The Journal of Verzan Skywise

[Okiba]

Very much a fan of these journal posts!

keep them coming! 

[Verzan]

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[Verzan]

Campaign in Ashenvale
Wednesday 11th July 2018 - Messenger on the Wind

Late night patrols, they are the ones that really test you.
Ryk was away. An escort for the clan came up and I flew along with them but the skies were full. Fuller than I’ve known them for a very long time Druidic birds and Hippogryphon riders weaving between the tall and dusky trees of Ashenvale, they knew this forest better than me that was for sure. Found myself chased like an eagle in the bluffs harried by crows. At least they were chasing me and not the clan.
Heard a few shout after me but I knew what I was doing mostly.

We got the caravan back to camp, seemed quiet enough. With a few elves making nuisance of themselves to the rear it was just another night in Ashenvale right?
Then maybe I got a little cocky but I put my wyvern to ground and watched Spearbreaker punching a few holes in the Kaldorei.
Should have known better. A great beast leapt from the bushes and ripped me out of my saddle, I pushed my quiver to its jaws but its claws raked my sides as it dumped me in the dirt. Shiney knows to bolt when I am attacked like that so he doesn’t have his wings clipped but what I would have given for a beast of my own right there and then.
Luck alone spared me. They were hitting and running back to the trees and cut as I was I could still haul myself back into the Splintertree Outpost.

I crumpled in a heap behind the wooden barricades with the thud of Kaldorei arrows against the gate, you couldn’t see them against the purple and darkness but you could hear the fighting. What had been a few skirmishers became dozens as they pressed hard and swift upon the backs of great war sabres and other large feline beasts.
The clan were fighting, holding the gate as best they could. Faewolf rushed to my side to patch me up, I wasn’t the best pacient. I could hear the Chieftain calling my name. They needed to get a rider out of the Outpost and raise the alarm, the Red Blade couldn’t hold the gates alone but I was pissing blood onto Faewolfs fingers, the shaman had to keep sitting me back down and making me still. I am a terrible patient especially when the injury is my mistake and the situation isn’t looking too great.

---

Moment after moment passed and the Kaldorei were no longer in the shadows, they were at the gates. The Chieftain called again and I had to break away from Faewolfs healing half mended. Throwing myself into the saddle of the wyvern with enough umph I almost opened wounds. ‘Orders’ I can remember my words being terse, without the usual nods of respect but the gate was about to fall under the weight of enemy attackers, there wasn’t time. ‘Where do I go for help?’
‘Silverwind Refuge, Hellscreams Watch… go and go fast’ Chieftain Kozguegore said.

I didn’t look back, the wyvern understood his words and the situation as well as I did. I flattened to the saddle and made myself small, letting the beast fly his finest as arrows raced through the sky after us. Clattering off the rear tail armour and whistling past my ear.

We got free of the gates.

There is a terrible sound of battle behind you and the leathery wing beats of a wyvern’s wings as you leave your allies behind into the silence of the forest and landscape beyond. Old bitter orcs say a messengers duties are cowardice, as they are often the only survivors of such things but I flew for all my worth under the trees as hard as I’d have fought at any time. The clan were in real trouble, I couldn’t fail or fall to one of those Druids in the sky.

At Silverwind Refuge the Irontusk heeded my call, their Chieftain standing to attention the moment i had landed, they were ready for the fight and though few in number answered the call immediately. I led them to Splintertree but what I saw when we got there was more than their numbers could account for.
The main gate was overrun, Alliance standing guard on the only entrance. While within a violent struggle was boiling at the mouth of the mine at the rear of the camp, the Red Blade had fallen back well into the last defendable position and were holding ground.

‘My clan are in there!’ I can remember frantically calling to the Irontusk, before one grabbed my shoulder and barked an order.
‘Get to Hellscreams watch, get more help’
‘I… I… will do this’ They gave me the focus I needed to fly again.

I’d been to Hellscreams Watch once already but for whatever reason my messages had not been received and here again a second time without fail, I called for help. The Hand of Agony mounted up and while concerned about abandoning the outposted they too rode to join us in battle.

--

My wyvern was tiring I could feel it and see the foamy sweat under the harness he wore. At least on the second return to Splintertree the brief siege had broken, the orcs must have pushed out and into the forest as the camp was bare by the time I had made it back with the Forsaken.

A number of injured were being treated, among them was Kyra. Me and my wyvern took a moment to catch our breath. She gave us the direction of the enemy, I seem to remember speaking of having not shot a single elf all evening. She asked me to shoot one for her but I got a feeling when the menders were done she’d be back in the thick of it. Orcs were made for nights like this one.

Through the forest the Red Blade and assorted other clans harried the Kaldorei, under a hail of arrows from the treeline and cutting down the great beasts that fought by their side, axe against claw. When beasts came for me a second time Spearbreaker hacked at their armoured pelts and pushed them away, allowing for me to fire suppressive fire into our flanks and keep them away.
We pushed and pushed right upto a bridge on the edges of Forestsong.

If the fighting had been bloody in Splintertree then this was only a fraction lighter as the tussle for the bridge spilled over its sides and filled the waters of the small river below with all manner of debris from the fighting.
We won as their numbers began to ebb away and they were drove back into the cover of Forestsong and its Glaive throwers a weapon none of us on the ground wanted to engage with.

[Verzan]

Campaign in Ashenvale
Thursday 12th July 2018 - The 'Quiet' Night

Water splashing in your face as a grey cloud tips its load and rain falls into Ashenvale. I had been flying most of the night and it had been relatively quiet. There was no sign of the commanders and with each passing Horde outpost we crossed more and more were asking for orders. I felt sorry for those stuck on the furthest edges of the campaign, Stonetalon. Their base was hot, humid and void of action. It was like they were fighting another war as fresh Sin’Dorei warriors grew restless by their unfired cannons and unridden steeds.

We did our best but we are just couriers at best, scouts when we fancy putting an arrow in the enemy. They wanted us to give them direction but we couldn’t, we’re not commanders.

I felt my heart race as a chance pass over the Zoram strand allowed us chance to see a large column of Stormwind infantry marching across the Darkshore border. They had heavy air support and we might have found ourselves engaged with the Gryphon Knights had we gotten closer. A prospect I don’t much fancy, their lances would punch through our light armour like razors - they would have to catch us first. I’d like to think my wyvern is one of the fastest.
On sight of these soldiers and their movements we flew back and reported an evening's worth of information to the Chieftain. Camp was busy but warriors were becoming restless a week in Splintertree Outpost was enough to do that to anyone.

Scores of soldiers pledged themselves to the clans aid but I wonder if this was a symptom of the lack of command on this night rather than anything else, I felt we did our best and that meant our Chieftain was well informed of the movements of Alliance in the Forest but he couldn't act without orders.

---

Back and forth we flew, tracking the movements of the Alliance and then mysteriously they vanished into the rain and darkness, I don’t know how they did it but when we rediscovered their tracks the Infantry had crossed half the map. They had skipped passed the main roads and bases keeping south in an unbroken line of cover - clever. We had not patrolled this route and the Kaldorei must have been watching.

Sodden and saddle sore from hours of flying a final push seemed promising as the Hand of Agony, Executor Jorrik and others mustered at Silverwing Refuge. Almost forty collected together. It was close to midnight and we found ourselves making dangerous fly past runs of the Grove where the Alliance had mustered.

My guess is that they had taken position for the night to attack again come morning but were not letting them have that chance.

I might have been in trouble on any other night, I got cocky just before the attack took a shot at one of those Gryphon riders, the arrow skipped off the plume of his helm and we kept them busy. Their focus on us rather than scouting for the large group of Horde moving toward their camp.
Trouble is, Chieftain was waving us down and I didn’t see to begin with. Taking pot shots at Gryphon riders is my new favorite thing.

---

The unholy sent in their abominations fresh meat from the corpses of elves slain in recent days, they threw them against the groves gates and softened up the defenders before the Hand of Agony took on the charge into them.
I fought my wyvern in those first moments as he was keen to fly in on the charge. The Red Blade held back and watched the Forsaken claim the first blood. Scattering the defenders across their base for the second push when we had our turn for battle.

It wasn’t a battle though, the Alliance must have dispersed into the forest, the bulk of warriors I had seen might have been patrolling or simply been resting in some secure barrow den. Whatever it was, it made it less fight and more slaughter. Why had Ashenvale been such a barricade to the Horde when we could slice through outposts like this one in mere hours? Why?
In the main building some Alliance surrendered. Dark memories of the fate of prisoners in the past made me turn away, I wanted no hand in the cutting throats once again. I know when I rest tonight those nightmares will return.
I found a Darnassus banner, pulled my knife and made a trophy of it. A gift for the Chieftain later? But I was only keeping my hands busy and away from those prisoners. The Red Blade couldn’t be like my last clan could they? I escaped back to the front line. We now held the gates of the small Kaldorei outpost but word had reached Forest song and now their were alliance gathering infront of us.

Precious moments filled with filthy exchanges of looks between us saw their commanders call for a retreat. Their were simply too many Horde warriors for them and then the Chieftain shouted ‘Hunting season! Chase them down!’
And we did.
Sprinting with the pack felt so real and so right, Heavy armoured knights were not as nimble as Kaldorei boots through the muddy forest floor and we hounded them for what could have been the entire forest. The Chieftain setting the pace ahead of the rest of us. All around the trees you could hear the small skirmishes between desperate Alliance forces caught in nooks and hiding places by the Horde.
Our pursuit came to a rapid end on the banks of a river as the Alliance hastily deployed magic to cross swiftly leaving us on the shoreline to pepper them briefly with arrows. If not for that magic a fair number of the Knights might not have lived.

[Verzan]

Campaign in Tirisfal
August 2018 - Battlefield Brill

Brill fell, or not so much fell as was swarmed and then erupted in explosions. Whatever the actual fate while we fled from the scene at the end, it is no longer ours and will never be the same again.
I didn’t like the place. I have no strong feelings of loss when I think about this, but it was ‘ours’ and it was Horde and we lost. Not a great feeling to lose. I still can’t think what it was like to be an elf the night the tree burned, even as we attempted to pluck folk from those flames and failed. It wasn’t ours and they weren’t Horde.

We arrived late to the battle for Brill, a day before the main forces arrived and all hell broke loose. Flying in on a wing and a prayer like we owned the skies and not a single artillery bolt could touch us. It might have been luck or we might have just done the unthinkable and flown into a siege. Nobody could sleep that night and for the first time in a long time I felt young among the orcs nesting in whatever cover they could find. They had been fighting this for days now, the wear and tear was showing and the routine of rest, fight, food that warriors find themselves trapped in was just about all the conversation to be found.
Skywise aren’t strangers to conflict but to this sort of war? This really will be our first time. That first night I wasn’t tired. I didn’t sleep but I was not afraid sort of excited despite the siege and the violence, you could hear it flare up from time to time in small pockets around the besieged town. Found myself keeping my hands busy by fletching broken arrows recovered from barricades, if our short fight against the Iron Horde taught me anything, it was to fletch anything you can get your hands on. Empty quivers are an archers worst nightmare.

I don’t remember much of the fight at the Graveyard. Only that the Chieftain withdrew us late on that first night my sister and I arrived and to the far side of Brill away from the ruined tombs. Maybe he saw the war to come and chose our place well.

The next evening the Chieftains choices would pay off.
Though many of the Red Blade might see different, we were positioned on the far side of town again to cover a Barricade and that was where we remained, all night. A few times we saw Alliance Chavlry wheeling around the town looking for weak spots in the defences, they would run up to the barricade and then veer violently away as they realised the whole clan were manning it.
Bizarre place for an orc to find themselves. We could hear the fighting in the town growing and growing, the churn of axe and blade seeming to move around us but never come close. I get nervous waiting, its not fear. I’ll just have to say that but knowing the fight is coming and not feeling it - that is hell. Like some terrible tormentor is hanging a piece of fruit above your head and damn well knows your starving. You hear screams of soldiers die and it feels like you aren’t doing enough, you hear enemy battle cries and want to stick an arrow in them but you can’t see them.
I talk. I talk a lot when I get nervous like this, it helps make all of that go away. Just a bit of sass, making light of controlling the weather or the Chieftains honour name, I wonder if he did scare away all the eagles in the Barrens with his Fereleye?

None told me to be quiet. It was strange.
Think a tree caught my ire this time. I wonder if it is still there now?
When you stand at range, you get dimly aware of your surroundings, you look around scout a bit, you’ve got time to think about where you plant your arrows and when you are in a siege you start to notice the trouble coming your way. It was like the wash of ocean tide behind us, as bit by bit defenders withdrew. A huge alliance push through the Graveyard at the rear of the town where we had fought only a night ago. I have never seen them in such numbers.
Step by step we fell back, our barricade was never tested. We had to abandon it before the time came, I doubt they would have taken it from us. Weaker points in our armour that night were found.

Back and back we went to the centre of town as the sea of Alliance wrapped around a crowded kettled Horde force. The Red blade formed up outside the tavern and things looked truly dire, after Teldrassil the Alliance would not be the prisoner taking force they might have been in my father’s time, I shot arrows outwards shoulder to shoulder with my sister and right over the last barricades until my quiver ran dry. We had long since passed the point when a desperate wyvern flight were possible.
The Rrosh-tul said he had a plan but I’ve heard old orcs say that one before.

Words were said. The kind you think might be your last something about my stash I’d kept from Ryk and how she’d not got one. Something never oathing to clan, didn’t think I cared…

The pause lasted forever. We were utterly surrounded and then suddenly one group of Stormwind infantry charged our position on the left, the crowded Horde forces surged forward to meet them while others moved to enact ‘the plan’ I found myself buffeted by the crowd void of arrows in my quiver and with nothing but a short shank in hand for the close quarters fighting I expected to come.
When Rykana handed me a clutch of arrows and complained about the fletching job we’d have when we got out of this. She wasn’t afraid and I found my courage by my sisters side, there at the doorway of the tavern, under the rail of an iron gate we took up position.
Cries from below suggested the plan wasn’t fight and die. Dying isnt a plan.
Portals were being cast and a stream of Horde forces plunged into the belly of the tavern to escape. Covering fire was the best we could provide watching as the blue banners swiftly pressed forwards into the chaos cleaving through those unaware of the escape route that had just been created. Our eyes watched for the back of the Rrosh’tul while he gave a slow methodical backward step we still had time to make each arrow count.

Then our turn came the fighting reached the doorway of the tavern and the roof was ablaze. Timbers crashing into the floors above us as wounded front liners were dragged still fighting through portals.
‘It’s time to go isn’t it Ryk?’
‘Not without Ironclaw…’

Then the old orc turned. That was when we knew it was time to leave.
Brill disappeared in brilliant flash of grey basement stone and blinding arcane magic.

I don’t believe we were the last out but when I saw Arkail appear close by, we can’t have been far from it. Conjurers rarely stick around to be the last one there but without them on this night we’d have been doomed.

---

Undercity
In all my life I have never been to this place, never being one to like caverns or the under ground and heeding my elders advice about avoiding the nest of plague and corpses why would I have ever come here. But this was where the portals spat us out.
Echoes of war above rumbled over the vaulted celines much as the sounds of pain and menders chimed on the stone chamber we were all deposited in.

I made my feelings known early about wanting sky above my head.
I couldn’t escape the notion that while I had somehow evaded so much as a scrape in the battle for Brill that at any moment the roof here would fall and through that gap hundreds of Alliance warriors would come. My blood was up and thought the battle would chase me no matter where the magic brought me. I didn’t want to die tonight.

Steelskull tried his hand at getting us top side but that was rejected. We were still tending our wounded and while I meant no disrespect to them I wanted out. My first time in Undercity and I just wanted escape, it stank.

When finally escape was granted the clan made a slow journey through the maze of corridors and dusty alcoves that was the city of the dead. Crowded throngs of Horde forces illuminated places that had likely not seen light in many moons, I felt odd to be defending such a place.

If Brill was a graveyard then the Undercity was a tomb.
I found focus in making every effort to get back out on the wing. Brill had fallen but Alliance forces wouldn’t have moved their artillery to the city yet, a brief window of opportunity presented itself for us to get out and on the wing and see the lay of the land.
Less than an hour later we would be flying, making reports of the devastation of Brill, uncertain as to who caused it, the Alliance or our own side. In the distance grand ships could be seen at their moorings, like Teldrassil’s demise had brought every Alliance fighter to muster against us, we knew that already though, we’d seen them. Great siege weapons were already in construction and just when we were about to head back, there we saw them. A small pack really. They must have fled in the chaos at the last moments of the town and been cut down by back line Alliance forces. A small clutch of Horde wolves, some bearing the colours of the clan.

Risking a landing on the grim fields was never in question. The wyverns were smeared in dark war paint to give them some chance of hiding in the gloom of Tirisfal, it was enough as we collected small tokens from the beasts but could not linger for more.