The tray clattered on the stained oak table. The peon that dropped it stared in horror as the giant warhammer rose above his head. With a grunt as fierce as the wielder, the hammer collided with the peon's skull.

"That'll teach ya not to piss in my soup, you pile of reeking filth!" Orgrim Doomhammer growled at the carcass that lied before him. With a sickening suction, Orgrim heaved his heavy hammer out of the head.

Everyone in the hall looked to see what was going on.

"What are ya'll looking at? Get back to yer meals!" Orgrim shouted at them.

Orgrim shambled over to his table and sat down infront of his tray. He grumbled to himself as he slowly ate the mush that his people called food. Orgrim didn't know how anyone could eat it, let along survive off of it, but it was the only source of food that was free.

"Alright! Who did this? Huh? Come on out and speak up, ya cowerd!" shouted the guard, who was standing over the dead peon.

The hall grew silent as Orgrim stood up once again from his dinner.

"So, it was you, eh?" the guard sneered. "Well, I think I'll just have teh teach ya a lesson!"

"Oh yeah? And just exactly what lesson are you going to teach me?" Orgrim challenged.

"Why you damn warrior!" the guard hollered, appalled that he was being back-talked to. The guard took his blackjack in hand and advanced towards Orgrim.

Orgrim grabbed the shield nearest him and quickly thrust it infront of him. The blackjack knocked off the shield just as Orgrim got it above his head.

As soon as the blackjack struck, Orgrim lunged from behind his shield and attempted to punch the guard. With a cry of anguish from the guard, his fist landed right on the jaw.

The grunt stumbled away from Orgrim. He felt his jaw and winced at the bruise that was already starting to show.

"You'll pay for that!" the guard cursed.

"Can't wait." Orgrim replied.

With a fierce battlecry, the guard entered into a bloodlust state and charged Orgrim.

Orgrim raised the wooden shield, but his strength alone was no match for the guard's rage. The guard rammed into the shield, while knocking Orgrim to the ground. The guard took hold of the shield and tore it from Orgrim's grip. He flung the shield to the side as he raised his club. The club struck Orgrim on to of his head, and then another blow was dealt across his face.

"Ughhh…." Orgrim moaned. He rolled over and opened his eyes. The hall was extremely dark, or at least he thought it was the hall.

Some shuffling behind him alerted him that there was another body in the room. Orgrim felt a cold, wet piece of cloth go across his brow. Orgrim strained to see who it was in the dark, but before he could, he blacked out again.

Orgrim woke up about an hour later, and he felt better than he did earlier. The light was on this time, and he wasn't in the hall. He had been brought back to his room in the barracks.

Orgrim looked around his room and noticed that it had been tidied up a little bit. His armor was polished and hung respectively from its rack. His mighty warhammer had been washed of its recent killing and laid on top of his drawer. All of Orgrim's papers were picked up and put into a pile on his desk. There was fresh, chopped wood next to a roaring fireplace, which held a gigantic black kettle.

In the corner of his room was a chair which held a sleeping orc. Orgrim recognized him to be his best friend, Grontor.

Orgrim and Grontor had been friends since their late childhood. Orgrim had moved to where Grontor lived when they were about ten. They met in the military school where their parents had enrolled them. They had many likenesses that they became friends right away. Orgrim and Grontor would always partner up when it was time to duel and they always helped each other out when needed. They had graduated at the top of their class together and they vowed to be friends no matter what.

Orgrim let out a moan of pain and woke Grontor up.

"I see you're finally awake." Grontor pointed out with a smile.

"Yeah. Finally… How long have I been out?" Orgrim replied.

"Only a day. It's incredible that you're even awake now. The doctor said you'd be down for at least three more days." Grontor explained. "The guard sure hit you hard."

"He deserved it. That's what he gets for calling me a coward." Orgrim said through an onslaught of coughs.

"True. But you should know better than to pick a fight with a guard. By the way, nice punch!" Grontor exclaimed.

"Thanks. Been workin' on it." Orgrim said.

Grontor got up and walked over to check on the cauldron. He lifted the lid and a cloud of steam issued forth from the pot. Grontor added some spices and stirred them in.

"Can you help me up here? I've gotta take a piss." Orgrim asked bluntly.

Grontor pulled back the covers and helped Orgrim sit up. He pulled Orgrim to his feet and waited as Orgrim steadied himself. Then, Orgrim walked to his bathroom and closed the door.

"Did I miss anything important while I was out?" Orgrim called through the door.

"Not much. We raided a small Draeni village to the south of here, but there wasn't much other than that. Today was just training." Grontor replied as he stirred the stew again.

Orgrim came back into the room and sat down slowly on the edge of his bed. He washed his hands in the bowl of water on the floor next to his bed.

"Well, I'd say this stew is ready. I bet you're starving?" Grontor said.

"You have no idea." Orgrim replied as Grontor ladled the soup into a bowl. "Thanks for watching me. You didn't have to clean my room, though."

"Don't mention it. Think of it as repayment for saving me from that crazy malantor." Grontor said.

Orgrim and Grontor ate in silence, as was customary. They reminisced about the days that were gone and they thought about the stories of possibly leaving Draenor for another world.

It had recently been made known to Orgrim and Grontor's group that Gul'dan was planning on opening a portal that would lead them to a new world that the Orcish horde could conquer. Whether or not it would happen, no one knew. Some people like the idea though, so they hoped it would.

Personally, Orgrim despised Gul'dan and he believed that nothing but pain would be inflicted upon the horde. He hated demonism and he hated people who studied in it. Grontor also disliked demonism, and they both thought that wars should be won with strength alone.

Orgrim took the last gulp of soup and set the bowl down on the table. He took a long swig of ale to ease the immense headache that he had.

"Well, again I thank you for you help. It was greatly appreciated. Now I bid you a good night." Orgrim told Grontor.

"But, you've only just gotten up. You should let me stay." Grontor begged his friend.

"No. It was nothing but a bump on the head. I'll be fine. See you tomorrow for training. Now good night!" Orgrim commanded.

Grontor exited Orgrim's room and headed to the arena to spar.

Orgrim added some more wood to the fire and then sat infront of it. He took another drink of ale, swallowing down the herbs that the doctor had left. He stared into the intense heat and continued drinking his ale, feeling extremely lousy for being so weak.

Orgrim should have known not to go and fight with a guard. Now, he had lost a raid to prove himself worthy of advancing in the ranks.

Orgrim set down his empty mug and moseyed on over to his bed where he snuggled under the warm covers. He laid there thinking about his parents. He missed them dearly.

His father, Morgaur Doomhammer, was a mighty warrior who had served the horde. Morgaur fought many a battle and often saved his raid's ass. The hammer that belongs to Orgrim had belonged to his father. Orgrim believed that his father's spirit to reside in that hammer.

Morgaur died about a year after Orgrim was born. He had been leading a raid in a Draeni empire when a fellow warrior was struck down. Morgaur rushed to his aid, but was ambushed by a group of Draeni. One of them had managed to drive a sword into Morgaur's gut before backup arrived. They pulled Morgaur to safety, but it was too late. He bled to death before medical attention could be provided. Morgaur's helmet and hammer were returned to Orgrim.

Orgrim's mother, Gurgra, worked as a cooking peon. She provided some of the best meals that the horde had ever eaten. Gurgra was stricken with grief at the news of her husband's death, but she remained strong for Orgrim's sake. She told Orgrim of all the wondrous battles Morgaur had fought.

Gurgra passed away in her sleep a couple of years before Orgrim had joined the horde. She left him with her love.

Orgrim took a long breath to prevent him from crying about his mother's death. He wished that he could have just one more of her scrumptious roast beefs.

More than his parents deaths though, he wanted to start his own family. Orgrim wanted to love and be loved. He wanted a son whom he could be proud of. Orgrim could start a family, but he still needed to find the right woman. He believed her to be there, somewhere.