Post by HiVolt
The battle had gone on for much longer than Vol'jin had anticipated. He was lucky that the Alliance commanders had chosen to lay siege to the town, rather than meeting them in open battle. Once the cannons had been brought into the fray, they hammered at the walls of the stronghold.
Even through all of it's reinforcement, some parts of the wall gave way, allowing a flood of soldiers to rush inward. But, they were ready for them. A small number of well-trained, well-conditioned troops can outlast a barrage of line after line of soldiers, provided they have the proper positioning. Such was the case in this battle. Time after time, they poured in through the broken ramparts and each push was thwarted.
Now they were pulling back, but it would not be for long. The troll chieftain stood at the head of his commanders when a scout came into the battered barracks. He panted as though he hadn't taken a good breath since he was sent out, "Chieftain! Dey turnin back! More o dem comin from Stromgarde. Dey got ships out dere, flyin da Stormwind bannah."
Vol'jin's face sank at the announcement. He had hoped they would last long enough for a reinforcement to arrive. He knew that the Forsaken were attempting to break Thoradin's Wall, if for nothing else but to give them a reprieve for a few days. It seemed that they would not achieve that soon enough. He shook his head, "We got no chance here. Hammerfall be gone. Da best hope we got ta survive is ta pull back ta da North. We gonna go ovah da mountain pass ta da Revantusk."
The commanders each nodded, agreeing that it was the best course of action. But all of them knew what that would mean. A few of the platoons would have to stay back at the town and guard the way. Vol'jin looked at each one of them, not wanting to risk his soldiers any longer. "I be stayin here ta guard da way," he said.
Each of their faces went from sullen to shocked. Each one did not have a wish to die for an indefensible location, but still one protested, "No, Chieftain. Ya can't be stayin here. You da only one here dat know dat Garrosh send us here wit no hope to win. Ya da only troll on da war council. Ya gotta go. Ya da only one of us wit powah enough to make sure sometin like dis don't happen no more."
Vol'jin was quick to retort, "I'm not gonna let nobody else die for dis. Ya be my people, and I seen too many of ya die fo dis place."
The same commander spoke, "Den you gotta go and make sure dat none of da rest of us die for Garrosh."
Vol'jin nodded, knowing that he could not change what had to be done. "Alright. Den I want ya ta stay instead o me, Zar'shi."
The troll nodded and began to speak, but before he could, he was interrupted by another. "He will not stay. It is only fitting that an orc make the last stand here. This is where my people's hopes of freedom were sealed. No, I will stay." The orc spoke with command, making sure that none would object to his proposition.
Vol'jin looked at him and nodded. "Den it be settled. Gor'mul be stayin. We gonna take da path up da mountains, and two catapults wit us. Once we free o da path, we gonna hit da cliffs wit da catapults. Dat should make sure we don't get no Alliance on our heels. Gor'mul, get ya boys ready. We leavin soon."
The orc nodded and left the barracks. Vol'jin mapped out the escape route while the other commanders looked on, anger and frustration building up within him. He hated the thought of abandoning the position and the men remaining there. But there was nothing left to do. Garrosh had knowingly sent them to their deaths. Vol'jin believed that he reveled in the thought of them failing, of them being proven as weak. He would make sure that the whole of the Horde knew of Garrosh's arrogance and pride. He would see the traitor Warchief pay.
Two Weeks Earlier:
The horns of battle marked their approach. Waves of the Firelord's forces encroached down from the northern mountains, burning the very earth they marched over. Elementals, Flame Walkers, Core Hounds, and Corrupted Earthen made up the ranks of the advancing army. This force was larger than all the others that had come before. It seemed as though this would be their final, decisive assault on the World Tree. They planned to burn the entirety of Hyjal to ash and cinder.
Thrall stood at the lead of the allied forces along with Malfurion. His hammer in hand, he looked back to the soldiers with them. They had come from across Azeroth, ready to make the stand here. To save this world from death and chaos, they would face Ragnaros and his armies. Over the last few weeks, their numbers had risen. Now, the Earthen Ring and the Cenarion Circle were here in full, along with allied soldiers from the Ashen Verdict, and the Kirin Tor. And though a war raged between the two factions, token members of the Horde and the Alliance had come as well.
It did Thrall well to see such a coalition here again. He raised his hammer and asked the winds to carry his voice, "Soldiers! Once, we stood upon this sacred soil, not as enemies, but as allies! If we had not overcome our differences then, we would now be ruled by chaos and death." He turned back and looked at the advancing waves of soldiers, then he looked back to his soldiers.
"Look now, soldiers of Azeroth! Look around you. Each one of these soldiers has come from the ends of the world to see our cause is fulfilled. Each one of them has a family and a place which they call home. All of them are no longer strangers. They are your brothers and sisters! With each one that falls, take up their memory and carry it with you! Let it be your strength!"
"Let their spirits guide your hand! Let their deaths fill you with righteous fury and unleash that upon the foes we see before us! For all of those that have come before us, and all that shall follow in our footsteps, we, the people of Azeroth shall make our stand here!"
A cheer went up through the crowds that rang in the very skies. Each of the soldiers cried out in fury, ready to make it known that they would not allow the Firelord or any other to destroy and subjugate them. They battered their shields and slammed their feet onto the earth. The din of the soldiers rang from the mountains and trees, a song of hope.
He watched vigilantly as the fleet made their way into the North. It pleased him to see such an armada, such a display of the strength of the Horde. He walked back from the main dock to his remaining officers. All of them were ready for the next step in the plan. They had their armor donned and weapons sharpened. In order to allow the ships a path with little resistance, they would have to divert the attention of the Sentinels.
He mounted his wolf and rode to the North, ready to take his place among the soldiery. Saurfang had implored that he stay behind, that he was needed in Orgrimmar. But he was the Warchief. There was no other place for him than on the battlefield, leading his armies in glorious conquest. Among the soldiers of the Warsong Clan, he would make sure his campaign could not fail.
The ride was not long, and soon he stood at the head of his soldiers. Each one of them was ready to make the push through the pass. He looked from side to side, taking note of each face he passed. This was strength, this was power. Raiding parties had been harrying the Sentinel armies for days, making sure that the way was ready for army to follow them.
He drew out his axes and glared out into the forests of Darkshore. Smoke was already rising from the nearest eaves. He drew back his head and let out the scream. It was the scream that he was named for, that his father was known for, a scream that shook the very branches of the trees. It put fire into his blood and a red haze grew around him.
As his scream subsided, he could hear the beat growing around him. Just like it was in the time before the Horde, the dreadful beat of feet stomping, shields battering and voices chanting weaved the song for which his clan was named rang through the forest. The Warsong sang again, and it would be fueled by the blood of their enemies.
With another great scream, Garrosh ordered the charge.