"Our people were once nomads. It is only recently, in the last few years, that we have halted our wandering and made a home for ourselves in Mulgore. It was a challenge. But we created villages and cities of peace, of tranquility and beauty. We imbued the places in which we dwelt with a sense of who and what we are. And that is what I wish to restore now. My father once said, 'Destruction is easy.' Look what havoc the Grimtotem were able to wreak in a single night. But creating something that lasts—that, my father said, was a challenge. I am determined to make sure that what he created—Thunder Bluff and all the other villages, the goodwill between the members of the Horde—I will devote my life to seeing that they last."
Anduin felt his heart both swell and calm at the words. It was indeed a challenge, but he knew Baine, son of Cairne, was up to the task. "What else did your father say?" Cairne, as described by his son, seemed so very wise to Anduin, and he hungered for more.
Baine snorted slightly in laughter that was warm and genuine and yet laced with the pain of remembering too early for nostalgia.
"There was something about… eating all your vegetables."
Twenty eight
The Grimtotem were powerful and uniquely trained. From early childhood, while others their age were learning to be in harmony with nature and learning the rites of the Great Hunt, the Grimtotem were taught how to fight one another. They learned to kill, quickly, cleanly, with hands, horns, and whatever weapon was at hand. In any given conflict, the odds were with a Grimtotem to win a fight. They did not fight honorably; they fought to win.
But their numbers were not inexhaustible. Magatha was able to target only certain places, and she had chosen to focus primarily on seizing the main city from which Cairne had led, the heart of Mulgore, which was the first real "home" the tauren had ever known, and on slaving the son he had fathered. The first victory had been obtained. Dawn had shone light on hundreds of corpses in and around Thunder Bluff. Their goal had been twofold: to eliminate those most highly positioned to oppose them, and to strike utter, crippling terror into the tauren population by slaughtering anyone who lifted a weapon to them.
Their enemies lay stiffening in congealing pools of blood, as did many who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. But those deaths, too, were a powerful propaganda tool. Magatha and the Grimtotem held Thunder Bluff. They held all of that city's resources and hostages with which to negotiate. The recent attacks combined with the loss of Cairne and the disappearance of his son had left the tauren people unsettled. She felt certain that, in a desperate attempt to find normalcy again, the tauren would acknowledge her as their leader.
Baine, however, had slipped through their fingers. A spy had informed her that one of her own, Stormsong, had turned traitor. As Magatha sat in the lodge that had once been Cairne Bloodhoof s seat of power, she fumed quietly. She had, of course, marked Stormsong for assassination but did not entertain any notions that he would be easily located. Doubtless he was with the pretender, as she had taken to calling (and encouraging others to call) Baine since the Grimtotem uprising. Stormsong would die with him, once Baine was found, but likely not until that anxiously awaited hour.
And as she had expected, for Magatha was no fool, the tauren in more far - flung places such as Feralas and of course the druidic stronghold Moonglade had already begun their rebellion. Couriers from other tribes brought word of their defiance, facing the expected immediate execution after bearing such bad news with a stoicism that irritated Magatha.
Other rumors were flying as well. That the pretender was in hiding in the Moonglade. That he had struck a deal with the Alliance in exchange for free trade with a recaptured Thunder Bluff. That he had the power of the Earth Mother behind him, and that his shaman and druids were able to harness trees to march and fight alongside them.
Of all these, there was one thing of which Magatha was certain: Baine was gathering reinforcements, and when he was strong enough, he would challenge her.
So lost in thought was she that it took Rahauro two tries to get her attention. She snorted, angry at woolgathering, knowing that among the younger ones it would appear as senility. She started to direct her anger not at her
faithful servant but at the young orc courier who stood before her. Then her ears lifted as realization struck her. An orc meant…
She waved a hand. "Speak."
"Elder Crone Magatha, I come from the acting warchief of the Horde, Garrosh Hellscream."
Her eyes widened. Two days ago she had sent out a plea to Garrosh for assistance, knowing that at some point—and probably sooner than later—Baine would come, and many would come with him. The letter had been full of sincere - sounding compliments and praise for how he had managed the Horde. She had also dangled the lure of a formal alliance between the Grimtotem and the Horde if Garrosh lent his support in this venture. Surely Garrosh could use the Grimtotem's unique… methods. Magatha had hoped that a response would come in the form of troops marching to assist her in defending Thunder Bluff, but apparently Garrosh had some questions, or else he wanted to apprise her of his thoughts.
Either way, she was pleased at the swift response. She smiled kindly at the orc.
"You are welcome here, courier. Please—take a moment to refresh yourself. Then read what your master has to say to me."
She settled back in the chair, folding her arms across her belly, and waited as the orc gratefully took a long pull on the waterskin but declined food. Then, with a bow, he retrieved a leather tube from his pack, withdrew a scroll, and read in a strong, clear voice:
"Unto Elder Crone Magatha of the Grimtotem,
Acting warchief of the Horde, Garrosh Hellscream,
Sends his most sincere wishes for a slow and painful death."
A gasp rippled around the room. Magatha went very still, then with a speed that belied her age she bolted from the chair, backhanded the courier, and held the scroll at arm's length to accommodate her increasingly poor vision to read it for herself.
It has come to my attention that you have deprived me of a rightful kill. Cairne Bloodhoof was a hero to the Horde, and an honorable member of a usually honorable race. It is with disgust and anger that I discover you have caused me to bring about his death through accidental treachery.
Such tactics may work well for your renegade, honorless tribe and Alliance scum, but I despise them. It was my wish to fight Cairne fairly, and win or lose by my own skill or lack of it. Now I shall never know, and the cry of traitor will dog my steps until such time as I can sport your head on a pike and point to you as the real traitor.
So…no. I will not be sending any truehearted orcs to fight alongside your treacherous, belly - crawling tribe. Your victory or your defeat is in the hands of your Earth Mother now. Either way, I look forward to hearing of your demise.
You are on your own, Magatha, as friendless and disliked as you have ever been. Perhaps more. Enjoy your loneliness.
Her hand had begun to shake halfway through the reading, crushing part of the letter. When she had finished, she threw her head back in an angry bellow and thrust her hand in front of her. A single bolt of lightning speared down from the sky, blasting through the thatched roof to strike the courier dead.
The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the room. Everyone stared for a moment at the green body with the charred, black chest, then two Bluff watchers moved, without needing to be told, to pick up the corpse and bear it Magatha was breathing heavily, snorting in fury, her fists clenched.