A change in the wind

In a house, somewhere in Durotar two orcs were holding a rather unusual talk for the understanding of a pig farmer.
‘Jubai, if this is true what your blabbering there, we have good days before us!’
‘Ye, reminds me of ol Grimschka who now lives in Razor Hill who kept telling folks we wont see him going, can ye imagine!? And then they call me a fool!’
‘Cause ye damnnit are you drooling misbreed of a svrenok! But to hell! I am as well, starting working for Him, but I sense a change in the wind…sick of rotting in here just waiting for orders from the Cartel! Look, I got a plan…’

After several cheers, snorts, farts (these mostly from the individual called Jubai) the plan was clear, and for the first time in many years it was once again time to start the ‘brawl’ as both green skinned fellows were describing this whole theatre.

‘Aaah, enough with the Black Curtain Cartel, now they will see what action means! With Horrison away it was about time to give Silvermoon a visit. I still got an ol deal with that scurvy trollish son of woman of low morale! He will remember the names Bromtah and Gremdah, and his stupid commands for ‘silencing’ them…’
‘But Blackdah, you sure this work? Cartels still many folks’ snorted Jubai while searching for treasures with his thick fingers in his nostril.
‘Don’t look for a brain where there is no Jubai! And don’t question the plan, just do what I told ye! Now go to Orgrimmar and call Dromtah, he shall gather the boys and make sure he gets Big Bill!’
‘Billy boy be in Dustwallow and hiding, he cracked some other Ogre’s head open recently and just like Za’Zimah who once was looking for more shrunken heads to add to his collection…’
‘SHUT IT! Just move yer buttchops out of here…aaah, wait! When in Orgrimmar, get me old Tuxedo out of the bank’ grinned Blackdah ‘I want to look good when arriving in Silvermoon…’

Silvermoon – a city full of order and discipline, on first sight it’s hard to say that in this lovely idyll created by constant ‘reminding’ from our friends and helper there could be any street misunderstandings. But why noble elf’s were taking a walk in the streets, at once something was in the air, and taking this literally and ignoring levitating brooms and plants it was a smell. A strange smell which was firstly from some mistaken as another plaque of the Scourge, other again feared that rotten eggs – a children’s folly joke- have been hidden somewhere, while others tipped that this stench is not from this world!

And indeed just some seconds later the mystery and source of this divine perfume came over the corner. An impressive group of five orcs was making its way though the street, dressed in peonish rags they were amazed looking at the surrounding them floating items of all sorts. The obvious leader of this company, who was walking in front of them, was differing from all others by the simple fact wearing a fine (but old and ugly as the elf’s later commented) tuxedo.

‘Is that it?’ asked Blackdah while looking at the building in front of him for citizens better known as Keelen's Trustworthy Tailoring.
‘That’s the address boss, least what they gave me’ snorted Jubai while peering at the city map in his hands.
‘Fine, now make some rumble drumble in there, let’em know theres a new chef in town. And find me the documents, and Teraly! Now let’s see what Mr. Horrison left for us from his ‘Netherweave Factory’ will be quiet interesting…’

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Standing in the center of a ravaged office room, surrounded by broken crates full of netherweave cloth and scared lepper gnomes Blackdah was giving orders still believing someone was listening to him.

'So 'oo da fook cares bout them orders?! Get ye ares up an' start movin' out as I said or bugge' off! So wotchoo waitin for!? Go find me damn Key to the Black 'urtains pub!'

A orc, till now lazying in one of the corners on finest import of Mageweave, took out the finger of his nose, got rid of the jerk with fast snip and added to himself.

'Ye think it be o' any use na'? Wot point? C'mon luv, stay down the Cartel is ours and ol boss gone and wont be back fo' suh'...eh there be now news from the Clan mistuh's...You was doin' the boys a favor, bringin' 'em 'ere like that. So let 'em work a bit and let Dromtah run Orgrimma fo' it sure I wanna stay 'ere!

'Jubah! Wot did I toldchaa 'bout thnkin'?

'Leave it be...su' thin guv'nah!'