Orthunk wrote:

The big, old orc smiles as you approach him. His face is a hideous visage of crisscrossed scars and burn marks. The smile, you notice, is devoid of all teeth, and his two tusks jut out of blackened gums. There is a large indentation on the upper left side of his fore-head, as though the skull had been permanently deformed from a huge force of impact.

"Hello, GROT," he says, heedless of your ranking. His words are deep and guttural and the quality of his voice sounds like, one day, long ago, he ate a great number of jagged rocks. "Would you like to hear a story? The story of Orthunk Snaggletooth, the story of the Blacktooth Grin?"

He retrieves a red warlock's gem from his pocket and uses its jagged edge to cut his palm. The gemstone lights up, as though it were feeding, and after a moment of waxing, the illumination fades back and is trapped within a small orb in the center of the gemstone. Orthunk hands it to you and grins strangely.

You cut open the palm of your right hand and your vision fades to blackness...

Orthunk wrote:

Orthunk stood next to the Smithy in the Crossroads. His face was less thrashed by battle, but there was still a large indentation on his forehead. All of his teeth were in his mouth. He wore a rusty coat of chainmail and had a two-handed steel sword strapped to his back. His hair greyish white and was styled up into a mohawk by use of glue that he bought from the Trolls of Sen'jin. He assumed it was made out of pig fat, and so in a pinch, if he was stranded in the Barrens with no food, could scrape the hair-glue out and eat it.

Orthunk squinted into the harsh sun as he saw a familiar orcen figure march into the Crossroads. He saluted the orc and hailed him, "Lok'tar, Gorfrunch! What news from Orgrimmar?"

Gorfrunch stopped and grinned at Orthunk. He licked his cracked lips. "I've got the charter, Thunk. It is time for us to rebuild the Grin."

Orthunk stared stupidly at his superior. "How did you do this? Thrall would never..."

"I bought a guild charter, and with ten signatures, we will be a free force operating without the supervision of the Peacechief Thrall."

Both orcs began to bark laughter and chant amongst themselves, "Smash! Smash! Fear the grin!"

Gorfrunch handed the charter to Orthunk. "Sign below my name, Thunk."

Orthunk took the paper and made a misshapen "X" just underneath the text that read "Gorfrench." Mispelling was common in the orc-populous of those days. Orthunk handed the paper back to Gorfrunch and smiled. "I never thought I would ride under the banner of the Grin again," he said lustily.

"Zugzug." Gorfrunch drew a blacksmith's hammer from his travelling bag and handed it to Orthunk.

Orthunk stared at the hammer and then looked to his Warchief. "I will Champion the Grin until the Alliance have run us into the ground, Gorfrunch. Until we are both dead, the Grin will destroy!" He smashed his mouth with the hammer once, twice, thrice, and then spit out all of the teeth he once had. He leered strangely at a troll who was passing by and waggled his tongue at her from between two blood-stained lips. "I must train, Gorfrunch. There is much I have forgotten since the paladins crushed my skull in with those boulders."

"Zugzug. May you smash well, Thunk."

*The vision of this scene fades to black momentarily, before light begins to gather back around in your senses and...*

Orthunk wrote:

"FEAR THE GRIN!"

The sky was wide open, and large clouds could be see slowly sailing along the Coast of Westfall in the late summer. The beach was quiet, and crabs crawled across the sands as they looked for scrumptious delights.

The pounding of a score of soldiers slowly invaded. There were many wearing chain and plate mail armor, their leader: Gorfrunch, some troll priestesses riding orange raptors in circles around the running infantry, their leader: Zalinda, There were three undead rogues in becursed leather armor, their leader: Eddard. A large banner was held amongst them, depecting a white-fanged grin with a broken tooth over a pitch-black field.

Orthunk was near the front of the raiding party, with Gorfrunch. He had no worg yet, for he was striving hard for his marks in battle. There were few, indeed, who rode upon steeds, and they all kept pace with the runners so that the regiment would not be split.

They had ran up the West Coast of Stranglethorn Vale in the evening. Several of their members died from snake bites, tiger attacks, and alligator frenzies during the journey. Thanks to the powerful Zalinda, they were all cured appropriately before the assault on Sentry Hill.

The Grin pounded up the beach with the vigor of a final leg. They passed the Deadmines and approached Senty Hill from the southwest. Eddard lead his rogues in ahead.

By the time the fledgling Grin had reached their position, the rogue team had already scouted the area and reported low resistance expected.

Gorfrunch drew his sword, looked back to all the expectant eyes, and yelled "FEAR THE GRIN!" The assault had begun.

Orthunk was waylaid immediately by a guard. The guard still had better armaments than the orc, and Orthunk was cut badly along his ride side before a shaman blasted the guard away with a strong current of lightning. The orc held onto his bleeding side and charged the last steps of the entrance to the watchtower with his axe in one hand. There was the Captain of the Guard inside, and he and his men fought long and hard against the Grin. The Captain was defeated by Gorfrunch when the Warchief challenged him to single combat in the melee.

Orthunk sat at the top of the tower, looking out onto the fields below. Zalinda had finished healing his wounds. He was still battle-green. He hadn't fought since the second war, and what happened when he was imprisoned after that rendered his old training totally useless. In fact, the orc was almost mute. He mispronounced words horribly, probably also due to his immense lack of teeth. But now he had no concern for words, only for dealing death.

Two dozen Alliance of various valor gathered outside the bloodied tower. The Grin, standing on high, leered and threw rocks, knives, and small hand grenades at the humans. It was not long before the Alliance assaulted the Hill, and the Grin met them smiling at the gates.

Reinforcements from Stormwind were fast and thick. Droves of Alliance troops poured in through the gryphon air. The Grin soon found themselves overwhelmed. The floor was thick with bodies, orc and human alike, and there was a trail of brutal fighting that led all the way up the stairs.

At last, the Blacktooth Grin had been forced with their backs to the fall of the tower behind them. There were only seven left, and all injured. Gorfrunch had his left hand split in half, Orthunk lost an eye, Wampus was shot in the leg, Zalinda's right foot had been smashed with a flail, Eddard was missing his rib-cage, and the two shamans, if they were put together, would make one whole shaman. As the humans continued to climb the staircase, Gorfrunch looked at his surviving warriors.

"We are done here, Grin!"

They all nodded in unison, turned their backs on the blades of their enemy, and leaped from the tower to their death.

*An unintelligible scribbling in some strange red ink*

"FEAR THE GRIN!!!" >>We will be again!<<

-Pikki