger had unfolded; braining the brainless Pegasus with that odd white box was fairly enjoyable to do the first time, and he was looking forward to finding out what other way he could enjoy pulverizing him if he were to make good on any of his hollow threats.

"Hmph! Maybe if ya fought fair! Maybe if ya didn't use every dirty trick in da book, including literally the kitchen sink!" Charger defended, his former thunder considerably stolen. "Besides, I ain't alone; I got ole' Fleety here ta back me up." The desperate-sounding statement earned a rather merciful eye-roll from the brute, and a look of both pure shock and lividity from the aforementioned mare. "Ain't dat right, sweetheart?" Charger added casually as he threw an overly-friendly fetlock around the small mare's shoulders. He didn't look over at Fleetfoot as he asked his stupid question, for if he did, he would have seen that she looked like she was about to butcher him. The orc was now pretty certain Charger had some kind of death wish, for Fleetfoot could not possibly have made the fact that she was only afraid of Garrosh any clearer than just recently. Nonetheless, this dense stallion saw none of it. Before any of the three of them could blink once more, Fleetfoot used her lithe, petite body to quickly shrug the offending fetlock from her back as she just as quickly smacked Charger across the face so hard that his flight goggles came clean off.

"Toucth me again, and I may jutht look the other way while Warchief eath you!" She hissed to him viciously, lacking all basic empathy. Charger however, barely even heard her, as he was too preoccupied clasping his hoof over his scrunched snout, mourning over it as he quickly reached his other blind hoof to retrieve the goggles. As the manhandled Shadowbolt was bringing his goggles back up to his face as Fleetfoot hissed her strangely creative threat, Garrosh saw that he was keeping his eyes clenched tightly shut, never even cracking them open once as he stretched the goggles around his head to don them again. It was the first time the orc had seen him make any gesture of this sort, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was something special or amiss with those eyes. For that fleeting moment of contemplation, a variety of questions tugged at Garrosh's mind. Had he lost one of them in battle and just didn't want anyone else to know? Was he conscious of them for some unexplainable reason? Did he just simply not like their color? He positively knew not, but for all he knew, regarding these creatures' laughable quirks and idiosyncrasies, especially of this particularly vain stallion, he didn't dare remove any potential reason from the equation.

"Okay! okay! Sheesh, filly!" Charger cried as he shook his head after snapping his eye wear back on, checking his muzzle for blood.

"As odd as it may seem, Fleetfoot, I do not relish the taste of horse meat." Garrosh remarked, alluding to what she'd earlier said. He saw her visibly cringe and gag at his insensitive jest, but Charger was completely oblivious, no doubt due to the fact that he was all too busy mulling over his nearly-broken snout.

"Wait, hold up a sec; who said anything about eating ponies?" He asked dumbly, only making Fleetfoot scoff, rolling her eyes at his stupidity.

"Fleetfoot has given me permission to ingest you." Garrosh stated plainly. The response was instant; Charger slowly looked over at Fleetfoot with a look mixed with confusion, disgust, and substantial worry all clearly visible even through his obstructive, angular eye wear.

"Come on, Fleet, ya can't honestly tell me dat ya don't like gettin' touched that much." He said, then sporting a manure-eating grin as his eyebrows subtly moved up and down. If this gesture was somehow supposed to gain any semblance of favor from the Wonderbolt, he still had a lot to learn about the female of the species. Thankfully though for his sake, Fleetfoot only silently shook her head rather than hit him again.

"Worry not, rodent; in order to eat you I would first have to reduce you to char to remove all disease from your hide." Garrosh almost guffawed at hearing his own words.

"Oooh! Buurn!" Fleetfoot abraded meanly as Charger was taken aback by such a ruthless shot at his image.

"Hey! Buck you, alright? I take a bath more often than that!" He yelled, clearly feeling offended and outnumbered by the both of them, only causing Garrosh smirked at the outburst. "Oh, and judging by da way you reek, I don't even think you know what a bath is." He shot back at the orc. Fleetfoot started a boisterous laugh, but that was were it ended as she quite forcefully bit her tongue as she looked up warily at The Warchief. Surprisingly enough, Hellscream didn't grow all that angry, merely giving a dismissive sneer.

"Hmm, is it any fault of mine that that crazed, insubordinate vermin of yours decided to singe my skin until it was blackened and seared?" The Warchief wisely asked, much to the silence that followed shortly. "Hmph! It matters little; it received what it deserved, and you shall just have to bare the stench if you wish to follow orders where your comrade could not." His words were fierce, cutting through any who held the hospitalized mare dear. As expected, Fleetfoot willingly and readily disconnected herself from the banter entirely, but uncharacteristically, Charger did not utter a single word through his now-clenched teeth. If the orc didn't know any better, he'd think that this peon of an equine had finally learned his place, but sadly for him, he did know better. Garrosh knew that Charger had merely switched tactics and was biding his time, lying in wait for an opportunity were his words could stab into the beast just as brutally. "Keep moving; I wish to reach the mountain city before nightfall." Garrosh grumbled, his annoyance with how long this had already taken suddenly becoming more evident. Luckily for him, it only took another few seconds to finally reach the final of this village's landmarks between him and his destination: Golden Oaks Library.

It was a tree house.

"...What?" Fleetfoot finally asked, wondering why the beast had stopped dead in his tracks. He answered not, for from the very moment he'd seen the sylvan abode standing forth straight and proud in the middle of the town's clearing, he'd only been able to think of one thing; said thing, enraged him. "...What, they don't have any tree houtheth back on... on--"

"Azeroth..." Garrosh cut her off in her guessable strugglings to remember the name of his second home planet. Also unquestionably, Fleetfoot had asked him that question because ever since he'd been standing there staring at the leafy landmark, he'd bore such a face of anger and disgust that it could easily invoke fear into the recipient. It was just a pity the fear factor was wasted on an inanimate object. "And yes, it does have these... tree homes." He growled the final term with such a tangibly choleric tone that it would be nigh impossible not to infer that these staple dwellings had belonged to one of his more preeminent enemies. Soon thereafter, Garrosh heard a bored and sullen sigh come from behind him.

"Lemme guess, some mook ya didn't like owned a tree house back where your from?" Charger asked, surely already knowing the answer. Hellscream was so deep within his morose memories that he scarcely even knew who asked the question, giving whomever it was nothing more than an affirmative grunt in response.

"Well, you don't have to worry about thith one; thith one'th home to Printheth Twilight Thparkle: Keeper of Ponyville Library." She announced the "good" news as if it was such, but to the orc, there were now multiple reasons to avoid this establishment. Garrosh knew all too well the unsettling, unwavering, knowledge-crazed look that was ever-present in the eyes of that bookish Alicorn when she looked upon him, and felt certain that if he wandered too close to that tree house, that he would risk bringing a pain upon himself the likes from which he could never hope to recover.

"Come, we are averting our course." He commanded as he veered left without hesitance, much to the escorts' confusion as he marched into a nearby alleyway.

"You mean patht... 'Quillth and Thofath?'" Fleetfoot asked, looking intently at the map in her hooves once again. Garrosh had to take his time answering this. Seeing as how the Wonderbolt's lisp had all but butchered that particular shop title, it took him a while to figure out that it was one the most stupid, ridiculous, and mindless names for anything he'd ever heard in his life, and that was without Fleetfoot's lisp.

"Yes" He said, casting his thoughts aside for the time being as he continued his softened stride through the alleyway.

"Wait, you really hate that tree house that much?!" Charger blurted, marveling at what he thought was Garrosh's immaturity.

"No!" Garrosh half-shouted before lowering his voice as much as he could (which was to say not very much.) "I am not subjecting myself to the mental torture that is that deranged mare or any of her fellow lunatics! Enough, follow or don't; I care not!" He hissed, now irritated beyond belief, not only at what he was having to stoop to accomplish, but the fact that he was having to explain it all to this imbecilic stallion. Breaking from the covering dark of the alley, he finally caught sight of what he'd longed to see: The train station platform. "At last! We are here." Garrosh gave a small rejoice, disbelieving how unbearably tedious even the first step of his objective had made itself out to be.

It was small, very small.

"What manner of tram station is this?" Garrosh asked himself, feeling more and more underwhelmed the further he observed it, for looking over it, he quickly found that there nothing else to see. The only difference between the station and the regular tracks he saw spiraling up to the mountain city in the distance was an old plank-wood platform, the two wooden ramps leading up to it, and the purple shack built onto the back of it with a hay-thatched roof, presumably for ticket purchase. Slowing to a stop right before exiting the alley entirely, it then occurred to The Warchief that he'd never boarded a tram of any kind in his life. Throughout his days, he had always been more used to things like travelling on-foot around Orgrimmar and perhaps the occasional portal jump to another of the Horde faction's capitols. Anything beyond that, and he only knew of martial transports to far-away battlefields that warranted his presence and attention such as armored caravans or the Horde's hulking, airborne flagships. In light of all this, he knew he'd never paid for any form of transport in his life, but just as all determined beings think as they stare down a new and terribly daunting task laid out before them, Garrosh's mind read only one question: How hard could it be?

Without much further thought than this, Hellscream covered the fairly short distance between the station and anything else, indifferently strolled around the booth to the other side, and bent down to get a better look at the front. Just as he had figured, this booth was meant precisely for ticket purchase, as there were counter-topped openings all along its front. Not as he had figured, he saw no one behind the counter ready to transact. Looking along the counter top, he saw nothing but some type of speaker device, a couple of askew newspapers at the shaded far end of the counter, and what appeared to be a waiting bell not unlike that in Orgrimmar's treasury. Again, without much further thought on the matter, he outstretched an index finger and rang the bell with his bulky fingertip, the tinny sound still echoing in his ears as he peered through to the back of the booth to see if anyone was coming forward to respond.

"Uh, Warchief....?" Came Fleetfoot's voice from behind him; the two escorts had made their landing next to him seconds before he'd rang the bell.

"Be gone, fools; I do not need your aid in this." He caviled to them, waving a dismissive hand behind him without so much as looking back at them.

"But--"

"Come on, Fleety; let's just do as he says." Charger said in a semi-hushed tone, sporting a cheesy, knowing smirk. "Let's just go stand watch; he'll figure it out." He suggested as he turned around, heading for the edge of the platform.

Garrosh then rang the bell for a second, more harsh time, nearly breaking tiny thing, growing impatient with whomever it was who was supposed to be professionally manning the ticket booth. He'd only started waiting a second when he heard a soft snort noise near him, accompanied thereafter by what no one could mistake for anything other than snoring. Eyes darting to and fro, it didn't take long for him to see that one of the askew newspapers' corners was blowing about, despite the fact that it was a windless mid morning. Garrosh instantly knew what to make of this. After clearing his throat purposely loudly, Garrosh saw the few newspaper jolt upward in an alarmed motion, the one under them making several short, incoherent mumblings before coming to their senses.

"Oh! I'm begging your pardon, sir; I must have been more tired than usual what with all the commotion happening around town lately." The voice of a gentle stallion spoke quickly and apologetically as he grabbed the newspapers off of him and started folding them neatly in a pile without even looking up at who it was. The wingless and hornless stallion had a coat of light, almost coffee-brown while his mane of a darker hue of the same color was styled quite meticulously in a strange, swept pompadour. Garrosh also noted that this was the first civilian town's dweller wearing any clothing he'd thus far seen, namely a merchant's vest of deep blue bearing a name tag reading "Davenport," there under lying a crisp, white dress shirt pulled neatly apart at the collar. The final thing Hellscream noted were the frantic, embarrassed eyes of lime-green darting about the counter as he finished shuffling the newspapers into order.

"Anyhow, what can I do for y--" The stallion started as he looked up from his tidying to properly interact with his patron, finding not a fellow pony's face, but the massive lower torso of a monstrous form look down at him. Trailing his horrified eyes slowly upward, he came in contact with the very colossal being he'd only just heard about in the newspapers he'd just straightened. As Davenport's eyes widened in terror, his irises and pupils shrinking down to the size of pinpricks, Garrosh's expression just as quickly grew intolerantly deadpan, for even though this here was a stallion of this absurd race, the weary orc knew what was ultimately to befall his ears. When Garrosh had reached the pinnacle of his power in his days as Warchief, he had thought the terrified whispers of his intimidating name as he passed through the streets of Orgrimmar were a trifle satisfying, but to say that he was now growing very tired of this self same reaction was once again an understatement punishable by death.

"So help me, if you should scream like a female, I shall squash you right here." He uttered in a tone equal to his expression, causing the stallion to very quickly silence the intake of breath he was drawing. "Now, to spare myself of your pathetic stammerings, I shall make things very clear to you. Yes, I am this 'monster' you have heard so much about. Yes, I am free to wander this accursed place as I damned well please, and finally, yes, I am here at your station seeking the means to leave this place, for I wish not to waste any more time here." Garrosh then started leaning in closer to the poor, frazzled stallion, eyes slowly narrowing. "Now it is you who will answer a question of mine: How much is three tickets for the next tram to the mountain city... of Canterlot?" The Warchief was now hissing his words in a harsh and sinister whisper. It might have occurred in the back of his mind somewhere along the line that he was taking advantage of how these creatures viewed him. It was a cruelty in and of itself, but he was weary of it, weary of it all, weary of jumping through hoops and going out of his way to appear less frightening to them.

The unfortunate recipient of this burst of cruel behavior by then looked so afraid he almost seemed broken, eyes still amassed staring into the horrid, yellow abyss that were Hellscream's own, his jaw trembling severely as he kept trying unsuccessfully to respond.

"Well?!" Garrosh growled impatiently, causing him to flinch as he let out a feeble whimper.

Having been freed from his fear-induced stupor, The stallion broke eye-contact with the beast to cast a rushed glance in the direction of the map on the side wall of the ticket booth, shortly thereafter scrambling frantically under the counter to procure the three tickets.

"T-t-t..." He stuttered as he quickly slapped the tickets onto the counter top, then realizing in full that stuttering and stammering was the exact thing the monstrosity had explicitly stated he did not want to hear. Composing himself to the best of his ability as he wiped the beading sweat from his brow, he took in a deep, calming breath before responding as he would to an average, everyday patron.

"That will be thirty bits, sir." Casting "Davenport" a look as if to say "finally," he then shrugged off the sling of his bag with an impatient sigh, the bag making a small, jingling crashing sound before he started searching through it. The orc was dismayed to find that he had next to no food left, but he did still have two full water sacks at his disposal. What truly eased his mind about the potentially dangerous lack of food was the abundant presence of hundreds of shiny, gold bits liberally accented with scattered precious stones; even that gold bar he'd found per chance was still there. Not only would this undoubtedly serve as enough to purchase both the tram ticket and anything else he would be buying in Canterlot, but it would also surely sustain him financially throughout the duration of his stay in this world. That is, of course, if it was at all reasonable.

"It is good that none of those infernal rats tried to steal anything from me." Garrosh thought as he snatched out roughly thirty bits. He plopped the gold coins down onto the counter quite unceremoniously before outstretching a massive hand for his tickets. As quick as a flash did Davenport attempt to place the tickets in orc's hand, only to place two and have the final one start floating away in a single, ill-timed breeze. Garrosh was quicker than Davenport in using his other hand to snatch the ticket before it had even moved a few inches in the air. As he looked down at the three tickets now in his hands, the orc heard the stallion let out a sigh, causing the orc to roll his eyes at the pathetic fool. The tickets themselves bore a few scribbles of calligraphic writing on them. They meant little to nothing to the orc; the time imprinted on them, however, did mean something.

"The tram, is this time its arrival or departure?" He asked the stallion, brandishing the three tickets closely.

"Oh! Departure time, sir, it should be here any minute now." He answered whilst sweeping the coins into a large cashier's box already partially endowed with a few bits here and there; it would seem that he was at least starting to get used to the sight of the beast before him.

"Is that all?" Garrosh suddenly and impatiently asked.

"W-What? ...I don't understand what you mean, sir." He said, trying to maintain eye-contact with the orc as he closed the cash register. Garrosh gave an exasperated grunt of a sigh, sounding as if he were about to come unglued before attempting to make himself more clear.

"Is this all that I need do? Must we speak further?" He iterated, sounding more frustrated by the minute as his voice continued to raise. It was a very good thing that there was not a soul to be had at the station when they'd arrived, for if the poor, pitiful stallion was shaking any more profusely by this point, it was certain that all in the near vicinity would hear his knees knocking together.

"N-N-No, that's all; that's all. Have a n-nice trip, sir." He said with a very forced smile. The orc's reply to his farewell sent a chill running down the pony's spine.

"We shall see."

After seething his bitter say, he stood to full height, once again slinging his bag over his shoulder, and turned to walk to the side off the platform. His sinister exit was doomed to fail however, for right as he had turned to step off the platform, his face smacked right into something hard and metallic. Stunned, he drew back with one foot to inspect what he'd just walked straight into.

It was the station's railway sign hanging just off the building's awning, still swaying back and forth mockingly from how hard he'd just struck it with his face. Growing ever more enraged at an alarming rate, the orc savagely ripped the blasted thing loose of its hinges, and gave a fuming roar as he pulled it behind him in an arc and flung it forward as far as he possibly could across the tracks and into the grassy fields beyond. Huffing a few times, somewhat dissatisfied at the fact that he couldn't bring the blasted thing to a more gruesome end, he finally heard it land with a thud and a hollow metal ping, the few birds resting in the fields quickly scattering away. At last calming himself relatively, he almost lost it all over again when he heard Charger's sniggering from the edge of the platform. The orc cast a quick look back at the booth where "Davenport" had been, only to find the top of his trembling mane as the frazzled equine was hidden mostly behind the false security of his counter, bidding him to scoff as he continued his short trek from the platform. Once there, he simply stood there, his hands joined at his lower back, waiting stoically for whatever kind of confounded contraption these equines had deemed fit for rails. As he waited, he could just overhear the sound of demeaning whispering coming from the two so-called escorts who sat at the platform's edge, more specifically the masculine of the two. Garrosh was just considering walking over and smashing the delinquent when he heard it.

Yes, he heard it. It was a very familiar sound, one of the first positively familiar sounds he'd heard in this place in relation to Azeroth. Looking down the rails to the south, he could just make out a vague silhouette chugging along them under the shade of the forest in the distance.

"Finally, some progress..." Hellscream breathed quietly as the silhouette inched ever closer, moving past the cover of the tree line. Finally he felt like he was getting somewhere.

That feeling would prove extremely short-lived however, for as soon as the silhouette had left the cover of the trees and was then running through open field towards the station in Day's shining light, he realized just how short-lived that feeling was to be.

As the hideous thing approached, Garrosh saw that it wasn't hideous; it was downright horrid-looking! The train locomotive's boiler and cabin was bathed in an insanely bright and blinding magenta, whereas the embroidery upon its cowcatcher and the frames of the cabin's windows shaped as hearts. Hearts! Hearts of all things! This fact alone would have been enough for the weary orc, yet his masochistic eyes trailed ever onward. The car being pulled directly behind it was the second thing the orc had seen here to look like a Hallow's End treat. More accurately, the whole car looked like a frosted rendition of one of those muffins Ditsy had shared with him. To continue this industrial travesty, the nightmarish front of the train was only worsened by the four cars that followed. For starters, all four passenger cars had walls painted a cinnamon-brown and looked almost granular in consistency. To literally top it all off, these cars were arranged in a pattern so that for every roof of canary yellow, there was a roof of cyan blue. It was ludicrous! The architect of this abomination must have been some sort of sadist, for It appeared as though the theme of the whole damned thing was that of a gingerbread house. The final car was no better than the rest of the train, having been slathered with the same disgusting shade of magenta as the front, only to be inflamed by a butter-yellow rooftop. It looked as if these creatures had tried to find the most incompatible colors in the spectrum to attempt to marry together. Though he would be extremely hard pressed to even think about boarding such a thing, even all this was mere child's talk compared to what had really destroyed Hellscream's sense of progress.

"What... Is this?!" He snarled as it pulled into the station with a large hiss of white steam.

"Oh, for...!" Fleetfoot blurted out as she face-hoofed. "What now? There'th thomething you don't like about the train now?"

"Something? Is there a thing that is acceptable about this?!" He growled at her, assuming she knew all that he meant.

"So what?! It's ugly; just suck it up and get on!" Charger Shouted from behind her.

"Silence, cur! That does not even begin to explain my problem with it! This damned thing is too small!" He roared furiously, his body tensed as if ready to do battle. Fleetfoot had grabbed Charger by the front of his jumpsuit and was about to pummel him for his all-too-dangerous remark when those words met her ears.

"....Ooohh!" Her eyes clenched shut as the gravity of that statement hit her. She just settled for pushing Charger off the side of the platform before responding. "Well... What now?" A guttural rumbling was all that was heard from Hellscream's hunched form, and it gradually grew louder and louder. Both the pegasi knew it was a growl; all Charger did was stare at him from his laying position off to the side of the platform, whereas Fleetfoot noticeably backed away, her eyes once again widening. She knew what was coming. He'd reached his limit, and there was nothing they could do but watch it happen. As for Garrosh, they were absolutely right about him. He was at his limit, and just had to destroy something. The unstoppable rage that came so naturally to him and his race had finally reared its head for the first time since the battle in the town square, and Garrosh was actually surprised it had not come sooner. He simply had to smash something, to kill something, to get it out of his system, and he didn't care what or who got in his way. His growl evolving quickly to a deafening roar, the two escorts barely had enough time to get off the edge of the platform before he whirled around and brought his fist down on it, splintering it to pieces. He felt wasn't quite enough, and he was just about to bring another fist down near the same area when a semi-hesitant voice from the ticket booth halted him a moment.

"W-Wait!" Garrosh decided grudgingly to slow his second strike down enough as to where it didn't destroy half the platform; he was actually quite disappointed that his first didn't land on Charger, but he knew that that probably would not be the only chance he'd ever receive. Tearing himself out of his all-consuming rage, his head eventually craned to where the voice had come from. "I-I overheard your predicament, sir. There's no need to worry, sir." Davenport gave a quick, nervous, yet relieved chuckle as he wiped his brow again with a handkerchief from his vest pocket. "I'll send a dispatch down to Dodge Junction to fetch a gondola immediately." Hellscream said nothing, for he nearly heard nothing. He was too busy trying get a hold of himself.

"Greatmother.... I am not strong enough; I will kill them soon. If you have any conviction in your choice to keep me here, then please... Aid me." These were the words from his mouth spoken aloud in murmurs as his anger began to slowly fade. The escorts said nothing, but they heard everything. As far as Charger was concerned, it only looked to him like an indirect threat. To Fleetfoot however, it looked like a great and terrible beast capable of great and terrible feats admitting on high that even his strength had its limits and pleading, begging for help from his Goddess as she would unto Celestia, and to speak the plain truth, it took her breath away. It was then that Garrosh slowly turned and started trudging away from the train station towards the general direction of Canterlot Mountain.

"...H-Hey, where are you going?" Fleetfoot asked, flapping her wings to hover after him.

"I am leaving for the city!" He snapped back at her most bitterly, causing her to hesitate only slightly.

"On hoof? ...Erm foot?" She asked almost in disbelief, scarcely noticing her need for that little correction. Garrosh didn't answer; he chose instead to keep marching onward to what would soon be a very steep hill.

"Ya won't make it back in time." Came Chargers accented voice from behind both of them as he kicked back, lounging exactly where he was before Fleetfoot shoved him off. What he said was true, for it would take all day and possibly all night to reach Canterlot on foot from ground level. It was something Fleetfoot hated to admit, but she would be siding with him on this one.

"He'th right, you know. Even if you turned around ath thoon ath you got there, you'd never make it before nightfall." Agreeing with that epitomized stupidity left a bad taste in her mouth, but it had to be done; she had to follow her orders to her best.

"I care little! Try and stop me if you dare; you shall fail." He announced as he kept going.

"...And how's about dat little filly ya gotta get back to today?" Charger asked casually. Garrosh stopped dead in his tracks, frozen by what had just been uttered. "You jus' gonna break her little heart again, huh?" Garrosh hadn't wished he had laser vision so ardently before in his life, for when he turned to glare swords at the peacock of a Pegasus, he wanted him so desperately to burst into flames and reduce to ash.

"What did you say?" He asked simply with a dangerous tone; surprisingly enough, it was lost not just on Charger, nor the Wonderbolt mare next to him.

"Me an' the other Shadows figured it out last night...." Garrosh said nothing, but whether that silence was due to anger or confusion was left unclear. "...Oh what? Ya 'tought Nightshade's little summary at da picnic or whateva, you carrying a foal on ya shoulders, you runnin' outta da tent yelling 'I'm late! I'm late!,' and then you suddenly turning up near dat same foal's house all weren't big enough clues?" He finished with cocky arched eyebrow. Garrosh hated his guts with a passion, but even he had to admit that he didn't expect him to do that much thinking over the course of several months, let alone in one short night. "So I'll ask again, you still gonna break her heart?"

"You truly know no fear in the face of certain death, do you?" Garrosh finally spoke, and his question sound strangely genuine.

"Nah..." The Bolt replied simply.

"Once again you impress me, foolish Charger. I will hear you.... this time." He said, sporting the smallest grin as he began walking back to the station.

"Warchief, pleathe be a pal and don't feed hith fat ego..." Fleetfoot interjected as she fluttered down to land at the platform's edge again.

"Oh, calm your teats, Fleety; I know ya like a confident stud." Charger retorted with chuckle as he leaned back, tucking his forelegs behind his head and crossing his back legs.

"Why you...!" She was just about to dart into him when Garrosh nonchalantly snagged her by her wings, plopping her back down where she previously sat. "Ow..."

"If anyone is going to kill him, it is I." He added as he sat her back down.

"Ugh, then pleathe do it thoon, for Thelethtia's thake..." She muttered, though Charger could clearly hear her. After a good minute of staring idly down at the floor boards of the platform, fiddling with her hooves, Fleetfoot suddenly looked up at the still-standing orc; it was plain to see that something was on her mind. "Hey, Warchief?"

"....What?" He answered gruffly, causing her to shrink back only slightly, but not deterring her.

"That... 'Greatmother' you mentioned, you talked about her at the thummit latht night; What'th she like?" She asked that question with a surprising deal of earnestness. It was something even the emotionally dense orc could easily pick up. After a fair amount of silent thought, he found that there could be no harm in giving her an earnest answer. Though, Garrosh found gathering the right words to describe The Greatmother to be a nearly impossible task.

"The Greatmother.... was a title, a title given to an orc of my people." Garrosh spoke briskly, yes, but if you were looking for it, you could easily hear the anguish in his voice. The fact that it was difficult to even speak about The Greatmother was not at all lost on Fleetfoot, and though she felt disappointed by the lack of color to his answer, she merely responded with a knowing "...Oh."

Garrosh may not have enjoyed attempting to tell the sorrowful tale of The Greatmother, but he'd be damned if he let this curious mare end up thinking of her as anything less than an angel. After all, the very least he could do to honor her memory was to spread the joyous legends of her compassion with all those who would hear. Having decided to press on, Garrosh took in a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the train station platform next to the small Pegasus. "You remembered that I spoke of her briefly at the summit, so perhaps you can remember that I spoke of a great plague that had spread through village of our people?" Fleetfoot nodded grimmly for the orc to continue. "This great plague, the Red Pox, had ensnared many orcs, and those that were infected by it were either banished, or killed." Fleetfoot's eyes went wide at these heavy words, but the orc didn't stop the story there. "But, as the plague grew worse, one orc realized that those afflicted could be saved. Her name... was Gayah...."

"....Greatmother Gayah."

"Was?" Fleetfoot asked, dreading the inevitable answer. The orc could barely nod, let alone say "yes."

"So, wait a minute, your leader was... just a doctor?" Asked Charger suddenly from his reclined position. Fleetfoot merely "shushed" him, waving a hoof at him while still looking at Garrosh.

"Gayah was no expert in medicine, but that did not stop her in her zeal to offer comfort and hope to all those who suffered. She ordered the few healthy orcs who shared her compassion to build a home for the sick in the valley of Nagrand, and to there, the anguished would flock."

"So... She was just a regular orc doing all this?" Fleetfoot's question held much caution, so as not to offend. Garrosh gave a short chuckle, for he never thought anyone would ever think to call Gayah a "regular" orc. Still, he could forgive this alien creature for her ignorance.

"No, no she was not." His face once again grew solemn as the story carried on. "She was the chosen mate of a mighty chieftain, but she sacrificed everything to aid those tortured by the Red Pox." He paused only a moment to look down at the smallish mare. "Even her time of grieving for this mighty chieftain's death." His eyes then began to wonder as they had been before. "She came to Nagrand to lead and to care for the small settlement of those deemed unworthy to fight in the armies of The First Horde." Garrosh looked shamefully to the ground. "To this day, I find myself guilty, for I was one of those hopeless orcs that was sent to her, barely able to muster the strength to swing my axe."

Fleetfoot gave a quite gasp at the mere thought of the hulking, rippling beast standing next to her struggling to lift anything, let alone a simple axe. Even Charger turned his goggled eyes to the orc in a look of slight shock. "We called her the Greatmother not because she bore many children-in-blood, nor for any unearthly powers she may have held as a shaman, but because she had accepted each and every one of us with open arms, where those who had birthed us, had abandoned us to death."

"Wow, she makes Celestia look even worse than she already did." Charger piped in. As expected, his harsh political comment was not taken lightly or very well by the Wonderbolt in the company.

"Oh, thut up, you hollow-head!" She barked with disdain, glaring at the Shadowbolt. The two locked eyes, and then just started exchanging petty insults.

"Says da Sunbutt kisser!"

"Alley thcrounger!"

"Stuck-up prude!"

"Dirty pervert!"

"Enough!" Garrosh commanded, his booming voice nearly demanding the two Bolts to flinch or cover their ears. "You two are insufferable! My aching head cannot withstand your petty feuding!" The orc fumed to the two clashing ponies, throwing his hand about wildly. His words seemed to affect Fleetfoot to a degree, but Charger merely rolled his covered eyes, huffing as he crossed his fetlocks.

"Thorry about that, wath that the end of the thtory?" Garrosh knew that Fleetfoot's apology was just so that he would continue his tale, but he cared not so long as the two ceased their annoyingly loud and vulgar bickering.

"Yes.... for the most part." Garrosh looked off towards the forest with distant eyes as he spoke the story's final words. "The Greatmother died... one day after I left her care to join The New Horde." His eyes grew even colder under his furrowing brow. "Dead... not even a day after I forced myself to leave her side." His fists balled up in silent rage, rage aimed nowhere but towards himself. "... After I abandoned her." Hearing those words escape his own lips made him feel more helplessly enraged than any trouble of his reign in Orgrimmar ever did, and yet, if he didn't know any better, he'd thought that there was something he felt within his core telling him to be at peace, urging him to neither grieve nor seek vengeance, something comforting him. Again though, he did know better, for he knew that this "feeling" was the one who spoke with him not two days ago, the one of whom he just spoke in reverent telling, the one he knew was with him even at that very moment.

"....I'm thorry...."

Hellscream's eyes suddenly reopened, as he had not realized he'd closed them. When his vision returned to him, he saw the tall, grey rain clouds looming just over the forest on the horizon. He took in another deep breath of Equestria's air before realizing what Fleetfoot had said to him.

"...For what, Lieutenant?" He asked, to which she grimaced a bit as she purposelessly twiddled with the pair of purple shades she'd just taken out of her uniform.

"...for bringing it up." She replied sullenly.

"I do not find shame or guilt in an opportunity to speak highly of my Greatmother;" Fleetfoot could feel Garrosh's gaze now upon her as she continued fiddling with her shades. "nor should you for an opportunity to allow me to do so." She looked up at him with a semi-confused twist in her face. All the orc did was give her a small, cheeky smirk before once again assuming an stalwart standing position beside the station platform.

"Welp, she really does sound like a pretty good... person..." Charger's voice could be heard over by the train's second passenger car. He seemed to be looking through them at the time. "Seriously? There ain't nopony on this train? I 'tought this town was supposed to be some kinda tourist hot-spot." He said to no one in particular as he scratched his head with a hoof.

"It'th probably jutht a thlow day, you know; it did come all the way up from Trottingham." Fleetfoot mumbled with a shrug.

"Trotting--ham?" Garrosh thought. He was beginning to think that these creatures were deliberately trying to plaster stupid names on anything they were affiliated with.

"hmm..." Was all Charger answered with as he limbered himself up with long stretch. "Anyway, I'm gonna go grab some shade. Don'tcha worry about dat train mishap; I've seen 'em happen often enough back at Grand Central." He said, nestling himself up on the wooden bench under the ticket booth's awning with a sigh. "...Shouldn't take more than an hour or two."

"'Or two?!'" Garrosh repeated, quickly growing livid.

"Oh, come on, Warchief; it'th not that long a wait. We thould thtill arrive in Canterlot way before noon." Fleet reassured him. Slowly but surely Hellscream supposed it wasn't as long to wait as it could have been regarding the circumstances, especially if it was all to be this peaceful.

"FOUND HIM!"

Author's Note

Six months... Six long, painful, grueling, months have passed since I and my editor/co-writer have released a chapter of this wonderful story.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth to even type out that horrible number, and I can't express how happy I am to finally upload a new chapter, and begin writing again.

Now, my editor will continue with his plan of making his own story, but it will be made under my name. It will be a tad confusing to some, so I'll simply let him explain it when he is ready to do so.

Well, Garrosh and myself will see you all in the next installment of The Fate of The Warchief. Until then, goodbye my readers, and have a Blessed day.

Final Note: This chapter name is pending, so it may change soon, if I can think of a better name.

Chapter 12: The Path to Vengeance

"No!" Varian bellowed, slamming his fist onto the mapping table he stood beside. "We've been over this for the past week, Jaina, and my word still stands firm: Garrosh is gone, and even if he is not truly gone, it is now the responsibility of the Horde to hunt him down."

"There are many orcs that still support Hellscream; we both know it's foolish and naive to trust the Horde with that task, Varian!" Proudmoore responded from across the table, her own voice considerably raised, hoping to finally represent the obvious point she'd been wishing to make ever since they'd left Orgrimmar, a move she had not liked in any respect. The king's fists clenched all the tighter, his knuckles coming to rest at the outer edges of the world map as he leaned over it, the shadows cast from the light above enshrouding his eyes as his brows furrowed like that of a weary old man's, and the mage could swear she heard the sound of teeth gnashing together as his shoulders tensed under the enormous pauldrons they so constantly bore.

"...The Treaty of Generations speaks of Garrosh's disappearance, and it is crystal-clear about where the Alliance and Horde stand if he should be rediscovered." King Wrynn all but growled to her as he shoved himself upright and away from the map, beginning a steady pace out of the room. "You were there when Anduin and I signed it, you know what it said."

Jaina was quick to snap her finger, and with a small puff of luminescent arcane dust, she was walking right alongside Varian, matching his somewhat brisk stride. "With all due respect, that treaty should have never been signed until there were at least far stricter sanctions and surveillance imposed on the Horde's tattered remains." She interjected passionately, as if she were rearing to tear down the treaty's every last detail. It was a deliberate shot at Varian's unexpected choice that day, an affront to the mercy he'd so justly shown the oppressed remainder of the Horde, but even so, he continued his stride silently. ".....Besides, it never stated that the Alliance could not send its own search party to locate the Warchief." Varian stopped and gave out a deep sigh, pinching his eyes shut, yet she continued to speak, despite the obvious signals for her to drop the subject. "It wouldn't even be your men, Varian, I can look for him with my own resources, the Kirin' Tor and the North Watch Remnants."

Reopening his flagging eyes, the king turned towards her, showing absolutely no emotion on his face as he stared into her. She kept eye-contact with him, making it clear that she was not backing down from her point. It was then that he broke the staring contest by continuing to march from the halls of Stormwind's Keep, crossing the throne room he'd just entered. After a moment's time, Jaina's face contorted in rampant frustration as she stormed after the retreating king yet again, coming to a stop at the throne room's center.

"Those factions are both under my command, and if danger concerns you, I could even rally the survivors of my guard. This plan is both completely safe and completely logical! Why won't you even give it a second thought!?"

Proudmoore's wronged screech echoed through the castle's halls as though a mournful ghost's. It was nearly midnight, and every guard normally posted in the keep was heading to Old Town to get their well needed rest. Other battalions of Stormwind Infantry would no doubt be on their way to take up the night watch. It was the usual. Even after the signing of the new peace treaty with the Horde and the drastic risings and fallings of so many factions on Azeroth, Varian Wrynn had not changed a bit, and as such, neither had anything about his beloved capitol.

All this and so much more flashed through Jaina's mind like a wafting pain in those dreaded seconds of deafening, desolate silence which followed that screech. The king seemed as though he barely even acknowledged that she'd spoken to him as his gate to the forefront of his throne room slowed, much less shrieked at him. He merely stood, His eyes drawn to the pale stone seat now made paler still in the sickly rays of moonlight cast down from the windows on high, a deep thought seeming to have overtaken him. Jaina knew his mind was reeling at that moment, and she kept silent, for that is what she would have wished him to do had their positions been transposed.

"......I have given it a second thought, Jaina.... and a third.... and a fourth...."

He spoke softly, an uncharacteristically somber tone alighting his words as he outstretched his hand, running it over the arm of the Seat of Kings. He looked tired and strained. "I know why you want to find him... It's something I never rose above for many of my years." He turned and looked at the mage, many things showing in his eyes. "you want revenge... you seek to avenge your fallen..."

"....Whether it be revenge or duty, would you not want the same?" Her carefully-chosen words were made to sound deliberately distant. It would've rendered her looking rather emotionless but for a quiver in her lips.

"Yes.... I would want the same.... but I would also hope that you, Jaina, would stop me from any fool-hardy actions if that came to pass."

"....Fool-hardy? Fool-hardy!? Can you not see I've taken everything into account!? I can find where he went if given permission to go to Orgrimmar; I can find the source of the magic he used!"

"I will not allow you to go into Orgrimmar, not after what you would have had me do there that day." He spoke in a growl of sorts, and his words made her blood freeze over. The mage went silent under the gaze of Wrynn.

"Yes, you remember your words." He looked down with a scowl, recalling that cold, sinister advice as Proudmoore could do little more than wait in discovered silence for his continue. "They were words from someone who would never be satisfied. This debate is over; the Horde will look for Hellscream," His eyes trailed back up to look at her as he raised his arm to point a finger. "and you, you will not leave Stormwind without my authorization." Varian's words were as firm as iron, and his voice as sharp as the sword on his belt. He meant his words, this debate was over, thus confirmed when he marched off yet again, heading to his personal chambers for the night.

There stood Jaina Proudmoore, no less defeated than if she were one of her fallen subjects, simply ceasing to be, and by one whom she had called friend, left there to stand, without so much as the rubble of a home to return to. As of late, the Blue Recluse Inn had been her place of temporary refuge in Stormwind, and in those moments it seemed as though that was where she was fated to go now.

"...No..." She murmured, her hands having balled themselves up until her knuckles turned as white as her radiation-bleached hair. Reaching up with one of those rage-quivering hands, she grasped the single, golden-blonde lock that remained from that day, running her fingers through the very thing that would remind her of all her failures every time she dared to look in a mirror until the end of her days.

She probably would never have realized it, but thanks to a drop on her arm, she noticed just how freely the tears then fell from her eyes.

Was this to be her end, her legacy? Was retribution for her people truly out of reach? Was the monster that destroyed not only her entire land, but her people, purpose, and existence forever lost to Azeroth, to justice? Would the souls of the innocents once in her care ever be avenged? Was she to die without any form of solace or peace?

"...No..." She growled. He couldn't be gone, he wasn't gone. Jaina knew he was not yet out of her reach, for if the Light had any semblance of justice left within it, she would find Garrosh Hellscream.

Her world-renowned mind flickered, now hyper-active, playing far too many things all at once for anyone to appear sane. Proudmoore, despite the bitter tears still lacing her cheek, and for the first time since the Warchief's disappearance, smiled.

Stormwind was a beautiful city in the radiant light of day, but it retained a different form of that same beauty altogether under the night's sky. The full moon faithfully shined its tame, tempered silver glow down onto the eight segments of the regal metropolis, and most hauntingly the Cathedral Square, the same square who's alleyways upon this night were party to a most infrequent guest. In the narrowly walled paths leading to Stormwind's harbor, the silhouette of a faint, robed figure made its way through the claustrophobia-inducing darkness the moon could not touch, its movements sporadic, choppy even, often times evaporating into thin air only to reappear further down the road.

Such was the power of a mage as learned as Jaina Proudmoore. For her own part, she never grew tired or weary of her ability to "Blink," nor of how it seemed to profoundly annoy those who did not share such a talent.

None of this, however, was amusing to her this night; Jaina kept her mind on target, pushing to maintain a very fast pace in her disapproved pilgrimage to the docks of the harbor. She knew that come first light, if not already, the guards of Stormwind Castle would be informed by their king to keep a close watch on her, and to keep her within the city's limits. This was something she could never allow. Though the mage knew many ways to secretly leave the city, going back home alone would do her little good. She needed help, help she could trust. Luckily, she knew exactly where to find it.

After what to her mind seemed as though an unbearable eternity, she broke from the blackness of the Cathedral Square's western tunnel, scurrying down the path that lead straight to the docks past The Three Winds transmogrification shop. She had never understood why the place was so indispensably popular with the local adventures, after all, she'd always figured that a fine weapon was a fine weapon and enchanted articles of clothing were enchanted articles of clothing, no matter how they looked. The desire to pay good money just have the affects' outer appearances retooled never really resonated with her, but that was a thought for a more trivial time. Refocusing, Jaina pressed onward with haste down the next tunnel leading to the docks. Finally entering the archway of the harbor, Proudmoore had it in mind to select a much different, and far more efficient method of reaching the bottom of the countless alabaster stairs that stood between any shipment laborer's destination and their respective ships. Walking past the long-since dried up fountain, the cracked stone statue of which still ever vigilant in overlooking the harbor and its horizon, she came to an abrupt stop, standing at the very edge of the staircase's platform.

"Ugh... I hate this pitiful architecture." She muttered to herself, closing her eyes. She lifted one foot off the edge, and let it fall forwards.

Another poof of arcane dust later, and Jaina was calmly standing on the walkway connecting every dock in Stormwind Harbor to dry land. She was quick to resume her march, aiming towards the mid-south docking bay. Many random trade ships made use of this port, but the only ship that meant anything to her currently resided there.

The Lady Mehley, the last remaining vessel of the Theramore Navy.

While normally The Lady made voyages from Menethil Harbor to Theramore itself, ever since the city to which the ship was loyal was molecularly decimated, it had taken up the task of carrying Jaina Proudmoore anywhere on Azeroth she needed to go. To her, It was indeed a sad, forlorn sight, to see it docked so far away from any of its usual routes, but the most desperate of times called for even more desperate measures. Jaina shook her head of those thoughts, determined not to let her capacities drown in a sea of despair. Without so much as a second's worth of further hesitation, she blinked aboard the ship.

"By the Light!" She heard a frightened man exclaim near her as she materialized on the ship's upper deck. Fairly startled herself, the mage jerked to her right to find a large, burly seadog clutching his chest through his open, royal-blue doublet as he leaned over against the ship's railing. Proudmoore knew him well as First Mate Kowalski. His choice of attire being mostly dark blue, even if he were not the only one on-board to fashion himself in such a color, the gilded scimitar strapped to his belt would have given him away had his long, blonde ponytail not already done so. His demeanor and exuberance were kind enough, even though every sailor under him would best describe him as a unabridged "worry wort." It was something Jaina could easily relate to in a way.

"Oh, bless the stars, Milady! it's you..." He panted as he limply righted himself, standing up straight once more as he wiped the faint sheen from his forehead. "I thought fer sure a wretched siren had leaped aboard an' gone to end me life."

"....Hardly." Jaina remarked snidely as she briefly scanned around the deck. Since first stepping on-board, she had very quickly learned that each and every sailor of The Lady Mehley bore a resounding and pathological fear of naga, particularly and especially sirens. Proudmoore inferred its probable cause to be far too many midnight tales vividly told of fishermen being assailed or seduced to the depths by the beasts. "Where is the Lieutenant, Kowalski?" She asked, looking back to him.

"..Er, He'll be down below, talkin' to Capn' Stash." The First Mate said, giving his cloth belt a conscious readjustment.

"Excellent, I want this ship ready to sail before dawn, Kowalski, I don't care what measures you take, just ensure we are away from this harbor within two hours." Jaina spoke with a firm authority and a curt tone. The First Mate gave a slightly shocked expression, but offered neither counter nor question to her orders.

"Aye, as ye wish, Milady!" Kowalski hopped to attention with a hasty bow. He then wasted no time in jogging off below deck ahead of Jaina to see that the sleeping crew were quickly rallied to their stations. That was why the mage liked him, he knew when not to offer resistance when given perfectly reasonable, specific instructions.

Jaina didn't hesitate to head below deck either as she followed behind to speak with the last standing commander of the Theramore Army: Lieutenant Aden.

Many words came to Proudmoore's conscious when describing Aden; Honorable, fearless, loyal, unrelenting. He had cursed the day he was ever made the sole leader of what was now called "The Theramore Remnants," but certainly not for any negligence or fear of responsibility. In fact, it was true that Aden had always dreamt of becoming a general under Jaina's command, but he would have so gladly traded that dream for any of the innumerable lives lost to put him in that position. His previous directive being a warden at the front gate of Theramore, He was one of the very few to have escaped the manabomb's deadly blast radius, but he had already openly stated to anyone who asked that it was all thanks to his Pinto mare, Glory. He and his mount were both badly wounded by the shrapnel zipping past them from the blast, the lieutenant more severely so, but his dutiful companion carried his unconscious form all the way to Fort Triumph in the Southern Barrens, where his injuries were able to be treated in time.

The next portion of Aden's tale was hard for even Proudmoore herself to believe. After all of that, his first action after suddenly awaking from his coma, was to hire a fishing boat bound for Northrend. He and Glory then rode ever onward for days and nights before at last reaching the one place he knew Jaina would be: The scholar city of Dalaran. Ultimately, he would find her there during her time of helping stage the siege of Orgrimmar. His will not only to survive, but to fully recommission had left her baffled. Naturally though, it was this self same feeling of impression that spurred her to insist he stay behind for the siege itself and make a full recover from his fatigue and his great many injuries.

It was unbelievable, and yet he had done it, and was ready to do more. This was one of the reasons among many that he was now Jaina Proudmoore's most trusted ally and confidant.

Her memories of him before the fall of Theramore however, were a trifle fuzzy, not unlike most of her memories from before that blood-red day. She could swear the mana-radiation had left her mind a tad slower, despite countless healers at countless appointments repeatedly assuring her otherwise. Jaina was certain she was not same mage as the one who would rule over her people with honor and grace from a humble library in a tower, for she found her focus on studies, the studies upon which she had built her identity and livelihood, dwindling. Replaced was this focus with darker, more heartless thoughts. She couldn't even hope to escape them in her sleep; her own dreams would waken her with cold sweats and a memory full of gruesome things far too terrible to tell. She knew why; she knew exactly why: She wanted revenge, for it was she whom she saw enacting those gruesome deeds. Her desire for recompense burned like the fires of Hell itself, like those of anyone in her position would. Momentarily unbeknownst to Lieutenant Aden, he would not only serve to be her key to obtaining it, but he would also be her weapon to completing it.

After briskly walking past a few hands below deck, she found herself standing in the open doorway to the navigation room, peering in to where stood both Captain Torgoley and Aden. Both men appeared to be going over old maps of Azeroth, busying themselves searching for any place that Garrosh Hellscream could be hiding that newer maps might have missed. It appeared to her that everyone with even a lick of loyalty once to Theramore was searching for the tyrant more tirelessly than anyone else, a supposition that both relieved and infuriated her. Still despite their gallant efforts, Proudmoore knew it was a lost cause, for she knew that if Garrosh Hellscream was on Azeroth, the Horde would have found him already.

"Captain!" Jaina barked, drawing the attention of both humans.

"Aye, Lady Proudmoore?" Torgoley asked with a quick salute.

"Wake the crew, we set sail to the Theramore Ruins in an hour." Jaina's words were heated, yet cold, once again showing no room for questions or insubordination. It was then all three of them heard the ship's bell ring out above them, most likely the work of the first mate.

"T'will be done, Milady!" Was his only reply before animatedly running out of the navigation room and down into the sailors' bunking quarters. Not five seconds had passed before Jaina wisely engaged a small pair of mana shield around her ears. She knew what barrage came next, and much to Aden's credit, all he did was clench his teeth.

"Get up off yer asses an' man the deck, ladies! We make for Theramore in but a single hour, an' anyone I find still in their bunk in the next five seconds'll be food fer the fish o' the sea!

Even her mini mana shields didn't fully succeed in blocking out the Captain's "rallying cry," and with a small "pop," Jaina disengaged them, only to find that Torgoley was not quite finished inspiring his crew.

"Come on! Get moving! Or I'll nail ye to the mast by yer innards! I'll also be makin' bloody sure the healer'll keep ya alive for the whole damn trip! Go on, Man the sails, ye leprous wenches! Go!"

A grimace found itself stuck to Proudmoore's face, but she was quickly able to resume the pursuit of her new objective as Aden merely gave her a knowing shrug. Aden was a man of average height with a very ripped and muscular build, one half-glance at his upper body was enough for anyone to tell he was a fierce warrior who had seen himself through many a battle. His Theramore uniform did its very best to hide the many scars that criss-crossed his proud chest and arms, each one boldly telling of an engagement more epic than the last. His thick forearms were well balanced from his skill in the trade of a myriad of weaponry. His face had, as astonishing as it may sound, escaped the host of damage his body had thus suffered, still allowing him to appear somewhat civil-looking at least when properly buttoned up. His dark red hair was cropped tightly in the traditional military flat-top whilst a thick, well-groomed mustache sat squarely above his mouth. Jaina often found solace in his presence, but it was not particularly in any of these familiar traits.

No, it was his eyes. The gaze of his soulful, sapphire eyes were almost completely out of place on a figure so riddled with brutal streaks and slashes, and yet they told the wary, wandering eye that he was indeed at heart, still just a man, and a truly kind one at that.

It was safe to suffice, that Aden was no mere soldier, at least to the likes of those with whom he served. He was no less than a knight, with as much fighting prowess as chivalrous honor. To say Jaina was very thankful he had survived to continue fighting under her banner would leave it understated. She knew that as long as he drew breath, so too did Theramore, even if there was no one left to live under the banner.

"Perhaps one day he'll choose to encourage his men, over intimidating them." Lieutenant Aden spoke, though the words seemed more to himself than to Jaina, his voice as placidly soft as that of a wise mystic's. The mage had heard his war cries on the field of battle on more than one occasion, and she could swear that the two voices that came from the man were from two entirely separate individuals. One was a beast who showed no mercy to his foes, and knew no hesitation or inhibition. The other was that of an ever gentle giant, an ever-patient soul. The bizarre ability to nearly change voices altogether would have intrigued Proudmoore back in her days of peacefully ruling Theramore, but in these times, she had no room left in her mind to think about such unrelated matters.

"Yes, Perhaps...," Jaina muttered, bringing her hand to her chin in ponderous thought, one of the few mannerisms she'd managed to cling to after all that had happened. Yet another mental refocus, and then she continued. "But the Captain's methods aside, Lieutenant, I need to speak with you."

"What would you require of me, My Lady?" Aden asked, keeping his eyes glued to the cartography before him.

"Aden.... you know as well as I do that those old maps will yield nothing for us. We've searched Azeroth; he's not here."

"Would you like me to start on the ones of Outlands, My Lady?"

"Thrall supposedly 'sent his finest orc scouts' into Outlands to begin searching weeks ago. Whatever that rune was that Hellscream came to possess clearly was not meant to keep him within our reach."

"...So, the hunt is over? We've lost?" He asked her reluctantly, only then looking up at her with a grave expression.

Jaina considered her options carefully as she returned that gaze, and as she did, she recalled a very exciting fact. While Varian Wrynn had heard and remembered what she had wanted him to do the day Garrosh was defeated, Thrall did not. She knew the shaman would still consider her a friend, at least for the moment. One thing was certain: She needed to get inside Orgrimmar again, for it would be the only way to track down where Garrosh had gotten that rune. Without that information, the old Warchief was as good as gone to all of Azeroth. With all thing's considered, hope of retribution remained very much alive. Jaina thanked the Light above for the miracle that was political deception as she finally broke her steady gaze with Aden.

"We set sail for the Ruins of Theramore tonight, Lieutenant. The key to finding Hellscream lies within Durotar itself, but before we begin our search there, we need to go home."

"Why, My Lady? What is within Theramore's skeleton that we need?" As collected as he usually sounded, Aden's voice shook with those words. It was clear he had absolutely no desire to return to the shattered remains of his homeland, and Jaina could hardly blame him.

"Once we find out where that stone took him, we will need a place where I can recreate it. Theramore may be broken, but as long as we can restore the city's watchtowers and maintain a low profile, I will have a safe place to work undisturbed."

Aden still looked uneasy, though he nodded all the same as he took his leave in silence.

"One last thing, Lieutenant."

"...Yes, My Lady?"

"Send for every single remaining Theramore Soldier within Stormwind, and do so discreetly. We will need all the man power we can get if we're to succeed in this."

"...It will be done." Aden recited. Proudmoore then looked down at the old maps, giving a brief once-over before realizing the sound of military boots withdrawing had never met her ears.

"....Something wrong, Aden?" She asked casually without turning around to him. She didn't really need to; she could tell he'd grown nervous.

"I mean not to be impertinent, My Lady, but If Hellscream has truly left all plains of existence that any Azerothian has set foot on, how will we find him in a whole new world? How will we even find the right one?"

Jaina gave a re-collective sigh. She had to admit it; those were very good questions, and being honest with herself, she knew that she didn't know the answer to either of them. Still, she also knew she would never truly rest until the deed was done. Vengeance is a powerful motivator, and she burned white-hot with it. She cared not how long it took. She cared not what she'd have to do. Even if she were doomed to spend the rest of her days alive constructing portals and dimensional gates, she would find him, no matter the cost.

"None of that matters for the moment, Lieutenant; we'll resolve that when it becomes an issue." She calmly replied, and with no more debate offered, Aden's boot-falls faded down the dimly lit hall.

"......The Light will see justice served."

Author's Note

As I said those few months ago: I will not let this story die, no matter what cost I must pay.

Well, here we are, Chapter 12, and the first Azerothian chapter in the story. I know it has taken a long time to get it ready and submitted, and I really have no excuse for my laziness, but I'll try to give a few anyway. I was sick twice, which should not have stopped me from typing words onto a screen, but it somehow managed to do so. I've also been building and scrapping a great deal of story ideas for the last few months.

Like I said, no real excuses for not getting this done and published, but there you go. I'll see you in the next chapter of whatever I decide to construct. Have a Blessed day, readers.

Chapter 13: A Step Backwards

"FOUND HIM!"

Garrosh Hellscream hung his head ever lower, swearing that he felt physical pain in his soul at the sound of that gruff, tomboyish, yet somehow feminine voice. The orc was by no means in the mood to deal with the rainbow-maned Pegasus that got underneath his skin simply by being withing his line of sight; so, in the throes of desperation, he enacted the only defense his head-ache crippled mind could come up with on such short notice: Ignore her very existence.

The tactic began failing as soon as she flew in front of his face, her only view of it being the top of his head seeing as how it was directed towards the ground. He had almost spared himself of the sight of her. Her prism-colored tail however, managed to fall within his visual range. Hellscream's brow furrowed deeply at the gaudy sight as he remained silent and still, even when the cyan mare's hoof began tapping on his head.

"Hey, leatherhead! What are you doing here?" The Pegasus asked in a tone that denoted suspicion and distrust. Garrosh didn't blame her for the tone, but he also did not see a reason even to attempt to earn that trust in anyway. He may have admitted to her that had a nigh-unbreakable spirit, but he refused to treat her as a fellow warrior until she'd proven that her body was as strong as her will.

Still, he kept silent, as if a prepared victim of interrogation.

"Rainbow Dash! Would it bother you, perhaps, to use just an iota of manners?" Hellscream heard the poshly-accented Generosity berate her fellow element. It had only just occurred to the orc that he could only seem to remember the six mares by their titles, rather than their actual birth names. He knew Rainbow Dash by then, yes, and also the name of the Element of Magic, Twilight Sparkle, yet, apart from those two, his mind had gone completely blank. In light of this, he at least knew that when his tolerance of their foolishness reached critically low levels in a few moments, and he would inevitably be forced to speak to some of them, that he would simply refer to all of them by their elemental titles to avoid hurting any of their feelings.

It took all of Garrosh's might to not raise his head at his own thoughts. "Why would I care if their feelings are hurt? Am I fearing another incident with them crying hysterically? Yes, that must be the reason behind it." He almost shook his head to clear it, but reminded himself that he didn't want to acknowledge their presence with even a single move for as long as he possibly could.

"Would it bother you to not use words like iota?" Rainbow shot back at her friend, earning an almost stifled giggle from Fleetfoot, and all out chuckle from Charger. Garrosh allowed a small grin to form on his face, but it faded just as quickly as it came.

"Girls... really? Not now, please." Twilight Sparkle's unmistakably logical voice butted in before the Element of Generosity could grant Loyalty her retort, most likely saving everyone from yet another back-and-forth game of name-calling. Twilight, (or "Magic," as Garrosh would settle on calling her) cleared her throat rather loudly before turning her words to him, growing noticeably less comfortable.

"Well, umm... how was your first morning in Ponyville, Hellscream?"

"Damn it all... why must she ask a question that I wouldn't mind answering?" Garrosh groaned, allowing his plan finally to come to a grudging end. He raised his head and locked eyes with the Element of Magic, his face set firmly in a scowl, and his yellow eyes pieced through the pony he glared upon. Twilight's only reaction to his stare, doing much better that the last time, was her ears folding down against her head as if she were a scorned foal.

"My morning started pleasantly enough, Element, but it has continued to decline ever since I tried to make any progress in terms of my equipment." Garrosh growled before lowering his head once again. He heard hooves shuffling in place, as a nerves orc would shuffle his feet. He took note of the habit, giving a small scoff at the similarity's, even in such different races.

"Well... what sort of equipment did you have in mind? Ponyville has dozens of different shops for hundreds of different things! I'm sure we could help you find what you need." Twilight said with an enthusiastic gesture of resolve, her words almost sounding as rehearsed as a goblin's sales pitch. In fact, she'd managed to sound more ingenuine than if one of them were to be trying to sell him a faulty bottle rocket. It was far from the response Garrosh had expected, but the orc couldn't say he truly found any beef with it. Seeing an equine with a bit of pride and patriotism was most definitely new to the orc, but it was not unwelcome in its own way.

"I asked Ditsy Doo if this settlement harbored a blacksmith or forge of some kind, only to be forced to explain what I was even referring to. I highly doubt this place has what I seek." The Hellscream stated bluntly, a bit too peeved to be coating his words in sugar. He noticed the Alicorn cringe when he had said the word "blacksmith," though the reasoning for that only remained a mystery to him until she spoke again.

"Umm... what did you need from a blacksmith? If you don't mind my aski--"

"I mind..." Garrosh grumbled through his teeth. The nerve of this one, to even think he was going to answer a question as foolish as that one, especially one he'd already answered a dozen times over. She knew well what he wanted from a smithy, for he had only told her serveral thousand times at the Summit of Worlds that his people were a war-like race through-and-through. He felt unprepared without a sturdy weapon; he felt exposed without his tribal armor. As comfortable as his rough-spun overalls were, dearly did he miss the weight of iron on his feet, bone on his shoulders, and padded leather on his hands.

Yes, she already knew what he wanted, and her earlier grimace had spoken volumes of her level of trust in him. Garrosh cared not if she trusted him with a weapon in-hand; he did care if she endeavored to stop him from obtaining one.

"But, err... Ponyville has plenty of travelling merchants from other places, from all over Equestria in fact! I'm sure we could find one here that has something you'd like!" Twilight chattered, rubbing her forehooves together, another sure sign of anxiety. The orc noticed. He supposed that either this mare was far too easy to read, or he was getting better at deciphering body language.

"Ponyville," He still hated saying the town's ridiculous name. "is a town of farmers, Element; the only travelling merchants who would be here would sell reagents for farmers, and when last I looked, I was no farmer." He said, pulling his pack onto his shoulder by its sling as he went to stand up. "I've no interest in bartering for seed or lumber."

"B-but... t-then maybe we could try a train to Appleloosa," She pressed quickly, the forced, cheesy, commercial smile just barely leaving her face as Garrosh paced the edge of the platform. "or-- or Dodge Junction! I'm sure one of those towns has something!"

Garrosh suddenly ceased all movement, casting a glance over his shoulder to where the dubious mare followed behind him as he came to a realization. He realized that he'd been wrong about why Magic had grimaced a few moments ago. It was not the weapons that had her worried, nor was it the armor.

No, it was where he was going to purchase them that had her worried.

"Why does she wish me away from Canterlot?" Garrosh asked in thought, now profoundly suspicious as the furrow in his creased brow deepened. Though he racked his brain for an answer, he came up with very little to go on. "Perhaps she wants me to keep away from the other royalty." He suggested to himself. "No, then why would she be so concerned now if I've already met with them?" Now Garrosh knew that he had to go to city on the mountain, if only to see the reasoning behind Magic's awkwardly spurred actions.

"My plan to reach the mountain city was conceived when first I laid eyes upon it, long before you were even part of the equation, Magic." He spat as he continued to pace. "Your odd behavior and useless suggestions have changed nothing." The orc declared with brutal finality, abandoning what social manners he had to better get his point across. Though, even with his abrupt rudeness, Twilight, to his surprise, was not giving up.

"But, Canterlot's just full of a bunch of stuck-up nobles and libraries! They may not even have a blacksmith there!" She persisted, still trailing behind the pacing warchief, sounding almost like her rainbow-headed slouch of a friend. Even with that strange lapse in character, desperation was then very clear in her voice, even clear enough for the rest of her friends to notice if the concerned looks they gave her were any indication.

"Hmph... Your lies betray you, Element of Magic." He said with a sneer. "My guards have told me the bulk of your country's military force resides in that city. A blacksmith is there; of this I've no doubt." Though Garrosh carried on in a relaxed manner, his level of annoyance with Twilight was growing with her every audacious word.

"He is right, darling. Don't you remember wher--" Rarity had started to chimed in, only to quickly bite her tongue when Twilight fixed her with a double-crossed glare.

"Garrosh, please, I'm telling you, there has to be somewhere else we can-"

"Enough of this!" Garrosh bellowed, stamping his foot as he pivoted towards her, nearly breaking the platform for a second time. Every equine within a block of the train station flinched or swiveled their heads in their general direction. Charger, who was nearly right next to him, almost immediately began rubbing his ears in pain, whilst Fleetfoot, just a little farther away, merely blinked repeatedly, as if her hearing was gone all together. "I will go to the mountain city, element, and if you intend to stop me, you are welcome to try!" He continued loudly, his arms outstretched in a goading gesture. "This is the last we will speak of this; anything more of this matter will be settled in blood." He growled through clinched teeth, his piercing yellow eyes staring directly into Twilight's own deep purple ones. The death glare was enough to make Sparkle take a few steps back as she eventually tore her own gaze from it.

Garrosh gave a grunt of satisfaction as he lowed his hulking arms back to his sides, confident that his actions had silenced the annoying Alicorn for at least a good while.

The orc then took in a deep breath as he turned away, calming himself and closing his eyes, knowing then just how well he had to steel himself now that they all were present. For all he was worth, he did his best to enjoy the relative silence as he had been doing before the elements had shown up, taking specific notice of the distant sounds of the Ponyville's center market just down the road. The voices chattering, the wheels of rickety wooden carts upon solid earth, the barely audible tinkling of Equestrian currency being blithely exchanged. It all calmed the orc considerably, and after only a minute's worth of this, he finally allowed his shoulders to slouch and his muscles to let go of themselves and relax. It was a rare thing for him to do, in any environment.

Still, the lack of action between so many that were immediately around him was a tad concerning to him. Against his better judgement, Garrosh cracked his left eye to get a look at his guards briefly, seeing Charger sprawling himself out stomach-first on the edge of the platform, and Fleetfoot sitting on her haunches with her back legs over the edge, kicking at their odd angle every so often. Seeing his guards relaxed put him at ease, even if they did peeve him to no end.

"Tho... how'd you girlth even find uth?" The obvious speech impediment told Garrosh who had spoken, and he could tell just by the way she'd suddenly spoken up that the tenuous quiet was eating at her.

"Well... that's actually a really long story..." Rainbow Dash, the supposed fellow-Wonderbolt, answered first before any of the others could.

"Ugh, By all means, elaborate." Garrosh droned, his tone ladled with feigned enthusiasm as he cracked his neck side-to-side, taking their unresponsive silence indifferently. "We've much time to waste, we might as well wrench something from it."

"Oh! Oh! Can I tell the story?! Pretty please?!" The pony who spoke in that way couldn't possibly have been any of them other than the Element of Laughter. Garrosh decided against mocking her, or even denying her irritating request. No, he would relinquish and endure for now, just as he'd been doing since his first seconds on Equus.

"Why not?"

The Previous Night

"I'm going to be late!" The Warchief bellowed as he bolted from his seat at the summit table. The sudden deafening yell was enough to make everyone at the table jump in their seats, Twilight even dropped her notepad due to the suddenness of it all. Twilight barely had time to pick it back up before looking to the tent's exit, only to see the Warchief's foot go out of sight.

"Captain, see to him." Celestia addressed Spitfire quickly with a stern stare. Spitfire mumbled something under her breath, but nonetheless nodded compliantly and bolted out after the orc. Luna also wasted no time in leaning over to her own Bolt captain, whispering briskly, just quietly enough so as not to be deciphered by anyone else. Nightshade gave almost the exact same response to her orders as Spitfire. Grumbling much longer than the Wonderbolt captain had, she took off from her seat at the table to pursue her target and her counterpart.

"The rest of you, follow after your leader." Celestia instructed the Wonderbolt crew.

"Follow Nightshade, you three, posthaste." Luna ordered nearly at the same time as Celestia, not wishing her squad to be left out of any potential action or event.

Twilight had a team of her own, and she was not about to let one of the greatest discoveries in all of Equestria simply run away. "Come on, girls!" She shouted to her friends, resolve rampant in her voice as she sprung from the table with the full intent of darting after him, only to see that her enthusiastic determination was hers and hers alone.

Casting a glance across the table at her friends, she saw that Rainbow Dash had already departed shortly after the Wonderbolts, and that the still-blubbering Rarity, the still-sobbing Fluttershy at her shoulder, and the broken Pinkie Pie were not exactly in the ideal conditions to go chasing after a brown behemoth that could quite possibly outrun the Ponyville Express. This only left Applejack, and though one could easily discern that Garrosh's story didn't quite have the emotionally crippling affect on her like it did everyone else, she merely looked back to her Alicorn friend and shrugged in both confusion and exhaustion. She too looked far too tired for a night chase.

"Wha--- Girls!" She whined to those of them who still remained. "We can't let him get too far away, or leave Ponyville for that matter." She chided, and while Rarity worked ardently to regain her shattered composure, Fluttershy simply couldn't, and poor Pinkie didn't even seem to try.

"Alright, fine! I'll go by myself." Twilight huffed, feeling somewhat betrayed as she turned to face the tent's exit to beginning playing catch-up with the orc.

"That won't be necessary, Twilight." Celestia's voice made the young Alicorn cease all movement, even her breathing stalled for a second or two.

"B-but, Celestia, we really can't let him get too far; he could make a break for it!" Twilight pleaded with her mentor to be allowed to go after the orc, but in her heart she already knew that she was not about to condone.

"The Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts will make sure he doesn't. In the mean time, you and your friends should return to your homes, Twilight; the Elements of Harmony have been through enough today." The Solar Princess spoke calmly, if sternly as always to her student, fully privy to how persistent Twilight could be, especially in times such as these.

"We do believe we have all plied the Warchief quite well enough for now, Princess Sparkle." Spoke Luna after polishing off her fourth glass of wine that evening. "Worry not, for if he seeks to run or hide, the night will surely find him." She assured her, her features as forlorn and desolate as ever to match such a foreboding statement. As intimidating and formidable-sounding as it was, somehow Sparkle found little to no solace in their words.

"B-but, we didn't even get t--" Princess Sparkle started, but was not allowed to finish.

"Twilight Sparkle..." Was all Celestia said. It was all she needed to say. Twilight hated it when Celestia addressed her by her full name in the tone she'd just used. The young Alicorn gave a defeated sigh, not wanting to argue any further with her mentor. She also felt an all-telling chill role down her spine, remembering the last time Celestia had spoken towards her so firmly, it was not pleasant recalling the day she had panicked over just one, insignificant little week without a friendship-related report. That commanding, authoritative voice to which Celestia could so easily switch over was both awe-inspiring and frightening to the bookish Alicorn.

"Yes, Princess..." Sparkle lowered her head as if she were once again a sour foal before a scorning teacher. Celestia would most likely be that same teacher figure until the day she died. Being an immortal Alicorn, this probably meant that the two of them would be doomed to reenact these roles for a very long time.

"Go home, all of you. If what happened today is any indication, you will need all your strength and patience for the days ahead." Her features softening from their very slight scowl, Celestia then looked to Twilight specifically, her horn giving a few, noticeable sparks.

"You needn't worry about Hellscream, Twilight, he will be in Ponyville when you wake." Her voice rang out loud and clear in Twilight's ears, as if she were speaking face-to-face. "Those in need of friendship will always be drawn to you, my student."

A mind-melding spell, it gave the caster the ability to speak telepathically to whomever they so desired. It was an easy spell to master if one had the focus, and it was often referred to as a "radio" spell, for it was more often then not, used by the more magically adept Unicorn foals for a bit of secretive and mischievous fun. Twilight had seen Celestia use it before, and had been on the receiving end of it before, so it was as simple as breathing for the Princess of Friendship to respond with barely a spark from her own horn.

"Tonight was groundbreaking, Princess. Do you really believe I can teach him anything I've learned?"

"It couldn't hurt to try, now could it?"

Celestia gave a smile and a barely noticeable wink to the young Alicorn. Twilight didn't even try to hide the look of deadpan on her face. Though, after a few seconds, she smiled, and winked back.

"But not tonight, Twilight, sleep, and sleep well. Lessons in friendship can wait at least one more of my sister's nights."

"Understood, Princess."

"What'n tarnation are you two doin'?" Applejack suddenly butted in from where she still sat at the table, eyeing Twilight confusedly as the lavender mare very nearly jumped out of her skin. Twilight then realized that she and Celestia had simply been starring at each other in silence that whole time. She began sweating nervously, and was quick to start fumbling around with words for an alibi.

"Well, uh... you see, me and Celestia were just, um..." Twilight paused for much longer then she would have liked, but was then rescued by her teacher.

"We were resonating telepathically, Applejack." Celestia stated calmly to the Earth Pony, an amused smile adorning her. It was clear by from the sun goddess that she had no intention of lying to the Element of Honesty. Twilight briefly wondered if even Celestia could accomplish such a feat, but quickly cast the strange thought aside. She knew very well that her teacher had no reason to lie to any of the six of them. She chose instead to await Applejack's reaction to such a bizarre answer, and she just had to wonder what sort of alienating expression she would have on her face.

"...... well, shucks! Why didn't ya jus' say so?" Applejack asked Twilight with an enlightened grin. Happily content in misjudging her friend's reaction completely, the bookish mare merely shrugged, knowing things were none the more awkward between them.

"I suggest you all retire for the night, Elements." The sun Alicorn spoke as she turned to leave the tent, her escorts following readily behind, stopping only to allow her sister to silently exit before her. "I'm sure we will see each other again soon." And with that, Celestia left, leaving only the five mares in the tent, several silent guards to dismantle it, and several waiters to clear the table.

"Ah reckon she's right, ya know. We should all be gettin' some shut-eye; there's no tellin' when things'll get nasty again." Applejack struck up, dusting her hat across her knee before slapping it atop her head again.

"I concur; we must be ready for any encumbrance." Rarity curtly chirped, earning a nod of agreement from Fluttershy.

"I don't know how we're supposed to sleep after all we've just witnessed! This is History in the making, girls!" Twilight half-squealed with a wide smile, sounding almost like Pinkie. Her mind was not tired in the least, what with all the new information coursing through it. In fact, it was in overdrive. "Do you have any idea what Hellscream's stories mean to all the scholars of the world? It means that the multi-dimensional theory was right all along! Starswirl the Bearded himself couldn't even prove such a theory, and here's the proof, right here in Ponyville, and it's capable of intelligent conversation!" The Alicorn gave a foalish sqee and a hop at the level of her own words. The thought that there were millions upon billions of alien dimensions stretching across the fabric of time just waiting to be discovered was truly impossible for one mind to comprehend on its own. Still, her mind was attempting that same feat as she spoke with fervor. She could hardly take it.

"Dear, we all know you're very excited at the moment, but even Starswirl had to sleep sometimes, even in the wake of magnificent discoveries." Rarity said, placing a tender, calming hoof on Twilight's trembling back. Even though Twilight knew for a fact that Starswirl was always known to over-indulge in energy-level amplification spells in times of great work, (something of which she herself was unadmittedly guilty) she couldn't possibly deny the truth and wisdom in Rarity's words.

"'Sides, our brains ain't no good fer science if we're runnin' on fumes." Applejack spoke through a yawn. Yet more wisdom was found in the words of her friends, for the last thing she wanted to do in these unprecedented times, in her first-of-a-kind studies, was to make any form of mistake; the ramifications could be, as she figured by then, inter-dimensional.

That being said, Twilight took time to reevaluate her fellow elements' conditions. Rarity seemed no worse for ware at first glance, but her eyes were surrounded by subtle dark circles, small bags resting underneath them. She'd bet that if she gave her a mirror, the poor fashionista would be mortified.

Applejack looked fine, but this was once again at first glance. The punch and kick Hellscream had landed left two large bruises near her under-belly and fore-hooves. It almost seemed like she was shell-shocked. She looked very weary, very weak even despite eating, not unlike how she had looked during the Applebuck Season when her brother was injured, only without the massive delirium that had overtaken her. It was an unpleasant ordeal to remember to say the least. In short, she was probably barely going to be able to move tomorrow.

Fluttershy, for her part, was not physically harmed in any way, but the last few days had been her own personal nightmare. Twilight more than knew that. The poor thing had barely touched her food at dinner and looked as though a she hadn't eaten properly since the obvious loss of Applejack's pig, which despite the farmer's ardent words against the notion, she still believed to be her fault.

Still, even with how bad Fluttershy looked, or how great the toll taken upon the last three of them was, it was next to nothing compared to Pinkie Pie.

The normally jubilant earth pony had not spoken a word since Hellscream's story, and the reasoning behind that was clear. Pinkie Pie had always loved stories, of any kind, period. Tonight had been no exception. That was, until Hellscream's tale took that mournful turn. The loss of Anduin Lothar had not been kind to anypony at the table, but to Pinkie, the old human's bravery was to be rewarded with celebration, with laughter and rejoice, not pain, not such a gruesome death. It had struck her harder than it had anyone else, yet even so, even after hearing what her mind had viewed as so profoundly unfair, confused as to how any orderly universal existence could ever allow such a thing to happen, she persisted, stalwartly keeping up her ears for the continuum of the orc's Azerothian history lesson.

It was the death of Grommosh, the father of the orc who sat at the very same table as she, the condemner and savior of his whole race, that had crushed her already strained spirit. Pinkie herself had a father, and under normal circumstances, she would never even try to picture a world without him, without her precious family. Whilst the death of Lothar, such a good man, had been excruciating to bear, it was still little more than a part of the story, part of the fairy tale of some far away land, still not fully realized in the innocent earth pony's mind. The death of Grommosh, the parent of the orc into who's eyes she had just peered, of the orc who spoke to her, had not only made the story real, it made that unbearable pain real as well. Pinkie now knew that somewhere, in some horrid place, hundreds, maybe even thousands of dimensions away, a wise old man and a betrayed, battle-weary orc had given everything they had for their people, their family, their friends. Pinkie now knew that the father of a new friend was gone, and had been gone for a very long time. Both realizations were nothing but unjust to her, and her mind had no clear reaction to either of them.

Twilight Sparkle was no psychiatrist, but she knew Pinkie Pie's mind set, and how it worked... most of the time. She could see as clear as crystal the gears that were turning in her pink friend's head just by looking into her now blank, distant blue eyes. Pinkie Pie had gotten like this a few times before, and it was always very difficult to change her back. It was not a look any of the five other elements liked to see on their normally jubilant friend's face. Unfortunately, Twilight, nor any of the other mares had any idea how to snap her out it this time.

"Pinkie, darling, are you alright?" Rarity's simple attempt was not effective in the least, as Pinkie continued to stare blankly at the ground a few feet in front of her. Applejack tried her luck by waving her forehoof in front of Pinkie's eyes, but the action garnered no form of reaction from the transfixed mare.

"Maybe we should just take her home; I think sleeping would probably help." Fluttershy's nearly mute voice chimed in. So quiet was she, that Applejack and Rarity had not even heard her.

"Do you really think that will help, Fluttershy?" Twilight asked in a soft whisper, so as not to hurt her timid friend's ears, or even frighten her. The yellow Pegasus truly looked awful after the past few days' trials and tribulations, and the Alicorn had no desire to cause her any more discomfort.

"I'm not really sure, but anything would be better than letting her go home alone.... maybe." Twilight cringed at the slight rasp in Fluttershy's voice. It was something the bookish mare had never heard from the shy Pegasus before, and it was something she very quickly decided she never wanted to hear again. Nevertheless, her ailment aside, her idea was still good enough to try, seeing as how they had no other plan.

"You're right... I'll take her home myself; Sugarcube Corner isn't too far from Golden Oaks." Twilight spoke as much to herself as to her friends, who all gave her looks of concern at her proposal. Seeing this, the Alicorn was quick to explain the logic behind her impromptu strategy. "You all need your rest as well, and your homes are all the opposite way of mine and Pinkie's. It wouldn't make sense for any of you girls to travel all that way just to have to backtrack afterwards."

"Well.... we'd still do it if need be, sugar cube." Applejack defended, sounding just a bit begrudging.

"No, you all need a good night's sleep as much as Pinkie does; I'll be fine." Twilight Sparkle said firmly. She saw no need to cause her friends any more trouble if she could just as easily complete the task herself.

"Well, if you're positively sure you can do it without a bother, darling..." Rarity consented rather quickly. Twilight didn't blame her, for she hadn't exactly gotten the world's greatest sleep since Garrosh had shown up. This coupled with the temporary housing of the Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts under one roof, her roof, made her feel ever more sorry for the burdened Element of Generosity. By any compassion within her, her poor friends would have their rest.

"Then it's settled; you all head home and finally get some real sleep, and I'll drop Pinkie off on my way back to the library." With that, they parted ways, Twilight flashing them as confident a smile as she could as they bid each other good night.

It was a long, somber, and silent walk back to Sugarcube Corner for the elements of both magic and laughter. The two most talkative elements, Twilight with her intellectual lectures, and Pinkie with her happy-go-lucky chattering, were now reduced to keeping every single thought held in their heads from exiting their mouths, or at least in the former's case. Pinkie's consumed silence made Twilight feel both unnerved and worried. She wasn't even certain Pinkie knew she was trotting right beside her at all.

It was so unnatural, all of it, and it gave the Alicorn an upset stomach.

"P..... Pinkie?" Sparkle wasn't pleased with her attempt at conversation, but her mind couldn't come up with anything more elaborate after such a taxing day. Twilight briefly cast her thoughts back to what Applejack had said before about "running on fumes" and how right she was as she nervously awaited her friend's response.

The stricken earth pony said nothing; her ears had not even twitched at the sound of Twilight's voice. Once again it struck Twilight as unnatural, for any of their kind. A pony's hearing was always stellar, better than most other creatures one could run across, and they also couldn't truly control their ears' spontaneous reactions to touch and to sound. The fact that Pinkie's ears had stayed drooped without so much as flicking in Twilight's direction when she spoke, told her quite transparently that her friend was not even hearing her.

Twilight gulped, feeling viciously helpless as she allowed her own ears to mirror her friend's crestfallen demeanor. She had hoped to break Pinkie free of this state before they reached her home, but right then, it seemed impossible. So defeated did Sparkle cast her eyes to the ground in front of her, allowing the memory of her hooves to carry her to Sugarcube Corner. It wasn't very difficult to map Ponyville in one's head once living there a while, seeing as how the town was built using a circle-type shape, the decimated town square at its epicenter. Had this been a regular evening stroll not often taken by the librarian, she'd have found herself mentally pinpointing every building in the borders of the tiny town, but her mind was elsewhere this night, lingering on methods of returning life to her friend. As tired as she was, it was no wonder she ultimately came up empty on ideas. It seemed as though the Pinkie everyone in town knew and adored wasn't coming back any time soon.

It was then she was pulled from her gloomy thoughts by a realization: She was only hearing one set of hooves, and they were indeed her own.

Turning her head to where her friend had been beside her moments ago, she had to keep turning it to see where she had stopped. Silent, still, her head dipped low, her mane, as straight and distraught as ever, cast over half of her face, the only movement on Pinkie was the soft wind through its locks.

"Pinkie...?" Twilight uttered out again, hoping that she had returned to her senses, hoping that she was back, that she showed signs of being normal again. Quietly, she watched as her friend's hind legs buckled, sending her back half down to the ground with a small puff of the dirt road's dust. For the first time since the walk homeward, Pinkie showed signs of life as she raised her head, but to Twilight, it was anything but hopeful. Pinkie didn't look at her friend, nor follow the sound of her voice. Instead, with crystal clear tears in her eyes, she looked around her, as if first realizing where she was as one of her fetlocks caressed at the other pitifully.

Twilight knew where this was going, and she was powerless to stop it.

As Twilight habitually drew closer to her, Pinkie's front hooves went to her misty eyes, rubbing at them, sniffling through a runny nose, trying desperately to fight back tears, but Twilight knew at this point that they were both inevitable and needed. As she saw her friend's face make that all-telling grimace, the grimace that all make when finally letting go, the librarian outstretched her hooves, embracing the pink mare as one bitter, racking sob turned to two, and then to three. In a matter of seconds, the poor silent Pie was weeping uncontrollably into Twilight's shoulder, utterly inconsolable.

"I---I should've-- hugged him harder!" She cried out, her words strangled by her grief. "I sh--should've been there!" Sparkle could do nothing but cradle her, unable to murmur even a word to ease her pain, lest she shed tears of her own. "It's not fair!" Pinkie screamed into her shoulder with a heart-wrenching hysteria, finally coming to grips with how cruel their lots in life had been, how much she wished it hadn't ended for them that way. The mare's body quivered down to the bone as she wailed in Twilight's arms, Twilight herself now silently weeping, weeping for the story, weeping for her friend.

"You can't think about it, Pinkie!" She cried back to her, her own voice breaking despite her greatest efforts. "You can't! Not about what you could've done or what might have happened; you'll drive yourself insane!" Twilight's hoof found itself rubbing at the sobbing earth pony's back as she sat there with her, and she tried ardently to calm herself. "Please....." She implored in little more than a whisper. "You can only focus on what you do now."

There they stayed, in the night on Ponyville's dirt road, the both of them emotionally compromised. It seemed an eternity had passed before Pinkie's sobbing subsided, quieting back down to a sniffle again. After a few deep breaths to stable the nerves, Twilight opened her dampened eyes, as she was sure Pinkie did too. Content was she to sit there, silent as her friend calmed down completely. Only after she knew for certain that all her tears had ceased and her breathing was even did she dare to speak again.

"....I'm sorry I yelled." Was all she felt like saying, and to her credit, Pinkie actually responded as she returned Twilight's hug all the tighter.

"don't be; it's okay." It was unexpected but not unwelcome to the Alicorn's conscience. A few more long moments of silence passed between them.

"....do you feel better now?" Sparkle asked hesitantly after a while, only earning a simple nod that she could on her shoulder. "Good." She replied, allowing herself a smile.

".....Twilight?" Pinkie suddenly spoke.

"Yes?"

"... Do you think ponies would show up if we gave him a welcome party?" The earth pony's voice was soft and weak, and the question sounded weaker still. Twilight knew who "him" was; there wasn't even a question. A party for Hellscream sounded just like Pinkie, but she had a point. "Who would show up?" Twilight thought genuinely, for she truly had no idea who would, especially after the events of that day. The one thing she did know, however, was the answer she just had to give, regardless of any truth behind it.

"If it's one of your parties, Pinkie, nopony would miss it for the whole world." She spoke with a smile. Her pink friend met her gaze, and after seconds that felt like a lifetime to the bookish mare, Pinkie finally returned the gesture.

Little more was said between them apart from their good-nights, the final sound breaking the silence of the nightly air being the gentle closing of the door to Sugarcube Corner after Twilight made sure she'd be alright. Her hopes high, at least in the case of Pinkie Pie, she started off home.

"I still don't see why you didn't let me go... I wanted to see him, too!" Twilight found herself rolling her eyes at the childish dragon who spoke to her.

On her way back home, Twilight had been plagued by a plethora of deep and winding thoughts, thoughts of Garrosh and all he would affect in the days to come, how past, present, and future were to surely change, thoughts of her poor, distraught friend. Even though they'd parted ways safely, and even though she'd dare say that Pinkie's break-down was a needed step forward, a way to cope with her feelings, Twilight somehow still found herself unable to keep hers in check. She was worried sick about everything, and this is why upon trudging through the split doors to her cozy abode, Golden Oaks Library, it was all she could do just to slump against it as she slid down until her rump hit the floor

Here she was, more grateful than ever to hear the sound of spike's voice, even if her body language hadn't quite suggested it. To her, it was the sound of home, and still, even though she had already told him why she hadn't allowed him to tag along a whopping three times before she left for the summit, she figured a fourth time had all the bigger chance of sticking with her assistant. sighing tiredly, she set about the task.

"I already told you, Spike, he was able to withstand my magic blast, Rainbow's attacks, and Pinkie hurling herself at him out of her cannon..." Twilight Sparkle paused to let the information sink into the dragon. "Let's add to that the fact that he stallion-handled the Wonderbolts and an elite mercenary squad."

"But to do all of that.... he's gotta be so cool!" Spike exclaimed, outstretching his arms for excited emphasis.

"Cool-looking or not, I hadn't spoken to him before, and as far as I was concerned, he was very very dangerous." Twilight countered, turning to face the little dragon. She could just tell that he was still not convinced of her bountiful reasons for leaving him behind.

"Hmph, I'm not a baby anymore, Twilight, I could have taken care of myself..." He grumbled, crossing his arms in a attempt to look indignant.

Twilight chuckled, only seeing the gesture as cute, a complete opposite to what was intended. "Actually, if you look at one of the few documents there are on dragons, I'm sure just the illustrations in the book would say otherwise."

Spike said nothing, keeping a deadpanned look plastered to his face, earning yet more laughter from the Alicorn as she trotted for the bathroom to wash up for the night.

After barely half an hour had passed, Twilight came out, still drying her ears as she looked over to where Spike was sitting, eagerly reading away at Twilight's hard-earned field notes from the summit. "I assume you've already brushed, young dragon?" She asked, levitating her small sink towel back into the bathroom, all neatly folded.

"....Yes, Mother." Spike answered back sarcastically, the beginning of a mischievous smirk across his face as he peered over the notepad at her. Twilight couldn't help but smirk herself, admitting that what she said had sounded a bit exaggeratedly maternal for her tastes.

"Good... Come on; let's get some sleep, and hey, you'll be happy to know that I do plan on taking you to see him in the morning." Sparkle spoke as she ushered the dragon up the stairs. The two were quick to ascend to the library's upstairs bedroom, and were even faster to get into their respective beds. Twilight made a mental note to go shopping for a new bed for Spike, as the basket he was curling up into was getting smaller and smaller for the baby dragon.

Yes, she knew; she knew it was the incorrect way of thinking of it. She knew he was getting bigger, but Twilight didn't like to think about it.

"Good night, Twilight." Spike said, his voice muffled by both the pillow he had his face stuffed into and the yawn that he let out.

"Good night, Spike." She replied, using her magic to snuff out the candle that had been softly lighting the room. In the darkness of the room, lit only by the moon through the widow, there was nary a sound. Utter silence was all to be heard as time fell away to sleep; that was, before Spike's voice broke through it, clear as crystal.

"Hey, Twilight?" Spike's tone of excitement from earlier had all but left him, leaving only what the Alicorn believed was worry, was doubt.

"Yes, Spike?" She responded softly after a moment. It was not her fatigue that caused such a soft response, but her concern for her assistant.

"Do you think he'll hate me? ....You know, because of that part in his story... about his world shaking and stuff?"

"....The Cataclysm...." That was what Warchief Hellscream had called it. An event caused by the destruction of something called a World Pillar. The seas had risen, the land had cracked and split apart, mountains had fallen, resulting in countless deaths as their world swallowed them whole. Deathwing the Destroyer, even remembering the name sent a chilling shiver down Twilight's spine. Spike had a point, a very well-founded one, for Hellscream had explicitly voiced his distaste for all of dragonkind, mainly due to that one, horrid, insane mass-murderer. Sparkle felt the guilt-ridden sting of regret for allowing Spike to read that part of the notes she had thoroughly taken in the fray of his story-telling. If she'd have known that the idea that a single mad dragon could cause so much destruction would keep Spike awake with fear and doubt, she would have torn that section of the notes out without hesitation before she'd gotten home.

Still, Spike had asked that heavy question, and Twilight now had no choice but to answer it.

"He won't hate you, Spike. He may seem big and mean on the surface, but I think there's some good in him underneath it all. He won't dislike you just because you're a dragon, Spike." It was not her finest reassurance, but it had made her assistant go silent. Whether that was in a good or bad way, was yet to be known.

"....You really think so?"

"I know so," Twilight shifted uncomfortably as she spoke, so as to lay facing the meager sliver of moonlight seeping through between the curtains. For the second time that night, she'd confided something of which she was inconfident to a friend. She knew she needed to get to sleep quickly before she was forced to do it again. "Now get some shut eye, Spike, I'll prove I'm right in the morning." With that, she didn't hear another sound for a few minutes aside from the wind outside, brushing against the oaken walls of the library. The last thing Twilight's ears were able to pick up before she entered the realm of dreams, was a light snoring from off to the side of her bed.

The Princess of Friendship smiled at the familiar sound, even when she herself was fast asleep.

Author's Note

To start this off, I just want to apologize one last time for the false update. The story behind that, is simple: My mouse lagged a bit, and the Publish button is right next to the edit button. We all know what happened after that.

Now, onto what this note was originally created to say. This chapter marks the first one I will be using Italics to symbolize thoughts. I received a complaint that it was hard to tell if a person was thinking or speaking, so, I will be fixing that today. So, thank you to that person for bringing that to my attention.

Well, I'm pretty sure that was it for the original note... rather sad really, but what can you do? I'll see you in the next one.

Chapter 14: A Step Nowhere

"But... how doeth that..." Fleetfoot's voice jarred Garrosh from his focus on the Element of Laughter's elaborative words. The small, sky-colored mare wasn't given much of a chance to finish her thought though, as Charger articulated those same thoughts for her.

"Yeah, how does that tell us anything? Did ya just wake up this morning and go, 'Hey! I bet that big ugly brown guy's at the train station; I better go check'?" The Shadowbolt said, doing his best "Pinkie Pie" impression. The attempted mimicry left Garrosh with an even bigger headache than originally, and judging by her grimace, it hadn't done Fleetfoot any favors either.

The orc was quick to butt into the conversation, but not for any of their reasons. No, he had discovered an apparent flaw in Pinkie's story elsewhere. "They have valid points, Laughter, but I myself must ask, did your night not end when you and Magic separated?" He paused only a second to see almost everyone else's faces turn to that of investigative realization. "How did you come to know what had happened to her after you had returned home?"

"Darling, haven't you learned not to ask such things to Miss Pie by now? She never gives a straight answer." Generosity mumbled compassionately - if a bit snobbishly - to Hellscream from behind her hoof. Garrosh only had enough time to give the unicorn a starkly confused look before Pinkie herself joined in.

"Well if you silly-heads would let me finish the story, you'd have the answers, wouldn't ya?"

"I doubt it..." Garrosh grumbled under his breath. He rolled his eyes when the pink mare cleared her throat to continue. He was beginning to regret allowing her to tell the tale.

"Twilight! Twilight, wake up!" The Princess of Friendship's bloodshot eyes snapped open at the sudden sound of Spike's voice. The dragon was never, ever up before her, no matter the circumstances. Him being up, let alone coherent enough to speak that clearly - or at all - meant that either there was some form of apocalypse ensuing outside, or that he had seen a spider or a centipede. She almost hoped it was the former as she threw the covers from her hide.

"What!? Wha--what is it, Spike?" Twilight bolted onto her haunches, scanning the room for the dragon, her vision too fuzzy to see much of anything. Blinking a few times, her vision only starting to clarify, she found him standing right by her bed, his chin resting on its edge, sporting a cheshire-grin that could've given the Mane-iac a run for her money. It was one of his excitement grins, or, as Twilight liked to call it, his "Can I have something?" face. It didn't take a pony with Shadow Spade's deductive reasoning to figure out why he was making that face, and Sparkle herself wasn't too shabby in that department.

"Can we go see him today, huh?!" Spike asked, wringing his claws like a madman.

"Ugh, It's too early for this..." Twilight mumbled as her hooves rubbed what remained of the sleep from her eyes. "What time is it, Spike?"

"Seven o' clock, come on, can we go?!" The dragon wined, desperate with anticipation, giving Twilight his best puppy dog eyes. Twilight could count with the feathers on half her wing after a crash how many times she'd refused those eyes. While Spike rarely used them from the start, it let her know just how excited he was to finally to see Ponyville's newest resident. It brought a groggy smile to her face.

"...If you make the coffee, we'll go within the hour..."

"YES!"

"Wait, if that is what you told the dragon, then should I not have met him by now?" Garrosh's question halted Pinkie Pie for the second time in a five minute span, earning something of an exaggerated sigh from the earth pony. The question seemed to breath renewed life back into the Princess of Friendship, who had been sitting down next to a consoling Rarity with a defeated slouch ever since the orc had yelled at her. Twilight's head lifted, her gaze meeting Hellscream's once again. The yellow eyes of the orc having lost a significant amount of their fiery rage from before, the alicorn was quick to smile at him, even if it was her usual nervous one.

"Well... he can be a bit shy around new... faces." Sparkle said, retaining her abnormal grin. She then turned her eyes to a bench all the way across the street, where a newspaper lay angled awkwardly for no foreseeable reason. "Spike! I think he wants to meet you now!"

The words from the young alicorn's mouth caused a confused frown to form upon Hellscream's face. The orc watched in fascination as the newspaper crinkled, hopped down from its place on the bench, and began floating across the road toward their group. Garrosh was no expert on dragonkind, unless it came to finding chinks in their scale-formed armor, but he knew that no dragon could hide behind a sheet of paper that small, even as a hatchling. He quickly thought back to all of his previous encounters with the creatures, wondering if any had had the magical capability of polymorphing. He came up empty. To him, this either meant that the dragon he was about to meet was very magically inclined, or was at least a master of illusion spells. The orc felt his muscles tense up, making sure to seem outwardly calm as he got to his feet and slid down from the train station's platform onto solid ground. Garrosh was no fool, he knew that dragons were not to be trusted, and he was not about to be caught off-guard by this one, no matter what kind it was.

The orc however, was embarrassingly mistaken, at least in his own mind, for what he witnessed next definitely caught him off-guard.

"Uh.... Hi." The small lizard mumbled, his few-inch-wide claws scratching at the back of his head self-consciously after hesitantly throwing the newspaper aside. Garrosh couldn't find his voice as he fixed his gaze upon the unexpected creature, his features as blank as his brain. This "dragon" was not even the size of an egg of the Blue Dragon Flight, which to his knowledge, was the smallest Flight of dragons known to Azeroth. The creature that stood before him could in no way, shape, or form, lie within the same species or phylum as the monster he had slain back in the Everfree Forest. "Spike" had to be some kind of domestic reptile, for him being dubbed the title "dragon" was simply impossible to conceive.

"Hellscream, dear, are you alright?" Garrosh was snapped from his motionless stare upon Spike by the amused voice of Rarity. The orc shook his head and fixated his eyes on the small reptile yet again, but a second look did him no good, for he still didn't see a young form of Deathwing, or any other noteworthy dragon in the creature before him. Despite this, Garrosh still could be polite (or at least withholding,) when he wished.

"I... am well enough." The orc spoke in a semi-hushed tone, still holding his gaze on Spike. Garrosh couldn't believe he was about to conclude it, but the large green orbs that stared baitedly back at him held a child's innocence that even most orc younglings lost very quickly. However, there was something about both his form and his eyes that felt off to Garrosh. He watched as the emotions in the pools of green changed from childish curiosity to a look much more melancholy as the seconds of silence lingered on. It didn't take long for the child to cast his eyes to the ground, his claws tangling themselves in obvious discomfort.

Once again, Hellscream couldn't believe it, but it pained him. It pained him to see such hope in something so small leave it. He felt so conflicted, so out of his element, as though he grew weary of being blindsided by the purity and innocence within the youth of this place, and yet by the same token, didn't.

Hellscream went to a knee to inspect the "dragon" closer, his weight hitting the ground, causing a small ripple in the dusty earth around it. The sound brought Spikes gaze back to him as he failed to suppress a startled jump. The action caused Garrosh to crack a small, almost inquisitive grin as he extended his hand forth to the hatchling.

"Greetings, Spike, Aid to the Elements." Garrosh spoke in his best politicized manner. The dragon was quick to shake his hand as well as his claws could manage.

"Nice to meet you, too!" Spike said loudly, giving out a nervous chuckle. "For a second there I thought you weren't gonna say anything."

"Hmph, your appearance merely took me aback." Garrosh explained as he rose to his full height, maintaining his tone as one would to an equal. Spike's head craned upwards, a look of awe upon his face as he stood in the orc's vast shadow. "From the stories I'd heard, I expected a much..." Garrosh paused, searching for the proper word. "more intimidating entity... I had not expected one so young."

"Heh, yeah, I get that a lot..." Spike's newly-formed deadpan expression allowed a cordial smile to tug at it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, tiny lizard meets his whacked-out lookin' comic book hero, I'm about ta cry." Charger broke in, earning instant glares from both Twilight and the mentioned party member. "Can we get back ta how you mooks found us now?"

"You may, but I've lost enough of my brain power attempting to understand half the nonsense Laughter's offered." Garrosh said, shooing his bodyguard and the pink mare away with a distasteful gesture. Pinkie only seemed to let his words get to her for a fraction of a second, judging by the comical sad frown. It was quick to snap back, but not before the orc had seen it, locking the image away in his mind for later use as he once again sat down on the platform's edge.

"Did you want me to tell the rest, Garrosh?" Twilight asked, her ears peaked upward on her head, appearing rather genuine in her desire to take over. Garrosh nodded bemusedly as he moved his hulking arms from resting at his knees to at his sides, shoving a poorly positioned Fleetfoot onto her stomach, pinning her there with his heavy palm resting over her entire back. The small "Ack!" didn't garner the attention of any who were present, and the feeling of fur was lost on Garrosh's rough, stone-like hands. He was then too focused on hearing Twilight out as she prepared to recount her part of the morning's debacle. Though, in his subconscious, Garrosh did indeed wonder why the station platform felt uneven, even though both his hands were resting on it.

As Twilight cleared her throat to begin, a multi colored blur crossed the orc's vision, earning both his undivided attention and ire all in one second. "Hey, my part of the story was the coolest! Why can't I tell him?"

Twilight gave a very exasperated and sufferant sigh. "Fine, Rainbow, you tell him."

"Ancestors help me..."

By Rainbow Dash's own words, her Monday morning had started out on the boring side, her predominant activity merely being lounging around her cumulus-constructed home. After sluggishly indulging in the usual morning rituals of hygiene and grumbling endlessly to herself about how terribly sore she was from yesterday's combat (she omitted that part of her reminiscence for obvious pride-related reasons,) she had decided to go flying leisurely about the town to help relax, stretching the morning stiffness from her wings. The routine would have normally consisted of her heading to Sugarcube Corner for breakfast. From there, her normal day would begin, were it not for the sighting of something abnormal along her way there.

Her new "friend," standing ever tall, loitering in the midst of a few of the Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts outside Ditsy's house. Rainbow hadn't thought the orc would stay the entire night there, but when she thought about it a little more, she couldn't name any other place he could really go. Yes, he could have gone back to the medical tent, but she was sure he had no clue how to navigate Ponyville as of yet.

if Rainbow was being totally honest with herself, she hoped dearly that he didn't stay in the town long enough to find out.

"At last! Now that you creatures are finally through with your endless blatherings, we are leaving for the mountain city!" Garrosh bellowed, causing every living creature within a mile to jump. Rainbow rubbed at her ears from the volume of the shouting, even at her considerable distance, but still kept them trained on the orc. She couldn't hear any of the other ponies speaking due to her altitude, but she wasn't about to fly so low as to gain Garrosh's attention. Rainbow saw the remaining Shadowbolt speaking, but would have to be content in hearing nothing.

"I grow weary of this! The train to the mountain, you fool! Lead me there!" Warchief once again did his utmost to break the collective vicinity's ear drums, the words very clear to her at the least.

"Dad used to call Canterlot 'The Mountain City...'" She thought with a confused frown, remembering fondly how much of a nerd her father could be sometimes as her hoof found her chin. As far as she knew, there was nothing she could think of worth anything in Canterlot to somebody like him. Stopping only briefly to realize just how annoying it was to even have to think of the term "somebody," she resumed her mental quest to guess the beast's intentions as she hovered there, mostly concealed by cloud coverage, but no matter how harshly she wracked her brain, Garrosh just didn't seem like the kind of person (another annoying word to have to search up) to require anything from such a place, "What are you up to, leather-head?" This, she simply had to investigate.

"Alright, alright! We get it, Okay?! According to thith map, the train thtation's just patht 'Breethy's General Goods Store' and 'Golden Oaks Library! We'll take you there quietly if you don't throw anymore tantrumth, okay?!" Fleetfoot, the remaining Wonderbolt yelled back. Talking at the same speed Fleetfoot could fly was something Rainbow didn't think was possible, but she managed it well enough.

"Good, now, lead me to this train station before we must butt heads once more." The orc said after a moment of silence. That was all Rainbow needed to hear. Hellscream was headed to the capital of Equestria for sure, conveniently where the amount of damage he could do if he was provoked would be beyond devastating before anyone could stop him. Far be it for Rainbow to think this was a good way to start the day, but she didn't have time to complain. She didn't even have time to race over to Mayor Mare's place to mark herself down for "absent-to-work." She was sure she'd understand, but right then, she felt that both herself and her friends were the ones needed for this emergency more than any other.

The mare didn't waste a second more. With directions that weren't faulty, Hellscream would be at the station in a matter of minutes. Her speed made her confident that she could gather up her friends within that time frame, but the train schedule was a complete mystery her. If the time scheduling favored the orc, he would get away for certain; there would be nothing she could do about it. Rainbow readied her wings for their highest gear, and bolted straight for the home of the friend that lived farthest from their destination: Fluttershy.

Sight-seeing was all but impossible at the speeds Rainbow Dash achieved in a matter of seconds in the air. The buildings of the town, the dirt roads, the vast, green meadows, the clusters of trees, they all merged into a swirl of colors as they turned to stretched blurs. It was a sight the Element of Loyalty was very much accustomed to, but it was also one of which she never grew tired. The feelings brought to her by the speeds she attained were another thing she loved. Rainbow could feel each and every little feather on her wings parting and closing with each flap. Her fur offered virtually no resistance to the stinging winds as they washed over her, failing to slow her by even a hair of her wing power. While galloping, hoof-to-hoof combat, and lounging around on the ground each had their respective charms, Rainbow bore no doubt that in the sky, where she and her kind truly belonged, there was none better than her at anything. From tricks and maneuvers, to racing and dog-fighting, she was confident that the sky favored her over anyone.

All of those feelings, sensations, and the adrenaline, much to her disappointment, abated as quickly as they'd come. She slowly extended her wings to halt her speed's buildup without injuring herself, and began going in loose circles around the small cottage near the Everfree Forest's border. Rainbow could swear it took longer for her to land than actually getting to her friend's house. Her face clearly showing her boredom of the lazy loops, it brightened up as soon as the dirt of the cottage path met her hooves.

"Fluttershy!" Rainbow screamed out as loudly as she could, hastily galloping over the small bridge to skid to a halt in front of the cottage's door. Her hoof stabbed at the doorbell several times before her friend finally answered her. A rather groggy, bed-maned Fluttershy opened the door and immediately stepped aside to allow her friend entrance into her abode. She'd apparently elected to sleep in after all that had happened. If Rainbow hadn't been in such a hurry, she'd have found herself wondering how the animals in her care felt about that. "No, I don't have time for tea or whatever, I need your help." Dash chattered briskly. The butter yellow pegasus' droopy eyes shot open, and her ears perked up at the words.

"Oh? What did you need, Rainbow?" The words were barely above a whisper, especially with the slight rasp of a freshly-awoken voice box, but in the long years they'd known each other, Rainbow Dash had honed her hearing specifically for her quiet friend.

"Leather-head's heading to the train station for a first class ticket to..." She hesitated, not quite sure if she should risk officially suggesting the name "Canterlot" just yet. "...somewhere, and I wanna find out why. I need you to go get Applejack and Rarity, and then meet me at the market square, got it?" The prism-maned mare instructed as she turned to take off again. Her hearing helped to keep her wings tucked to her sides as Fluttershy spoke up.

"Who's leatherhead?" Was the first thing she asked, cringing slightly at the not-so-subtle insult.

"Garrosh! The orc dude, remember?!" Again, Fluttershy cringed.

"B-but didn't Princess Celestia say we should give him some space to adjust? I mean, if I was on a whole new planet, I wouldn't want ponies I barely knew following me around all the time..."

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to counter, but closed it immediately. Shy had a point, even if the gruff cyan pegasus didn't want to acknowledge it. Even so, she wasn't concerned with what the orc wanted or didn't want, she only cared about keeping him in check. It took her a few seconds, but she managed to form a counter-argument.

"We're the Elements of Harmony, Shy! It's our job to make sure he stays out of trouble, and that ponies around him don't try to mess with him." Yes, that was a fair counter-point, was it not? Rainbow could practically see the gears inside her friend's head turning a different direction, and suddenly her point of view changed drastically.

"Goodness... you're right!" Rainbow gave an internal cheer and a not-so-internal "hoof pump." Perhaps her conventions weren't as terrible as her friends had believed.

Of course, she found that they were even worse than her friends believed, once Fluttershy finished her thought.

"Ponies who aren't from around here aren't very kind to newer things, and Garrosh could end up hurt if they get him into trouble. I'll go get Applejack, you go tell Twilight as fast as you can!" Fluttershy did her best to sound commanding, but the fact that her shout was around the volume of a normal pony's indoor voice had ruined it. Rainbow's jaw had dropped at her friend's words, and by the time she had given her head a shake to refocus, her butter-yellow compatriot was already well down the dirt path to Sweet Apple Acres.

Rainbow Dash gave an exasperated groan as her hooves found themselves pulling at her lower eyelids. Her closest and oldest friend was worried not only about a big brown behemoth rampaging throughout a new city, but about ponies of said city getting him into trouble and somehow hurting him. The pegasus had known as soon as she'd woken up that this would be a long day, but now it would seem (if this was any indication) as though it would never end.

"H... How the buck did you beat us here?!" Rainbow screeched, much to Twilight's discomfort. As Dash's alicorn friend rubbed at the ear closest to her, and after admonishing the overly-competitive mare with a simple shout of "language," Rarity huffed out an answer.

"In all my life... I've never had a problem keeping up with... Fluttershy of all ponies! That changed... today." Rarity managed to pant, holding a hoof to her chest and lowering her head as she continued trying to catch her breath.

"Ah'm gonna be honest too; ah had trouble keepin' up." Applejack pitched in, giving a shrug as she clearly bore less trouble catching hers.

Fluttershy on the other hoof, seemed absolutely no worse for wear. That was, until five pairs of eyes were all suddenly upon her. Already her form began to slink under the attention. "I--I wasn't sure when the train was supposed to leave. If we miss it, than Garrosh is on his own in a big city! We can't afford to miss it, or he could get hurt. He's still injured you know."

"Fluttershy, I'm sure he'd be just fine in any city of Equestria." Twilight reassured her with a confident chuckle. "...And even if the citizens there aren't, he can take care of himself..." She mumbled the latter half of that sentiment, giving a small shudder as she remembered the impact of the first debacle involving the beast. "That reminds me. Rainbow Dash, did you ever find out where it was Hellscream was getting a ticket to?"

"I did, but I can't remember. I think it was Canterlot, but I'm not sure." Rainbow replied as if present at a Wonderbolts' debriefing. She couldn't help but notice the sudden terror in her friend's eyes as they widened considerably at the mentioning of the capitol's name.

"Well, why don't we just ask him?" Pinkie Pie Piped up out of nowhere with a hoof pointed out toward the train station.

At first, the five mare all scanned where Pinkie had pointed, but the only thing they could see was a mobile cart vendor who was adjusting his harness as he trotted onward. Rainbow however, had a nagging suspicion that Pinkie hadn't just seen through an inanimate object this time. She once again took to the sky high enough to see over the cart, and low and behold, a giant brown lump had made itself comfortable sitting on the edge of the train station's platform. Rainbow wasted no time in bursting the ear drums of everyone in her intimidate vicinity.

"FOUND HIM!"

Hellscream had to intake an extremely deep breath so as to not to give in and smack the cyan mare out of the air from where she hovered. He had known that it had basically been a solid half an hour since she had really annoyed him, but he hadn't expected her to repeat her entrance line in the same, ridiculously loud volume.

"Aaannddd that's how we ended up here." Rainbow finished with a satisfied grin on her muzzle, a set of teeth showing that looked very breakable to the orc at the moment. Garrosh's anger was apparently showing on his face, which prompted a few of the other five mares to begin a mixed competition of who could scold Rainbow Dash's lack of manners hardest, or at least whine about it.

"That was not only unnecessary, but it was down right rude, Rainbow Dash." Rarity spoke with a reproaching glower at the pegasus. One thing that Rainbow's story did help Garrosh with however, was remembering each of the mares' names. He was sure he would still mix up who was who from time to time, but he was fairly certain he now knew them indefinitely.

"That hurt my ears... and I'm over here!" Spike grumbled, rubbing at the green flaps on either side of his head. The orc had let the multi-spectrum pegasus off the hook in his own mind in favor of testing his memory of their names to their coat colors. Hellscream's frown faded away as his new mind-game overtook his concentration. He was vaguely aware that the mares were now more interested in arguing with Rainbow Dash over her irritating antics than anything else.

"Twilight Sparkle, the purple alicorn... Rainbow Dash, the blue pegasus... Applejack, the orange earth pony... Rarity, the snow-white unicorn... and I'm sure the yellow pegasus was Fluttershy. That means the fully-pink equine is Pinkie Pie, Element of Laughter." Garrosh's thoughts were as loud as if he were conversing with himself. He all but blocked out the world around him as he began to run through as much information about his new companions and environment as he possibly could. Greatmother Geyah had taught him that refection on the unknown was the most effective way to make it known. He'd be willing to use just about anything from his home world at that moment, even if it were just a mere thought process. That lesson had belonged to Geyah, and so it was something he recalled fondly. He no longer saw any use in listening to the mares' endless squabbles, and he had decided then and there to grant his poor mind a chance to catch up to his body.

Still, the things Garrosh had learned in the past three days alone would have kept the Kirin Tor awake for weeks on end, profoundly sleepless in a crazed thirst for knowledge. How was he, a mere warrior, no where near a scholar's level of intelligence, supposed to have a snowball's chance in Hellfire Peninsula of retaining, let alone understanding any of the things this world had given him on a meaningful level. The former Warchief felt not only overwhelmed, but homesick as well. That was a given, he supposed. If Geyah's words rang true, and they usually did, then this place was to be his new home for a great amount of time. Finding a good set of armor and a weapon of war caliber were simple and achievable goals, but a question nagged at him like an infected wound. It was something he never even allowed himself to think about until the present.

"what am I to do after that?" There it was; he'd dared to think it, and now there was no turning back. He had no home, no clan, no people, and it would remain that way until he had done something. Only, the purpose and the very means of completion of the Greatmother's trial were as hidden as two poisoned daggers beneath a cloak.

For the first time in Garrosh Hellscream's life, despite being surrounded by new acquaintances, he felt alone. Completely, and utterly, alone. Bereft of both purpose and existence, dead to all he'd considered important, a version of Hell he'd never considered.

"Can you pleathe get your arm off me!?" The feeble lump under his hand rasped out. Somewhat glad to be snapped from the now very caustic confines of his own mind, Garrosh looked to the sound. Fleetfoot was indeed flat on her back under his clenching hand, currently using both her front and back legs to keep as much weight off of her barrel as possible. Garrosh quickly tucked both his arms across his chest, freeing the lithe mare. Only seconds passed before he found himself in that dreaded place yet again, having failed to use any of the conversations taking place around him to stave it off.

He didn't feel like talking, and even with his overalls to clothe his back, even with the warmth of Equestria flowing past him in the summer's breeze, the warrior felt a cold sting nipping at him. Garrosh's eyes wandered to the dirt only a few feet in front of him, engaged in a staring contest he could never hope to win, with the earth itself as his opponent. He cared not; his eyes did not see, and his mind would not grant him respite.

The sight of the mighty orc's lifeless stare, his weary features, his silent mouth had caught the tiny pegasus' attention. He normally would have insulted her small stature or her supposed lack of a backbone for staying mute so long under his fist. She wondered understandably why he'd foregone the opportunity.

Garrosh felt eyes upon him, but found his words unable to make any use of the feeling. All he could ponder was once the train arrived, and he had his battle gear in-hand, what came after? Where was he to go next, and why was he to go there? What was he to do next, and why was he to do it? What was the next step of his short-sighted plan? What was the next part of his journey? What was the next chapter in the story of his life?

In vain, he tried to amuse his mind with the strange and sometimes silly history and traditions of this new world, silently praying that he would find some small detail that could offer similarity to his lost home, something, anything that could offer him some form of peace.

Peace.... It was something he'd not searched out in a very long time, and he would not find it that day.

His cup ran over with only questions. Answers to questions like the ones that plagued him were found by mages or priests, not by warriors.

".....Garrosh?" Fleetfoot's plying voice was just above a mere whisper, and it was easily drowned out by the following sound of a train's horn.

Garrosh's time to think and reason had run its course. It was time to reach the goal at-hand. With only this in mind, the son of Hellscream got to his feet and trudged slowly toward the newly arrived train carts, feeling as abandoned and as alone as the empty silence in which he wallowed.

Gone was the Orc who had lost himself to the innocent spirit of a single child at the simplest of meals. Gone was the orc who could truly remember any fruits of diplomacy. Gone was the Orc who had conversed amiably and cordially with the ponies assigned to escort him.

Gone was the Orc who had once believed he would ever see his homeland again.

Author's Note

Aaannnddd this abomination is finally done! How a chapter this small caused me so much pain I will never know, but I can't be happier that it's over.

I'm sorry this took so long, but I do have multiple excuses that you shouldn't even bother reading. I haven't found time to just sit down and write in a good long time. I never seem to be alone anymore, which is the time I am best at writing. Moving houses has ruined my privacy, and I can't seem to write anything with another human being in the room. Dumb, I know, but things are the way things are, as Pinkie Pie taught us.

Well, none of that matters. All that is of consequence, is that this chapter is finished, and now it's on to the next.