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Ashenvale outpost


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It was a nice and quiet day at the SoC outpost in the Ashenvale forest, the sun was shining and the some guards enjoyed the nice breath.

All of a sudden they hear a scream coming from the forest, and the guards see a heavily wounded scout trying to get back to the outpost.

“Big elvzie armie!!!!”

The war horn is sounded, and all orcs rush to get their battle gear and assume battle positions on the walls of the outpost.

Two orcs are send out to get the wounded scout inside, and a third orc is send out to Orgrimmar to get help.

All warriors are waiting impatiently for the night elves to show up.

Then all of a sudden they hear a trumpet and elven voices!

The orcish captain orders to get ready, and wait for his signal.

The horses and elven foot soldiers are getting closer and closer, you can smell their stench, but you cannot see them yet.

Then the captain shouts “Clomp thu pushdug elvies!!!!”

During the waiting for the elves to attack, the third orc has arrived in Orgrimmar, and warned the rest of SoC.

................ >??

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I was wondering that.......

But some people just leave the end open for their next part they simply haven't finished....

Expect something from me soon to continue your story!

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  • 2 weeks later...

The horns began to sound, causing Uglutz to shake his hand ever so slightly. His delicate brew would tolerate no such movement though, however slight. A great fireball and a puff of black smoke was all that was left of his alchemy experiment.

Wiping the black ash from his face, Uglutz opened the entrance to his tent to see what the commotion was about. All around him were the sights of soldiers preparing for battle. The horns continued to blow, apparantly the situation was grave indeed.

Uglutz put on his one horned helm (the other horn had long since been broken off) and grabbed his supplies. He then hurried along the trail to where the rest of the Skullcrushers would be gathering their forces.

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Tunderbluff

A loud horn waked me up "Nub!! Dem Elbzie ur at ut again!"

I ran outside to look what was going on, I looked at orgrimar in the north, i saw a small explosion in the hut of Martok. Hmm...? Then i looked at the Ashenvale forest but it was to far away to make any sense.

I swiftly ran into the stairway of the big TunderBluff totem, old cairne screemed to get down right now. But i couldent, i had to see how my friends in orgrimar where doing and what the hell was going on.

I looked into the invention that Vradish gave me, it`s called a telescoop, while i looked into the wierd looking thing i saw that orgrimar was preparing for battle!

Then I looked at the Ashenvale forest, i saw the Ashenvale outpost burning while 2 orcs where trying to save what was left.

I ran down and clomped the door of Graknor, I saw him (still sleeping) with an empty 9 liter botle of beer lying on his chest. I grabed the bottle and smashed it on his head, "Uki Gruk thus: IF YU DU DAT AGUN ME WULL MUKE YU UN PEON AGUN!!!"I swiftly explaned the situaion, we took arms and headed down to Orgrimar.

Edited by Surek Tharor
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Rhoach was dreaming. In his dream, his human foster father had grown to immense proportions, and was in the process of trying to crush Rhoach with his ironshod boots. There was a sound, as well, in the distance. It sounded like horns... horns... HORNS!

Rhoach sat up swiftly in his humble open air cot on the fringes of the skullcrusher encampment, reflexively drawing and brandishing double scimitars that had been laid at his sides during his slumber. By the gods, battle? Rhoach thought fervently to himself. And I haven't even had my afternoon piss.

A low ranking orc, a peon, like Rhoach, tore by, screaming something about 'elbzies' in the clan dialect Rhoach still wasn't totally comfortable with, even after years of learning it. A second later, the orc fell dead, an elven arrow suddenly protruding from his throat. Rhoach quickly scooted off and hid under his cot, clad only in his loincloth, glancing alertly left and right.

Rhoach's large trollish nose twitched. An elf was very close. He saw before he heard the soft leather boot silently press into the dirt, scarcely ten feet from his cot. A night elf, a male, knelt over the body of the fallen orc, making sure he was dead, then moved on to inspect Rhoach's cot. Rhoach cursed his habit of sleeping outside the usual cluster of the rank-and-file peons, making a mental note to remember the old adage of safety in numbers.

The boots of the elf stopped two feet away from Rhoach's face. The cot completely hid Rhoach's body, but something wasn't right. Rhoach could smell the elf's tenseness, its caution. Rhoach's nose twitched again, smelling... what was that smell? Rhoach's brain screamed an alarm as the scent was recognized, the scent of cold steel. The large, lithe troll rolled to the side just as an elvish blade came crashing down where Rhoach's heart had been seconds before. Instead of a fatal blow, the sword pierced Rhoach's shoulder. Rhoach grimaced in pain and hate as he reached out and seized the elf's booted foot.

Rhoach twisted and pulled. The blade was wrenched from Rhoach's shoulder as the elf was drug to the ground. The elf was yanked underneath the cot, where Rhoach would have a better chance of overpowering it. Rhoach and the elf grappled back and forth with the blade the elf held, but in the end, Rhoach's superior strength won out in the close quarters. Rhoach pinned the elf's hands while he bit deeply into the elf's neck. Purple blood gushed out in great gouts, letting the troll know that he had hit his target: the jugular. The elf's struggles quickly ceased, its body growing still within the space of a minute.

Rhoach studied the body in the dim confines of the space underneath the cot while he let his shoulder heal itself. Already, the trickle of blood from the wound had stopped, thanks to trollish regeneration. Rhoach felt grateful for his heritage at that moment, though he had cursed it many times before. In the sunlight shining through the gash in the cot the elf's sword had made, Rhoach recognized light armor, even for an elf, a bow, and only the small sword the elf had tried to end Rhoach's life with. Hm, Rhoach thought. A scout.

"Better get to others 'fore more these arrive," Rhoach muttered to himself.

Risking a glance from underneath his cot, Rhoach spied Uglutz hurrying along a trail towards a tight cluster of Skullcrushers. Rhoach growled at the thought of the ridicule he suspected he would receive upon arriving almost completely naked at the gathering point, but there was no time to dress himself properly.

"Heh, not living with "oomies" anymore, Rhoach," he reminded himself.

Rhoach grabbed his scimitars and their scabbards, took one last glance around, and rolled out from under his cot. Stealthily making his way from tree to tree, he made his way towards the gathering of his fellow clan members, hoping that there'd be time soon to relieve himself. He still really had to piss.

Edited by Rhoach
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Glok'tur was among a few of the clan elders, around a small campsite within the outpost when the horns had sounded. He quickly jumped to his feet and gathered his equipment. He was already wearing light leather armor, and he donned his shoulder guards for added protection. There was no time to return to his hut for better armor, so he headed for the outer fort walls, to inspect the situation.

As he climbed the scaffolds he observed the frantic commotion; peons bringing ammunition for the watch towers, and other various supplies, higher ranking orcs organizing groups of warriors and preparing them for battle, trolls scaling the scaffolds along with him, throwing spears bundled upon their backs, tauren hoisting large defensive materials and structures around.. It was a sight to see.

Reaching the top of the scaffold, Glok'tur looked out over the area, and could see the forming mass of the night elves marching orderly and steadily towards the outpost. There was even a fabled mountain giant among them, holding a massive uprooted tree as a club..

Glok'tur knew this battle could not possibly be won. He turned and shouted, "Ged a moov un id!" to a nearby group of peons, hurriedly reinforcing the nearest fort gate. His mind raced, the battle raging within him already as he fought his pride and extreme reluctance to even consider withdrawing to meet up with the reinforcements which he assumed had been sent for. He reminded himself that his people were now ravaged and far fewer in number thanks to the Burning Legion, which they were finally free of; perhaps it was best to withdraw and increase their chances of survival. There were atleast 200 horde members stationed at this outpost, and a 3rd of them were not orcs.

He decided to make for the Orc Captain and suggest a withdrawal, though he was concerned that he may look weak in doing so. He hoped that through expressing his reasoning, the Captain would agree. Afterall, it was highly unlikely that Glok'tur was the only orc who began to think outside that which the Burning Legion had conformed them to, correct? He hoped so.

(OOC: As is apparent, my story fits in somewhere before Surek's viewing of the burning outpost. Just trying to fill in here and there. :cheeburga: )

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Aerie Pioviel, the night elf commander, surveyed her forces as they swept out in a semicircle formation, nearing the orcish encampment. 500 strong, her army was like a spider reaching out its legs to encircle its hapless prey; the outpost had no chance of successfully defending itself against such a relatively large force. A runner silently sprinted up to her side. He snapped to attention, and reported in the tongue of the night elves, "Commander Pioviel, our scouts have been spotted. The vermin know we're coming."

Aerie nodded and dismissed the scout. Inwardly, she cursed. She would've liked to have had the element of surprise on her side, as every night elf casualty was equal to a thousand casualties of the lesser races, to her mind. She turned to her aide and gave the order to speed up their march and throw caution to the wind. It no longer mattered if they were seen.

Her nightsaber mount growled in anticipation as the army's pace sped up. She could now begin to make out the individual faces among the monstrous defenders...

Rhoach trotted up to the gathering of Skullcrushers, ignoring the chuckles from a few clan members over his lack of clothing. He glanced left and right, wondering if he should make his way to the fort erected behind the common sleeping grounds. While wondering, he strapped his scabbards to his back and slid his scimitars home. Spotting Uglutz giving commands to various groups of clan members, Rhoach made his way closer to the elder shaman, narrowly sidestepping a group of warriors that had been ordered to form up in front of the fort's walls. Cursing quietly, Rhoach glanced after the orcs and tauren that had just thundered past him, then spotted a group of trolls with spears strapped to their backs climbing a few of the watch towers. Hmm, perhaps I could make myself useful there, Rhoach thought to himself. Pushing his way out of the mob surrounding Uglutz, Rhoach ran to the small armory constructed outside the fort walls. He grabbed a bundle of spears out of the hands of a young human slave jogging the opposite direction, ignoring its cries of, "My master will beat me if I don't bring these to him!"

Glancing at the battlefront, Rhoach saw that the elves were nearly upon them. Sprinting as fast as he could, Rhoach reached a watchtower and climbed furiously, making his way awkwardly up the tower with the bundle of spears in one hand. Just after he had reached the 15-foot mark on the 25-foot tower, Rhoach heard the clash of battle beneath him. The battle had been joined. Glancing down, Rhoach saw a tauren smash the head of a night elf with a huge tree trunk. Gazing briefly around the battlefield, Rhoach saw the night elf archers forming up, as well as the bulk of the Skullcrusher orc warriors begin their charge into the quickly growing melee. Troops of both sides surged around the tower, hacking, slashing, crushing. Rhoach set his face in an expression of grim determination, beginning to climb again, only one thought on his mind: I really have to piss.

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Uglutz cursed as the battle began to erupt around him. The filthy elves had taken them somewhat by suprise. There was little time to organize a counter-strike, and the noise of battle was too loud for any real orders to be given. Grulg apparantly did not think so, as he continued to curse and spit orders to various lines of the Skullcrusher defenses.

A small patrol of dwarves rounded the corner near Uglutz and the group of shamen surrounding him. The Skullcrusher shamen wasted no time and began calling to the earth to heed their call. Fire erupted in mid air, and the very earth itself rose up to greet the invading dwarves.

Uglutz raised his hands to call upon the blessings of Shakha, but his oversized one-horned helm decided to fall down over his face, completely covering his head down to his chin. "Wizzies!!" Uglutz thought to himself as darkness came over him, thinking some sort of evil spell prevented his sight. In a fit of panic, Uglutz pulled out one of his large battle axes and began swinging furiously, hoping to cut down anything that got within striking distance.

Shamen of the Skullcrushers cursed as they dodged not only from dwarves and elves, but from Uglutz's axe as well. A few grunts were not as attentive as they should have been, and found a battle axe dug halfway into their sides for their punishment. Feeling satisfied there was no longer any invaders near him, Uglutz raised his hands again to the heavens, and called down a volley of lightning from the clouds.

The smell of burning flesh began to flow through the air, being carried across the field of battle with the wind. Lightning continued to pour down from above, striking indiscriminately at all that it could touch. An elvish arrow made its way directly to the center of Uglutz's helm, knocking it up and off his head. "Har!" Uglutz cried, feeling satisfied his last volley of lightning dealt with the filthy elvish wizard whom had cast the darkness spell.

Breathing heavily from battle, a few grunts on wargs brought up the front of the shamen's advance. "Lat blah tu me ib der uny oder wizzies!" Uglutz yelled. "Me clomp dem tu!" Several shamen just shrugged their shoulders and took up position beside their warchief, quite glad he forgot to pick up his helm.

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Glok'tur had just spotted the orcish captain atop a giant wolf, when an uproar of warcries sounded from behind him.. The elves were here already! He cursed their agility and made his way for the captain, who was now glancing towards the fort walls and troops, then back at the workers he was giving orders to. Glok'tur reached him right as he drew his massive orcish sword, unique among the horde only to raiders, and was about to make for the battle.

"Mi lord! Da elbz am menny, we hab fuw! Me tink id nar week tu wiffdraw, for da sayk ub deze skullcruzherz! Clomp annudder muun, er wiff re-enforzmunts. Uruk'hai nar puppedz ub Bernt Leejun ennymor, uz shuud nub ruzh tu owr deffz."

The captain looked down at Glok'tur and his brow furrowed, he then spat,

"Lat nede blah wiff Uglutz ur Grulg, dem kum yeztermuun. Me nub hab dat kuntrol."

"Nub" thought Glok'tur, common orcish for "no." Glok'tur had studied some of the tomes brought over from Draenor, after the first war. He had begun to teach himself the old language, and implement it into his daily speech. There were others who did the same, largely vuduka, but he longed for his people to return to more of their original culture, and language.

The thought ended briefly as this was not the time to ponder, there was battle at hand, and higher ranking orcs to find.

Glok'tur turned on his heels and made his way for the fort walls, which would have already been overrun had the hordish forces not engaged the elves outside, aswell as within. Glok'tur darted through the peons rushing more supplies to the lines, observing a thick line of trolls atop the structure unleashing a flurry of spears at the enemy. Every now and then one would scream and curse as an elvish arrow pierced them, but they would continue on shortly after had the injury not been critical. Glok'tur reached a gate, one door partially open to allow warriors in and out and peons on the inside waiting to shove it closed at a moments notice. He slid through crouched low and into the mass of skullcrusher's being slowly forced back by the advancing elf army.

Glok'tur took hold of dual axes at his side, and made his way for a group of orcs surrounding Uglutz. He evaded a night elf blade and spun around swinging both axes at his attacker. The elf jumped backwards into a tauren warrior who lifted it above his head and through it at the swelling night elf ranks. Glok'tur killed 1 or 2 more elves along the way and reached Grulg's group, which was heavily on the defensive, engaged in a game of parry with night elves half-surrounding them. Grulg backed from the fight quickly replaced by 2 more grunts, and shouted some orders to a small group of trolls slicing the enemy in a flurry of scimitars. Glok'tur took this oppurtunity and squeezed in next to Grulg, spouting out quickly his suggestion to temporarily retreat, considering their numbers were already falling quickly and the elves had a good many more to spare. They were not untrained, either. Night elves are agile opponents, skilled in the bow and exotic blades. Their armor, though light, is by no means flimsy, aswell. He blurted all of this as fast as he could, dodging a few arrows here and there.

Suddenly a cry came from along the other end of the lines, both Glok'tur and Grulg looking to see what had happened.

The mountain giant had reached the frontline and in one fell swing sent a handful of orcs flying, a couple of which did not arise again..

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The battle had reached a fevered pitch, the sound of bloodthirsty orc warcries and ululating elf chants filling the air, the clash of weapons and the screams of the dying completing the symphony of carnage on the battlefield. Rhoach ignored it all as he continued his climb to the top of the watchtower. Scarcely seven feet from the top, Rhoach heard a sort of whistling sound subtly reaching his ears over the regular sounds of battle. "What that...?" Rhoach wondered aloud, pausing in his climb to look around.

Suddenly, something smashed into the top of the watch tower, bringing with it an almost unbearable heat and a blinding flash, causing Rhoach to grit his teeth and look away. With both of his arms wrapped around the scaffolding, Rhoach felt the watch tower rock and shudder. Eventually, the structure stabilized, and Rhoach was able to look up and survey the damage. The protective basket at the top of tower and the trolls contained inside it were totally gone. Rhoach blinked. Magework. The need to urinate was more urgent than ever.

Rhoach chattered his teeth a few times (a habit he had developed to calm himself down), shrugged, and began to unbundle a spear from the pack he had managed to hold on to during the blast. As he did so, he squinted across the battlefield, taking a more careful look at the elven army they were facing. We can't take these numbers... Rhoach thought. And that mountain giant quickly approaching the entrance to the fort looked none too friendly as well... A plan of escape began to form in his mind. As he was thinking, an arrow whizzed by his face, causing him to reflexively jerk back, bringing him back the present as quickly as he had drifted off. Growling, he finished loosening the tie on the bundle and hefted the spear in his right hand. Grabbing on to the scaffolding with his left, he leaned far out to the right, took aim at an elven swordsman, and threw. He saw the spear pierce the elf's stomach. The elf clutched his abdomen and was lost in the shuffle of combatants.

Grinning to himself in satisfaction, Rhoach pulled another spear from the bundle and repeated the process. Hey, this battle isn't turning out to be so bad, Rhoach thought to himself as he downed elf after elf. Close, easy targets without much risk... hey! An arrow thunked into the scaffolding. Apparently, an elven archer had seen Rhoach's antics and decided to put an end to this nuisance. Rhoach was forced to duck behind the poles of the scaffolding when he wasn't throwing spears, and he had to throw quickly. This was making him miss most of his targets and waste his dwindling supply of spears. What was worse, the mountain giant had reached the front lines, and was making its way towards Uglutz and the clan shamans who were a short distance from the watch tower Rhoach was currently in. As if THAT weren't bad enough, the need to pee had reached a new high and was making Rhoach constantly squeeze his legs together to avoid embarassment in addition to death.

"What do now..." Rhoach muttered, throwing another spear and managing to wing another elf. Before he could duck back behind the thicker sections of the scaffolding, the pesky elven archer hit his mark. An arrow jutted out of Rhoach's right thigh quicker than he could comprehend its coming. He hissed in pain and stumbled, barely managing to hold onto his few remaining spears and keep his balance. Another arrow zoomed by. This one, by sheer chance or by an elf's cruel sense of humor, caught the string on Rhoach's loincloth, effectively piercing it and ripping it off of him, and shooting it past the watchtower into the nearby fort walls with a dull THUNK.

Rhoach snarled slowly and wondered what he had done to offend the gods so. It wasn't enough that he was going to die, now he was going to die naked. The thought of elves trampling over his naked body make his green-blue skin burn with anger. Poking his head out from behind cover, Rhoach narrowed his eyes, looking for that treehugging, weakblooded, maddening elven archer who took away his mobility and loincloth with well-placed arrows. There! Rhoach picked him out among the middle ranks of the elven army. When the elf observed Rhoach's nakedness, it grinned and nocked another arrow, apparently planning to finish the job. Rhoach snarled more than he thought was possible, locked his eyes on the target, and threw his last spear with all his strength. It flew across the battlefield, reaching an enormous height at its arc. Plunging down onto the battlefield, it pierced the elf's pelvis, shattering its hip and pinning it to the ground.

Rhoach, his eyes on the progress of the spear, did not even see or feel the elf's last shot until he had watched the elf fall with grim satisfaction. Looking down at himself, he saw another arrow, this one sticking out of his knee. Rhoach bent it experimentally, then howled with pain, his leg buckling. The world swam before his eyes for a few seconds, making him throw his arms around the scaffolding to avoid falling. "Hm, not do that again," he breathed to himself, grinning ruefully. At that moment, Rhoach felt the ground begin to shake. Uh-oh... he thought. Looking down, he saw that the mountain giant had reached the clan shamans who were chanting below him.

Standing well over fourteen feet tall, the giant was less than five feet below Rhoach's ankles on the scaffolding. Rhoach saw the giant raise its club to dispatch the group of shamans in one fell swoop before they could finish their chanting. Before it could squash them, Rhoach saw an orcish clan member, Glok'tur, charge into the area. Glok'tur let out a battle cry, raised double axes, and threw them at the giant. They stuck into the giant's shins. The giant roared, fumbling with its club and staggering around. Momentarily, it had recovered itself, however, and faced its new opponent with the axes still embedded in its shins. Watching the scene, Rhoach saw the brave orc looking left and right for a new weapon as the giant closed in on him. Rhoach reached for a spear, then realized that he had thrown his last one at that pesky elf, and scimitars were worthless for throwing... What to do... what to do... Rhoach thought fervently, as the giant had almost reached Glok'tur.

Maybe it was the stress of the battle. Maybe it was Rhoach's mischevious mind at work. Maybe it was his nakedness. Whatever the cause, Rhoach had an idea. Grinning to himself, and thanking his foster father for being able to speak some of the alliance language, Rhoach shouted, "Overgrown dwarf! Up here!" as he threw the bundle of thick spear tie at the giant's head. The giant heard an insult and felt something bounce off the top of its head. Glancing up in irritation, the giant let out a rumbling cry of fury as thick, greenish liquid cascaded down into its eyes. Rhoach was hanging onto the scaffolding with one hand and directing the 'assault' with the other. The giant dropped its club and staggered blindly around, groping for some kind of handhold. Its eyes burned as if acid had been poured in it, troll piss being even more vile than the usual fare.

Rhoach laughed, giddy with success, loss of blood, and the brilliant afterglow of just having taken a long-needed piss. He even took his hand off of the scaffolding to point at the giant. It was at this moment that he tumbled off the scaffolding, his leg finally being able to take no more, buckling at the knee. Rhoach laughed all the way to the ground until he made impact in front of Glok'tur, sending up a huge cloud of dust and losing consciousness.

Edited by Rhoach
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Quietly in the woods a troll shaman wandered about humming content to himself, as he was looking for a rare plant required for his newfound curse. It would cause loose eyemuscles making the eyes pop out randomly. Something was troubling him though, he couldn't concentrate with all the noise in the background. It was causing him such a trouble he decided to locate the party and tell them to shut up. Yeah, that's what he'd do. And if they didn't comply he'd play his pranks on them. Snickering to himself he complemented how nifty he was. "Ooo, ya be tu clevar, Shim." "Yoo be tu kindz, mon."

As he reached the forest border he ducked, seeing the elven force attacking the orc outpost. It was like two fluent masses mixing together. Green and blue melting into a growing pile of dead flesh. Sticking out from the mass he saw a big grey blimp running around with no seemingly goal and he wondered what those big stonemen were good for. Shim saw the opportunity to play pranks and slowly crawling forward he neared the battle and could hear the clinging of metal and the distorted sound of blowing flames grow louder. He took out a little rod from his leather bag. The rod was actually more like a rattle with all the weird stuff hanging from it. As he shaked the rod he blah (lets say it's a strong verb) some words and smiled contently. "Now yu be gelly, mon, aaahahah" escaped his mouth as he could see an elf wabble around with his legs moving in every direction.

Shimensin's laugh didn't last long, though. An elven officer had spotted him and sent an archer. As the arrows from the elf started singing in his ears, he ran as fast as he could out in the woods again. Only a rock in his path saved him from penetration and he made his escape into the woods, as these woods was like the inside of his pocket. If he would've had any pockets.

OOStory: Ok, I'm not in the clan, but I have applied. And this was a fun story, so I added an outsider bit to it, if that's ok. So, if I never join, none of the orcs saw me that day. If I do get in, some of the orcs probably saw me.

Edited by Shimensin
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OOC: Well I kind of messed up by involving Grulg so directly, as it seems he is busy or atleast does not wish to add to the story, so forgive me if I have your char. act or do something unlike him, as I'm going to further the story now.

Glok'tur, along with every other skullcrusher in the immidiate area, backed away from the flailing mountain giant, fearful of it's blind rage. The giant happened to trip on a piece of lumber from the smouldering tower above, landing on it's face in the dirt. The horde nearby wasted no time in jumping upon it and hacking and slashing violently. It's outer rocky hide began to crumble as it struggled to get up, though not succeeding. Finally the hordish weapons broke through, and the giant was quickly put out. There was a raging uproar from the night elves during this, as they began cursing and yelling in their native tongue, which sounded silly to Glok'tur.

He turned to Grulg, who had returned to commanding his group of warriors, which had visibly decreased in number during the commotion.. He yelled, "Grulg! Uz hab tu wiffdraw! Der tuu menny. Luuk! Id am bubhosh tu be klomped, AGH luuz da owtpozt? Uz meet renforzmunts, fite anudder muun tu viktory!"

Grulg snarled in disgust, but he knew Glok was right. He had already pushed the thought from his own mind before Glok'tur had mentioned it. He groaned, slew another elf gleefully, and called a withdraw.

"Skullcruzhers! Furm un me! Diz baddul ash-sided! Uz meet felluw horde frum Ogrimmar! MOOB ID!"

And with that, the semi-organized retreat had begun. There was hesitance on all levels, but everyone withdrew from the outpost, peons ahead of the group and running. The shamans did their best to keep in the middle and heal those that struggled. The elves pursued a short ways, but suddenly pulled back towards the battle-scarred fort now in the distance.

In the midst of the retreat, Glok'tur had noticed the unconscious troll who initially bested the giant with his creativity, and picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. The war-torn and tired outpost remnant marched toward Ogrimmar as the day faded to night. Glok'tur did his best to count the survivors, and though difficult he gathered that there were approximately 70 or 80 in the group. Not counting the support troops, the peons, there had been approximately 200 war-troops to begin with. Most of the shamans had survived, aswell as the few warlocks that were stationed. The warriors included hunter and rogue-type alike, aswell as any other fighters. The Skullcrusher tribe had an assortment of assets in its members, and it had lost many of those assets, and friends, today.

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Commander Pioviel directed her nightsaber over towards the now-abandoned Skullcrusher Fort. She observed her troops pursuing the remnants of the defenders, held up her hand, and barked an order in elvish. Her command was quickly carried to every rank of the elves, and officers called their troops back. They had what they wanted. Though the commander would have liked to exterminate every last one of the horde, she thought it best to fortify their position, lest the monsters return with more of their abominable kind. She watched as her troops moved about the battlefield, helping those wounded elves who lay on the battlefield, and slaying any wounded enemy they found. She rode slowly into the fort, surveying the area. She noticed what looked like a tattered rag stuck above the fort entrance with an arrow. She peered closely at it, then realized it was a loincloth. Raising her eyebrow in bewilderment, she wondered how in Azeroth that could've happened. Shaking her head, she began giving the orders to man the fort, and sent a runner back to Felwood to let them know of her success...

Rhoach opened one eye. He flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar edges of a cot. Wondering if the whole battle was a dream, he sat up slowly and gazed around. No. No dream. He was in a sick bay. Around him, orc, troll, and tauren shamans worked their magic on the few wounded that had survived the assault on Ashenvale outpost. Wondering how he got here, wherever here was, Rhoach looked down at and saw that someone had removed the arrows from his leg and thrown some leather breeches over his naked form. He quickly donned the breeches, stood up, and flexed his leg experimentally. Good as new. That taken care of, Rhoach detained a passing orc shaman and asked where he was.

"Orgrimmar," the shaman grunted, moving on to heal more wounded.

Rhoach sniffed the air and looked around. He still felt as if he were missing something. He still felt somewhat naked... His hands flew to his back. His scimitars were missing. Exhaling hard out of his nose in irritation, Rhoach scanned the ground. When he failed to find them there, he got down on his hands and knees, peering underneath the cot he had been lying on.

"Luukin' fur deez?"

Rhoach stood up quickly and whirled around. Glok'tur was standing there, holding Rhoach's scimitars, still in their scabbards. Rhoach quickly snatched them from Glok's grip, strapping them on and relishing the feel of having his scimitars strapped reassuringly to his back once more. Rhoach, realizing his lack of regard for Glok'tur's civility, nodded his thanks and spoke haltingly, "Thank lat. Deez zults meen lot tu me." Glok'tur jerked his thumb towards a gathering group of Skullcrushers and said, "Dunno iv we muuvin' owt suun. Bak tu Ash 'post. See wut Grulg agh Uglutz blah. Mebbe clomp elvzies, mebbe stay heer." Rhoach nodded, idly wondering if he could find and 'procure' some decent armor in the area. Looking over towards a raised platform, Rhoach thought he could see someone who looked like one of the Skullcrusher leaders take the stand and address the gathered Skullcrushers. Rhoach and Glok'tur waited to see what the order would be.

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Yes Uglutz, continue.

Lat blah lutz. Grulg nub blah muj ad ull.

I've read over 200 fantasy books, and I can't write fantasy worth a damn.

*sighs*

*goes back to programming*

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