Deep within the sunken marshes of the Swamp of Sorrows a warhorn blasts, bats and crows fly up and out from the treetops sending muck and feathers down into the dirt below. Again the horn sounds, it's deep echo rumbles through the trees and reeds, causing toads jump from their stones and caustic slimes to ooze. The sound bounces into the worg pens, and the Grot holes, up into the sky and down deep into the Marsh.

Stonard calls to it's own.

Within the spiked wooden walls of Stonard the horn blows once more.

Worg Riders barrel into the clearing past sprinting Grots, whose arms overflow with lumber and fur, axes and knives, skins and meat, and past lines of Grunts, forming into columns and rows. The Worg Pens now busting at the sides with it's hungry demons, as black as coal, teeth sharp and ready to tear at flesh and crunch bone. A sharp whistle pierces the air, louder and clearer than any horn or howl. The camp stops, Grots dropping their lumber, and wares, Riders sending their Worgs to the pens without a tying them up, and Grunts, ready for war, march in line to the southern tent, where the whistle's maker stands.

Warchief of the Blacktooth Grin clan, Xandru Revantusk steps into the damp, sickening mist of the Swamp of Sorrows. Grot lines straighten their posture and presence as the Troll plods slowly into the cool night air, his one eye looking out from under his helm enflamed, "Where is the Dreamseer?"

Xandru's gaze looks out into the formation in front of him, yet from his side the Dreamseer appears. Xibalbah, Seer of Dreams, and Speaker of Bones, steps out from the mist, "Warchief," she salutes him, "What is de' problem?"

Xandru scowls,"Me rest been cut short," his eye narrowing beneath his helm,"Why?"

"Oh?" The Dreamseer replies, searching the Troll's face for his meaning.

"Tell me what de' bones say" He says, calmly.

Xibalbah nods, and pulls a small snakeskin pouch from her side, she squats and motions for a Grot to bring the stack of lumber he had dropped nearby and build a fire. She loosens the pouch string and shakes the contents into an outstretched hand, small bones rattle against one another and settle slowly. Xandru watches, his breath slow and steady. She closes her palm and eyes, and begins to murmur in low rhythmic tones. Holding her fist toward her chest, her lips, and then raises it to the sky before casting the bones in a graceful, practiced arc before her. Miniature bones that look like they could have come from an infant gnome scatter on the mud-caked earth. Xibalbah emits a low hiss as the bones roll to a stop, a long slender bone prominently astride a fat pear-shaped bone, she looks back at Xandru with a mixture of horror and fierce anger, "Dis' be ominous news, Warchief."

Xandru growls, and says slowly, "What does it mean?" Xibalbah emits a deep sigh with a shake of her head as she reaches forward and plucks an oddly shaped bone with two fingers to hold up before those assembled. The Warchief glares at the bone, his eyes speak of anger and confusion.

"Dis' be death and destruction... an army vast and merciless..." Xibalbah leans forward and blows on the fire, rekindling the embers. Cherno, the boss Grot peers through his helmet at the bone, his muddy shovel sunk into the dirt at this side. An Elven Grot, Hanahiel, also looks at the bone, pulling her hood back to get a better view."Dat' marches across many lands, leaving scorched earth in it's wake.. and bones... so many bones.." Her words cause Xandru to squint again at the bones, as a fly buzzes past his head and settles upon Axil's. The Undead Grunt adjusts the zoom on his goggles, and watches it as the fly swirls around him. A strong backhand hits the fly as Gorelikk, an Orcish Grot looks to Axil and points his attention back to Xibalbah. The Dreamseer's eyes scrunch and her head rolls forward; suddenly her eyes snap open and turns toward Xandru. She plucks the pear shaped bone from the dirt and begins to turn it slowly in her fingers.

"Well? Who dey' be?" Xandru asks, his face now showing interest.

Axil collects himself with a second adjustment of his goggles; his liver spotted face edging closer to Gorelikk, "Careful... Grot." his attention refocusing on the Dreamseer.

Xibalbah points to minute fissures and pocks in the bone, as if they hold a deep meaning. "Dis army be lead by a mighty orc..." Xandru scowls, asshe holds the slender more oddly shaped bone in her other hand. "Da bones speak of Elf and Human corpses piled high in rivahs of blood."

"Dis' ain't bad fo'ar us, eh?" Xandru chuckles to himself.

Xibalbah stands in silence, and holds the bone up for all to see as her finger swirls around the bulb at the end, "Dis ends wit' orc blood!" she cries,"And wit' orc bones!"

The Warchief's lip curls up over his teeth exposing sharp yellowed fangs, his eyebrows furrowing as a growl rumbles up out of his chest.

"Da' bones don' lie, mon'," She says, "Dis' will not be fought against Alliance alone, mark Xibalbah's words!" Axil scratches a liver spot on his scalp as he attempts to digest the Dreamseer's words, Hanahiel pulls her hood back over her head, and Xibalbah kneels down and plucks another bone from the dirt. She stands and extends an open palm toward Xandru, "Dis' bone..." she begins as he reaches toward the bone as if to take it. "It be showin' dire news, Warchief... all dat' Xibalbah said will come to pass." Xandru's eye meets hers, "Da' mighty Orc marchin' against da' Grin." Alustriel eyes the bone with mild interest and yawns, Cherno bonks her in the head with his shovel.

"A name Xibalbah, give me a name." Xandru's voice harsh and clear.

Xibalbah's eyes narrow as she shakes her head. "Da' bones do not work dat' way. Dey' reveal da' message, but it be up to us to fill in da' details..." She searches his face, "But it can only mean one t'ing, mon," Xandru lifts an eyebrow, still listening, "You know our reports...de' Loa whisperin' it now too. Dat' Garrosh, E' turnin' his sights on de' Grin."

"Hellscream?" Xandru's voice now rumbling with rage. Xibalbah nods emphatically, Cherno clenches his fist stretching his leather gloves, and Axil stops picking his nose."Betrayer!" Xandru roars! "GRIN!" he turns to the Clan, rows upon rows of Orcs and Trolls, Goblins and Tauren, Elves, Undead, and Pandaren. "MAKE READY THE DOGS OF WAR! WE RIDE FOR ORGRIMMAR!"

Xibalbah picks up her bones and lovingly pours them back into the snakeskin pouch.

Xandru climbs astride his Worg, and turn back to the camp, he pulls his blade from it's sheath and holds his arm up into the air, "FEAR DA' GRIN!"

To be continued...