Kragh sat with his back to the wall of the Chieftain's chambers, idly flipping a thin stone knife between his hands.

"It seems so strange for my father to have recognized me as his son, and then immediately attempted something so foolish for the sake of the clan."

He stopped flipping the dagger and peered up at the elder orc sitting before him. "Was the cleansing of our clan's home so important that it could not wait? Could he not seek the aid of others? Could he not delay just a few weeks to tell me of his travels and of the family I never knew?"

Krom'gun shook his head, as if shaking off a swarm of gnats. His eyes uncrossed slightly as he peered back down at Kragh. "Your father knew the value of family as well as the turnip knows the value of good soil, nephew. His travels and his family are common to both of us, as we grew from the same roots and traveled to the same market. Given, he was stewed before I..."

Kragh frowned uncomfortably and reached into his pack where a half-eaten bag of mixed nuts stood open. He munched slowly while staring back off into space.

Krom'gun stretched and continued, "I'll not be so fortunate as your father, I think. I suspect I'll wither and rot, someday to be forgotten in a pile of compost. A turnip should not perish in such a way.

"Your father is elderly, Swo'regag. He held on as long as he could for the sake of the clan, but time takes its toll on us all. He felt great relief in knowing that his legacy would continue and that his clan would be in good hands. He simply sought action swiftly so he could offer the Clan one last gift before his mind faded."

Kragh grumbled to himself and threw his thin knife into the wall across the sitting room. "Had he not given the clan enough? He brought them great power and wisdom from a lifetime of study and travel. He brought them across the sea to a new home. He even brought them the strength of strong allies, through his clever negotiation of old pacts!"

"No, nephew," Krom'gun replied. "He needed to prove to his clan and to his kin that he is not one who submits when there is still work to be done. Did the Ogg-regag, Chaosender, give up when he had the opportunity to cleanse Stonard? Did the Smashblade give up when his soul was parted from his body? There is still much you need to learn about being an Orc and becoming a Chieftain, Kragh."

The thick leather flap sealing the door to the Chieftain's chambers was pulled aside, spilling thick clouds of smoke and the scent of strong incense into the sitting room. A large figure slowly walked from the room, his arms crossed behind his back.

Krom'gun rose, saluting. "Ha'gosh, has the Chieftain regained his senses?"

Grymhorn peered down at the two orcs, a grimace on his face. "He woke only briefly. He told me to thank the chef for the nuts, and that he hopes we might harvest such things from the soil outside Stonard again, someday. His words trailed off after that, speaking primarily of the spirits of Draenor."

The Tauren cleared his throat and straightened his back, speaking in a more formal voice. "Swo'regag, the Chieftain has passed from this world. He has made his wishes known to you already, but it is my duty to speak them to you now.

"Kragh, Son of Kromgosh, you shall be named successor to your father: Mog-regag, future Chieftain of the Blacktooth Grin. A leader's blood flows in your veins, but you lack the experience required to take on such a position. The Chieftain's most trusted trainer - Ogg-thak'tra, Ur'shok of the Gol'kosh, and Sythegar of the Blacktooth Grin - Pikki Fuselighter will take on the role of Executor of the clan. It will be her role to administrate the clan's affairs until such a time when you are deemed ready to become Chieftain. You shall work by her side on all matters pertaining to the administration of the clan, and you shall also engage in regular training with the clan's finest scholars, warriors, and mystics.

"The will of the Chieftain has been made clear, and the will of the Chieftain is the law of the clan. I will seek out the Executor and we will make the required arrangements at once. If any clansman or elder questions the will of our late Chieftain, direct them to me."

Grymhorn saluted the pair and walked from the room.

Kragh slumped where he sat, still munching on the nuts his father could not finish. "To come so far... for this."

Pikki sat in her tower office, her mood matching the heat bouncing off the roof. She sat, her chin in one hand, her other holding a dagger, digging at the wood of her desk. She mumbled angrily to no one in particular. The Ha'gosh had just left. They had gone over the final decrees of the Warchief, arrangements would have to be made for the remains.... She sighed and dug her dagger in leaving it standing upright in the now splinteresd wood.

"et ain't enough dat 'e throws 'imself inta da corruption, knowin friggin well wha da result would be...wha es et wi Warchiefs?...jeez..." She sighs again and glances at the papers the Ha'gosh had left for her.

"Executor...jeez...and da whelp. 'e knows nothing...leastways anythin 'bout da Grin...."

She leans back in her chair holding a mug of dwarven ale. She sips and winces at the taste, not near as good as the eastern brews...she makes a mental note to talk to Wiley about another shipment from Booty Bay. Bits and pieces of thoughts came into her head as the warm ale works its way down her throat...

...The reports from the Ha'gosh had been discussed, and the work at Stonard had begun. The new crop of Grots showed some promise, they seemed better prepared to survive then some of those in the past. That was encouraging as it would make the training go more smoothly. Now that Dakini was promoted, some of the burden could be spread more...the war machines at the scar needed new wood, and the chains greased...

Pikki put her feet up on the desk, glanced out the window and watched the hawks circle above the tower, her mind swirling with the air currents that carried the raptors to their prey.

"...an' now dis son...who was 'e, anyways, 'e seemed bright enough, a rogue by trade, so 'e 'ad street smarts...better den book learnin by a long shot...well, sooner we get dis done da better..."

She leaned forward again, her elbows on the desk. She pulled a blank sheet of parchement from the pile and began to write...

"Training for Son of Krom'gosh..."