Grogmar began his life as the 'slop-stirrer' for the Iron-Tusk Legion, a position he took with a seriousness that baffled his peers. While other orcs dreamt of the glory of the kill, Grogmar dreamt of the perfect sear on a dire boar steak. His life changed when he scavenged the tent of a fallen High Elf alchemist. Inside, he found a treatise on 'Sublimated Essences' and a vial of concentrated mutagen. Most would have died; Grogmar simply thought it needed a pinch of salt. The resulting concoction didn't just alter his biology—it opened his palate to the vibrations of the weave itself.
He eventually deserted the legion, not out of cowardice, but out of a culinary epiphany: the 'Eternal War' was simply a result of everyone being hungry and irritable. He joined the Order of the Mutant not to hunt monsters for coin, but to harvest the rarest ingredients in the multiverse. He has survived eating Wyvern spleens and Kraken ink, his orcish constitution hardening into something legendary. Grogmar now wanders the frontiers, followed by the smell of roasting garlic and the bubbling of a cauldron that contains the most dangerous, delicious soup in existence.