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It was a long and stormy night along the coast of Ashenvale. My ship was destroyed my a rampaging Kraken and I was left adrift until I wash on to the shore. I met this scheming half elf-deer woman who tempted me with her charms. Afte a longer night of steamy, heart pounding, hip crunching lovin' I woke up with only my pants, shoes and knife. Cursing the women I made my way towards Astranaar which is where I found the orcish/elven platoon. With no way to go but through them or retreat I set up a vantage point waiting for the most opportune time to strike.
When dusk fell, I jumped from the trees onto an unsuspecting elf and slit his throat. I quickly turned around and gutted an orc magi before he could cast his spell. From here on out it became a whirlwind of blood, hate and torn sinew until finally it was just me, m knife and two horde. I remember the faces of those two elves, cowering before my unrelenting rage and giant like strength. I charge at the Paladin, pick him up like the coward he was and slammed him into the ground. Quickly turned to the other and dodged his wild swings, desparately trying to kill me. With one motion of my blade his innards spilled onto the ground, crying in unimaginable agony. I kicked his body off to the side while he quickly made his way to the nether.
The Paladin got back up and summoned the power of the light to aid him. I let out a mighty roar and grabbed the pathetic elfs weapon and tossed it to the side. He tried to run but he couldn't, I tore his legs from top to bottom, forcing him to crawl and scream in pain. Then I walked up to him, stared to bleeding elf in the eye and drove my blade into his chest.
A single flower rises from the cold, clammy muck, its delicate petals reaching for the warmth of the sun. All around it lay the broken and mangled bodies of elf, orc, undead, some in red, and others in orange, mute testimony to the chaos of the war. Their youthful faces are contorted by the horror that they felt in their last moments on this earth when my knife pierced their organs.
We are told to hate them because their beliefs differ from ours and in the heat of combat, it is easy to do so, but I do not hate them for their beliefs. I hate them for what they stand for, who they stand with and serve. Such useless carnage wrought in this war and these poor souls can testify to that. When I look down at them, I do not see my enemy, I see someones father, brother or son.
I feel my sanity start to slip then and I quickly bring all my focus to bear on the flower that rises before me. Its petals, blowing gently in the breeze are yellow around the edges with stems of dark green and a round spot of blood red in the center that somehow seems fitting for this place and this day. It knows no hate or prejudice, no pain or sorrow; it exists simply for the sake of existing. It is beautiful and I long for its carefree way of life.
“Lok'tar Ogar! For the Horde!”, I hear the command shouted along the ranks and feel once more the sour taste of bile rising in my throat. They will come through the trees again very soon, crimson clad wraiths screaming insults with hate in their eyes and blood in their hearts and once more, the senseless extermination will resume. I hear the angry whistle of arrows even before I hear the shouts and instinctively ready my knife, my trained eye searching for the voices. I spot a young orc, probably no older than twenty coming towards me, his oiled black hair flying out behind him, a look of determination and fear vying for dominance on his face and am struck by how much he reminds me of myself when I was younger. He runs towards me, awkwardly trying to set himself free from the roots then pertrude from the forest floor. I know that at anytime I can end his life. I hesitate...
Once more instinct takes over and I ready my weapons, strafing carefully around the young soldier. I calm my breathing and carefully begin to attack the young soldiers. Once I believed in this war and what we fought for, but that was many years and many bodies ago and I am not the naive boy that I was then. Sighing heavily, I kill the young orc stare into the bloody mess that surrounds me. Taking my eyes off the boy, I look over at the flower standing so stalwart beside me and smile, “it truly is beautiful”, I think to myself. From the corner of my eye I see more soldiers draw nearer and each has that same look of hungry determination. I sigh heavily once more and close my eyes. I am tired, bone weary and it feels good to rest. Soon, those soldiers will meet the same fate as their brother-in-arms. I hear their labored breathing as they fall to my blade and I bend down to breathe the scent of the flower into my soul. “Rest easy”, I whisper softly, and then it all starts over...
While examining my troop movements along Ashenvale, a trusted scout of mine came to me, claiming one of the regiments had engaged a lone individual. I told him off, saying he better have been carrying something of importance to our campaign. I was taken aback when he said the regiment was dead. Gathering my gear, we made ready to attack this... Human....
I Should have known better leaving camp so late. After being held up by a small scouting party of night elves (Whom were no real challange), we made it to the place of battle.
Its not often a tauren is given the chance to lead a company of mixed horde infantry. To earn this position, Ive been through battles that would give even Illidan nightmares. But this...... every body covered in small cuts. Ive seen rogues rip people apart, but not in these quantities. It was strangely familar. While thinking on the attack, we began disposing of the bodies.
Camp that night was quiet. It was on everyones minds, and not words, that whatever it was could still be watching. Dreaming that night. Mulgore. I miss just lying in the grass. This dammed war hasn't allowed anyone any respite in years it seems.
Morning came early with shouts, the Human had been spotted! I could NOT let my reputation as a leader be soiled by this pathetic being. I myself would lead the ambush.
He just was standing there. We were only several yards away, yet still he stay idle staring at the ground. He appeared underclothed, no armor, no visable weapons. Had he stowed his belongings nearby? I gave the order for my second-in-command, a young but wise orc, to attack. The angry soldier cried out "Lok'tar Ogar! For the Horde!" and rushed the bafoon.
The young warrior seemed to pass the human, then just fall to the ground. Outrage spread through the ranks as orc, troll, and elf fell to the sickeningly calm human.
Experience was somthing we both shared. Wiping out everyone under my command. Dishonored and broken I made my stand. Lakota'mani they call me. Earthshaker. THIS IS MY HORDE, MY FIGHT. I charge, he smiles. Just before my sword connects with the demon, I see a glit of steel.
Lying on the ground, Just as my vision begins to fade, I notice a flower growing in the midst of this chaos. It reminds me of mulgore............. Finally the rest I so sought.
The fires burn around me, and the smoke billows into the sky. I hold my knife in my hands and wait for my orders. Soldiers charge towards the ditch in front of me, fearing for their lives and praying to their god. Already there are bodies lying inside, slashed and torn. Their heads are missing aor bleeding out. The smell is unbearable, stinking of what can only be described as burnt toast. Most things smell that way when they reach that certain level. It’s not anything you can recognize, it’s just burnt to you. The ditch around the hill are where most of the bodies are laid to rest. The ditches aren’t big enough and some managed to climb over the bodies to our position. Some Horde take a make shift bridge and get the fast track to the nether. Our captain says they deserve it, that they’re the true evils of this world, but I haven’t seen anything of them to prove it. Only their desperate pleas of mercy after they have been mutilated; a mercy which we do not give. We stand on a hill where nothing grows. The fires burn bright for everyone to see. The soldiers below know that to come near is death, they stay put and wait for their orders to arrive. Another charge and more men to fill the ditch. They charge across with sword and shield fearing if this will be their last day. Nobody stops them, we let them inch closer and closer to our position until the entire side of the hill erupts in a brilliant oranage flame.
On top of the hill, I wait for my orders. The soldiers charred along the hill and ditch beg me for mercy, and I ignore them. There is nothing I can do for them, I have to do what I am told. They made their decision. Their choice. I can only pray that their death comes quick. My officer appears an Elvish man whom walks in long strides. With an arrow in hand, and a bow in the other, he looks at the ditch and laughs. Kill them, he says, they’re taking up our air. I ready my knife and walk forward. My palms sweat, my heart races. I hold my breath, and with my officer’s word, I put them out of their misery.
A fiery explosions shakes the hill, and nobody notices. This has been going all night, I’ve gotten used to it by now. I lower my knife onto a charred orc soldier. An eerie peace came over him just before I ended his life. Then another, and another. A Blood Elf female stares in horror as her executioner inches closer, and limps helplessly away as she waits for her turn to travel to the nether.
I stab them in the heart so the pain they feel is short lived. My friends ask me why I give them this mercy, I say this is more effective, speedy and quick. There are many still to go, and we don’t have all night. Stab, crunch. They whimper, they die. Head over heels, end over end. They are thrown into the ditch and we set them ablaze. Mound the dirt, and this they become. We give them their rites, and sing them their prayers. They’ve already passed and we know where they go. It’s not for them, it’s for those who need assurance that this is alright. So we can rest and sleep, and do it all over again tomorrow. Because this is not a one time thing, this is forever. A conquest, a campaign. On and on, until the last man falls. Until the world knows who we are, and evil breathes through our souls.
The crack of gunshots, ballista missiles whistling...Again and again I hear them. The nights are long here, the days longer. Terrifying nightmares... The order is given. With a cry, we charge: "For the Alliance!" Poison-soaked—arrows! Chaos and confusion. "COVER!" I drop. Arrows whistle over my head, missing by inches. Bodies fall around me. Some ours, some are the Horde's. I stand and sprint forward. Once, twice, a third time. I reach a group of Horde. Two drop. Dead. No reason to mourn. As inhuman as the enemy. A soldier beside me falls. No time to mourn. The line between life and death—undefined. The enemy charges from behind the cover of magics, their numbers far greater. "RETREAT!" We rush for cover, tripping over fallen comrades. Guns stop. Silence.. Wait...The adrenaline pumps in my blood. A voice carries over the field, calling out to us. News from Darnassus: Theramore has fallen.
Anger rises from our ranks. Revenge in our eyes. There will be no peace. Not for myself or my enemy. Bodies litter the ground. We rush our foes, there are so many. The stench of blood—the blood of brothers and foe—suffocating. I see no difference in colour. Both bleed red. Suddenly—my vision turns red. A tauren in front of me turns and flees... One of the wounded cries out, open-mouthed. His voice is lost upon flash of my blade. Sudden terror seizes the Horde ranks—the battle for the first time in countless hours has finally turned in our favour. How? When? No matter; the dwarves fire their cannons once again. I hear the great clashes of steel and dirt as the cannons destroy everything in their path, not discriminating between wounded or not. "None left," I think. The light fades slowly from the trees as the glow of fire dims the field. Then…rage consumes me, and my spirit cries out for vengeance for those fallen in Theramore. War is not a decorated soldier. Pain, Death, Loss and Suffering...that is war.
The air was humid and a thick mist covered the ground. As I breathed heavily I could see take shape in the air and I had almost lost the feeling in my feet because I had stood there so long. We stood with our hands on our heads in a group out in a mist covered field. I looked at the scared expressions on the faces of some of the men. None of us knew what the Horde would do to us. Besides they weren't just regular Horde soldiers, they Garrosh's chosen bodyguards and I have heard bout the things they did to both civilian and soldier. They had attacked our brigade and they took out the lead vehicles. We fought back as best we could but we were outmanned and outgunned. We surrendered and they lead us out to this field. All of them have the same feeling as I do...we won't leave this field alive. They just won't let us. I watched them as they talked to each other and looked at us with disgust. The stood in a large group in front of us with their weapons out itching to end us. I was felt with hatred for the Orcs and sadness for the men whose charred body's sat in the burning tanks and the others that lay sprawled out on the ground near the cannons that were still in tacked.
"What'll they do to us Captain?" asked a young private. I looked at the man and he didn't appear to be but little over nineteen years old. He had the same scared expression as the other men.
"I don't know. Just don't do anything to get yourself killed. Don't shout and don't make a run for it. Just stay here and try to stay calm." "Anything you say Captain." I began to hear the other men mumble to each other. "If I could get my hands on my !@#$ing knife I'd gut ‘em all," I mumbled. "Oh Holy Light...don't let me die. Please. I have a wife and a little girl that I've ever seen to get back to...please," whimpered another. I saw a Horde commander holding a a large bow pacing and looking at us in disgust. He looked at me and he glared. I saw the intense hatred in his eyes. I gave him a ‘go to hell look' and he mumbled something and he looked away. I heard him say to a young private, "Kill them all." I watched as the young privte raised his bow and aimed at our group. My eyes widened as he pulled released the arrow. The man next to me fell to the ground with an arrow through is neck. Then the whole group of Horde soldiers raised their weapons and released an arrow storm of hell on us. I felt a sharp hot pain in my shoulder as an arrow passed through it. I hit the ground and laid face down on the ground. I felt a body fall on top of me, then another, and another. I laid there on the ground listening to the ripping flesh and the screams and shouting coming from the men. I closed my eyes and prayed that I would survive.
The arrows stopped but I dared not to move. I began to hear what sounded like blades coming down onto the survivors. It sounded like the old butcher shop back in Stormwind. They were going around and killing any survivors they could find. I lay perfectly still in hopes that they would spot me. I laid there for what seemed like hours. They soon began to leave. I heard their wolves howl and then they rode off. After they had left I slowly got up. I looked around and I could see nothing but blood and body's covering the field. A handful of survivors remain out of an entire brigade. A few men left alive began to get up. They stared at the ground in horror and they looked at me and said, "What do we do now?" I picked up my knife and looked at them and I began to head into the woods. I don't know why I went to the woods I wasn't thinking. All of my thoughts had left me. I felt nothing but hate and vengeance. My life seemed meaningless to me at that moment. The men began to follow me and I didn't stop to look at them once. I just kept on walking.
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