Sunday, July 31, 2011

The Gates of Orgrimmar

It had been a few days since the probing attacks at the Tram terminal in Ironforge. Stormwind had also been hit, though far more grievously. While the Ironforge nobility wished to fight defensively, Bruenor had something different in mind. Though he pledged his loyalty and that of the Battlehammer clan to the Dwarven nation, he refused to bow to the politics of the day. The human King himself had been wounded and even now his healers worked feverishly to keep him alive. Clan King Bruenor decided to take the fight to the Horde rather than keep to the halls of the Capitol. To this end, he summoned his clansmen and ordered a mighty host to muster in the Commons.
Mounting up at King Bruenor's command.

By order, they marched on to Stormwind to take ships across the sea. The battered troops of Stormwind would welcome the extra dwarven aid without a doubt. And so they marched onward to the tram. Once there, the mighty host travelled and the mustered in Stormwind.

Formation ready for Stormwind march.

It took awhile as many of the clan wanted to enjoy the human city. The open air and towering walls were interesting to those who minded after architecture. Other's enjoyed the human food and drink. Of course the humans didn't mind, gold and silver traded hands fast and furious. For a dwarven warrior, though his coin be precious, it was also a way to show his or her power by spending it amongst others.\

On foot, the dwarven host crosses one of many Stormwind bridges.
Drunken Dwarf foot races, getting ready for the fight.

With the blood of the clan in fool fury, King Bruenor led his people to the docks and took to sail across the ocean to meet the Horde by blood and blade. It took a few weeks, but finally they made port on Theramore Isle and crossed the murly swamps in the Barrens. While marching on to take the Crossroads as a resupply point, a few Horde skirmishers gave some fight, but not enough to deter the Host. Bruenor knew that word would quickly reach Orgrimmar and blood would be spilt. This would be ok, let them be ready, for axe would meet axe and steel would spark fire.

In all of this, Grimrhok, who has recently been promoted to Corporal marched on with fire in his eyes. Mckaylee was there at his side and both were spoiling for a fight. Soon, the horde would feel the might of the Battlehammers. Though the march was long, he was hardened to the road. Things in the Barrens were different to him. Large tracts of Savannah grasslands, brken up with high plateaus. Personally, he missed the forests and mountains, but when the warhorns and drums of battle called, he danced readily to it's tune.

Finally after several days of march, the Host caught the Crossroads in their sites. Traditionaly the Horde had held this place as a beacon for trade and for armies to resupply at as they traveled. It wasn't huge, no more than a village really, but a prosperous one to say the least. For the Battlehammer's, it would serve as a resupply point and triage should things get ugly. From the tactical point of view, it was critical in taking and holding. Grimrhok readied his rifle and che4cked his equipment. When ready, the Battle drums beat and the fight ensued.

Chaos and blood reigns all as the fight for Crossroads rages on.
Holding ground, Grimrhok keeps a sharp eye out for counter attack.

Once the Crossroads were secure, the Clan left a defending force behind, to be ready for any orders that came down. This would insure that if any Horde attempted to retake the village, they would meet resistance, but also gave the clan an anchor to hold onto if things got ugly. The rest of the Clan raced north towards the Southfury entrance. More and more of the Horde came to battle them as they moved on, but their efforts slowed the clan vbery little in getting to the gates. Hellscream should have sent a better team of skirmishers to bring the clan to bay thought Grimrhok. With a chuckle and whistle, he urged his Battle Ram on to keep up with the rest of the host.

Grimrhok rides on the flanks to keep a sharp eye out for Horde attacks.

Approaching the River Gates.

The Battle ensues.

Once at the gates, the fight became furious. So, thought Grim, Hellscream had panned this. That wily orcish warlord put everything he had against the clan here to decide one way or another. The Bald bastard was smart after all. Steel met steel, mighty spells crackled in the skies. No quarter given or taken. The Horde forces indeed were mighty this day. Grim could only hope that by attrition, they would make Hellscream's forces think thrice afore they attempted another assault on the Alliance capitols. Though the dwarves fought hard and long, supplies began to dwindle. Since the rest of the Allaince was fractured, the Clan coulnd't breach the gates. Still, pound for pound and steel for steel, many were the Horde warrior that fell that day. Certainly, they gave pause to think another round or three before attacking any Alliance territory. In the end, though frustrated by not being able to breach their defenses, Grim walked away with mroe than a few orc and troll heads. He would have kept the forsaken ones, but they stank worse for the decay. Something wrong about the undead. Eh well, Grim knew he did his job right.

It felt like a stalemate, The Horde forces couldn't break out and make further menace, but the Clan couldn't break through with a decisive blow. Supplies ran low and so King Bruenor gave the signal to fall back. It wasn't his favorite order, but he would rather regroup and replenish than let his clan die at the gates with no help from Ironfore or Stormwind. Damned sure he wouldn't see help from the Darnassus enclave. Still, thee move was best for the clan. Of course many the tale would be regaled for their fine efforts and their hardened fighting.

Weeks later they reached Stormwind. From looting and pillaging, many was the coin spent, though mostly this time in the Dwarven District. Stories were told, bragging ensued as dwarves are want to do. Brothers and sisters came together and bonds were made deeper by blood and steel.

The Dwarven Tavern in Stormwind.

Drinking to the fallen, a moment of silence.

We did well to hold them off Grim thought as he scratched Greyfang's ear. It wasn't the win he had hoped for, but damned sure put a dent in the Horde plans to make a serious assault. Hopefully he thought, next time more support would be available.