Conquest of the Horde

T'was a dark and stormy night when Archmage Grunthar of the Earthshakers conducted his foul magic. He had been experimenting for years now, trying to make just the perfect spell. One that would solve all universal problems. One that would bring glory to his clan, and victory to the Horde.

Grunthar etched runes into the scenery about him, helping to support his spellcraft. His arms waved in the air as the arcane energies swirled about, forming to the Archmage's every word. Finally, with a fierce shout, he thrust his hand up into the air, a glorious beam shooting forth from his appendage, piercing the very heavens. Then, all across the world, it began to rain.

This rain was enchanted by the magics of the Archmage. It would pass through homes, through mountains, through any obstacle in its path. Yet even still, this rain seemed to make nothing wet. It would simply pass through everything, effecting absolutely nothing.

Nothing save the women.

Bodies and visages of female began to swiftly shift as they were touched by the magical water. They skin would turn green, their ears grow pointed. Hair would begin to wither and fall for the unlucky ones. It was all part of the Archmage's plan. He knew women were necessary for the foes of the Earthshaker Clan to continue to exist. So. His spell did the obvious.

It took their wimminz.

"Glory to the Horde!"