Tang Zhi's Unspoken story. "Enjoying the tea?"

Long have I traveled with those men. One I have known since he was born, as I know your clan's Grom'kosh.

Many great things we did together, many times we fought to save Azeroth, against many foes far greater than ourselves... And we prevailed.

Darthok Earthmonger was the greatest among us.

He, Grak'thar, and I led the others to battle many times.

Gurk Stormcall, a mighty shaman, who had become one of the first warlocks. As the demon's influence failed to hold the Horde, he returned to shamanism.

He walked with us, as he'd walked with Grak'thar during the first war.

A more powerful shaman than Darthok, but more forgiving.

He did not often use the full extent of his might.

Krogar Gronnfury, born to a Thunderlord and a Dragonmaw. Grown taming grown and riding rylak, he was formidible in every form of combat, and a great beastmaster.

Sambetok the Forest Troll, a mighty warrior who had left his tribe to sail with the Horde. Meeting Grak'thar and Gurk during the invasions of Quel'thalas, he was glad to find his friends to be in much better, natural condition.

Gronnan Slaughterboar, a veteran soldier of the Warsong Clan.

He'd drank the felblood twice, as had Grak'thar, and searched for redemption. Formidible and impervious to damage, he was one of our best.

The Ogre, Korduul. What he lacked in intelligence he made up for in brawn.

Once a gladiator, his hand were replaced by giant swords!

There were a few more, but those are the majority.

Those are who came here, aside from Sambetok.

It was the eve before the Battle for Mount Hyjal...

We stood in the forest, preparing. We had spoken beforehand, and we knew the Alliance and Horde would not hold the tide from the night elf base. We decided that, as they retreated, we would hold their flank.

It was then I first realized our error.

Darthok had been spoken to on many occacions by the Twilight's Hammer Clan,

who you know as The Pale Orcs.

He often spoke of hearing voices in the trees, that we dismissed as nothing.

When he spoke of a power great enough to save us that day,

I knew he had been hearing the Old Gods.

At the time, however, I knew them only as The Sha.

There was no time for debate-- The Undead ravaged the Alliance troops. The Horde was next. We'd fought and clashed with the unholy tide, and were ready to protect our retreating brothers.

Sambetok was the first to fall. In his dying breath, he begged for his son.

Instead, he recieved a necromancer's embrace, and rose against us.

Many of us were injured. Darthok had stopped helping me pull back the wounded.

He was crippled by voices...Whispers...and fled into the trees.

Grak'thar fell, next. We could not hold the line, we were retreating. Running for our lives.

He would not.

It was there that he died, and rose as a Death Knight.

The undead overran our position and attacked the elf base. In the end, the elves had just enough time to finish their ritual. And the Horde troops had escaped, in part, thanks to us.

We had not succeeded. We had failed, and our cost was great, but had given many hope in our hopeless vigil, and that won the day.

Our journey to Ashenvale went much the same.

They are dead. Danti, Sambetok's son. Gurk Stormcall, the shaman. Krogar's beasts. Your grunts.

Those I saved are too injured to move.

"You must look past the surface, Myrshani..." He waved his hand, and images began to appear in her cup of tea.

The dragon, Zarendormu, roared in agony. Filled with arrows and sword wounds, he took flight. As he reached the distance, Myr saw someone she recognized: Tabaret, the Tol'vir, limped from behind the corpse of a massive Clefthoof, loosed another arrow, and the dragon plummeted into the trees.

The image shifted.

Tang fights one on one with The Reaper, pieces of the being's foul plate all over the ground. Tang's fists are ignited in flames as a party of grunts, led by Grak'thar's companions, charged forward.

The Reaper screams in fear, and disappears.

The image shifted again. Dunnoc, the grunt triplets, a young troll warrior, and a grizzled old shaman lay brutally dismembered on the ground...

And beside them, kneeling and injured, sat Voidmonger.

In front of him, a flower had bloomed. He roared at the sky, darkness spreading around him, and the vision disappeared.

Tang placed his tea cup down,it was empty. Silently, he put the cup away, and reattatched his tea pot to his staff.

"Enjoying the tea?"