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<dances>
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The Battle of Stranglethorn Vale

Started by Razaron, September 11, 2018, 09:42:49 AM

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Razaron


The Battle of Stranglethorn Vale


The Bleeding Hollow clan had made the arduous journey to Stranglethorn Vale and had set up camps on the perimeter. Food, water and life was abundant here and Razaron soon regained his strength and was fighting fit again, however trouble was brewing. Scouts were sent to explore the deeper parts of the jungle and time and time again none would return, something was taking the orcs out and it was causing hysteria amongst them. The leadership of the clan had decided to send the majority of the Bleeding Hollow in to obliterate the nuisance, but stories spread across the clan of strange magic, devils and shadows that could kill. Morale was at a all time low and this wasn’t helped by peculiar sightings, ancient structures with unusual details, warped totems with shrunken heads and serpent like decoration worshiping some unknown deity. The Bleeding Hollow clan may have been in a jungle but they were stepping in to foreign territory!


They came out of no where, like shadows in the night. They attacked without hesitation and with no remorse, this was the first time both races had met and it wasn’t a friendly meeting. It was the Bleeding Hollow clan treading in to the Gurubashi tribes territory and the Gurubashi were winning the battle. It’s not that the Bleeding Hollow weren’t adept in the jungle way of fighting, it was just that the Gurubashi knew the terrain and were using it to full effect. Guerrilla warfare at it’s finest, they led the orcs in to ambushes and before the orcs knew what hit them the jungle trolls were already away. Hit and run assaults and it was proving to be very affective, word was circulating that Warchief Blackhand had ordered Kilrogg Deadeye to pull the Bleeding Hollow out of Stranglethorn Vale. It was at this time Razaron’s warband was assaulted. Gurubashi sprang the trap effortlessly, some were high in the jungles throwing all sorts of weapons down, other’s were ground level circling the trapped warband. Gorgush who was leading this warband screamed at the top of his lungs, “Lok-Narash!”. The orcs were quick to prepare but already countless had fallen under the surprise attack, the sound of metal piercing flesh and the cries of battle rang through the jungle.  Razaron grasp his axe in his hand looking constantly over his shoulder, they were everywhere he thought. Gurubashi troll armed with an axe and a totemic shield launched himself at Razaron, at first he was taken by surprise by the troll being battered left and right by his shield. The shock of seeing this remarkable clad creature had startled him for a few seconds, but gradually his fighting instincts kicked in. The troll tried one too many times at bashing Razaron with his shield, this time he stepped to the trolls side and quickly knocked the shield away leaving him completely open, Razaron’s axe swept back round and crashed in to the troll’s ribcage. Razaron pulled his axe out of the troll’s chest and watched it fall lifelessly to the floor, he looked at the unusual body. He noticed the proportions of it’s body was oddly shaped, they had huge long arms and legs with a hunched back that made them look shorter then they actually were. He then looked towards the blood pouring out of the chest of the troll and then to it’s face, the blank glazed over stare of a creature that had just died. Realization grew that despite their devilish armor they were mortals like the orcs, this encouraged Razaron. Mere moments later Razaron managed to parry a thrusting spear that was aimed directly for his heart, this wasn’t over just yet!


Razaron was pushed back in to another orc, “Get off me!” Gorgush yelled as he was fighting off his own troll. Fates had aligned and Razaron was physically closer to his father then he had been for months. “Be thankful I’m here” Razaron said grunting, “Otherwise this one would be piercing you in the back right now!” he quipped back. Razaron telegraphed the next attack the troll made and slashed his axe in to the wooden shaft of it’s spear and it broke in half, without the range Razaron bundled troll over and made quick work of him. Gorgush too was doing well fighting the trolls off with his deadly two handed axe, the blood lust had taken over him and he was wildly slashing at trolls left right and center. Despite their good fortune the rest of the warband was struggling and teetering on breaking, at least half of them had died now and the trolls shouted in their strange language to retreat. This was tactical, they didn’t want to fight the orcs head on in a bloody battle as they outnumbered them and would rather strike quickly and often. The Gurubashi slowly reformed and what looked like the leader shouted “Dazdooga!” and countless spears were thrown towards the orcs from the trees, this final act had tipped the scales and the Bleeding Hollow resolve was broken. Orcs now were retreating in vast numbers, Razaron quickly picked up a rickety trollish leather shield on the floor and took cover. He did this just in time as a spear penetrated through the crude leather and was inches away from fatally hitting his face. The trolls had disappeared as they arrived, quickly and without a sound as Razaron surveyed the aftermath of the battle.


Hundreds of bodies decorated the jungle earth, mostly orcs, the Gurubashi ambush had worked perfectly. The rest of the Bleeding Hollow had retreated back towards the way they came, this isn’t a war were going to win Razaron thought. Razaron was about to leave but he over heard some coughing, he tightened his grip on his axe and slowly walked towards the noise. The closer he got the more he realized it was an orc who was clinging on to life, Razaron paced faster towards his fallen kin and discovered his father Gorgush with a spear punctured through his gut. Immediately Razaron had forgotten about all the torment his father had put him through and fell to his knees trying to help him, “It’s too late son.” Gorgush coughed, “This is the death I saw, can’t you remember?” Visions raced through Razaron’s head of the ritual he witnessed his father perform when he was a boy. The burning crimson in Gorgush’s eyes began to fade, “What have I done…” he said shockingly, the bloodlust within him seemed to be fading as his death neared. “Listen to me son…” Gorgush gasped for breath to get his words out. “Be your own orc… I’m sorry… so sorry. I shouldn’t have call…” Gorgush let out one final breath before finally succumbing to his injuries. Tears ran down Razaron’s cheeks, he lost is grandmother, his home and now his father. 


Razaron reformed with the Bleeding Hollow clan and now were back in the swamps, the rumours of Warchief Blackhand pulling the Bleeding Hollow clan out of Stranglethorn Vale were indeed true. As the clan marched back towards the Dark Portal he quickly slipped away in to the swamp, he had lost everything near and dear to him and would rather live a life of a hermit then fight for this fel Horde. He travelled for days to escape from any form of civilisation, he was alone and would be his own orc.