A/N: Hello again, everyone! It's finally done. Thanks for all the surprisingly numerous "where's the story" prods I've been getting - lets me know I'm not just spinning my wheels! I'm back to the M rating for a reason - this one contains the big three: sex, violence, and strong language, so watch out.

Story order: In a Dark Place, Joined Lives, Secrets and Lies, Liberation, Light and Gray, Bloodscry.

And I don't own Blizzard, WoW, or any NPCs, just my own characters and story.

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It had all started with a comment, innocent enough, from a Mag'har passing through Karkun Kamil.

"Reminds me of the old Thunderlord dire wolves," he'd said, eyeing Palla. "Got that same glint in her eye like she knows just who her master is and'd rip the head offa anyone on his say-so."

Galmak's ears had perked. "You know of the Thunderlords?" he'd asked with avid interest.

"Nah," the brown orc had answered. "Not anymore, leastways. They're all dead now. Killed by the Shadowmoons, killed by ogres, killed by their own damn foolishness. But yep, that wolf… she brings back the old days, she does." The orc had lapsed into contemplative silence until Galmak had prodded him again for more details.

And now? Now they were a bit lost in the Blade's Edge Mountains.

"Maps come in handy, you know," Hyara grumbled for what seemed like the tenth time.

"And I thought I had one," Galmak scowled yet again. "It's not my fault it turned out Netherstorm isn't attached to the top of Zangarmarsh." He squinted again at the edge of their currently useless map of Netherstorm. "It does show a little bit of Blade's Edge. I wonder if we're anywhere near this part?"

"We would be very lucky, wouldn't we," Hyara said dryly. "Anyway, I don't think we should've taken that right fork in the road back there."

"Well why didn't you say so at the time!"

"Because I wasn't sure… I think I'm sure now."

Galmak growled at her in mock-menace, unsuccessfully trying to hide a grin. "Alright. Let's turn around and see if you're right."

They turned their mounts and set out back down the long, heat-scarred slope. A biting wind whirled red dust around them, hazing the sky and subduing the sun, but for all that it was almost as hot here as in Hellfire Peninsula. They'd left Zangarmarsh's tepid humidity behind earlier that day and now they were trying to find Thunderlord Stronghold, which was proving more difficult without a map than they'd hoped.

"He said it was about a day's ride north of the mountains," Hyara said, squinting at the sun. "So… I don't know why I think we went the wrong way. We wouldn't have run into it yet in any case."

Galmak laughed. "We'll trust your instincts for now. I guess I'd much rather it turned out to be down in that forest than up here on the plateau."

Hyara nodded, holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the blowing grit. She couldn't say she was entirely thrilled to be here. Last month had been a true nightmare in many ways and their intention had been to have a nice long rest at Karkun Kamil. Remta had been surprised and amused when Hyara had begged him to give her a little time before sending her on any more diplomatic missions; he'd not had any intention of sending her back out right away. The Kanrethad were accustomed to taking life at a leisurely pace after so many years in hiding. Hyara had been intensely relieved and glad to look forward to several months of quiet in Nagrand's balmy sunlight.

But it was not to be. Galmak would never think of insisting on leaving again right away, but Hyara could sense the restlessness that had crept into him day by day after learning the location of his clan's ancient homeland. He had grown up on his parents' sad cautionary tales of all the Legion's horrors, but as he grew older he'd come to realize that there was a before. The Legion had not been the beginning; it had been the end of his true heritage.

His parents had never been able to tell him a great deal about the Thunderlords; they had been children when they came through the Dark Portal to Azeroth and they'd never been back to Draenor after the shattering. They'd never known if any of their clan had survived beyond the very few like them who had slipped through the Portal to remain in Azeroth and avoid the massacre at the hands of the Shadowmoon clan. And now, all these years later, they'd had no word that even any of those survivors still lived. Galmak had come to Outland determined that he would find his heritage and Hyara wanted with all her heart to help him, even if it meant cutting short their rest.

As they descended the slope, trees sprung up around them again, crowding close to the path with thick black-green leaves and screening out the harsh, dusty wind. Lazy heat still hovered in the air even in the shade of the forest, but the breeze that filtered through was mild. Earlier Palla and Gink had glimpsed a pack of wolves sliding silently through the undergrowth, and Galmak wondered with a thrill of apprehensive excitement if they might be some of what remained of his ancestors' ancient companions. He felt strangely uneasy here, as if the spirits of his ancestors watched him with appraising, wary eyes.

Hyara trotted along at his side humming absently to herself, a faraway look in her eyes. Galmak had thought she wouldn't be ready to make this trip so soon, but in the end it had been her suggestion. He worried about that some; he was afraid she was trying to keep herself occupied so she wouldn't have to think about the events of the past month. But he knew she was dealing with it as best she could, and all he could do was be there to give her strength and show her that nothing about her had changed in his mind, despite what they'd learned and what she'd been through. Maybe a demon hunter could see something strange in his wife, but all Galmak could see was the most beautiful woman in all the worlds who looked as though she could use a drink of water right now. He grinned suddenly and handed her his waterskin.

Hyara smiled and took it gratefully. "At least we're out of that sun here. It's remarkable the druids were able to grow these forests."

He nodded and checked on Palla's sense to the north just as he heard her howl in the distance.

Trouble up here.

Hyara glanced at him; they exchanged a silent agreement and then they were galloping northward up the road. Somewhere ahead there was a great bellow that seemed to shake the trees and vibrate the stones underfoot. Something huge was sprawled across the road, and as they drew nearer Hyara's horse neighed in alarm and danced backward away from the widening river of blood gushing from the thing's neck. It was an ogre, and though this one was dead, his friends were not. In the trees just to the side of the road three more ogres howled, swinging massive axes with a speed Hyara wouldn't have thought possible. They were closing in on something, notching gashes out of the trees in their fury, and backing their quarry against the thick trunks. Behind the ogres' massive bodies there was a desperate shout in orcish and then another axe, much smaller than the ogres', came arcing toward a meaty, armored leg. The axe connected with flesh and the ogre roared in pain as blood spurted, but the huge creature barely paused in his attack. Hyara and Galmak leapt to the ground and sent arrows flying just as the ogre howled again and crumpled heavily to the ground with an axe buried in his stomach. The orc that the thing had been closing in on sent the barest glance toward the two hunters and turned immediately to help his comrade. One of the ogres must have seen the arrows in his friend's back, because he turned with a howl of rage and charged at Hyara and Galmak. Palla intercepted him with a snarl, leaping into the air and locking her jaws around one thick arm. The ogre shook his arm furiously, trying to dislodge the wolf's iron grip, and Gink took the opportunity to rip a ferocious bite out of the thing's heel. The ogre toppled, his neck and chest bristling with arrows.

Hyara panted, her heart racing as Gink gave the creature a careful sniff and pronounced it thoroughly dead. "I've never seen them so fierce," she gulped.

"Welcome to Blade's Edge. They grow 'em mean here." A brown-haired orc wiped his axe carefully on the grass and strolled toward the two hunters. A second orc followed, mopping sweat off his pale green face. They focused their attention on Galmak, but their eyes wandered suspiciously to Hyara. "Brolg and Olkhor," the first orc said, gesturing to himself and his grey-haired friend. "Our thanks for your help."

Galmak nodded and crouched to speak a few soft healing words to Palla, then straightened again. "I'm Galmak. This is my mate, Hyara of the Kanrethad in Nagrand."

"Ah. Heard about them last month," Olkhor said, his narrowed reddish eyes traveling over Hyara. "Hadn't heard they had any draenei with them. Just Broken, I thought."

"I'm the only one so far," Hyara replied. She didn't particularly care for the way Olkhor was looking at her.

Galmak seemed to be thinking along the same lines because he stepped casually in front of her, leaning down to scratch Gink's ears. "Is Thunderlord Stronghold down this road?" he asked.

"Several hours' ride," Brolg nodded. "We're headed there ourselves. Glad of the extra company if you'd care to travel with us."

"Are there ogre attacks here very often?" Hyara asked as they continued on their way.

"Ah, nah, not so much anymore," Brolg answered, but then he frowned and shrugged. "Least, used to be not so much anymore. Past few weeks have been a bit worse. The Bladespires've always been a plague here."

"What brings you out here?" Olkhor asked Hyara. She gave him a sideways glance and then looked over at Galmak, uncertain how much her husband wanted to reveal to these two.

But Galmak didn't seem to have any reservations about disclosing his purpose here. "I'm looking for any Thunderlords who might still be around. I don't suppose you know of any?"

Olkhor laughed nastily. "You'll want to make the burial ground your first stop then. The only Thunderlords still around here are the dead ones. Dumb bastards threw their lot in with the Legion and paid for it but good."

"That's what I keep hearing," Galmak grunted under his breath.

"Why's it you were wanting to find them?" Brolg asked curiously.

"Because I'm one of them," Galmak said.

The other two orcs exchanged a look, then regarded Galmak with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"Well, well, now," Olkhor finally said. "Right royalty you are around here. A lost son returned home. Shall we ride ahead and inform your clansmen to prepare a feast?" He bellowed with laughter.

Galmak looked over in surprise and growled. "I didn't ask for your insults. As I recall, it was you who asked me why I was here. Keep your humor to yourself!"

Olkhor grinned toothily at the young orc's anger. "Actually, I asked your little blue mate what she's doing here. Here to keep your bed warm, mayhap? Here to give you a son for your clan?" He roared with laughter. "We thought they were dead, but no indeed; now they're to be hoofed, blue-blooded mongrels!"

In a rage Galmak leapt out of his saddle and grabbed Olkhor by the front of his leather tunic, dragging him off his wolf. Galmak's face hovered inches from the older orc's, his eyes blazing red. His voice rumbled in a low, menacing growl. "Keep your filthy words to yourself, whoreson. Insult my mate again and you'll pay for it in blood!"

Olkhor grinned slowly, then calmly grasped Galmak's hands and twisted. Galmak stood firm and braced his muscles against the old orc's surprising strength. Just when he thought he'd hear bones crack, Olkhor relinquished his grip.

"Then I'd better keep my words to myself," Olkhor said with a sneering smile.

Galmak let him go with one last rough shove and jumped back onto his timber wolf. He thought he heard a sigh of relief and a mutter from Brolg.

"Come on," He growled softly to Hyara and she followed him as he kicked his wolf to a lope up the path, leaving Olkhor and Brolg behind. Once they were a reasonable distance from the other two orcs they slowed again. Silence settled around them. Hyara stared down at her hands, uncertain what to say. The worst part of it all was that Olkhor had spoken the truth. No, not even that. I may never give him children at all. Her sight blurred and she turned away to examine the surrounding trees. She felt his hand covering hers then and he spoke quietly beside her.

"We've had our share of trouble, love. People like that are just one more minor difficulty. I let him get to me too much and I only made it worse; I'm sorry for that."

She squeezed his hand and blinked away tears, turning to smile at him. "It's alright. I feel very loved when you rush to defend my honor like that."

He chuckled quietly and gripped her hand tightly as they plodded on down the road. Sadness continued to tug at Hyara's mind. She wondered if incidents like this ever made her husband regret, however briefly, the decision he'd made years ago.

Galmak approached the town gates on his own at first, but it was clear that by now some kind of word about the Kanrethad had filtered out to the rest of Outland from Garadar and the Warchief. After listening as politely as she could to a somewhat insulting warning not to disturb the peace, Hyara trotted past the guards and into town.

Thunderlord Stronghold was surprisingly large, and much to Galmak's disappointment, surprisingly new. This was the location of his clan's ancient holdings, to be sure, but little remained of that time. For all its size though, the town had a claustrophobic feel in the warm air and filtered forest sunlight. Clay shops and houses crowded in tightly packed clusters along the narrow streets, making for sharp corners and meandering approaches to all the important buildings. This, they learned, was a defensive precaution rather than by true preference of the orcs who lived here; the narrow streets and close-set buildings would quickly disadvantage any attacking ogres who managed to fight their way into the town.

"There must be something of your people left here, love," Hyara said as they settled into their room in the inn. "We'll find it."

Galmak smiled at her encouragement but he shook his head skeptically. "That's not what everyone seems to think. Gah, my parents." He plunked down on their little pallet and frowned down at the floor.

"Maybe they didn't realize it would be so important to you," Hyara sighed. "After all, these were the days they were trying to escape…"

"They were escaping the wrong days, then. I heard plenty about the Legion growing up, but next to nothing about who my clan was before the Legion. I don't think they even knew much about it themselves." He shook his head ruefully. "We may have wasted our time coming here. I pulled you away for nothing, didn't even let you rest."

"Oh, stop. It's not a waste even if you can't do anything more than see the town for yourself. Resting is all well and good, but…" Running is better. Less time to think.

Galmak looked at her askance and slipped an arm around her waist. Hyara pretended not to notice his look and instead thumped him playfully with her tail.

"Well," he finally said. "I'm going to have a look around in any case. Coming?"

"Of course," she laughed. He pinched her butt as they left the inn and she squealed, drawing a look from the innkeeper. Hyara blushed and made a face at Galmak, but he only grinned and pinched her again.

"Stop, you!" she hissed. "I attract enough attention as it is!"

"That you do, but it's perfectly justified– "

"Here you are," a voice said suddenly behind them.

They turned in surprise to see Brolg stepping out of a doorway into the street. Galmak nodded stiffly but the other orc clapped him on the arm.

"Wanted to apologize for earlier on the road," he said. "I, ah, can't excuse Olkhor's behavior 'cept to say that he's always been like that. Bitter, see. He's lived a long life and had more than his share of lousy breaks."

"We'll accept your apology then," Galmak said gruffly, "and hope not to deal with him again."

"Thing is…" Brolg shuffled a foot and cleared his throat. "You might want to try talking to him again." He lowered his voice. "He'd throw a hell of a fit if he knew I was saying this, but he's what you're hoping to find. He's a Thunderlord. I always thought he was the last around. He likes to keep it quiet-like 'cause… 'cause he's ashamed of what-all happened."

Galmak stared in astonishment at the other orc. "Damn," he grimaced. "You're sure about this, are you?" Brolg nodded and Galmak growled under his breath. Such luck he had. "Alright. I guess I do want to talk to him then, if he'll even talk to me."

"Think I can get him to talk to you," Brolg nodded thoughtfully. "He'll be right miffed at me at first for telling you about this. But he's just as curious about you as you are about him, I'm sure of it. He's an ornery bastard, but I'll see what I can do."

Galmak nodded and Brolg strode off down the street.

"Well…" Hyara said and shrugged.

"Yeah." Galmak crossed his arms and frowned at the corner around which the brown-haired orc had disappeared. "One more left and he's an 'ornery bastard' who insults my wife and tries to break my arms."

Hyara snorted. "They can't all be like you," she teased.

Brolg found them in the inn the next morning.

"Near as I can tell, he won't put a boot to your ass if you show up at his door," the orc said.

"Well, that's a good start," Galmak said dryly. "Considering he was the one who deserved the boot to the ass."

Hyara laid a hand on his arm. "You ought to go talk to him, love. Put aside your pride and learn what you came here to learn."

"Alright," Galmak grunted, eyeing Brolg. "If you want to take me there or point me in the right direction, I'll go."

Brolg nodded, then paused hesitantly, his eyes traveling briefly to Hyara. "You might want to bring your mate along. He mentioned something about her coming. Can't imagine he's got it in his head to apologize; that's not usually his way. But there's that chance, and it might put him in a bad mood if he's got himself worked up to say he's sorry and then she's not there."

"She's supposed to come so he can insult her again?" Galmak looked outraged. "She doesn't answer to his summons. I'm going alone."

"No, you're not," Hyara said firmly. "If it'll give you a better chance of finding out about your clan, I'll come and I'll put up with him."

The way her tail was waving told Galmak that was that. "Lead on then," he grumbled to Brolg.

They followed the brown-haired orc through the town's weaving streets. Hyara drew stares as usual, but she was at least growing resigned, if not accustomed, to the ripples of disruption she invariably caused in every Horde settlement she visited. She could endure stares and comments as long as things didn't turn violent, and she liked to believe that every startled glance she received would be more a look of acceptance the next time.

Brolg halted in front of a small, squat house only a few streets from the town wall and called a greeting before pounding on the door. They heard a muffled curse inside and then the door flew open with a bang. Olkhor squinted out at his friend, then noticed Galmak and Hyara. His lips curled around his tusks in a sneer, but he jerked his head, motioning them inside.

Brolg nodded to Olkhor, then to Galmak. "Guess I'll be going then." He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but then thought better of it and set off back down the street.

Galmak kept his face as inscrutable as possible as he stepped through the door. Now that he was here there was no sense in starting things off badly. If Olkhor wanted to throw the first insults, that was his own bad manners. Hyara followed and the older orc shut the door behind them with a perfunctory thud.

The house was tiny and had only one room to serve as living area, kitchen, and bedroom. There were only two leather-covered stools, one of which Olkhor took, so Hyara settled herself on a cushion across the small room from the two men. She drew one knee up under her chin and tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

"Well," Olkhor said after an awkward silence. "So maybe I do have something to say worth hearing, huh?"

"We'll see," Galmak said, trying to give the older orc only a moderate glare. "I want to hear about my clan, if you can keep a civil tongue."

Olkhor snorted. "Your clan is dead, and good riddance. You're wasting your time." He looked over at Hyara and grinned. "Good of you to bring your little mate, though. Wouldn't want her to miss hearing all the tales of your ancestors' foolishness and dishonor."

"Leave her out of this," Galmak growled. "And I know they're dead; I keep hearing that. They weren't always dead though, and that's what I want to hear about."

"Oh no, they weren't always dead, you've got that right. They found some time first to help out Ner'zhul and the Legion, massacre some blue-bloods, kill their own kind, and then be damned stupid enough to think they could go off and do as they pleased. Well, they paid for it and then the ogres cleaned up what was left of 'em. The story of your noble clansmen." Olkhor laughed.

"That's the part I know about. I want to hear what it was like before that." Galmak was staring down at the floor. He was trying to hide it, but Hyara could see shame written clearly on his face at hearing all his people's mistakes laid so brutally bare.

Olkhor's face darkened with a scowl and he sprang abruptly to his feet to pace over to a window. "There's nothing important before that. What they did during Ner'zhul's and Gul'dan's days erased any honor they once had. I'm the only one left from before everything went to hell and damned if I don't wish I hadn't just joined all the rest of 'em dead."

"Was she your mate?" Hyara asked quietly.

Olkhor froze at the window, his posture suddenly stiff and tense. "What the fuck are you talking about," he grated out.

Galmak was looking at her with a bemused frown, but Hyara pushed on, following her instinct. "Did she join with Ner'zhul and the Legion?"

The old orc turned with a face like a thundercloud. "You listen to me, you little blue-skinned bitch. I joined them, she did, nearly everybody did, and then it was too late for those as drank the blood. She wouldn't listen, even when I decided I wanted no more part in it all. There was no going back to the old days and I left." He turned with a sneer to Galmak, his voice dripping venom. "So I'm very happy for you. Happy for you and your little long-tailed mate who come here looking for the good old days of your glorious ancestors; you with your comfortable lives on Azeroth, no doubt, dreaming about how nice it must have been here on Draenor before we fucked it up and stole your heritage from you." He spat on the floor and whirled back to the window, staring out at the dusty street with unseeing eyes.

For a few moments the silence was absolute. Galmak felt his face burning, but not from fury at Olkhor's insults as he might have expected. He had hoped to hear about his clan's "glory days" before they'd fallen. But Olkhor was wrong about one thing: somewhere in the back of his mind, Galmak had always wanted to believe that the Legion's lies and manipulation were solely to blame for his ancestors' fall; now he was forced to confront the truth of his ancestors' fallibility.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking with a quiet intensity. "I grew up hearing a million stories from my parents about the Legion. My parents served the Legion on Azeroth and it's shamed them all their lives. They were fooled by everything they were told; they felt the blood lust and they killed people. I think they feel like you do. They'd rather forget the past in its entirety, good along with the bad, but the bad won't let them escape so all they end up doing is cheating themselves out of what they ought to remember." He looked up at the older orc, glaring at the man's turned back. "Well, fuck the Legion; that's not who I am and I'm sick of people telling me it is. If you want to be one of those who tells me there's nothing else worth knowing, that's your own call and I can't change it. But you'd better remember you had this chance to tell someone a better story and instead you perpetuated the memory of all the shit you wanted to stop at the time."

Galmak rose and crossed the room to the door without another word, motioning for Hyara to follow, and they stepped into the street. Before the door shut behind them Hyara had a last glimpse of Olkhor standing frozen at the window. His shoulders shook ever so slightly with silent emotion.

Galmak lay down for sleep that night with a saddened heart. Hyara lay cradled in his arms, remaining mostly silent about what had happened earlier. She knew his moods and she knew he would talk if and when he wanted to. He sighed and gave her a last squeeze before closing his eyes. He had only his imagination now to tell him what might have been, and his mind wandered, remembering the wolves they'd seen on the way here. Did the wolves remember?

And then he was himself and yet not himself. His eyelids and the darkness of the inn seemed to melt away gradually, easing him softly out of himself. He felt the weight of Hyara's head on his shoulder and the familiar poke of a horn fading away, felt the warmth of her body replaced by red sunlight. He looked down at his hands and saw they were brown in the parched sunlight, the shade of the gritty dirt beneath his feet. He was running in long, sure strides through bands of black shadow and sun between jagged red rocks, following a brown wolf many paces ahead of him. But somehow he knew she was aware of him as he was of her and they were maintaining their distance by agreement. He felt a quiver at his back and a bow in his hand; the sunlight and dust stung his eyes but didn't bother him because this was his place and he knew it well, embracing its familiarity without thought.

The wolf paused behind a boulder for a brief flash in time, then leapt with a snarl at something they both knew was there. It was another wolf, red like the dust with wild yellow eyes. The two fought, tumbling over and ripping at each other, but the orc leapt into the fray with a roar and fixed his hands around the red wolf's throat. Powerful muscles strained, ignoring the ripping claws and holding the snarling animal at arm's length. The orc roared with primal fury and brought his face close to the wolf's, just beyond reach of the snapping jaws. He held the animal's eyes with his own and felt a bond pass between them, tying them together with the blood on his arms. The animal's struggles ceased.

He was running again and he felt home ahead of him. He could feel the earth calling, leading him and welcoming him back to his people, and his feet beat faster on the ground in relief and triumph after a day of success and honor. Night fell abruptly, dark as pitch with a sky scattered with nothing but clean, milky starlight. Then he was standing in a roofless hut with a fire crackling in the center. He felt the life of the fire in his body and knew the power it held. A woman knelt at the fire in front of him. She stood then and turned to him with a smile, tall and beautiful with brown skin and midnight hair that flowed past her waist. She was pregnant and he knew beyond doubt she carried twins who would bring honor to his clan. She walked to him and twined her fingers in his hair, pressing her lips to his.

Darkness began to seep into his vision; the warmth of the fire in front of him became a warm weight at his side. Something poked his arm and he shifted, slitting his eyes to see wooden beams above his head. A body breathed calm and regular beside him. Hyara. He was Galmak once more. In the darkness he held his sleeping wife tightly and felt tears of fierce joy slide down his cheeks. The ancestors had given him a great gift tonight.