Mudbrain crept quietly through the gates of desolation hold. Thoughts of the night before played through his head. He could still taste the blood, though it had long been used up. But moreover, the sorrow at how much he'd fallen captive to his peculiar condition.

Shadowstrype laid defeated before Mudbrain's massive figure, a tail of blood across the Nagrand grass. "Can't know secret," Mudbrain had said. In sadness he prepared to end Shadowstrype's life to protect what he'd hidden from everyone.

Mudbrain considered how fortunate he was that he'd been able to work out an agreement. He really did like the newly promoted grunt. He chagrined himself for revealing the true method behind both his abnormal size, and near limitless stamina in combat. But it had all turned out for the best. Now he could feed the constant urge. What had once been a desperate measure to escape captivity, was now a desperate fight to maintain the very integrity of his body.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he nearly tripped over something on the ground. The smell of it, yes, Shadow had done well with this delivery. And just in time. He could feel his body begin to shrink inside his armor, his strength fading. He checked to make sure he wasn't seen, then knelt down to get a better look. Yes, he had seen the grot just two days ago. From the looks of it, the miserable little goblin had suffered a fatal wound during training. So much the better, he hated having to use live ones. He pulled a small knife from inside a space in his gauntlet and opened the corpses chest, then placing his hand in the opening, began to draw it's blood into his body. As the transfer took place, he could feel his power returning. His body grew once again, growing so massive that his armor began to groan and crack, barely containing his mass. Having gotten his fill, he produced several flasks, which he filled with the remaining blood. Satisfied with his work, he reanimated the corpse and sent it off into the barrens wilderness, to avoid it being found.

Yes, he though, good arrangement.

((These events are prior to Mud’s special delivery, some things may be graphic, viewer discretion is advised))

Hours after his near fatal duel with Mudbrain, ShadowStrype contemplates his options. As he lays in a bed in Thunderbluff with a druid healer tending his wounds, he formulates his plan. After resting through the night, he sets out to make a new friend.

His target, one of the newer grots, was perfect for his needs. The grot was where he knew he would be, just on the outskirts of Ratchet near the gallows behind Ironzar’s Imports. He was with a few other goblins; they were playing dice for golds. In stealth on the rooftop, he watched as the target's purse got fat and knew it was time to make his move. Moving across the roof and stepping onto the building's sign, he jumps to the second-floor balcony with little to no noise. He approaches the group, (making sure to step heavier as other Sin’dori would). Silent greetings and nods go out to all in attendance. As he steps up he asks to play a few rolls. While playing he buys some alcohol for all in attendance; as he pours the glasses he dips a poison laced finger in each mug. Several glasses later the toxin has built up enough to put the attended to sleep.

As Shadow places the target into his sidecar, a familiar voice is heard near the gallows. Walking from behind Ironzar’s, he greets Xandu. “What brings you out here?” he asks. "I was looking for an enchantment for this weapon I recently 'acquired'," was Xandu's response. After a bit of small talk and an enchantment, Xandu flies off north and Shadow goes back to business.

Now on the bike, he walks it forward so it rolls down the hill a ways before starting it up and motoring off towards the Hold. As he gets closer to the Hold he stops at the top of one of the nearby hills and positions the goblin so his neck was rests on the sidecar's outer wall. With a swift kick to the back of the goblin's head, he crushes its windpipe. He throws the body down the hill, allowing it to tumble and roll the whole way down. Leaving the broken body where it lands a meal is made ready for the Death Knight.

Pikki shuffled more papers...endless papers, reports, supply lists, surveys, letters...if she had her druthers, she would torch them all. She needed to get to Orgrimmar and post a new recruit notice, the grot ranks had shrunk, the grunts needed more fodder. She looked over the recent grot list, her finger trailing down the names scribbled on the slip of parchment and stopped.

"...Rickzak....hmm..."

She frowned, thinking of the scrawney goblin she had felt compelled to allow to try for ranking in the Grin. Her cousin's whelp - the one relative she could still stomach, barely - didn't show much promise, but she had designs on training him to serve, helping to keep things straight and organized. She swore silently thinking he had skipped out. Being exposed to the hard life in the Barrens had turned aspiring outcasts before, wouldn't be the first time. Her finger continued it's path down the paper - she noticed one or two others that had disappeared...

"...well, we can't 'ave dem just showin and runnin - no way ter build an army..."

She tosses the paper aside and picks up another, a supply list for building materials for Stonard, and sighs... a fleeting daydream glimpse of sneaking through Stormwind and slitting the throat of an SI:7 sentry fades with a hot breeze from the window. She makes a mental note to talk to Mudbrain about making more of an effort to retain the new grots, and to keep an eye out for the goblin Rickzak. She would rather not have to try to explain anything to her excitable cousin.