Orcs of the Red Blade

Peons worked restless. The Overseers pushed them to their limits. Barricade upon barricade. Murderholes where dug out. Spikes are raised.

"Aaah! The night before a siege."

Nograx breathed in the foul air of the shadowmoon valley, as peons and warriors ran around him. He could smell the desperation in the air. He smirked at all the preparations they did.... And something began to stir inside of him.

„War.“ He growled. A time where the blood is running hot and the nerves are at their highest. Warriors are stressed in the anticipation of the coming battle. And so was he. Flexing his muscles, rolling his shoulders, swinging and inspecting his weapons. Trying to keep the blood flowing. He longed for it. To get a taste of battle. A real battle. Not the pitiful skirmishes with the alliance on the open field.

The thought of fighting dragonmaw, shortly ran through his mind. But it didn't leave any mark. For he was way to much in his element to care about who he was going to fight against.

Eyes on the prize. He told himself.

This was war in its purest form. Fighting. Without a place to retreat. No backup plan. Lok`tar Ogar. Victory.... Or death. The moment when heroes and champions are born. When true warriors are tested.

He thought he was past this mindset. But in a situation like this, he couldn't help but to fall back to the past.

With the sound of wardrums in the distance, Nograx raised his head and grinned.

"Death or Glory. The same old story."