The following is found in the Archives section in the Tome of Truth along with the original mission posting folded to fit in between the pages.
Original Mission Posting[]
"Brothers and sisters of the blade,
It has been uncovered recently that Garrosh's elite guard are snatching up the orphans of Orgrimmar off the very streets of the city, to be spirited away in secret and placed into forced labor for the Horde war machine's forges and armories. Matron Battlewail of the Orgrimmar orphanage has bartered a deal with us to take under our tutelage some of the older children in her care before Garrosh's agents can seize them. We provide the young ones with food, shelter, health care, and education of academics, the ways of the world, and our methods as junior initiates of the Shattered Hand. Battlewail, having been a long time contact of the Hand who keeps an eye and ear to the heart of Orgrimmar, concurs that we can provide the children with a better future than the forced labor of peons Garrosh would subject them to.
There is a school dedicated to the training of the Hand's adopted sons and daughters away from prying eyes, located in the highlands of Blade's Edge mountains in Outland. It is our duty to see this current caravan of orphans arrive safely to their new home, and without the notice of the Eyes of Garrosh. Meet at headquarters for a briefing, before we set out."
Chronicled Archive[]
The Butcher's account -
Blades Crimson Fist and Cobra meet with me at headquarters for a briefing. After explaining the plan to pose as hired hands of the Eyes of Garrosh to escort the group of orphans to a labor camp at the Mor'shan Ramparts, I secured our forged documents and we set out to rendezvous with Matron Battlewail. She was pleased we were taking the children into our care and out of the hands of Garrosh's war.
To assist in the facade of our guise Crimson Fist applied shackles to the young ones. Luckily, the children seemed content enough with Battlewail's explanation that we were friends going to help them and give them a new home. Three in total, the orphans were all orcs. The youngest of them a girl who spent most her time with a finger up her nose and asking questions. The eldest, an orc nearly old enough to undergo Om'riggor, gave the impression of being disgruntled by something but kept quiet. The third was a quiet and content orc boy hardly older than the girl. He seemed mesmerized by us and the ordeal having spent the whole time in wide eyed observance.
Our contact who would lead the orphans to their new home at the Hand's training school was to meet with us in Shattrath. It should have been a simple trip down the road to the Cleft of Shadow's portal to the Dark Portal, but our way was impeded by a gathered group of Grunts. I decided not to risk it with so many Grunts despite our false documents. Shame, my associate in the cleft would have let us use the portal without making record our names for the Horde's registry books. At least without a bribe. We had to detour to the Valley of Spirit's portal.
We made our way down the path with the orphans. Blade Cobra was doing well in maintaining the veil of our purpose by intimidating the children into silence. As we reached the tunnel's entrance that leads into the Valley of Spirits we were halted by an Orgrimmar Grunt to be questioned. I explained our false itinerary and offered up the forged papers. He bought it and prattled on something about commitment to the Mor'shan's needs.
Having dupped the guard we headed into the Valley of Spirits. Knowing that the magus who maintains the portal is required to journal the passage of all who use the portal I informed the Blades we would need a bribe of sorts. Crimson Fist offered up an arcane trinket she thought perhaps would peak a magus' interests. I threw in a purse of coin to sweeten the deal. We arrived at the portal and offered the bribe to Uthel'nay, the magus maintaining the portal as one of the Horde's many services. Crimson Fist also used her womanly guiles and gave the troll a peck on the cheek. He was happy to accept and left his ledger untouched.
On the other side we entered Outland. Flight to Shattrath was acquired for the orphans and us, and we made way to regroup with the orc, Iceblood, our contact from the Hand. The journey had been long enough for the orphans and longer still for them on the trip to the school under Iceblood's guide, so we would let them rest. Unfortunately, Shattrath's orphanage was full, but Iceblood had set up a camp in the slums of the Lower City with tents for the orphans. We sent the young ones to sleep.
It was at this point the situation turned sour. I had received a bad vibe from the oldest among the orphans. I should have trusted my gut, but had no way of knowing. The orc nearly old enough for adulthood made a break for it. The young orc made a b-line for the Upper City, undoubtedly headed for the portal back to Orgrimmar. I gave the order to stop him. I would have planted a throwing dagger in his back but could not get a clear shot. Fortunately, Cobra with his quick reflexes pounced and tackled the eldest orphan, restraining him. We questioned the whelp. Indeed my suspicions were confirmed. He was a spy. Somehow persuaded by Garrosh's secret police to report for them on who was delivering the orphans and street children out of their grasp.
We debated on what to do with the boy. Crimson Fist knocked the spy out to silence his dribble of loyalty to Hellscream. We calmed the children awoken by the commotion and sent them back to sleep. Iceblood purposed a plan to cut out the boy's tongue out and turn him over to a known gladiator slaver, but it was risky. Even without a tongue should the boy escape, or the slaver sell him away it's possible he could report back to his superiors. We do not operate leaving loose ends. We had no choice.
Cobra, Crimson Fist and I took the unconscious boy away from the city. We left the others in Iceblood's care. The young ones will gain strength, knowledge, and the understanding of our purpose at the school. There lives set on the path of Shattered Hand initiates. Our old orc comrade made a request for us to howl once our deed was done to honor an old orc tradition so ancestors may find the boy at the moment of his passing. We laid him against a tree in Terrokar. Crimson Fist delivered the blow. The three of us roared for the boy's spirit.
It is not glorious. At times it is down right dreadful. Our work. Our lives. There will be no songs to praise our names. No annuals to chronicle our deeds of greatness. Nor would I want there to be. People should not remember our atrocities. Lives are ended at our hands, and sometimes those lives are poor fools like the boy who have found themselves backed into a corner. Backing us into a corner with no other choice. We justify our ways as the greater good. Indeed I still say many lives out weigh one. As I peered down to the lifeless body of the orphan I kept telling myself that. As I have done for years.
May you find solace in the afterlife with your ancestors, orc. Whatever your name is.