Dehau set a huge platter of Sauteed carrots onto the open tailgate of her Gramps' wagon. "You gotta try these things, they're amazeorbs." She reached to pluck the largest chunk from the heaping pile. Her chewing was vigorous and quick. "I eat this stuff like it's my job!"
Gramps peered suspiciously at the orange mass of herbs and vegetable before carefully selecting a small bite. He chewed thoughtfully. "I enjoy the taste. Did you make these Dehau'wa'naa?"
"No, our deader friend did." She grinned at him.
He stopped chewing for a moment and used his substantial magical power to feel the aura of the food, and to grok the origin of the ingredients. Safe.
"Some of the Grim eat pinkers and all that Gramps, but these are just carrots." She offered cheerily.
"Yes." He agreed, continuing to chew.
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Once darkness fell around the ring of gathering he spread his arms in the caravan gesture for silence, waiting for it to descend on those around the fire before he began the tale they'd asked for. It was odd that his granddaughters had requested a history. Odder still, one they'd already heard.
"Grom Hellscream freed all of our people." He began, his deep voice rumbling across the upturned faces of his audience. "Not just the orcs but every race that ever walked the land, swam the sea or flew the air of Azeroth."
The triplets watched Gramps with gleams in their purple eyes. At some point the story would get good. Until then they'd stuff their faces and drink the flask they'd filled with rum.
"Grommash Hellscream was born on Draenor. He lived an orcish life of hunt and gather. He lived in his tribe and learned to fight with honor. He grew up proud, strong, and healthy as a Clefthoof."
"But even with all that he had, he wished for more. He believed the sour lies of Gul'dan and drank first of Mannoroth's blood. You all know the deep magic. We are what we eat." Hau paused to take a drink of ice water from a carved wooden cup.
"That thick gulp made him stronger than he'd ever imagined. I stood in line to sip some of it myself. It was salty and warm, surprisingly sweet and it flowed down my throat leaving a trail of warmth like firewater." He took another sip of icewater to wash the memory of that blood from his mouth.
"That blood made us fierce and fearless. We started reckless conquests, destroyed families and snuffed out sparks of life all across Draenor." He paused to let his words settle over them. The triplets wanted to cheer but busied their hands with food instead. They knew he would not approve of their love for killing.
"Grom had always been a powerful enemy, but the blood made him moreso. He roared his warsong through Shattrath, gripping his axe with both hands, black jaw twisting out the commands and threats of a proud warrior in battle. Even then he was a formidable enemy. We easily conquered that alien city."
Uncle Gusk lifted himself to full seated height from the comfort of his rocket chair. Like a turtle he looked around the caravan audience, bobbing, his milky eyes blinking behind huge square goggles. "He had tribal marks all over but the one you'd notice first was that blackening of that big ol' jaw. It made him look real hard-boiled. Back then we did our tattoos with a sharp blade, dark ink and a hammer. Word had it he didn't even sweat. Needless to say many a lady carried a torch for him."
Gramps nodded at Gusk's interjection before taking the story back. "During the first war many of our people were exiled for disagreeing with Gul'dan's methods. The Frostwolves for instance."
Uncle Rurk clenched and unclenched his fists, cracked his jaw and shot from his bench to pace the circle. "That-filthy-lock-gave-us-the-heebie-jeebies-but-my-people-wanted-more-land-to-claim-so-we-fired-up-the-old-war-forge-and-hopped-through-that-portal-like-our-rears-were-on-fire."
Gramps agreed with Rurk too. "We wanted to know what was on the other side and we wanted to fight. It was an urge the blood had unfurled inside of us. Those were red times in my memory. I was old enough to know better but somehow I didn't. But those days are stories for another time. I am here to tell you what I know about Grom Hellscream."
"During the second war Grom and his clan guarded the portal from the attacks of the humans."
"Frikka pinkers!" The triplets piped up with a unified roar.
"He fought them off but overall the orcs lost that war. In the years that followed Grom and his clan ran small attacks as they searched for magic relics that must have had something to do with Gul'dan and his demons."
"It was during the lull that fortunate orcs managed to hide in the wilderness. Other orcs were forced into the camps... Grom and his Warsong clan were free, but they too struggled to survive. The blood curse left us all weak and despondant. Food was hard to come by. Those of us in the wild were constantly aware that capture or death was around every corner."
"Our-people-in-the-camps-were-treated-like-scum. Chained-us-together-forced-us-to-dig-fed-us-scraps. We-bickered-over-globs-of-gristle-like-wild-worgs. Should-have-just-killed-us. Let-us-die-with-honor-not-begging-for-food." Rurk sputtered angrily and then spat in the dirt.
Gramps frowned before continuing. "That was when Thrall returned to our people. He sought out Grom and Grom led him to Doomhammer and his ancestral tribe, The Frostwolves. Things started to look up. Grom gave Thrall his necklace to show his faith and friendship. Together their groups began freeing orcs from the internment camps and the bloody malaise was finally loosening its hold on our hearts."
Gusk beamed. "I'll never forget that day. Not so long as I live. Those free orcs swished in like a flash flood and broke all those chains that kept us locked in limbo. Some of us didn't know what to do, just stood there, slack-jawed and loose screwed, but not me. I was still firing on all my cylinders. I jumped up and whooped and hollered and did a tiny little jig."
Rurk raised a brow. "I-got-one-of-their-spare-axes-and-chopped-up-some-chains-while-he-was-hoofing-like-a-fool-using-up-what-little-energy-he-had-dancing."
Gramps chuckled, making a deep rumble in his chest. "It was soon after that Thrall sent Grom across the Great Sea to Kalimdor. That there was more world across that ocean was all I needed to hear. I'd been having dreams that called me to leave the land of the portal and get far away to a land of plenty. Our clan used a giant sea turtle shell for our boat. I imagine the Warsong Clan had something larger."
Gusk clapped his dry hands together with a quick flutter. "Back in those days Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms were closer together. Ask me how that works and I'll tell you all about the Maelstrom and the way it pushes the world apart."
Gramps shook his head. "Anyhow, when they arrived at Stonetalon the bloodlust took over and Grom attacked a human settlement. Thrall was understandably upset, he made strange alliances even then, so he gave Grom a different and more direct mission. Clear land and gather lumber for a new settlement."
"Grom set to work clearing a portion of Ashenvale and the Nightelves spilled from the wound like ants. They fought under the claim that he was defiling their ancient homeland. The orcs made short work of the elves, though they battled hard... but then the demigod arrived and everything changed."
"Cenarion, his name was." Gusk butted in, smiling toothlessly.
"Yes, Cenarion. He could not be defeated by axe and strength alone. That was when a witch doctor troll directed Grom to a well of Mannoroth's blood." Gramps added.
"He-drank-that-stuff-up-on-purpose. Wanted-to-feel-that-rush-again. Needed-to-refresh-the-power-so-he-could-chop-that-half-god-down-like-a-tree." Rurk's dark brows knitted together above his startling blue eyes.
"Once again Grom drank it first and the rest followed suit. They killed the demi-god, but after that battle there was no victory celebration. Mannoroth the Destroyer appeared amidst the carnage to turn all those who had imbibed his blood into mindless slaves. They were worse off than ever before."
"They made war on Thrall's human allies. Thrall allied with Taurens to fight through the demon-tainted army, confronting Grom to hear the story of Mannoroth's trick. Of course Thrall would not give up on Grom. He dragged him to Jaina Proudmoore and her people. They pooled all of their magical knowledge, working tirelessly to free Grom from the demon's claws."
"Once his head was clear Grom was determined to destroy the Destroyer once and for all. He and Thrall headed off to stony canyon in the ancient forest. There they found Mannoroth doing whatever it is demons do when they are alone. Thrall summoned all his fury and rushed forward with the Doomhammer, but his blow came to nothing and he fell back under a counterattack."
"It was then that the demon began to taunt Grom, claiming that they were one and the same. Clearly he did not understand the honor of the orcs. We belong to no one. Grom rushed with his axe, shrieking his fierce warsong scream. The weapon hit true, cleaving the armor on that disgusting demon, surging right into his infernal heart... causing the explosion that killed them both."
"But before he died Thrall was at Grom's side, ushering him from one world to the next. As the light faded from his eyes, he felt peace, aware that he had freed himself from the curse. Thrall was wise in the beyond ways and knew instantly that the dying orc had freed us all. Enslaved by demons, our people would have destroyed everyone, everything, one another and then ourselves. For that we each owe Grom Hellscream our remembrance. " Gramps nodded and clasped his hands together in the caravan gesture that meant the story was finished and he'd rejoin the circle.
Gusk cackled with glee. "I noticed right away that I'd been free. I was stirring a pot of kodo soup, had a nice big bone in there, the fire was uneven, in the days of the curse it wasn't easy, getting up all the effort to get things to eat, let alone cook them, you know, not like it is for you hooligans today, you have no idea the power of that demon curse and the lethargy that would come over us."
"So there I was and I was summoning all my strength just to give it a stir and keep that bone cooking as evenly as possible, but I was resigned that it'd be raw on the one end, I'd give that to Hau's worglet, I wasn't about to get my stomach all twisted up and over from eating raw scavenged meat, and then that curse lifted. Just like that, I felt like myself again. Flipped that bone right away, worglet be damned, he could have the scraps to chew on. I did my celebratory jig and I've just kept jigging from then on." To prove his point he stood from the rocket chair he so often made the triplets push him in during times of fuel shortage. With a spry energy (that seemed only to fail him when there was work to be done) he knocked his knees together and kicked his heels, jigging just as well as he ever had.
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The fire had burned down to red embers amidst a sea of black char. Dehau crushed a gnawed bone beneath the sole of her sandal. She turned to look at her identical sisters and squinted her eyes. "We totes gotta spiff all that up for the Harvest festival."
Her sisters nodded grumpily and continued gathering the carved wooden bowls that lay around the circle, used and crusted with food. "I'd throw these in the fire if Gramps wouldn't make us carve new ones." Nehau grumbled, stacking what she'd already collected into sloppy piles by the dish basket.
"Wait 'til you see how far we have to walk to the riverbank." Tehau snorted, throwing another heap onto the pile with a clatter. "Next time we throw a partay, let's keep it the frick away from the caravan."
"For sure, Gramps is waaay too invested in all this after party crud." They all agreed.