The Fate of The Warchief

by The Blessed One

Chapter 9: The Summit of Worlds

North Ponyville Outskirts, Early Dusk

"Oh, buck me!" Nightshade exclaimed out of pure exasperation. When the orc, two pegasi, and unicorn filly arrived on scene, they all were met with a spectacle that certainly didn't match the description of a word that Garrosh had been informed would be the very definition of this meeting: Secret. They looked like they had just gotten there, but at first sight there appeared to be at least a dozen frantic-looking figures on scene that definitely did not look like they belonged there. Dinky Doo, not extensively noticing any of this, had steadily perked up the courage to try and curtail Nightshade's foul language.

"Mom says we aren't supposed to say those bad words!" She suddenly accused her, to which Nightshade gave her a deadpanned expression that was even discernible through the visage of her newly-donned flight goggles and retorted.

"...Hate to burst that bubble around you, kid, but life's full of dirty things, including other ponies' mouths; get used to it." Her entire statement bore a sickeningly apathetic and cynical ring to it. Dinky just gave her a frown and looked away with a indignant "hmph!"

"Enough!" Announced the orc upon which she sat. "We've larger problems than this juvenile argument." Then, the one voice of the group left yet to sound off joined them.

"Agreed, enough observation and evaluation; assume an anti-riot stance." Commanded Wave Chill with his usual drone. Nightshade merely scoffed, shrugged, and slowly proceeded down the other side of shallow incline they'd treaded to enter the area.

The trespassers didn't appear to be active; in fact, they seemed to be trying to keep out of the sight of anyone in the rendezvous tent by hiding amongst the shrubbery near the border of the clearing, and judging by the lack of activity or response from anyone inside, they seemed to be trying successfully. Most were stallions, but a few were mares. Garrosh hadn't the slightest clue what they might be there for: Were they vandals? Pranksters? Protesters? Rebels? He couldn't even begin to deduce why they were there. All he could make out was their appearances and wares. For starters, they all were wearing hats of some kind; not a single one of their heads was bare. Garrosh also hadn't the slightest clue what these hats were called. From what he could tell, there were two types of hats: One was notably similar to a farmer's hat, only it looked more compact with the placement of a much smaller brim. The other type was something unlike anything he'd ever had seen on someone's head before. What it looked like was some sort of baggy cap/helmet that gave the wearer a lopsided silhouette; it was quite a different article of clothing. Garrosh then turned to the only other things he could see, their wares. He didn't know if these were weapons or not, but each one had in their possession a black, box-like apparatus of different size and shape each time either slung around their necks or standing in front of them on three stilts. To him, they had to be some kind of projectile weapon, because all of them had them pointed directly at the rendezvous tent. Garrosh, seeing how this could be no other case, instinctively began looking for potential cover from where he stood, not only for his own safety but for Dinky's as well. He had just seen that there was basically no place to take cover from bullets or lasers or anything these weapons fired except for the virtually false protection offered by a nearby tree, when the unexpected, unthinkable, and horribly dreaded happened just the way he didn't want it to.

"Hey!" One of the wide-eyed insurgents suddenly yelled out, causing every one of their heads to turn simultaneously in the direction of his pointing hoof. "It's him! It's Warchief!" Instantly, the dull chattering they were making grew into loud beckoning, calling, and cheering as the entire group of renegades frantically moved desperately towards the orc, the winged ponies among them quickly gaining the lead. The two bolts who were soon to be caught in the middle and overtaken by all this attempted to rush forward to deter them in some way, but it was plain to see, even by Wave Chill who insisted on doing everything by the book, that you simply couldn't orchestrate an effective anti-riot squad given only two individuals. Nightshade managed to shove a few of them down, but they mindlessly rose back up and just kept on going. Chill even got his legs taken out from under him at one point. Garrosh couldn't understand why at the time, but he then heard a giggle very clearly from Dinky who was sitting in his hand watching all of this ensue. Garrosh was a trifle grateful for this giggle, for it reminded him that he need to keep her safe no matter what was about to happen. He wasn't about to let a group of rabid ruffians endanger her after he'd pulled her from hellish flames! He was just about to tuck her into his arms as he'd done that day when the first initial strike happened. Through the noise of the approaching rabble, he heard a muffled but distinct mechanical click and shudder, accompanied by a near-blinding flash of light.

"Damn!" He reflexively shouted as he flinched, tucked the filly away, and dove for the false safety of the tree, naturally convinced that what he'd just seen was the muzzle flash of a somehow suppressed rifle shot, and that the frenzied mob was literally trying to kill him! It was as he was getting to cover with the filly in-hand that he heard many more mechanical shudders of the same sort as the first. Somehow, these simple-minded and peaceful creatures had invented a more compact version of the Kor'kron battle rifle, and they were firing them at him nonstop! This was it; This was where he was going to make his stand. If they wanted his blood, and were going to try and harm Dinky to get it, then he vied to make as many of them suffer as possible before he went down. "If this is to be my end, then I will meet it covered in the blood of my enemies!" His mind screamed in a final proclamation. Bottom line: He was not going down without a fight. He readied himself, steeling himself for what needed to be done. Any moment, any moment now they would all come barreling around that tree at once to swarm him mercilessly; he just had to be ready, and he might just make it out of this alive.

"I don't know why we're hiding from them; they just wanna take our picture." Came Dinky's voice suddenly from within his arms. She said something that Garrosh could not comprehend. What picture did he have that they wanted, and why were they shooting at him over it?

"What?" Asked the profoundly confused orc.

"They're just snapping our pictures." She explained matter-of-factly; this didn't seem to help him that much.

"..."

"...You know, with cameras?"

"What the hell is a camera, and how did they already have a picture of me?" These were some of the questions on his painfully troubled mind. Garrosh was sick to death of the last five days of his decidedly miserable life consisting of nothing but him not understanding things. He didn't even have another second to complain over this however, for right when he realized that the mob in question, for some reason, had not yet come barreling around both sides of the tree, did both he and Dinky hear the voice of Wave Chill shout very loudly: "HALT!"

Dinky frivolously hopped down from Garrosh's arms and made her way blithely around the tree trunk to see what was happening, much to the Warchief's unending worry.

"Dinky, w..." was all he could whisper out before he lost sight of her; having enough of this defensive behavior, he took the initiative to peek around the corner. From there, he saw a very abnormal turn of events ensue. Dinky was right next to him still standing up against the trunk of the tree whilst watching and listening to both Wave Chill and Nightshade, who both had landed themselves between these apparent "fame seekers" and the Warchief's current position, goggles down and wings extended.

"By order of Princess Celestia--" He was briefly cut off as Nightshade butted in without even so much as looking to her side.

"And Princess Luna..." She added. Giving a quick grunt, Chill grudgingly continued.

"And Princess Luna, the Warchief and his escorts are to remain undisturbed until otherwise decreed; please remove yourselves from this premises." He issued out, the results of which being less than positive.

"And just who the hay are you?" One of the ponies on the front lines with a farmer-like hat and some kind of strange neck-ware lashed out. To his credit, Chill gave an unbiased response.

"Wave Chill, Wonderbolts Acting-Captain." It only took a half second for the same one to respond in the same tone as before.

"Who do you think you are? Spitfire?" It was when he said this that the rest of his crowd behind him upstarted in agreed protest. Garrosh mentally debated stepping out of cover and standing up for his own pathway, but he really wanted to see how things would pan out for these two. Just then, a few more crony voices behind the lead offender could clearly be heard.

"Yeah! Who are you to deny the public's eye?!" The flashes of these "cameras" started showing again as they tried desperately to catch a good picture of "Warchief" from behind the obscuring tree.

"I wanna see some I.D.!"

Wave Chill huffed intolerantly.

Come on! We wanna see the monster!"

Nightshade's right eye twitched violently.

"Let us by, you thugs!"

Garrosh and Dinky continued to observe intently.

"We don't gotta take this! there's just two of 'em! Come on, boys! Let's pass 'em!" Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and it was in this slow moment that Garrosh, in his intent observation, noticed something critical that made him crack a smile: There appeared to be two, small, heavily sewn eyelets in each wrist of Nightshade's flight suit, and her readied fetlocks looked slightly and unnaturally bulkier by comparison than any other equine's around. The Warchief didn't need to be told what was to come next.

"Clever girl..."

Without the tiniest inkling of warning, Nightshade lunged forward to snatch the lead offender's neck-ware in one hoof, yank him forward at full-force, and deliver a debilitating blow to his snout with her other hoof, snapping his head backwards with frightful speed. With the force of that punch, Garrosh wouldn't have been surprised if his nose came out the other side of his head; it certainly had no trouble knocking his hat clean off. The postal mare didn't stop there; Garrosh knew she wouldn't. She used the forward momentum of the clearly unconscious stallion to perform what looked like a roundhouse kick maneuver to plant both her hind hooves firmly onto his falling rump, and used this to effectively launch herself into the air towards two of his associates who stood behind him now in initial shock. Arms extended outwardly as though a veteran savannah huntress of The Barrens, she was about to see to it that these poor fools never stood a chance. In mid-air, there was heard by all the unmistakable metallic sound of blades unsheathing as she hit both her marks without fail. As soon as she'd made contact with the two baggy-capped ingrates, it was still only known by Garrosh that she had drawn two pairs of hidden, stainless steel "hoof blades" right from her sleeves and was now poised to reek gruesome and irreparable carnage upon her prey. Through a series of undeniably well-trained movements, she was able to slash both of their chests deeply, one across the right cheek liberally, the other in decisive locations on the flank so as to maximize the level of pain experienced but as not to cause certain death. There was an immaculate amount of style and finesse to be had in her fighting technique; it was as if she'd been practicing for months for this exact situation. With her feats nearly accomplished, and her foes positioned perfectly within hoof range on either side of her, she enacted her finale by giving one mighty swoop of her wings to propel herself straight up into the air, and catching both stallions squarely in their jaws with a split kick of her hind legs. Her victims hit the ground before she did as she landed gracefully to assume a very theatrical, martial artistic stance without even looking out of breath. In only a mere couple of seconds, groans, and screams, she had uncontestedly incapacitated three fully-grown stallions and had made it look easy.

Garrosh, being the calculator that he is, knew precisely what kind of damage she had done to them as follows: Stallion one had a thoroughly broken nose, two black eyes, and possible further mental damage. Stallion two bore shallow cuts to his chest and left shoulder, a grotesque gash spanning his right cheek which would require much stitching, and a busted left jaw hinge. Stallion three had suffered deep cuts to only his chest which would prove fatal if left untreated, a crippling bout of injuries to his left side and flank, and of course, a busted right jaw hinge.

It was right about then that Garrosh realized that she'd done all of this without killing any of them, something that made her display far more difficult to match. "Perhaps Luna has ordered her not to kill anyone while under her." He thought.

Lifting up her angular goggles after these few short seconds, Nightshade looked around to see that everyone was wide-eyed and slack-jawed, but everyone was unfortunately still present, something that, by her decision, was soon to be addressed very simply.

"Need I say more?" Instantaneously after she asked this casual question, the whole group of fame seekers quickly and even more frantically dispersed without any further resistance. Nightshade, after smashing their three cameras, then retracted her assassin's blades and turned silently to step lightly past her three writhing victims to assume her previous position beside an admittedly dumbfounded Wave Chill. "You can come out now, you stupid lug head!"

"I must admit, that was quite impressive; perhaps you ponies have hope after all." He said, ignoring her pathetic jab at him as he scooped an excited Dinky up in his arms again. When Dinky was on his shoulders again, she whispered something that he guessed was more to herself than anyone else.

"That was so awesome... I've gotta tell Scootaloo!" First a "Cheerilee," now a "Scootaloo," he decided he was going to ask about it this time.

"What is a Scootaloo?" The Warchief suddenly asked, taking Dinky by surprise.

"Oh! Um, Scootaloo's one of my friends at school; she gets into stuff like that, that and Rainbow Dash." Rainbow Dash, he knew that name. It was the name of the first pegasus he'd ever fought; the one who showed her loyalty and courage that day and saved her friends. If the princesses adhered to his requests, then he would be dining with her and her friends very soon. Not wanting focus too harshly on the subject, he instead turned his ear to the unlikely conversation between Wave Chill and Nightshade, and found that it was indeed more of an argument than a conversation.

"You could have handled that less drastically, you know." He spoke as though he were debriefing her as a superior, to which the Shadowbolt quickly replied.

"Oh... You mean like standing there like you did? Please..."

"You could have done something that required a bit less bloodshed; we're escorts, not thugs." He shot back as he lifted his goggles up off his face, still maintaining his morose, robotic tone.

"Thugs? Really? I get things done... Without looking down my snout at everypony every two seconds; if that makes me a thug, then a thug I'm happy to be."

"You cast a poor reflection on the Princess' image." He berated her with slightly less of his robotic nature and more of a condescending one.

"Oh, Dear Luna! Why don't you just go choke on that little halo on your head?!" Having had more than enough of Chill's nitpicking debate, she increased her gate's speed to get away from him. Garrosh could plainly see that even though their two sovereigns claimed to be reunited, they themselves were still just a disjointed as ever, and he scarcely even wanted to imagine what could still be lurking between the three equine races. It reminded him a lot of himself and Vol'jin, something else he didn't even want to think about lest he lose his temper for no apparent reason to the outside world. As soon as they all reached the rendezvous point, Garrosh was quick to take note of a few certain prominent things.

This rendezvous tent was made exclusively for royalty; there was no doubt about that. The enormous thing was made mostly of thick ivory linens, and its trimmings were composed of yet more regal violet with small hints of a golden cloth woven expertly into it. Garrosh just knew the Royal Sisters were going to do something like this, but seeing it personally made him more angry than he thought it would. It nearly made him lose his enormous appetite thinking of how much of a peacock the sister of the sun was.

"Both princesses are just inside, Warchief. We are aware that you've requested the presence of both flight teams; Myself and Nightshade will attend if you still hold this request." Wave Chill stated with no emotion as per usual.

"I requested all who fought with me to attend this summit." Garrosh specified bluntly. Hesitantly, and after Nightshade gave a scoff, the two ponies began to step inside ahead of the orc as he himself scooped Dinky off of his shoulder and placed her on the ground. "Wait, Wave Chill." He said, catching the Wonderbolt's attention. As soon as he was sure that they were out of the other's earshot, he began speaking again; the last thing he wanted was for Nightshade to think that she could somehow use little Dinky against him. "...End of the ride, little one." He mumbled to Dinky as he contentedly stood back up with a stretch. Dinky, on the other hand, did not look so content.

"Aww! Why can't I go in with you?" She asked desperately with irresistible, shimmering eyes. Garrosh had well anticipated this, and was prepared to say no, even to a face such as hers.

"I must do this alone, Dinky. You must go home to your mother while there is still a faint remnant of light left; she's probably worried for you." Dinky hung her head, partially from dejection, and partially from guilt, but Garrosh was quick to try and lift her spirits. "I shall see you in a few hours." He confided to her softly. The Warchief then turned his attention to Chill, who was patiently waiting for whatever the orc had him standing around for. "Captain Wave Chill, I need you to take Dinky home to her mother; it is far too dangerous for a young one to travel these plains alone at dusk." Unexpectedly, Hellscream knelt down on one knee and put himself face to face with Chill. "I do hope I can trust you with this..." He challenged in a low tone of voice as he looked searchingly into his gloomy, gray eyes. Chill, knowing just how much of a challenge that just was to his integrity, responded accordingly.

"This will be done, Warchief." Momentarily losing his emotionless disposition, he answered as defiantly as he possibly could, which was to say fairly evident.

"Hmm..." Without another word, the orc stood back up to full height, broke eye-contact with the acting-captain, and started his few steps toward the tent, turning around to watch at its entrance. Chill lowered himself to the ground, stiffening his wing to allow Dinky to board his back, and she haphazardly did so.

"You'll have to tell me where you live." He said simply to Dinky, who didn't seem to mind.

"Don't worry, Mister Chill, we won't get lost." She reassured the increasingly uncomfortable Wonderbolt as he lowered his goggles and prepped to take flight.

"Hold on tight..." Was his only warning to the little unicorn as he took off into the darkening sky.

Garrosh was just about to take a deep breath and step inside when he heard Dinky call something back to him.

"Don't forget!" That was all the drive he would ever need to get through this imminent summit. Garrosh was not about to forget; his dinner with Ditsy and Dinky was far more important than whatever this meeting was or would be to him, but he had to go through with this to get it out of the way. He formed a mental note to remind him not to forget that he couldn't stay here for too long, for he had a blacksmith to see in the mountain city of... Canterlot. Garrosh took one last look at the steep mountain as well as the small rural town that he had, by some odd twist of fate, stumbled upon, before entering the summit.

---

"Welcome, Warchief Hellscream! My sister and I hope that this meeting will be to your liking." Princess Celestia announced in a soft and kind manner to bring the meeting to order. Garrosh barely even heard her voice as he was too busy looking at the inside of the tent. It was unbelievably beautiful, and it was much bigger than it looked on the outside, with royal guards lining the sides all the way to the corners. Looking upon this spectacle, even by his standards, he had to admit that he was rather impressed that they'd set all this up in only near of an hour and a half, even if it was just a large circus tent. However, what had stolen the rest of his attention was the table; it was not only made of a fine, shiny wood with silver plates and cups lining it all the way down, but the vast and veritable varieties of food placed on the table before him were almost literally endless! Ripe Fruit, steaming vegetables, freshly-baked bread, delectable-looking pies and cakes, delightfully frothy ale, sparkling red and white wines, and above all else, plentiful, succulent meat were all here and accounted for! It was a banquet fit for several kings and queens!

Garrosh still kept his relaxed, indifferent demeanor as he approached the table, despite the tempting mountain of heaven that lay in front of him. He calmly sat down at the end of the table that was farthest from Celestia and Luna, who were both sitting at the other end of the massive table right next to each other. Garrosh then looked to those who had attended, seeing if these equines had honored the agreement; they had. The first six he had run into, The Elements of Harmony, were taking up some of the left side of the table, and the Wonderbolts were also seated on that side as well, one of which was already stuffing his face full of one of the pies (You could probably guess who.) The nameless team's remnants however, were seated on the right side of the banquet table with the moon princess, every one of whom had already started eating. That aside, Garrosh was actually genuinely surprised that they had done all that he had asked; they had even gotten his meat onto the menu.

"I see all are here, good, very good." He said dully. Celestia gave him that same unsettling smile she did when they met as she elaborated on that.

"I did all within my power to make sure you would find this enjoyable, have I succeeded?" She seemed very overly-confident, almost arrogant, and Garrosh did not like that at all. He debated with himself how to answer her as he reached over to the plate that held a type of meat that he and his people very rarely got to eat: chicken. As he grabbed the plump bird and placed it down in front of him, he answered her evenly.

"It is to my liking, you have indeed succeeded with flying colors." He proclaimed, trying to build up her ego and make her more comfortable. His plan seemed to work, as he heard her let a small, self-satisfied titter escape her lips. Garrosh then without any further hesitation, dug into his chicken with reckless abandon. He heard a few groans and concealed retches, but the food was too well-prepared for him to pay them any solid mind. That was, until one of them muttered sullenly.

"...Hope ya enjoy that one, ya pig killer." Garrosh linked the voice and accent to the one pony in the room that had a hat on at the table. He took the biggest bite he could, swallowed as loudly as possible, and proceeded to call her out.

"You have something to say to me aloud, farmer, for I do believe we would all wish to hear it." He said with a semi intimidating tone. The farmer, for her part, only mumbled something before biting her tongue and turning away from him, hooves crossed. He wore a small smirk as he returned to his dinner, only for another pony to step up to the plate.

"Who do you think you are?! You can't order any of us around!" Came an outburst from Spitfire, who he just now saw was wearing a medical head band complete with some sort of ice pack. He was about to retort when Celestia did so for him.

"That will be enough of that, Captain." She spoke firmly but still softly. Garrosh briefly shot the mare an evil, mouth full grin as she was put irrevocably back in her place.

"Yes, Your Highness." She grumbled forcefully after a moment before allowing Celestia to continue.

"I trust your journey here proceeded... smoothly?" She asked, knowing full well that something violent had happened outside the tent just moments ago.

"...You could say that." Garrosh rather liked toying with her, giving her vague, undetailed answers.

"Warchief, if I may, should we begin the meeting now in earnest? Or do you wish to finish your meal before hoof?" Celestia asked him.

"Please, I did not summon you all here merely so that you could watch me dine, it is a feast for everypony after all." He said as he took a generous swig of the ale he'd just poured himself, getting into a very rare diplomatic mood. Thrall may have gone soft and pitiful on him in the end, but he still taught him a few things of the ways of an ambassador. Celestia nodded comprehensively to the rest at the table, and they all began to grab, and pass things to one another. The rest of the feasting part of the summit went by relatively uneventfully, as most of the ponies focused on talking with each other. No one bothered the orc as he continued his meal uninterrupted. Suddenly, one of the Wonderbolts' mares blurted something as Garrosh was finishing a very hefty sandwich he'd constructed using the bread, vegetables, and chicken.

"Hey! where the hay ith Wave? Hath anypony theen Wave?"

Garrosh quickly finished his last bite of food as the mare who asked was receiving shakes of heads from all around the table, even from the lunar side.

"Hmp, I hope you don't mind if he's a bit late; I sent him to see my little friend off home." He explained shortly before washing his sandwich down with yet more ale.

"Little friend?" Several of them asked, including Celestia. This was exactly the kind of question he was trying to avoid. He knew he would have to answer, but he also knew that as soon as he did, he would have to make it abundantly clear that he didn't want her any further involved in these politics.

"...A little unicorn filly whom I happened to pull from this village's town hall fire." As deftly as he appeared to have evaded the question, the fact that he was deliberately trying to keep from divulging her name was a bit too obvious, for one of them knew it.

"Oh, for pony's sake..." He vaguely heard Nightshade mumble to herself as he was taking another swig right before she did something he could have killed her for. "Her name's Dinky, Dinky Doo, and she lives on the north/east side of town with her single mother, Ditsy "Derpy" Doo. Her mother was delivering mail to the town hall with Dinky in tow when the building caught fire during our little scuffle." She explained in heavy detail as she sat back with a smug little grin on her face.

"Nightshade! hold your tongue." The voice of Luna rang out as the rest of the unnamed team members looked at the still cheesing pegasus with a look that came off as impressed, some of their mouths still stuffed full of the banquet's food. Slowly setting his mug of ale down on the table, Garrosh was sure everyone knew how much he furiously hated her at that very moment, for he was giving Nightshade a glare that could easily give any one of these ponies nightmares for the coming weeks; this was to say nothing of the finger marks he left on the mug before releasing it from his fuming grip. Celestia was not the only one to pick up on the fact that he adamantly didn't want Dinky's name or place of living to be brought to the front of conversation, but she was still the first to voice that she knew.

"We know what you're thinking, Warchief, and you needn't worry; We've no intention of even approaching her for any reason that you would want us to approach you for." She assured him with a voice like fine silk, but he was not quite convinced; he wasn't about to take any chances. It already didn't sit well with him that he had to ignore Nightshade's blatant shot at him through Dinky for the sake of the continuation of this meeting.

"Is her and her family's safety and protection guaranteed, Princess? I didn't pull her from roaring flame just so that your loyal dogs may endanger her again." He commented as he savagely ripped the left leg off the roast pig set before him as well as the "cactus apple" in its mouth.

"Of course not, we have pardoned them both of all involvement, remember?" Luna asked, referring to the time in the infirmary tent where she'd met Ditsy and commended her for bravery. Garrosh, remembering it well, nodded to her in confirmation of such. Bringing the hog's leg to his plate and looking at the "cactus apple" in his hand, he realized just how ornately, skillfully, and carefully everything had been prepared, especially the meat. Taking a large bite of the leg and taking a moment to savor it, he decided to use this realization as a means of changing the subject.

"I wager it's safe to assume that you creatures do not normally partake in eating or preparing meat, yes?" Though his statement seemed to come out of nowhere, all present knew that it would come up eventually.

"Not usually, and we certainly never eat it; our stomachs cannot digest such things." Luna was the first to explain, and her sister was soon to carry the conversation in a direction for which Garrosh had been planning.

"Why do you ask, Warchief? It isn't ill-prepared, is it?" The collected alicorn asked, masterfully keeping up a mask of worry on her face.

"It's perfectly cooked... And well-seasoned..." The Warchief once again used this to his advantage. "...Which begs the question: How have you accomplish such a fine work of art if I'm to believe you lack personal experience with carnivorous diets?" To this, the Sun Goddess cracked an engaged smile as Garrosh was starting to think she'd anticipated such a question. Giving her signature titter, she responded.

"Why Warchief! Whoever said we lacked experience? Quite to the contrary really, we've had long for our professional chefs to gather much experience due to the customary needs of some of our surrounding nations' ambassadors." The orc knew this was a very clever being and that she'd just set a tempting trap, but to what extent, he knew not. The one thing he knew for sure, was that the proverbial battle lines had just been drawn. Seeing no other option laying before him, his next move had to be: Spring the trap.

"Surrounding nations?" The Warchief inquired cautiously.

"Of course! There are many nations that lie across the seas at the borders of this continent, and there are many of which who's inhabitants consume meat as commonly as we here consume hay..." She carried such wisdom as she spoke, perhaps Garrosh should have started believing that she and Luna had been alive for thousands of years earlier. "...the most frequent tourists and politicians to visit here being the griffons and minotaurs." Garrosh was just taking another bite from his boar leg when she said that last part, and it took him quite some effort not to choke on it right then and there.

"Griffons?! Minotaurs?! What is this place that even griffons have humanoid intelligence?! And minotaurs! Did she mean tauren? Is this place really all that different from Azeroth apart from the horse creatures?" His mind overflowed and ran over with an uncontrollable host of brand-new curiosities. The sentence she just spoke unto him brought with it so many more unanswered questions, but Hellscream knew he'd have to settle for finding out most in due time, lest he make an ignorant, foolish child of himself in front of this so-called royalty, especially during this little game he was playing. Inwardly calming himself, He approached this new revelation minimally. "Minotaurs? As in 'tauren?'"

"Well, I suppose you could call them that, though, I don't know how they'd react." She chatted idly before shooting him a question of her own. "Why do you ask, Warchief? Do you happen to recognize their kind?" She asked with a notable level of intrigue. Now he'd gone and done it. He knew she was eventually going to ask where he was from, and with all that that implied, he could be stuck here all night; he didn't have all night. Still, he opted to hold out as long as possible before she did ask, and replied as vaguely as he could.

"I do not yet know, Princess, but by your description, they seem to be a bit..." Just then, something off to Garrosh's left attracted his attention. "...familiar..." His eyes automatically averted to see what it was. To his surprise, the one who was nearest him (which is to say fairly far away) was scribbling away on what appeared to be a notebook with some sort of writing implement pinched between her hoof as fast it looked like she could, and judging by the considerable clump of pages she had tucked behind the notebook, she'd been doing this for a while now. Looking directly at her as the silence dragged on, one by one gaining everyone else's attention, he suddenly recognized her as the fledgling magus with whom he'd first sparred at the whimsical cottage on his first day here, and still as the silence dragged on, she kept on jotting things down on her notepad with tremendous speed, blissfully oblivious to the fact that she was now the star of the table. The pinkish imp, exaggeratedly clearing her throat, decided to rescue her friend from her ignorance by giving the engrossed mage a gentle nudge with her elbow to bring her out of her captivating note-taking as quickly as possible. She looked up at the pink one as if to say, "What was that for?" before whipping her head to where her fellow element was subtly pointing. What she saw made her visibly jump, for staring quizzically back at her with those same piercing yellow eyes as from before, was the very behemoth about whom she was undoubtedly writing. As the two made eye-contact, Garrosh never said a word, and what had started for her as a sudden jump-scare, gradually transformed into a creeping and unbearable embarrassment as the poor magus' face steadily turned more and more red. After a few excruciatingly awkward seconds, the humiliated alicorn forced out a degraded, bashful, and mistaken chuckle (The kind one makes when one has been found to have made a terrible slip-up) before very quickly hiding her notebook from sight and attempting sorely to account for what she was just doing.

"Ehehe.... Sorry, I was just, uh... documenting this meeting's dialog... yeah, don't mind me." She stammered as she gave a shy, unsteady wave with her hoof. Unpurchased, unpurchased at best, Garrosh didn't believe her for a second; she was clearly studying him, not that this made all that angry. Still, he decided to take this opportune moment to toy with her.

"You need not apologize, Magus; I was merely observing you as much you were observing me." He admitted as he aloofly leaned back in his seat, causing her to become an impossibly deeper shade of crimson as she bit down on her lip. Swiveling her head briskly from side to side, she then realized that by now everyone was silently and blankly staring at her, even the unnamed bolts and Celestia. With sweat rapidly beading on her tensed brow, the poor scholar looked as though she could keel over from the sheer embarrassment at any moment, but as a sudden saving grace for her, it came to her attention that he had just referred to her as "Magus."

"Oh! Um... Twilight, Twilight Sparkle." She uttered as a last ditch attempt to shed the intense scrutiny she'd just gotten. Unfortunately for her, Garrosh had no idea what she had just said.

"...What?" The Warchief asked after few passing seconds as he kept his eyes locked on her, a perplexed expression already spread across his features.

"It's my name... Twilight Sparkle, student of Princess Celestia." She explained simply appearing to show a hint of pride at that last statement, seeming to be convalescing smoothly after her unpreferred introduction, her face already having lost most of its previous reddish tint. That was, at least, until another one of her fellow elements whom Garrosh immediately recognized as the one who fainted on-scene before the first battle leaned over past the pink one to whisper something in her ear. "Oh!" She exclaimed as though she'd missed something that was staring her in the face. Her blush resumed , and becoming more bashful by the minute, she then revised her title.

"Um, Princess Twilight Sparkle..." Garrosh felt like rolling his eyes, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little surprised. The primary reason that her being a princess was a tad surprising was not only because she didn't look that much like the two others (especially seeing as how she wasn't even sitting next to one of them,) but also due to the fact that she was literally useless as one. If Celestia was the "Goddess of the Sun" and Luna was the "Goddess of the Moon", where did that leave this awkward magus?

"Perhaps she is the one of the stars; it would seem befitting to her name and mark." He contemplated, getting a bit more interested as he formulated his next question.

"If the sun and moon both have their caretakers, then what is it that you represent?" He asked, amazingly succeeding in hiding any form of mockery in his tone. Twilight swiftly opened her mouth to respond to his semi-philosophical question, but reluctantly closed it soon after. Twilight then repeated this series of motions once more before finally speaking, all the while rubbing her lavender hooves together in a obvious sign of sheepishness.

"Well... we- I mean, I don't actually know... yet." She admitted with a hint of shame in her voice. She was about to continue, but Garrosh intended to spare her the considerable pain. Instead, he did something he had seen Thrall do dozens of times at his summits: Effortlessly turn the pain and scrutiny of conversation onto another, more important target.

"Should one of these co-ruling alicorns not have informed you of your role in royal society?" The orc asked, looking Celestia dead in the eyes before cruelly adding more to his question. "...or the lack thereof?" The regal white princess was just opening her mouth to patiently explain her answer when Garrosh's masterful scheme was all but ruined by yet another bystander, That so-called "bystander" being the bizarre, pink demon upon whom he'd yet to exact his revenge.

"She does too! She has a role! She's the Princess of Friendship, silly!" The demon blithely cheered. The damned thing seemed to have no indoor voice whatsoever, and as far as her statement went, Garrosh almost thought he did roll his eyes. The Princess of Friendship? This was a civilization that entitled one of their own leaders as the keeper of a worthlessly petty ideal?! Now he was sure he'd heard everything! Perhaps the next "princess" he would meet would be one of gluttony or of fear! All of this and much, much more were cycling through his head like an insufferably warped parade, nearly causing him to start scowling profusely, but remembering some of the words The Great Mother had spoken unto him, he caught himself at the very last moment. What little interest in these creatures' customs he'd managed to accumulate was now gone, and it would take quite a lot to bring it back. "I'm Pinkie Pie by the way, nice to meet you, Mr. Orc!" Garrosh just sat there staring at her fizzy, grinning form, blinking several times in torpid confusion. He didn't have much time to comprehend just how dumb such a name was though, for she unexpectedly continued; She also seemed to know what he was thinking at that very second. "I'm sorry about the whole 'shooting myself at you' thing, but now that we know you're not a really big meany, I won't ever have to do that again. We can all be friends!"

"..............!" Garrosh's blood froze in his veins as he searched his ears back a moment and heard the word, that one, key word. "How did she know I was an orc!? I never disclosed my race's name to anyone but Ditsy and Dinky!" Garrosh was somewhat unnerved at this new problem, yet he was not the first to speak up about it. Even Celestia, much to his surprise, was beaten to the punch by someone who must have caught it at the precise same time.

"Wait a moment... Pinkie Pie dear, what is an... 'Orc?'" Asked the pampered-looking mare who had fainted at the mere sight of him back at the cottage settlement. Her accent, tone, and voice was one of the strangest things he had ever heard in his life; no creature on Azeroth had ever sounded like that. Though, it almost sounded like it could have been a severely heavy-handed, aristocratic blood elven inflection. She quickly continued, realizing she'd forgotten something. "Why! Where are my manners? I am Rarity: Element of Generosity, and may I just say, it is pleasure to make somepony of your stature's acquaintance, darling. A new species in Equestria! What could be more exciting?" She finished prattling with an feminine giggle and a radiant, flashy smile. Though she struck him mostly as just another showboating peacock, Garrosh was still not fully certain on what to make of her; he would still need to keep an eye on this "Element of Generosity" for a bit longer before coming to any ultimate conclusions.

"Silly Rarity, that's what he is; he's an orc!" Pinkie Pie chirped, not at all bothered by the many looks of confusion she was receiving, or by the fact that she knew what she was happily explaining spontaneously. "Look at him and you'll be able to tell: For starters, he's ginormous, then look at his teeth, and he has no fur! All those point to one thing: Orc!" The certifiable pink creature finished her observations with a smile as wide as half of her entire face. Looking at this hellish, carefree harlequin, Garrosh wanted nothing more than to reach over and smack that stupid grin right off the demonic pony's face.

Yet, even after the final fortifications of his limits had been tested so, still he remained calm and diplomatic. Thrall would most assuredly be envious, but after remembering that he and Princess Celestia were basically at war with one another at this dinner table, it wasn't a terribly difficult feat. "Well said, Pink one, well said, but for all your calculated musings, you left out one decisive detail:" He started to lean over the table towards her as he spoke. "If you know of orcs, then where are we from?" It was over; he had won, for there was no possible way that she could know anything of this.

Leaning forward as well and narrowing her eyes to Level equally with her apparent challenger, Pinkie Pie put both her hooves to her head in an awkward position and stuck her tongue out in over-exaggerated thought, looking as though she were mentally fumbling to form a cohesive answer, but incredibly, she did answer the Warchief with her usual beaming smile in only a few short seconds. "Well, you're brown, so...." All at the table, even Celestia and the already leaning Warchief leaned in closer to hear what the pink ball of fur was about to proclaim. Incredulously, Garrosh was beginning to think she was onto him. "That means your from..." She paused, undoubtedly for dramatic affect. "...The desert outlands!"

"... Impossible..." This was the only word Garrosh's mind seemed able to resonate, and the orc-in-denial was the only one to remain silent as he leaned back into his seat, utterly defeated. By the time Garrosh's back had hit his seat rest, nearly all at the table had joined in an uproar, wondering madly why Pinkie's answer had such an affect on the orc. While the other members of the table apart from the two overwhelmed lead princesses were all begging him to tell them what and/or which of their planet's desert outlands he was from, he silently persisted in his stupor, staring straight at Pinkie Pie, who stared straight back at him, and winked mischievously. "I... lost..." He could have sworn he heard himself mumble through the burdensome ongoing noise.

The next thing Pinkie Pie did was yell "Quiet!" to the overly excited crowd. Huffing comically, She then leaned forward again, motioning toward Garrosh; he knew damned well what she wanted him to do and what she wanted him to say, and he did not want to do it. He was not going to do it. He would not stand for it! Right then and there he vowed not to show any further signs that he had lost anything to such a pathetic, lowly, pitiful creature, especially in front of the pious sun goddess who he could tell was just itching to see him writhe and bend before her will. It was in the midst of the host of his boiling mental tantrums and stewings that he suddenly conjured a new plan; it wasn't much, but he was sure it would work. It had to work! The only thing that needed to be done was to stall them with themselves until either they'd forgotten about that horridly loaded question, or it was far enough into this dinner that he get by excusing himself from it, leaving them only with a brief synopsis of where he came from. It appeared positively fool-proof, so Garrosh put it into effect.

"You were only half correct, my little pink friend." He chided whilst failing to hold back the ill-intended venom in his response, which strangely enough was lost on the still-grinning equine. All at the table, especially Celestia, were waiting impatiently with baited breath for the cryptic orc to continue.

"It seems the whole of my stalling has thus far come to an end." Garrosh was sure that some (especially the magus) were just short of salivating in anticipation of his long awaited explanation; pity for them that they were not about to get it right away. "But," The fact that at just the mere mentioning of the word changed some of their facial expressions for the more discouraged (once again, especially the magus') made Garrosh crack a small grin of his own. "...You all will need to tell me of your names, titles, and perhaps even a bit about yourselves if you wish before I tell you anything of my realm and world." As expected, most of the insistent members of the summit seemed to relax a little at the prospect of an info trade, some of them even gaining a look of pure awe that he said the word "world." "I demand only to know with whom I share my stories. What say you?" He offered, looking back up to the two lead alicorns. He knew he didn't have to ask, for he knew they couldn't possibly refuse him and risk never knowing. After a brief amount of no-doubt cunning consideration, Celestia was the first to finally confirm agreement to him.

"...A fair and understandable trade, dear Warchief, very well." She spoke charmingly. Then, as if to further elaborate on her sister's answer, Luna chimed in warmly.

"Of course, 'tis the least we could do." One by one, and two by two, everyone at the table reluctantly agreed. Garrosh couldn't be more pleased with himself, for now he would know those with whom he fought and would most likely be fighting again in the not-so-distant-future.

"Now," He announced. "Let us begin..." He finished before abruptly pointing to the leader of the unnamed flight group; he decided on the spot that he was going to kill two birds with one stone. "You, I've a question that has plagued both my mind and the minds of certain 'others' ever since our little skirmish yesterday." He bluntly explained before enlightening further. "What is the title of your faction and its function?" He demanded. What he said was indeed true; he did want to find out what they were called ever since he'd made it his mission to do so back at Ponyville General Hospital, and though he could have quite easily guessed that its function was primarily to serve the moon goddess as their mirrored counterparts served the sun, there was something telling him that he needed to make sure. Nightshade peered back at him in silence for a moment as if stubbornly unwilling to speak. It was extremely minute, but the orc still caught it: Nightshade had cast a very quick side-long glance at the Wonderbolts' captain from across the table. Garrosh then knew exactly why she didn't want to answer. She didn't want Spitfire to her voice. Nonetheless, she eventually spoke up. In fact, she sounded like she was once again using it to her advantage, for she sounded noticeably more sinister than her considerable usual.

"And what makes you think that I'm at liberty to tell you?" She answered his question with a more defiant one, but Garrosh was too preoccupied gauging the magnitude of Spitfires reaction to her disembodied rasp (That being the slight widening of her eyes and gaping of her mouth, making her look genuinely surprised.) Before any heated arguments could break out however, another voice met both their ears.

"...Because I'm giving you that liberty, Nightshade." Came the voice of Luna directed solely at her, her brow now arched in sore disapproval. Muttering savagely under her breath, Nightshade soon straightened her posture, popped her neck sideways, gave a composed sigh through her nostrils, and grudgingly complied.

"Title: The Shadowbolts; primary function: Merc team," She recited to both him and everyone present, still holding her intimidating tone and voice. "though we've been known to take part in... our own certain 'pastimes' every once in a blue moon." She added, forming a devilish grin. "And before you go around asking behind my back, yes, we're under long-term contract of one Princess Luna. Escort, adviser, bodyguard, recon, asset, undercover operative, tactician, hit squad, you name it; it's all our forte." she finished with a crooked, cocky smile. Garrosh then knew to always listen to that small voice in the back of his head telling him to be sure. These were mercenaries, hired thugs, loyalists only to money, and he never would have guessed it. The orc could swear he saw her chest broaden slightly as she bragged, but he had to admit it; that was quite the resume to boast about. Based on her her dossier, these dark equines could be anything from vigilantes to outright terrorists, and it clearly showed.

"So you are working under Princess Luna! What kind of 'long term' are you talking about here?" Came the aggravated, accusatory voice of Spitfire from across the table. Thinking that they'd no more secrets or surprises left to spring on the Wonderbolts, several members on the Shadowbolts' side started shifting uncomfortably, but Nightshade only gave an arrogant scoff in her direction and retorted.

"Why, Spit? Afraid you'll have to work alongside me too long? Afraid you'll warm up to me?" She teased relentlessly with that same "almost sensual" tone he'd heard from the day before. Very few may have caught it, but he definitely heard Spitfire mutter, "I could never with a wretch like you." Before anyone else could either remark on it or stay them attacking each other so, the jubilant blue stallion next to Spitfire blurted a sudden question out.

"Why the hay does your voice sound like that, Shade? Am I the only pony here getting creeped out?" Weirdly, there wasn't even a hint of malice in the question, but Garrosh just chalked that up to his evident disposition. Nightshade must have thought that way too, for her next comment sounded more of a rivaling banter than a ferocious jab.

"You try sounding sexy when you've got a plastic tube lodged down your throat just so you could keep on breathing, wimp." She deadpanned to the now remorseful, wincing stallion. Garrosh had no idea why she would want to sound "sexy" at all, for she was plainly addressing a female. Garrosh was sure that even these ponies did not attempt to breed with their same genders. Yet, there was nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he was wrong. Still, he blew it off; there were a good few aspects and customs of these creatures he supposed that he would never comprehend. Nearly all at the table but he and Celestia were wincing by now as the two pegasi leaders were about to continue their squabbling when the mildly disturbed voice of Luna cut in for a second time.

"E...Enough of this, the both of you." She demanded, still choking on her sip of red wine she'd taken prior to Nightshade's unsugared description. Garrosh knew not why she stopped them, for he was just starting to enjoy himself; it would have been a good way to figure out a few things about them without even asking them, even though Celestia seemed to notice his little scheme.

"Well, I suppose not everything comes that easily." The Warchief thought, sighing as he resigned to continue his crafty works. "I'm going to go out on the branch here and assume that their's a great amount of bad blood between your two flight teams." He commented smugly, all but beckoning at least one of them to further elaborate on the subject. His move looked to be succeeding in full swing as the both of them seemed to be opening their mouths to explain, when the jubilant one who'd intervened earlier beat them to it.

"Well... to them, that'd be a little bit of an understatement, but seeing that even though we're rival squads, we don't really get along as badly as you might think." He stated the unexpected in the faces of two disagreeing team captains before continuing. "I mean, apart from them and Wave Chill, we can actually talk to them without things getting too nasty." He finished, earning a punch to his elbow from his scowling superior. Ignoring that thoroughly predictable reaction, the orc just settled for shifting his attention to the one who answered.

"Hmm..... And, who are you?" He inquired to the outgoing bolt.

"...Me?" He asked semi-dumbly, pointing at himself with a hoof. Garrosh gave an uncharacteristically patient nod to the decidedly slow-minded stallion, indicating "yes."

"Uh... Soarin, 1st Lieutenant of the Wonderbolts; nice to meet you." He said, a welcoming smile forming on his muzzle. This had virtually no effect on the brown brute, but he thought it was definitely worth the try.

"I take it you're the 'sunshine' of your division?" He asked with a tone in an uncertain place between jest and mockery. It was Garrosh's turn for some of his to have no effect this time, for the stallion of the conversation actually seemed only to brighten at this sentiment.

"Well, I'd like to think so, but some of these characters might disagree." He answered, now sounding as though he were having a friendly conversation with someone he's known for years. Giving a brief chuckle mostly to himself, he pressed on.

"What do you think, guys? Am I your friendly neighborhood morale officer?" He asked his team mates, nudging Spitfire with his elbow; rolling her eyes, she only seemed to look away and cross her fetlocks, but Garrosh could easily detect the tiniest smirk on her face as she did so. Then out of nowhere, the bolt to Soarin's right suddenly spoke to the orc about his comrade.

"Honestly, I suppose he is. I mean, he's always there to lighten any tense mood, though whether that's prudent or not depends on the situation, but I think 'sunshine' is the perfect analogy." The stallion smoothly replied. "I'm Rapidfire by the way; pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Another pony with the last name of 'fire,' perhaps the two are related somehow?" He viewed it a possibility until he looked between him and Spitfire a couple times. "Probably not...." Garrosh once again didn't know what to make of this one's voice, but it sounded very close to that of a human's, something Garrosh didn't like much at all. Meanwhile, as he was all processing this, the stallion took his silence as confusion and thus decided to elaborate on it.

"...You know, the first one you punched." Even though Garrosh knew that already just by looking at the small bandage on the top of his muzzle, he still had to hold back a grin from the way he worded it. "May I just say, dear sir, that you have one tremendous right uppercut." He added with the same grin as the Warchief was holding back. Something told him that this particular pony seldom held any hard feelings whatsoever. Grabbing one of the pies from the table with a curious hand, he was just about to reply to the bolt when the fourth to his right suddenly struck up.

"Where the heck'th Wave Chill? He should've been back here by now." The smallish mare inquired, sounding more nervous and worried than probably intended, her head on a swivel as she looked about the room. Garrosh was just about to start looking around himself when he heard a voice coming from the tent's entrance, namely the one right behind him.

"Reporting for duty..." The unmistakable voice answered the mare, seeming to have been waiting for such a question. The Warchief for one was astonished that Chill had managed to sneak up on him like that, but there was absolutely no way he was ever going to admit that to him, or anyone else for that matter. Garrosh merely leaned back in his chair, not even turning his head as Chill's aloof voice then addressed Celestia. "My apologies for my tardiness, Your Majesty; that little filly does not know how to give directions." By this time, everyone in the room knew to whom he was referring.

"It's quite alright, Lieutenant; we all were aware of what you tasked with doing." The Sun Princess returned understandingly, to which Chill gave a loyal bow before heading to his seat next to the unstatuesque mare who first inquired where he was. As soon he'd heard exactly what Celestia had said, Garrosh's angering eyes instinctively and discreetly trailed over to Nightshade, who seemed innocently preoccupied whispering idly amongst her team members. Unconventionally folding the tin dish that housed the unfamiliar dessert back, and taking his first humongous bite into it, the tentative orc was still looking over at her when Wave Chill spoke again.

"So, what'd I miss?" Swallowing the chunk of very sweet, encrusted confection, the orc set about humoring the lieutenant's question with a tangible amount of snark.

"Oh nothing, Wave Chill, you all were just bearing your souls to me in exchange for mine." He answered the unsuspecting stallion with his own smug grin before taking another generous swig from his ale mug to wash down the pie, knowing full well he wouldn't have any idea of what he was talking about. His trivial prank working perfectly, the dark pegasus soon sported a look of utter confusion (even visible through his flight goggles) as he looked to his fellow bolt to the left for a possible explanation (that only turning out to be an unknowing shrug from her.) That was at least, until The Princess of the Night decided to spare the poor stallion by summarizing for him.

"What The Warchief means, Lieutenant, is that we were just telling him a few things about ourselves in return for some of the stories he can tell from his realm." She explained, prompting Garrosh to casually lift his brow and nod in agreement. Wave Chill, lifting his goggles from his eyes, stared blankly at the princess for a moment before understanding completely.

"Oh.... Well then," He said, turning to the Warchief, his expression still somewhat blank. "Wave Chill, Wonderbolts 2nd Lieutenant; favorite environment of operation: Sea and water mass." He recited, impossibly sounding more robotic than ever. After a few awkward moments of silence, Garrosh quickly gathered that he had nothing else left to say.

"Fair enough..." He spoke before unexpectedly turning his attention to the final one of the Wonderbolts left to meet. "What about you, small one? What are you called?" He asked, purposely looking her in the eyes, daring her to step up.

"Hey! I'm not....." She never finished; in fact, she bit her tongue, and the orc knew why. It was no secret from him that she was deathly afraid of him, but seeing as how there was no evident way to go about this without intimidating her in some way or another, Garrosh simply stopped caring, sighed intolerantly, and spoke freely.

"Perhaps your stature is, perhaps, but is the rest of you? I'd say so, for I've given you a bountiful number of chances to show me that your heart and courage are not, and none have proven worthy of my effort." His expression intentionally taking a turn for the more gravely disappointed, trying to coax something out of her. "I suppose you've still much growing left to do." He uttered with finality, still glimpsing the ever-present fear that refused to leave her fuschia-colored eyes. He was becoming fairly certain that she wouldn't take the bait that he was prodding at her with, that was, until something rather amusing he had not foreseen occurred.

"Ya know..." came a signature "goblin" voice suddenly from across the table, causing everyone's heads to turn in that direction. Garrosh looked to see the goat's bearded one with a slicked mane leaning back in his seat, a palpable look of hatred visible even through his obscuring, angular goggles. "She may be a Wonderbolt n' all, but I draw da line here!" He proclaimed, slightly raising his voice.

"Charger--" The ghostly grey Gilnean stallion next to him on his left attempted to mutter, but was quickly cut off.

"No! I may come from some horse-apple hole up in Manehatten, but at least I know how ta treat a lady! You! You just pop up outta no wheres and try to strong-arm everypony inta thinkin' dat they're a bunch a' limp pansies? Judgin' 'em like you're so perfect!?" The heavily accented equine asked, now quivering with rage. The hypnotic-looking mare on his right tried to throw a feeble hoof over his mouth in a desperate attempt to derail the inevitable disaster, only to have it lightly swept away by the ranting Shadowbolt. "And as if dat weren't enough, you had to go and hospitalize Blitz!? My comrade, and one a' my best friends, and you expect me ta just sit down and eat in front a' you like nothin' eva buckin' happened!?" Garrosh was now too enthralled to say a word, but it was then that even Celestia tried her hoof at wrangling the rabid pegasus inward.

"Charger, I demand you hold your tongue." She spoke quietly but quite firmly, but to no avail.

"One sec, 'Ya Highnee,' freedom of expression in action here!" He said without even so much as taking his obscured eyes off the orc. "So yeah! I'm gonna take it upon myself to say what I think should be on any halfway decent pony's mind at this point:" The inconsolable stallion then leaned forward out of his seat, wings now on display, and proceeded to make a universally inappropriate gesture with his hooves that he'd seen several humans make on occasion. "Up. Yours." He seethed dramatically. "Up yours, buddy! Up yours for what ya did ta Blitz!" He shouted, pounding the table with his hoof for emphasis. "Up yours for what ya did to us and 'dose idiots ova 'dere!" He shouted, motioning over to the Wonderbolts' side of the table. "And most of all, up yours for gettin' da nerve to even show your face around here after all ya did!" He finally finished, sitting back in his chair, huffing in both anger and excursion from his unending rant to the still-enthralled Warchief.

Nary a sound could be heard throughout the room apart from the subtle chirping of crickets from the outside (And the little snickers that came out of Nightshade who was holding a hoof over her own mouth.) The lunar side of the banquet was seen doing everything from face-hoofing to hoof-biting while the solar side of the panel held faces stricken with both shock and amazement, but both sides had some who looked frightfully over at the bombarded orc, who had scarcely moved a muscle since the hot-headed Shadowbolt began. He just sat there, staring at the defiant bolt, not giving any discernible reaction. It wasn't far fetched for some to be thinking that this first-contact rendezvous had been totally ruined. Suddenly, a low rumble resonated from the orc in what most would say sounded undoubtedly like a growl. Most of the feast attendees were fearing the worst, but that all turned to profound perplexion in the blink of an eye when something changed.

The noise Garrosh was making steadily turned from the "growl" they'd been hearing to a low, booming chuckle, and then to an all-out guffaw as the massive beast leaned back in chair and slapped his knee in a fit of jolly, boisterous laughter. There wasn't a single face at the dinner that didn't look at least a little confused as to what could possibly have the big brute in stitches at a time like this, but they were all soon enlightened as he next spoke.

"Finally! Finally one who has the stones to tell what's really on his mind, one who has the guts to try and confront me, even if it was rather amateur." He cheered, wiping a very small tear of humor from his eye as he looked back and forth between the courageous stallion and the two on-looking lead alicorns.

"Oh come on! Wha...." Was all the offending bolt could muster out before Garrosh continued.

"Charger, was it?" The Warchief asked rhetorically, for the stallion in question didn't even need to answer. "I like you; you've shown me vast bravery where I'd given up hope on finding any. I look forward to our future dealings." The strangely chipper orc stated to him with another chuckle, to which he gave dissatisfied scoff slumping back in his seat again and crossing his arms.

"Yeah yeah yeah, laugh it up, leather face." He grumbled angrily, more livid than before that his rant only served to brighten his target's mood. Right after he did this, the petite Wonderbolts mare across from him reacted to his gesture.

"I didn't need a Thadowbolt to thtand up for me anyway, you know." She muttered almost indignantly as she stiffened her spine. Garrosh could now detect something different in what was just said; namely the obvious lisp that just came forth from the indignant Wonderbolt. Garrosh briefly had to wonder why he hadn't managed to catch something like that up until this point as the two sides' bickering carried on.

"Really? A bit late for dat one, toots, don't ya think?" Charger deadpanned shooting a rueful glance in her direction, only to have the chance for any consecutive retaliation snuffed out by a frightfully insistent regal voice.

"Enough! All of you." Celestia announced more seriously than before, no doubt not wanting to take any more chances angering her guest, thwarting her plans for him and thus jeopardizing the entire purpose of this meeting. Many were shocked that she hadn't ordered some of her guards to escort Charger from the room after (or during) his outburst. Garrosh surmised that if she had, it would have been a spit in the face to the power she'd granted back to her younger sister.

"Yes, Princess, I do believe it's back to business. So, I shall ask again: What are you called?" Garrosh asked the smallish mare, pointing in her direction. Grumbling under her breath, angry about being put on the spot again, the bolt answered him this time, and without the slightest hesitation or fear.

"Fine... You know what? Fine, the name'th Fleetfoot, firtht Lieutenant of the Wonderbolth." Even though to him that noticeable lisp was found close to intolerable, Garrosh also found himself focusing harder on her name.

"Fleetfoot? It must be a title given to someone with a gift for agility and speed..." This was what his mind had concluded about her, but before he could ask her this for the sake of verification, Fleetfoot suddenly extended her profile with something delightfully unexpected.

"And jutht becauth I'm thmall compared to the likth of you, and jutht becauthe I might theem afraid of you, doethn't mean I won't knock your teeth looth like I did latht time." The impeded Wonderbolt added with a small, snooty "hmph."

"That's the spirit!" The surprised orc boomed. "Now was that so hard? We've delved through an entire faction at this table already." He pointed out to the lot of them, Fleetfoot only rolling her eyes.

"Wait, so you're not going to ask about me or my rank?" Spitfire asked him with a near-undetectable tinge of misplaced disappointment in her voice. Garrosh only sneered at the obviously narcissistic captain before explaining this decision.

"I already know everything about both you and your depraved counterpart thanks to your petty incessant squabblings, Spitfire." He stated matter-of-factly as he subconsciously noted how the rainbow-colored one seemed to scoff at this statement as she blew part of her mane out of her face. leaving a mental note to bring that up later into the dinner, Garrosh then turned his head to face the right, more sinister side of the table just in time to hear Nightshade plainly mutter, "Well that's just not fair...." Ignoring her little remark, he instead chose to address the someone he'd been wanting to find out more about for a while now: The scarred ghostly stallion who sat next to his leader. "You there..." The Warchief said simply to gain his attention, gaining the attention of the wrong one.

"Yeah?" Nightshade asked, her elbow on the table, and a hoof under her chin.

"Not you," He snapped irritably. "the one next to you..." He clarified, finally catching his attention.

"What?" He asked guardedly through his scarred muzzle in a low, gruff, accented tone.

"You seemed to handle the task of sparring with me impressively; I'll give you that." The brute of stallion seemed to show no readable traces of emotion or reaction to him, and even though his ears were visibly tuned to his every word, he never once made eye-contact or turn his head as the orc went on. "Judging by your scars and attitude, you must surely be a seasoned veteran in the field of bounty hunting." Garrosh purposely narrowed the his guess of the stallion's field of expertise in a veiled attempt to draw out any corrections from him, and not only the Warchief, but most of the room had drawn an inch closer in silence to hear the ghostly veteran's response to it.

"....Among other things...." The aloof stallion responded vaguely, still not turned towards Hellscream. Garrosh had cracked a grin at this little game, and the Shadowbolt knew that he was not about to let up with his inquiry. locking his eyes squarely onto the Warchief, he told all he would.

"Look, I'm sure you don't want to know just because you maybe interested, and for your information, you're just another mission to me too, and I'd like to keep it that way. My name's Stratus of the Shadowbolts, and that's all you need to know." Stratus coldly concluded, turning his attention back to the meal he was still eating.

"A respected answer well said, Stratus." The still-smirking orc said, bowing his head briefly. What Stratus had told him was fairly self-explanatory, not to mention in a respectably unlikable manner; it was simplistic "sod off" kinds of statements like that that the Warchief wished he'd had the luxury of telling many he'd had the mind-aching displeasure of tolerating and dealing with back on Azeroth, and to tell the truth, it was something that made him just a tad envious of the pegasus.

Things so far seemed to be going exceedingly well for both the political hosts and the guest-of-honor of this dinner, but even by The Warhief's cunning standards, this scheme of distraction he'd put into effect was taking way too long to drag out. This needed to be moved along more quickly, so with a trifle impatience, Hellscream's attention jumped suddenly ahead to the final Shadowbolt who sat the farthest away from him, just a corner away from Luna's seat.

"...And what about you?" He sprung the sudden question on her, knowing that she knew she was next. This mare was one of the more composed of the lot; she may have blinked, but it was the distinct, deliberate, practiced flutter of eyelashes as she fixed her piercing gaze upon the Warchief with those crystal-clear blue eyes.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Garrosh's ears were struck with her voice, and he was both shocked and somewhat appalled to find that the voice was undeniably that of a text-book temptress. Why a creature like herself would even begin to strike such a tone with something as alien (and probably ugly) to her as an orc in the first place was something that was well and sincerely beyond him. Nonchalantly shrugging it off as a little mind game she was trying to pull on him, he answered her question to his question.

"I mean: Your partner in crime thinks of me merely as 'just another mission' as he put it. So what is it that you think of me?" He asked her shrewdly. This one was a temptress alright, and a shameless one at that. Hellscream could tell that every single one of her mesmerizing movements and expressions were honed and designed specifically to lure in and trap helpless masculine eyes. Her head dipped subtly and so too did her eyes, her expression deepening, and after pausing for a moment, she brought only her eyes back up to lock firmly with his as she smiled a deceptively coy, demure smile.

"I'm truly touched that my humble opinion would mean so much to you, Garrosh." She cooed flirtatiously through that same expression. Hellscream intuitively took note of the fact that she was one of the first ones at the table to address him by his first name as she leaned slightly forward and continued. "Don't mind Stratus over here, hon; he thinks that way about almost everyone." She assured him with that same fluid, silver voice as she brought a dainty hoof up to her chin to assume a convincing contemplative pose, a refined look of genuine thoughtfulness alighting her delicate features. "As for me... I think you're more of a new and... interesting face." Garrosh fought gallantly with the overwhelming urge to shudder; he may have been an orc purely of tradition, but he knew damn good and well what that vague, seductive pause was most likely hiding. Alas, any poor naive fool off his guard could be considered indelibly as an easy prey and/or meal for this professional strumpet. "Ahh, but hear me ramble, you wanted a name, didn't you, handsome? You can just call me Starry Skies, or 'Star' for short."

"Starry Skies? What kind of a name is that?" Garrosh thought as he readjusted his posture in his seat. He supposed it could have been an alias, which was not an uncommon practice in the immoral hobbies in which she probably partook. Wanting no longer to persist in beating around this particular bush with her, the Warchief decided to curtly move this trade along and conclude the introduction.

"Thank you for your humble opinion, Starry Skies" He made a point to spit her name, and to her credit, she stayed in character as if he hadn't.

"Anytime, hon, anytime." She cooed once again through a sly smirk. Finding himself far more glad than he thought he would be to be rid of dealing with anything that one had to dish out, Hellscream turned his voice to all of them.

"Splendid! I now know almost everyone here.... almost." He murmured, setting his sights on the two remaining individuals sitting there doing absolutely nothing.

"Who's goin' first?" The hat bearing one muttered crossly over to the full-spectrum mare in that same alien accent the orc had heard in the very first settlement he'd discovered.

"Ehh, you can go first." She replied as if disinterested as she leaned her chair back precariously, idly flapping her wings a time or two.

"Fine..." Was all she mumbled, sounding very obligated as she quickly lifted her large hat off her head for the first time, and set it firmly on the table in front of her. "Ya'll wanna know who Ah am, pig killer? Fine by me! Name's Applejack, honest element, an' farmer from a family a' honest hard workers, not that you would git any a' that at all. An' as far that little somethin' ya wanna know 'bout me is concerned, Ah reckon Ah'll jus' skip that part and tell ya that my brother, Big Macintosh, who's a might sore between his hind legs since ya kicked 'em there, says 'hi!'" The obviously irked farmer huffed, looking thoroughly offended by his audacity as she slapped her stetson hat back on her head aggressively and sat back, still fuming. For a minute, Garrosh didn't know what to say to her; she was admirably gritty and tough, but the unflattering title she had for him didn't sit well with him at all. Still, he didn't exactly want to divulge that what she said was actually starting to get on his nerves, that and there was this blood related Big Macintosh she mentioned. Garrosh searched his memory for anyone that could fit her description, whether it be from the name, his affiliation with this farmer, or the injury he supposedly inflicted upon him, and for moment he couldn't remember. That was, until he recalled the very large, bulky-looking stallion who was trying in vain to pry his lumber axe from a vendor's cart bearing fruit that resembled the mark of three upon the farmer's flank perfectly, and how he kick-lifted him clean over said fruit cart into the bushes next to it. This was too juicy an opportunity to go unexploited for our Warchief.

"Hmm... Well, perhaps this so-called 'honest worker' will think twice before touching the belongings of another next time." He replied with a smirk and a neglected fury barely hidden just beneath his collected voice. Applejack's however, was not so hidden.

"Why you--" She boiled, her face reddened with rage as she lifted a clenched hoof before being interrupted by the subject of her hatred.

"And please, be sure to return him my greetings when next you see him." As Luna rolled her eyes at yet another foreseeable standoff, and as Celestia contemplated cutting in again before it was too late, that sarcastic request from him was apparently the last straw for the disreputed farmer.

"You'll have plenty a' time to git ta knowin' each other when he's puttin' ya in yer grave, ya pot-bellied son of a--" Just as Garrosh was looking forward to another fervid rant on another pony's part, everyone's ears were rescued in the nick of time as the multi-spectrum mare abruptly butted in.

"Oh for pete's sake, Applejack! Quit wasting your breath; we all know he wants you to go off on him!" She raised her voice at her friend for her evident stupidity.

"This warrior's more perceptive than she looks..." Hellscream thought, most engaged. After a few seconds, the poor farmer knew that she'd been completely had, but she was not about to go down without at least getting in the last word.

"Fer once, Dashy, yer right; 'sides, I probably shouldn't say what Ah'm thinkin' a' callin' him." The farmer sat back and gave out a final huff, crossing her arms bitterly. Garrosh decided right then to repeat the one thing on his mind at that time.

"...Dash..y...?" He asked as if monotonously underwhelmed. After shooting him a steady glare, the warrior elaborated.

"Yeah, that's right; my name's Rainbow Dash, element of loyalty, fastest flyer in Equestria, and 'Dashy' to only my friends, and if you've got a problem with that, then you can shove it up your flank."

"Element of Loyalty, hmm? Well, that explains a few things." Garrosh mused. He liked this mare. He liked the way she stood up to him for her allies at the cottage, and he liked the way she was standing up to him for her allies now. It was this heady mixture of courage and defiance that he could freely admire, even in such a creature, but he reasoned that he shouldn't voice that too clearly just yet.

"Well done, Prism Warrior, I was beginning to think my expectations for you were all for naught." He fessed up to her in an equally haughty tone as hers.

"Can it, dude; I know you don't really mean it. Personally, I'm just waiting for 'round two' where I smack you face-down for what you did to my friends." Yes, he liked this mare a lot; her confidence was outstanding, even though it was rather disproportionate to her size. Giving a short amused chuckle, Garrosh responded.

"Hmph, I suppose I lied when I said that Charger was the first here amongst this rabble to show me true courage, and I would indeed also be lying if I said I were not impressed by both what I saw back at the strange cottage, and by what I see before me now." He confessed willingly to her, lightly bowing his head in respect. Narrowing her eyes, she looked him over as if sizing him up for five full seconds before replying.

"......I don't buy it... I just wanna hurry this up, 'cause I don't give a feather about any lame stories you've got." This mare had to be trying to cut him to the quick, and in a way that no one else had tried before, but she'd have to do better than that if she was going to get a rise out of him. Immediately after Rainbow had spouted her corporeal distrust for the sincere orc, Twilight leaned over past Rarity and promptly hissed something directly at her.

"Shh! Rainbow! Don't--" She whispered sharply. Hellscream knew for sure that Twilight didn't think that the stories he'd have to share with them were, as Rainbow put it, lame. In fact, he believed her to be totally obsessed with the prospect of hearing them. Even so, the prism warrior openly ignored her friend in favor of recanting cleverly to Garrosh.

"Oh! And speaking of the cottage, that reminds me that I'm not about to let you get Fluttershy last." She said, pointing a hoof to the now-slightly-quivering pegasus sitting to her left... farthest away from the orc. Garrosh just sat there silently, stroking his chin as if he were having a difficulty understanding her; Rainbow Dash, for her part, was onto him. "Yeah, I knew what you were up to, and it won't work. This is Fluttershy, Element of Kindness, don't make me have to tell you the meaning of it." The pegasus then sat back with self-satisfied grin on her cyan-colored face. "There, now you can't tease and scare her by putting her on the spot." The orc could swear he heard the timid butter-yellow pegasus nearly inaudibly whisper "Thank you" to her friend. Garrosh was still at least going to have a little fun with this, even though his little side-scheme had backfired.

"What makes you think that I hadn't just forgotten her? She has, after all, not uttered a single word since we began." He leveled with her as if he truly had forgotten the painfully timid mare.

"Come on, baldy, how stupid do you think I am? I've seen how much guff you've given the others; you didn't forget about her for a second." She leveled back, spitting her words accusingly, but Garrosh was still determined to slip her up.

"I honestly think you're mistaken, 'Dashy,' for I think I actually did forget about her; just look at her," He motioned over to the delicate pony distastefully, who flinched before looking eye to eye with the brutish entity for the first time. "she's so... unmemorable, and so cowardice, she'd probably feint from from sheer fright if I so much as spoke to her." He continued, now confident that he had her riled enough for an outburst of her own. Face reddening from anger just as the farmer's had, Rainbow definitely looked like she was about to lose it, but Garrosh would never know; he had to perform a double take when a soft new voice met his ears from an unlikely seat at the table.

"You're right, Mr. Warchief..." Almost everyone in the room went silent as Rainbow looked at the subject of her defense as though she'd betrayed her, and Garrosh had to check his ears just in case he was hearing things.

"Come again?" He asked, a pleasantly surprised look now adorning his face. It took her quite a while to answer him; it was as if it were physically causing her pain to be in the spotlight of conversation. Nonetheless, she persevered.

"...Um, I said... you're right; I probably would have feinted if you just started speaking to me without any warning..." Garrosh had never heard anything so pathetically inconfident-sounding in all his numerous years, and that was saying a lot. He didn't even know what to say to such a sentiment, so it was a very good thing that she perked up the courage to continue, lest this pitiful, whimpering soul be the reason he finally loses his calm at this dinner.

"....Oh...And, um... I forgive you." She murmured out strangely warmly as if he somehow knew what in the world she was going on about.

"What?" He asked her, still maintaining that same, hopelessly confused tone he'd had since she first opened her mouth. Sounding just a little more confident, she explained her earlier statement.

"I forgive you, for... what happened back at my cottage. I can't blame you for being hungry; you were probably starving out there in the forest." She exclaimed quietly in a misplaced maternal tone that mildly disturbed the Warchief. "Even Mr. Bear and Mr. Manticore have little problems with that sometimes," She bore an expression like she was recalling some kind of fond memory when she mentioned those two bizarre names before she looked back up into the orcs eyes deeply. "so....I forgive you." She concluded, sporting a soft, welcoming, and wholly unexpected smile.

Let's just say that if any surprise attack launched by The Alliance or Vol'jin had caught Hellscream off guard by this much, he would have been killed right then and there, and by the looks of things, he wasn't the only one in this predicament. It was now Applejack's turn to cast a betrayed look toward the soft-spoken mare, where as Garrosh's expression remained that of comically poetic perplexity. Still bearing this same expression, he looked over to the prism warrior for even the smallest inkling of enlightenment, but all he received was a shrug; she plainly didn't know anymore about what had just happened than he did. Though he had a few things to ask her, he felt he should start off with a very important and simple fact.

"First of all: I never apologized." The bemused orc assured her before moving on to his questions. "Second: Who in Azer... this world are 'Bear' and 'Manticore?'" He asked, not liking the sound of either of them. "And thirdly: It is you who owns that night elven hovel with the many creatures?" He inquired, genuinely curious about her answer to both these questions. Still within the glow of the spotlight of conversation, the butter-yellow pegasus dipped her head down bashfully and gave such a reply.

"Yes, It's where I take care of them all; I wouldn't have it any other way. Mr. Bear is one of them too; I'm surprised you didn't meet him already." This mare was really something, there was no denying that. She spoke unto this hulking brute she'd been afraid to look at a few minutes ago as though she were speaking to a good friend, not a single insecurity about her certifiable habits. Though this didn't please the Warchief too much, he had to admire her defenses; he could already tell just from how she'd taken everything he'd said so far that there was no defeating her, for how could you knock something down who's already on there knees. So, letting go of all mischievous or foul intent, Garrosh went ahead and engaged with her.

"And this... 'Mr. Manticore?'" He pressed with a hint of reluctance, to which she happily replied.

"Oh! I met him in Everfree Forest with my friends, um... about two years ago. The poor little thing! Everypony thought he was angry at them and wanted to hurt them when we found him, but he just had a thorn stuck in his paw." Garrosh was beginning to have a very serendipitous, very terrible hunch, and he hoped he was just being overly suspicious.

"What exactly is he?" She seemed confused by his question; hopefully what she was about to describe did not fit the bill for what he was thinking.

"Um, well--" She started, unsure of where to go from there. Luckily for her, Rainbow once again stepped in for her.

"For Pete's sake! He's a manticore. What, You're telling me you don't have any of 'em where ever you're from?" She asked incredulously with impatient undertones. Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in fatigue, the mentally exhausted orc gave an aggravated sigh.

"What does one look like?" The spent Warchief asked almost desperately, willing to word it any possible way he could to garner any possible answer from these impossible equines. Fluttershy, being well versed in her craft and interests, candidly obliged with one.

"Oh! They have the body and head of a lion," Garrosh felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his full stomach as she continued. "the ears and wings of a giant bat--" He felt himself wince slightly as his eyes trailed downward, as deep down he knew that she didn't have to finish her description.

"--and the tail of a scorpid." Garrosh finished her thought without daring to look back up at her. "Well, there's always the chance that it wasn't the same manticore..." He thought, dreading reality, for the last thing he wanted to happen was for it to be discovered that he most likely hunted, mercilessly killed, and guiltlessly devoured yet another of the creatures under her close care. Meanwhile, outside of Hellscream's mind, the table had once again gone silent ever since the orc's newest utterance. That was, of course, until the caring pegasus spoke up gingerly.

"H-How did you... know?" She dumbfoundedly asked, developing a well-founded worry in her large, ocean eyes. "You didn't.... meet him in the forest, did you?" She asked, her question specifying as she began to fear for what might be. Everyone, eyes now widened and brows raised, leaned in ever closer to hear the orc's next words. This was it; this was the moment of truth. He would need to choose his next words very carefully, for if he didn't, it could open up a whole new level of drama the likes of which even Garrosh would never want to see. Forming a plan in the heat of the moment, and looking back up to meet the yellow pegasus' gaze, he dove in.

"What was your name? Butterfly?" He asked casually, as if he hadn't a care in either world. The one to whom he spoke answered rather quickly for her usual.

"Fluttershy..." She squeaked, not even noticing his humorously failed guess at her name. In fact, she looked to be bracing for bad news.

"No..." He finally said, still keeping up his casual ruse.

"No?" Rainbow Dash questioned warily, sizing him up again.

"No..." He said again in the same tone.

"Then how did you know what she was talking about?" Rainbow was grilling him now, but he was planning on it and had the perfect answer.

"We apparently have manticores where I come from." He was making frivolous conversation, and it appeared to be working.

"You do?" Fluttershy asked, genuinely interested, but not without her lingering fear.

"Yes, we just call them wyverns, and my people use them to fly from city to city." That was that; they had to believe him now. Garrosh had to keep from smirking to himself as the interested percentage of the dinner members looked completely taken aback by this information; he even saw a few of them zone out, no doubt trying to imagine such an epic spectacle. This was to say nothing of the reaction he gained from Twilight who instantly started writing away like a maniac as soon as the words left his mouth. Seeing this, Garrosh decided that he could risk playing his hand a bit further. "...And, of course, for riding into glorious, airborne battles." He added, deliberately vying to impress them. This seemed to work, and for more than he thought; even some of the Shadowbolts looked impressed by this point.

"Wow!" The child-like voice of Pinkie Pie was heard exclaiming. "You're kidding..."

"I kid you not, my fuzzy, pink imp; they are real, and they are elite." He spoke these words with the utmost pride. No sooner had he spoken the words could Captain Spitfire's voice be heard breaking into the conversation.

"Your kind is wingless, and yet you've actually managed to create an air force through the wings of other creatures?" She asked, trying and obviously failing to bar the excited impression from her tone. Though he could have easily made fun of this, He gave her an unbiased answer.

"Of course, Captain, though it's far from the most innovative things we orcs have ever accomplished." Once again he spoke pridefully. He could practically see the knowledge-crazed glint in Twilight's eye as again she continued to jot information down at the speed of sound.

"You're not... mean to them, are you?" Fluttershy suddenly inquired, the same, evident traces of fear and worry in her voice. Garrosh was quick to set her mind at ease.

"Not normally... We are, as the captain puts it, wingless creatures, Element. Where do you think we'd end up if we mistreated the creatures that sometimes carry us hundreds of feet above the ground?" He quizzed her, sounding a tad snarky.

"Oh, when you put it that way, I guess it does sound a bit silly." She commented, an extensive, bashful blush spreading rapidly across her face. Garrosh then realized something, something he had forgotten to ask, something that made him lose all other trains of thought, so without hesitation, and before anyone else could throw another question his way, he addressed this error.

"Wait... I know almost all of you six's titles, all except..." His eyes trailed to Twilight, so he gestured to her. "You, Princess or Magus, what is your elemental title?" He asked after a moment; though taken by surprise, she still replied truthfully and proudly.

"The Element of Magic, Warchief." She said with a smile.

"The Element of Magic?" The Warchief repeated in his head, thinking back to the showdown at Fluttershy's cottage where the only thing she managed to strike him with was a meager bolt of arcane energy. He stopped himself from paying it any further mind; he needed to move this farce along now, or else he would risk falling asleep. "Sensible, and what of you, imp? Are you the Element of Mischief?" He direct his questions to Pinkie Pie, who seemed to brighten ever still at the potential idea of a little game to play.

"Nope! Guess again!" She chirped, ecstatic that she was finally able to play her first game with him. Garrosh, on the other hand, despised games; he despised guessing games, and above all else, he despised this mare. Amazingly through some strangely inert manner of thought, Garrosh decided against starting an argument or hurting her feelings (if that was even possible) and in favor of humoring her little game in order to conclude this all the more quickly.

"...Guile?" He asked her simply, hating that he had to stoop to an area of her strengths.

"Guess again!" She chimed, sounding all the more merry that she seemed to be winning.

"...Curiosity?" Again he made a guess.

"Agaaain!" She sing-songed, now giggling at our Warchief's obvious plight. Garrosh was confident that if he had any hair atop his head at the moment, he'd be tearing it out right now. He wanted so desperately to shout out "insanity" or "depravity" as viable guesses, but he chose instead to give a more vested word of the same meaning as the former.

"...Mania?" He croaked out wearily, knowing full well he was incorrect, wanting to just pummel her where she sat and be done with it.

"I kinda like that one, but wrong again! Ya give up?" She asked him, giddily excited by this whole scenario. That, unfortunately, was the question he'd been waiting for. Letting out a sound that could easily be classified as something nestled snugly between a sigh and a groan, he replied.

"Yes, Pinkie, I do." He spat her name at her as he rubbed his temple with the hand into which he was leaning his head. The maniacal mare's smile couldn't be any wider as she laughed joyously at her triumph.

"The Element of Laughter, silly! I can't believe you didn't guess it!" Greatmother is his witness; there was no closer moment than this where he was about to leap from his seat and strangle his very first equine. Also Greatmother be his witness, he positively didn't remember how he refrained from doing so. He looked up to her with such a hateful look, it could have kept a pony awake for decades, his glowing, yellow eyes burning with the fire a thousand of Celestia's suns couldn't hope to surpass. Though Pinkie survived this demonic gaze, Twilight saw and understood what was about to happen should she not intervene, so realizing that the lives of those at the table might be at stake (not to mention any knowledge she could gain from the unstable orc,) she did just that.

"Okay then! I believe that was just about everypony! What do you say we move onto all the interesting stories about you then, huh?" She fastly suggested through a fake, cheesy grin. Giving up hope of ever understanding or caring about the titles or bearers of these obtuse elements, Garrosh slowly got over his blood-boiling rage towards the pink nightmare, gradually turning to Twilight to address her.

"Very well, Element, I suppose I've kept you waiting long enough." What he said was true, for in a way, he understood how she felt. It was just as well; he was almost happy to move on to telling them a bit about himself, for it meant that he no longer needed to put up with each and every one of their dilapidated details. Celestia, being the host of this summit, then gave the official transition.

"Yes, I believe we've all waited a suitable amount of time to ask this question, Warchief; Where are you from?" She asked with a light-hearted smile, notably with hints of excitement therein.

He'd done it; they were his now. He could basically do whatever he wanted. He could get up and leave whenever he felt he wished, for no matter the level of detail in his summary, they would soak it in gladly. His diabolical scheme had paid off; they were putty in his hands! Garrosh aimed to make full use of this fact; grinning wickedly, Hellscream set about reaping the benefits of his well-spent patience.

"Well, where to begin....?"

---

Let it just simply be said to you, my good readers, that our dear, humble Warchief was not in any way cut out for diplomatic work of any sort. Warchief Garrosh Hellscream had ended up unknowingly surrendering his entire original intent and eventually found himself telling the princesses the story of his whole life, existence, and of his world, correction: Worlds. He began by teaching all at the table of the vast, unique worlds of Draenor and Azeroth. It went surprisingly smoothly, and a few at the table even began to lose their unbound hatred and loathing for him as he skillfully shared such unbelievable information with them.

Garrosh first spoke of how the First Horde was collated and formed under the leadership of the beguiled and foolish, Ner'zhul, and his student; the demonically corrupted warlock, Gul'dan. His words of how Gul'dan had betrayed Ner'zhul for yet even more power, and all to bind and enslave the entirety of his own race was difficult for most ponies to understand. It was by far the hardest for Twilight Sparkle to bear, she who viewed the event as if she were to betray her royal, life-long mentor, Celestia, the very thought making her visibly cringe and shudder. Still, no matter how much Twilight hated the very concept, Gul'dan had done it, and there was nothing she could do but keep documenting Garrosh's tellings, her pencil racing ridiculously quickly in the grasp of her horn's telekinetic magic.

Garrosh spoke then of how his late father, Grommash Hellscream, had believed Gul'dan's talented lies. The ponies then were revealed that it was Grom, Garrosh's own father, who was the first to drink in the blood of a demon, and that Grom was the disgraceful orc that opened the door for the enslavement and unspeakable torment of his people at the merciless hands of the demonic Burning Legion. The Burning Legion... Even the mere name seemed to strike a resounding fear into most of those sitting at the table, their mind's eyes unable to comprehend that this legion of demons was the source of all evil in the entire galaxy.

After his dark speech of the wicked, cruel deeds of the Burning Legion, he began relaying how the orcs were then used via absolute control to slaughter another martyred race that the legion had long been chasing and hunting: The peaceful and innocent Draenei. The orcs had executed the Dreanei viciously, down to the last swaddled infant, or... so they and the demons had gleefully thought. In reality, a small number of Dreanei refugees had escaped from their inevitable demise to a world called Azeroth. There, in the confines of this turmoiled new realm, they would soon come to join the staunch enemy of the Horde: The Alliance.

Back on the remnants of what was once the stunningly beautiful realm of Draenor, with the demons thinking their mind slaves had flawlessly fulfilled their barbaric duties, they sadistically abandoned the orcs to the very Blood Lust that the demonic blood had instilled within them. The twisted, black, macabre tales of the orc clans even going so far as to destroy each other just as they'd destroyed the Draenei was sure to grant many at the dinner a few vivid nightmares, and yet Garrosh's stories were nowhere near finished being told.

Seeing that his people were using their incredible gift for battle and warfare for nothing and on no one but themselves, Gul'dan acted quickly to stop their brutish fighting. There were collective groans heard from around the table, Twilight and Rainbow instantly lodging a small verbal complaint, thinking that Gul'dan's part in the story was well and truly done with, but Garrosh patiently assured them that his time was not over.... yet.

Picking up where he'd left off, Hellscream told them that Gul'dan admittedly saw that he could not lead the orcs by himself, even with all the terribly limitless power he had amassed. The warlock then used another to act as leader, but to report only to him as his manipulated puppet in secret: The ruthless Blackhand the Destroyer, the first official Warchief. Gul'dan used Blackhand to command the wayward orcs to construct the portal that would lead them from the remains of Dreanor to the lands of Azeroth.

Garrosh proceeded to go into detail about how he was stricken during this time with the extremely unforgiving malady known as the Red Pox, a disease from which any orc was yet to rise, and was not present for what was quickly entitled The First War. Instead, Garrosh told them all that he could about every excruciating battle that took place during this First War, starting with the trivial raids the orcs began making on the human military camps within the marshes of The Swamps of Sorrows.

Next, he moved on from the meager raiding, to the all-out attack on the human capital: Stormwind. The attack failed miserably to say the least, the orcs having no sense of order or tactic in the battle under Blackhand's primitive and brash leadership, but that all changed when one Orgrim Doomhammer took command. Doomhammer was by far one of the most feared orcs to ever walk either the battle field or anywhere else. With his masterful understanding of what an orc's body could withstand before its final gruesome breaking point, he launched his own siege on Stormwind City. Due to being cripplingly ill and admittedly foolishly not paying the closest attention to Thrall's many detailed stories, Garrosh failed to tell them all that Gul'dan had fallen into a persistent coma for an unknown reason, ending up merely stating that Gul'dan had gone missing.

Garrosh then went into more detail then he should have when describing the long, strenuous march the Horde began North, slaughtering droves of the explained races known as dwarves and gnomes. The battle stopped only for a few sentences when he spoke to them of The Horde building a forward command center in the hold of Blackrock Mountain. The march North also yielded allies for the orcs in the forms of the races: Forest troll and ogre.

The tale of The First War went on nominally from there: his story detailed the attack on South Shore, the many skirmishes fought by the high elves, the battle fought at the very gates of Lordaeron City, all the way to the war's tide turning in favor of the Alliance of Lordaeron. Rainbow cheered and Twilight was noticeably more relieved (chipper even) hearing the fate that befell the treacherous Gul'dan; it disturbed the rest of her friends a bit, seeing as how she was practically happy that someone had died.

The fighting down Southward was almost too much for many at the table to bear, what with the grieving loss of The Lion of Azeroth Anduin Lothar. The story of The First War ended with the final real battles being those of Blackrock Mountain, and the last stand made by the orcs at the Dark Portal. Garrosh had downed quite a few ales both to keep his emaciated throat from going dry as a desert during his prattling tales, and to secretly prepare himself for what needed to be told over again. He was by now feeling the affects of the semi-heavy drinking, his storytelling becoming a trifle more loose for sure.

The tales of Thrall, and the formation of the Horde he told without flaw, mostly due to the fact that, like a small child being tucked into bed, even he still liked those stories. Celestia was very intrigued by the tauren, seeing as how the way Garrosh described them seemed to make them like a carbon copy of Equuis' minotaurs. It made both the royal sisters think that maybe this "Azeroth" was not too different from Equuis. The ponies were both shocked and horrified when Grom came back into the story, yet again drinking the blood of the demon. Only this time they learned the name of the demonic blood's owner: Mannoroth the Flayer.

The ponies seemed to internally cheer (though Pinkie's cheer was a bit more embarrassingly literal) when Grom was freed by the efforts of Thrall and a human by the name of Jaina Proudmoore. Garrosh was definitely not looking forward to the rest of this parable; it seemed to snap him out of the approachable, tipsy condition he'd worked so hard to build up for this very part. Not a single pony at the table failed to notice his change of demeanor.

When Garrosh told them of his father's battle, and unacceptable death at the hands of Mannoroth, he had expected some sad faces, yes, but what he got was full, unrestained tears! He did however take note of all those who had wept for his father's untimely passing: Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Soarin (oddly,) and, before she could wipe it away from sight, he saw Starry Skies had shed a single tear for his memory. However, his story still was far from done; he told them of how his father had died one of the most heroic orcs in history, and how Thrall had built his race a home at last. The next part of the tale would become even less savory than his father's demise though.

Hellscream also did not very much look forward to the tale of the war in Northrend, yet it was just too important to simply leave out. It would have been a true crime for him to have neglected it when teaching these impressionable equines the history of his people until the present day. It all began with the son of the King of the Alliance of Lordaeron: Arthas Menethil. The story was far darker than any of the ponies would have ever considered, and it took quite some time to get them to understand just what exactly an "Undead" really was. The debate to prove to any naysayers that the undead really did exist was ultimately won By Garrosh, when the orc showed all at the table a gnarled gash of a battle scar that trailed from the middle right side of his forehead, all the way down to the cusp of his upper lip on the same side, and how he'd received it in the frozen wastes of the Northrend campaign. The ponies, even the three princesses remained dead silent for the entire story of the war with Arthas, or, as they ponies came to know him, The Lich King.

Yet, even after the morbidly grotesque story of The War in the North where the casualty count was innumerable and beyond imagination, Garrosh told his listeners something that filled each and every heart with dread: The worst is yet to come.

Garrosh steeled his nerves as he began to speak of Deathwing, and the tortured, maddened, omnicidal dragon's rise to power and all he had decimated and murdered. A few more of the ponies seemed to get a little misty-eyed, unable to emotionally stand all the carnage, madness, and death to which his world fell victim. He then mentioned how Thrall had then left on a crusade to deal with the calamitous beast, and how he, Garrosh Hellscream, was then officially dubbed The Warchief of The Horde. He spoke of his many tedious battles with the night elves in Ashenvale, and his duel-to-the-death with the tauren Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof. His teachings continued all through the time of the duel, to the fall of the horrid Deathwing, and finally to his discovery of the new continent: The Isle of Pandaria.

The story, as he had warned them explicitly, became noticeably worse from that point onward, most of the ponies continuing to remain absolutely silent as he disclosed all the information that had lead him to his time in their own world. This time, the subject of their fear and loathing was not merely some faraway villainous demon, scourged king, or sociopathic dragon, but rather the one who sat before them, and how he lost himself in the blood-thirsty scramblings of his realm. Some seemed nervous, others seemed stoic, while a small few looked upon him with a renewed hatred and wariness. Garrosh told them of how he tried to turn the Horde back to its original state, back to the days of The Orcish Horde, back to the days of Gul'dan and Doomhammer, and how he had cunningly usurped the mystical and awesome powers of so many dark gods and relics to see to it that he did not fail in his terrible task. The engrossing tale ultimately ended with his defeat to the forces of the whole of Azeroth, but in the end, he claimed that he would have made his father proud, and that was all that mattered.

"And that, my small ponies, is where my story in Azeroth ends, and where my story here begins." He said before he took a large gulp from his ale mug to help his dry and beaten throat, silently vowing never to tell a story of this deplorable length again. Most of the ponies just stared with blank faces at him; it became annoying for him rather quickly. "Come; voice your opinions." He uttered gruffly as he ripped the wings off of the third chicken that had been prepared for him, he took half the wing off the bone in one bite. He had failed to realize how hungry and thirsty he was after two full hours of nothing but pretentious storytelling and monologuing, even with all the ale he'd polished off. He briefly wondered how Thrall had not gone insane from all those laughable peace meetings he had hosted.

"Those stories were quite... interesting, don't you agree sister?" Celestia asked Luna with her usual calm demeanor. Luna's mouth was agape by the time his story was done, but she did snap out of her stupor to answer her sister.

"W-why yes, 'twas quiet the riveting tale, if a bit... dark." Luna mumbled something about "...even for me." under her breath as she sipped her third glass of red whine away. "What did you think of it, Princess Sparkle?" Luna quickly asked to get the attention off of her. The fledgling princess stammered a bit before forming a coherent response.

"It was... sad and dark at times, and hopeful and triumphant at others, and it was... full of knowledge." She said, shuddering almost euphorically as she looked down at her scribble-darkened notepad; snapping back to her senses, she soberly continued. "I-I liked it for the most part." She added to overall her review with a slight conflicted stutter still lingering. She then turn the metaphorical gun of attention on her friends. "What did all of you think of it?" She asked fairly quickly. Rarity was the first to answer.

"Well, it was bold... um, adventurous and... very action-packed I must say, and..." She paused for a moment, as if looking for the proper wording of her next sentiment. "I am so... so very sorry about your father and what happened to him, but just as you said, he... perished the w-way he would have wanted to." After saying that with a strained voice, her eyes started irreversibly tearing up. She pulled out a white lace handkerchief to dab her eyes lightly with it, parts of the delicate white fabric staining black from running mascara. On the other end of the spectrum, the ruff and tumble Applejack was the next up.

"Uh... It was... downright brutal? Yeah, ah think that's the right word for it. Imma' thank mah lucky stars right now that all we got ta deal with here is folks like Discord, and ah gotta say, ah'm mighty sorry 'bout your pop too." Removing her hat, placing it at her chest, and bowing her head, she paused for only a second before speaking again. "Now Ah can't really blame ya for bein' real grumpy most a' the time." ....He didn't like her; not one bit did he like that farmer, but at the very least, she meant what she said. The next to speak, or act rather, was one he could have gone his whole life and afterlife without: Pinkie Pie.

The pink, normally unnervingly cheerful and energetic pony had been sniffling since the very minute he had said Grom had died.... period, and she almost looked broken ever since he told them of what he himself had become in his final days on Azeroth. Her wildly unkempt mane style had somehow remolded itself altogether to fit her manically depressed mood, and when nopony else would go up to speak, she simply hopped down from her seat and trotted over to the orc's chair. Garrosh had no clue what she was doing until she did it; she hopped onto his neck in the same hugging fashion that Dinky did, and started flat out sobbing in front of everyone.

Garrosh just sat there, and allowed the pony to weep. "Are all of these creatures this sensitive?" He thought to himself as she kept on crying. Before Garrosh even knew she had moved, Fluttershy was then hugging his left arm, crying almost just as ardently as Pinkie was. "Oh! For the Ancestors' sake!" He thought as the two weeping mares held him there, unable to keep themselves from crying out in grief and mourning. After deciding he had been embarrassed quite enough, he gave the rest of the Elements a reserved head signal to tell them that he would have liked them off of him. "They're adults, for Ancestors' sake! No matter what species, they should at least show half of a backbone!" He ranted internally.

After Rainbow Dash finally grabbed Fluttershy from his arm, she allowed her to hug her instead, Rainbow then lead the hysteric yellow mare back to her seat. Twilight had to do the same with Pinkie Pie seeing as how Rarity seemed to be too heavily preoccupied sniffling quietly into Applejack's shoulder with a handkerchief once again at the level of her eyes. "What is wrong with these infernal creatures!?" Garrosh thought manically as he watched the dinner tent not-so-slowly transform into an ongoing soap opera. The Wonderbolts and "Shadowbolts" as he learned they were called, seemed to be holding up rather well against the unstoppable onslaught of sadness, until Soarin blew his nose loudly into his napkin and Fleetfoot sniffled. Garrosh honestly wanted to be anywhere but where he was at that moment, seeing the "ever so masculine" Soarin now leaning pitifully on poor Spitfire (Who looked just as uncomfortable as Hellscream was, if not more.)

"What is the time, Princess?" He tiredly asked Celestia, hoping beyond all hope to be told he was free to go before this got any worse. What the orc heard in response, was a very large red flag to him. Celestia looked to her sister for an answer, Luna closing her eyes as if in meditation. It appeared she was feeling the connection to herself and the moon to tell approximate timing throughout the night. This was all Garrosh could reason it to be as she reopened her eyes and told him the time.

"It is 10:07 in the evening, Warchief." She said emotionlessly. The words hit Garrosh like a stampeding herd of clefhooves.

"Damn!" He shouted suddenly for no apparent reason as he shot up from his seat.

Before anypony could even think of asking him what was wrong, Garrosh snatched his survival bag and flew backwards, bound for the exit as he yelled back very simply. "I'm going to be late!" He bellowed urgently as he bolted from the table and for the tent's entrance. He didn't know how in the world he had wasted almost four entire hours telling them his life story at this meeting, but that didn't matter; all that mattered was getting to Ditsy's house and apologizing to Dinky. "She might still be awake!" He thought hopefully.

Garrosh Hellscream tore the tent's version of a door from its hold, the cooler night air hitting him like a frozen brick wall. The frantic orc didn't even shiver as he shot past the two ignorant royal front guardsponies and continued running full speed to... well, he didn't exactly know where, but unfortunately, that was the very last thing on his mind.

Author's Note:

*Mops forehead with handkerchief* Yep, this was a big one, folks!

At least now you all know what took me so long to update it. I felt it a wonderfully opportune moment in the story line to introduce any and all characters you may have thus far been unfamiliar with. That, and I couldn't stand to simply montage through so much deliciously irresistible content. Please, readers, don't be afraid to let me know in the comments if this has become a bit too much to bear, if you would like me to scale it back a little, or if you just want me to continue blustering all your ears off like the windbag I naturally am.

Be it all as it may, my dear brothers and sisters, enjoy this immense new chapter.

Comments

[medictf2]

Forsakens: I'm coming for you, Garrosh.

[Pabulos]

*Sigh* Waiting for hi mto brutally butcher ponies

[Europa]

Hey, welcome back! Good story with Garrosh.

I am a bit curious as to how Twilight's blast against Garrosh was so weak. Even back with the Ursa Minor, look at the force needed to move something like that. Even if she injured Rainbow Dash, she should have had more than enough power to do serious, even lethal damage to Garrosh. We know from Warcraft that he's not impervious to magic, but unless he's been busy drinking Old God juice he himself has the magical ability of your average blade of grass. Which raises the question of why Twilight was so weak against him. See the battle of Tirek, even with a small fraction of that power being hers, that's a damn lot of power.

Good story with Garrosh, and interesting things with manticore-wyvern and minotaur-tauren. Makes you wonder if Discord is their answer to the Old Gods, or something worse is....

Curious to see what conflict will come from this story now. Hmm. I eagerly await more.

[GameHunter]

5117465 Blizzard: even making dead girls look hot.

Great chapter author, loved it

[medictf2]

5117939 y'shaarj should be the answer to the weakness of the magic of twilight

[Europa]

5118776 Hardy har har. And in any case the old god's influence is gone... maybe.

[The yeti]

Faaaaaaantastic:)

[muffinator]

Thank you for the updat lord any questions comments or concerns

[The Blessed One]

5117939 You're quite the thinker, Europa.... I like that.

I didn't think I'd ever have the privilege of explaining the genius level planning skill of one Greatmother Geyah. If you desire further and more detailed elaboration, we should go into private chat, to conserve the mystery and the magic for your fellow readers, of course.

But if you want to simply guess the reasoning (given the little hint) and reply, I'm fine with that too.

[Europa]

5119357 I think I'll remain unspoiled, thank you very much.

Also, a little thing to think about: Tirek is totally a member of the Burning Legion. He even has the general body structure of Pit Lords.

[The Blessed One]

5119373 You are absolutely right! When I first laid eyes upon his ultimate form, I thought Mannoroth the Flayer had a not-so-distant cousin in Equestria, and I was (And still am) a bit curious as to what his "soft" brother looked like as well (apart from that stupidly undetailed painting.)

On a side note, foo! I was really looking forward to explaining myself, but I must say, I admire your moral ethic for reading stories.

[Europa]

5119404

a bit curious as to what his "soft" brother looked like as well (apart from that stupidly undetailed painting.)

Well in G1, Tirek's brother was Scorpan, who looked... kinda odd is the only way I can describe him. The closest thing among the demons would be a Dreadlord, which already have multiple offshoots.

It's not hard to imagine a demon pulling a Sargeras in reverse.

[Cadmium]

Here i am just having punched Garrosh in the face with my big sword not even 2 hours ago and now im reading about him making friends with and telling his live story to small colorful ponies after beating some of them into the hospital.

How truly bizarre the world of fan fiction can be.

[The Blessed One]

5121994 First off: Thank you so much! I had been waiting for a comment just like your's for God-knows how long!

Secondly: Both mistakes I make have very simple (and stupid) answers, both are just peeves I have. The first one is a peeve because my favorite author on this site does the same thing. I do the second thing because I just think it looks better.

[Starlight Breeze]

Clever girl

Don't know why this made me laugh

[commando]

5137466 This is the best chapter yet! I can'tell wait for the next one!