The Fall of Stromgarde

Billowy white clouds floated through a sea of blue far above the pine needle covered ground of the Stonetalon mountains. A cool breeze passed over the Chieftain’s face as he lay staring up at the sky. How lucky it was, he thought to himself that it had happened here, in this place of so many pine trees.

Not long before he and Ashenrock had lit out from the Crossroads to Sun Rock Retreat. He had called a meeting of the Dread Horde and sought to try to rally them to war in Azeroth. He had felt control of the clan slipping from his grasp as of late, and the Dread Horde was faltering. He had to do something and battle was the only answer. But there were few anymore who saw the need for fighting in the old world. The lure of plunder in Northrend had dragged even his loyal Grin to the frozen wastes and the fight with Arthas. Even his Sythegar Grimnir had embraced the fighting there whole-heartedly. Yagyu had to do something to put the Grin back to the task of finally conquering in Azeroth and bringing themselves territory in their own right. But how could he convince those who were apathetic at best?

As he and Ashenrock rode together they spoke of plans. Yagyu talked of the need to fight the Alliance at home. He had never believed that Northrend was the answer for the Blacktooth Grin. Ashenrock agreed to some extent but had brought up ideas of his own. Gaining the attention of Thrall was his primary concern and he believed that his and Yagyu’s ideas could benefit each other. They stopped mometarily near Grimtotem Post to rest and eat…and it proved a mistake. The assassins had found a convenient hiding place and soon well placed arrows were singing their way towards the Warchief and the former Chieftain. The first arrow struck Ashenrock through the neck and that was likely the only reason Yagyu was not killed immediately. As he lunged to grab the tauren druid’s falling body, the second arrow struck the orc in the liver. The pain was agonizing as the orc howled in pain and rage. Ashenrock was gasping for breath as he struggled to keep himself steady. Yagyu held him up as best he could but the tauren was heavy and the assassins were bearing down on them both with naked steel.

Yagyu placed Ashenrock against a stump and stood in front of his friend as the humans advanced on them. Drawing his axe the orc snarled as blood and saliva dripped from his fangs. He roared a challenge and the killers were upon them both. Yagyu swung in rapid but clean arcs and he felt the blade of his war axe bite into pinker flesh. He felt small washes of relief and he knew behind him that Ashenrock was doing his best to relieve him of his wounds. But this was nothing like the druids normal combat healing and he felt the tauren must have been hurt far worse than he thought.

The Warchief was holding them off but he knew he couldn’t last much longer. His axe continued to cleave its way through bone and sinew as Yagyu’s muscles strained with each swing attempting to split his enemies in two. As one human moved to cut him, roots sprouted from the ground ensnaring his feet. Yagyu did not hesitate as he brought the mighty axe downward. The evil slashing cut hit the man’s shoulder and though he tried to scream only a gurgling sound of escaping air pushed its way out of his severed lungs. The body dropped to Yagyu’s feet and lay still. Then Yagyu felt steel pierce his back. He roared in pain and tried to swing his axe in a circle but he was already dropping and he saw the ground rush up to meet his face. As he rolled over to face his death, he saw there was no one there. At just that moment he heard a familiar cry. “Fear the Grin!” echoed through the mountains as Maradar came upon them chasing the remaining assassins away, felling one as the others ran for their lives. Yag rolled to his side looking to Ashenrock but the tauren simply sat slumped, weakly trying to heal the wound in his throat. Yag could only grasp at clumps of pine needles strewn about the dirt and helplessly try to push them against his own wounds in a vain effort to stop the bleeding. But Maradar was there with bandages and wrapped the Warchief carefully after tending to the tauren.

“Boss, he hurt bad mon’.” the troll said to the orc. “I gotta get him to Crossroads or he won’t make it.”

Yagyu could only weakly wave Maradar off as he watched the new Sythegar struggle to put the tauren across the back of his warbear and ride off towards the Crossroads.

Yagyu rolled to his back and stared up at the clouds as he thought about the meeting he was to attend. The ground felt sticky under his back as the bleeding continued through his bandages and the orc hoped Maradar would hurry back…the Dread Horde would not wait forever.

The clamor at the meeting of the Dread Horde went from disagreement, to shock, to anger and finally to unity. The assembly stood inside the great hall at Sunrock Retreat as apathy gradually gave way to the usual bickering and arguments that followed a coalition that has lost its purpose. The assembled lords and ladies of House Suncrown stood aloof and eyed the rawer blood elves representing Lament of the Highborne. Padwanu stood with a number of bulls from the Thunderhooves and questioned Grimnir who tried to rally the various leaders but a growing discomfort gnawed at him. If Yagyu and Ashenrock didn’t arrive soon, the Dread Horde could break down and their plans would have to change. Then he saw the the Blacktooth Grin Sythegar walking slowly into the hall. He was followed by the Warchief but Grimnir could see instantly that something was wrong. Not only was Ashenrock missing but the Chieftain appeared to be walking with difficulty. He appeared to be injured.

As Yagyu approached he could see the orc pressing his hand into his side. And was that blood dripping from his armor? Yagyu felt Grimnir’s eyes and simply gave him a hard stare that told the old orc that bad news was forthcoming.

“Warchief…?” Grimnir half swallowed the word.

The rest of the assembled Dread Horde gasped as Yagyu told them the story of the failed assassination attempt on him and Ashenrock. Agholinn cast healing spells on the orc repeatedly but it was clearly a deadly wound that he bore and she worried that he was not immediately rejuvenated. Nhymuea clenched her jaw as she listened. An attack on the Warchief was as good as an attack on them all. Only Gorfrunch sneered in disgust at the orc’s apparent weakness.

As the assembly clamored for answers Yagyu pulled a scrap from his tunic.

“Who is responsible for this outrage?” someone yelled out.

Yagyu passed the cloth to Grimnir whose gaze hardened as he handed it back to Yagyu. Yagyu held up the torn piece of crimson cloth and announced, “The assassins had this under their armor. The tabard of the Keepers!” He tossed the bit of tabard out the assembled Dread Horde whose anger grew as it was passed around. The previous clamoring had now changed to a tone of defiance and bloodlust. Yagyu smiled thinly as he knew that this would rejoin these clans into an alliance with a purpose. His only regret was that it had come at the expense of the druid, his friend, Ashenrock. Grimnir took over the meeting as Yagyu sat down to relieve the pain. He wondered if Ashenrock was recovered. Maradar had said his wounds were so great that he had to be sent to Thunder Bluff for healing. It would take the best efforts of the healers there to restore him to health. Yag’s anger grew as he thought of his friend. Stinding up he moved closer to the discussion.

Amaro was asking for a plan of attack. Grimnir was discussing a fient at Valiance Keep to hide the main assault on Stromgarde.

“The Keepers ain’t stupid folks.” Yag said. “They’ll be back to defend as soon as they get word. That’s why our first stike has to be at Refuge Pointe. We needs ta make sure they can’t git reinforcements to the Keep.” He looked around as Grimnir nodded sagely beside him. “If we control the Pointe, the Keep will fall.”

Soon Grimnir was gaining troop counts from the members of the assembly and Yagyu knew that the battle would not be far off. Finally, Azeroth would tremble at the force of the Dread Horde. And the Keep of Stromgarde…and Trollbane’s throne room would belong to the Blacktooth Grin.

Vosgonar stepped through the Death Gate into Acherus and stretched his tired muscles. Hoober had requested a few to help him scout out Stromgarde Keep before the main force flew into Hammerfall, and who wouldn't turn down a request to spill pinkie blood before a battle? He thought this, and grinned to himself as he flew from the Ebon Hold to the Undercity, where Hoober had arranged to meet. The skeletal gryphon touched down in the Trade Quarter of the Forsaken home city, and Vosgonar blew his whistle to summon Redfang, his wolf. He rode up into the Ruins of Lordaeron, and found Mido, Zeverus, and of course Hoober waiting.
“Throm'ka, Vosgonar,” said Hoober, grinning.
“Throm'ka, Hoober. Mido, Zev. Sorry to keep you waiting,” Vosgonar said with a grin, two obvious holes where teeth were missing.
“Let's ride then. MOUNT UP,” Hoober yelled, turning the key to his Chopper, which, with a roar and a deafening backfire, kicked into life. Mido jumped in the sidecar as Zev called his black war wolf to his side and lept nimbly onto the riding harness.
The squad rode towards Silverpine, keeping eyes pealed for any suspicious activity. After they crossed a bridge in the forest, a ghostly lupine Grimnir stepped from behind a tree, and shifted into his normal, green orc form. The group stopped short, snapping salutes as soon as their momentum ceased.
“Good ter see you, Grin,” Grimnir said, returning salute.
“Ride with us, sir?” Hoober asked.
Grinning, Grimnir said, “On your mark, raider,” as his Frostwolf stepped swiftly to its companion's side.
The five rode onto Arathi, stopping only to remark at the foul air of pinkskin as they passed Southshore. Once there, they scouted around the first strike point, Refugee Pointe, taking note of tactical strike points to relay to the rest of the Dread Horde and plan. There were no outward signs of Alliance activity, so the group turned into Hammerfall to await the arrival of the rest of the Dread Horde.
((I'll write more later))

The plan had worked. Grimnir had attacked Refuge Pointe and the stike had caught the Keepers off-guard. With Refuge Pointe in the hands of the Grin, no relief troops or supplies could move to the Keep. Yagyu had wanted to lead the attack himself but the infection from the assassin’s blade kept him in Hammerfall for too long. But Yag could hear the sounds of the battle carried on the winds and he couldn’t stand to sit idly by. Wound or no wound, he would be there with his Clan. The troll voodoo doctor swore at the orc but he ignored him as he saddled up Grimfang and rode out towards the Pointe. By the time he got there, the main force had already advanced to the Keep. Riding hard, the Warchief arrived in front of the Camp to see a pitched battle. The Keepers had barricaded themselves inside and the Grin were battering against the gate and walls futilely.

Yag tightened the bandage hard around his abdomen and strode up a small rocky hill to where Grimnir stood looking over the battlefield.

“How goes it Grim?”
The old orc was startled as he turned to look at Yagyu.

“Warchief…” he said as he saluted. “We’ve taken the pointe but the Keepers are solidifying their defenses inside the Keep. It seems we’re at an impass.”

The old shaman looked steadily at the Chieftain.

“It will be siege Warchief. They have no allies strong enough to break our forces…but…”

Yagyu nodded slowly as he watched the back and forth fighting.

“We’ll need catapults.” He said quietly. Then, turning to Grimnir he said “Have them fall back Sythegar”

Grimnir’s shout took the clan by surprise. “FALL BACK DREADHORDE! FORM UP!” he shouted at the enraged troops.

As the force of the Blacktooth Grin, Obsidian Storm, and Lament of the Highborne moved back the Keepers saw what was happening and one dwarf moved forward from the group.
Yagyu and Grimnir saw Stonemug standing waiting for them. Mounting their worgs the two orcs moved forward for parley.
Gorfrunch looked up at the Warchief with a sneer on his face. "I say we slaughter them all right now!"

Soon the orcs were facing the grim defenders and Yagyu dismounted and walked up to the dwarf who stood defiantly in front of him.

“I give ya two options ankle-biter…surrender the Keep now, and MAYBE we’ll let some of ya live.” He stared coldly into the eyes of the dwarf. “Stay, an’ we’ll tear this Keep apart and bash yer brains out with the stones.”
Yagyu waited for Maradar to translate the ultimatum to Stonemug. The dwarf’s eyes burned with rage as he listened and quickly cut the translator off with a ramble of Common directed at the orc.
“Wut wuzzat?” The Warchief demanded.

Maradar replied, “Warchief. He says he he’ll tear down the stones himself and rain them on your thick skull. He says you’ll never step foot in Stromgarde.”

Yagyu smiled thinly. “So yer wants ta do thing the hard way? Fine. Enjoy yer last days ankle-biter.”

Whistling for Grimfang Yagyu mounted up and each force moved back to their lines.

“We’ll need every siege engine we can spare out here.” The Chieftain told his Sythegars. “I don’ care if’n we haveta bring ‘em all the way from Northrend. Jus’ git ‘em here fast.” He moved back up the rocky slope and looked first at the Keep then at his warriors digging themselves in while others moved back to Hammerfall to bring in the catapults and siege engines.
“This is gunna be a long fight Grimnir. But I see a black banner flyin’ high over the walls of that Keep.”

“As do I Warchief.” Replied the shaman. He looked squarely at his friend and said “We will finally win this war.”

Maradar paces back around the camp set up outside of Stromgarde, "Why we be waiting here? We be havin dem outnumbered" he mumbled to himself. "We be havin plenty o deathknights and plenty o corpses we could send in an army o ghouls to break down dat damn door!" disgusted Maradar walks over to a grot and kicks him as hard as he can. "Ah dat felt better."

"Catapluts! dat will take days. i dun wanna be sittin here not killin waitin on some goblin contraption." Thinking to himself "Maybe we can have all dem orcs throw da elfs at da wall... would be a win two fold if we be gettin rid o dem." His temper getting the better of him he yells at the other side of the camp where the warchief and the shaman are knowing they can't hear them "JOO KNOW I COULD KILL DERE WHO DAMN ARMY AND YOU WANT TO WAIT?!" Realizing his temper has gotten him in trouble in the past he calmed himself down and sat on a hill over looking the keep. "One day all joo be dead, and i be raisin joo for my own personal army, just joo wait."

Sighing to himself he waits as patiently as he can for the day he can kill everything in that keep.

The whipping sound of the leather straps echoed as a large rock was flung towards the Keep. The gates shuddered with the impact as the rock shattered against its iron reinforcing bar. More projectiles were being flung at the already weakened crack at the northwest side of the wall while still others fell inside the Keep itself. How much damage those had done, it was impossible for the dug-in Dread Horde to tell, but the screams of the wounded soon passed to silence of the dead and they knew it was having some effect.

Yagyu winced in pain as he coughed. Sitting up on his cot inside his tent he spit a bit of blood into a bucket. The infection was spreading. He could feel it. But there was no time for healing nor any extra medicines until they breached the walls. It would simply have to wait. Carefully he removed the putrid old bandage that was around his abdomen and replaced it with a fresh one. When was done he rose from his cot and exited the tent into the streaming sunlight of the Arathi Highlands. Looking up he saw yet another projectile smash against the gates of the Keep. He hoped that Stonemug could feel every blow as it brought him and his Keepers that much closer to their impending doom.

The Chieftain smiled to himself as he walked along the rows of orcs, tauren, trolls, forsaken and blood elves. They each looked up at him with varying glances of bloodlust or glee. A few slept while others were on watch. Some loaded catapults while others cooked the midday meal. As he passed them he would stop and talk for a minute.

“It won’t be much longer now” he would say to one, or “Fine shot that one! I think I heard a dorf die in there!” to another. Each returned a happy salute and enthusiastically loaded another catapult and sent a rock on its destructive path.

The walls were weakening and Yagyu knew it wouldn’t be long now. A few more days and they would be inside.