Alterac 4
[X] Accept an Alliance commission to take Alterac, guaranteeing cooperation from local Alliance forces, and support from Dathrohan's Crusade.
You'd marched for two days, down the road from Andorhal.
A writ weighed heavily in your pocket, your commission from Dathrohan, declaring you a captain of the Alliance under his authority.
The choice had been difficult, fraught with fear for the future, yet the promise of great benefits too if you but stretched forth your hand to grasp it.
Dathrohan was skilled, very skilled, and you wondered whether that was what a leader should be, not necessarily the greatest fighter or the canniest tactician, but merely the one who can make others do things without force.
The Kingdom of Alterac had joined the Alliance during the Second War, after the Horde had destroyed Stormwind and come north to attack Lordaeron, but then as you understand they'd led the Alliance on a merry but ultimately useless chase through the north of the continent. Your father had much to say on the leadership of Doomhammer during those years, for he and others of the Burning Blade had followed along, only narrowly escaping internment in the camps.
You also supposed you must have been born sometime during those years, though you admitted you didn't know the year or circumstances. Neeru Fireblade did not speak of his mate or your birth, and you'd never liked bringing it up. To do so would risk reminding your father of your birth, of the shame your weakness had caused him…
Many a night you'd spent on the other side of your father's tent, away from his sullen glare, away from that shame, before finally he'd sent you off to the Valley of Trials for your training.
But now you sat on a war-warg at the head of a column of warriors from many clans, you sat beside your brother, the Mok'Nathal who rode a mighty human packhorse as if it were a pony, and you had retainers and warriors all around you.
All had been made well, from your father's shame to your own, and all by the blade. Akinos had been right, it was the blade, and honour, which ruled a warrior's life.
You shook yourself, concentrating on the high mountains ahead, their peaks shrouded in snow and cloud, so it looked like the world just bent upwards, instead of there being a clear horizon between land and sky.
Alterac was a broken and divided nation. Fearing Doomhammer's approach, their king had surrendered, allowing Doomhammer to travel through the strategic passes of the kingdom and making common cause with him. Swiftly though the Alliance had fallen on them, capturing the king and eventually executing him sometimes after the war. While Doomhammer's Horde fought and died around Blackrock Mountain, the Syndicate had risen from the ashes of Alterac, a loose confederation of outlaw nobles and their retinues, forced to band together against the Alliance, even helping the remnants of the Horde in the dark days after Doomhammer's defeat.
In the years that followed the Syndicate had supposedly aided the Scourge, made common cause with the Forsaken, as well as trading with trolls and ogres. Indeed, there was a clan of ogres occupying Alterac City, you suspected in similar pact as those which had occupied Stromgarde before you'd taken that stronghold.
You'd had cause to think back on Dathrohan's offer several times as you'd marched. Clearly Dathrohan was using you to destroy his enemies, enemies that you were uniquely placed to battle. To pacify the orcs of Hammerfall, to perhaps treat with the Frostwolves, these would have been much more difficult without 'the Breaker', as they called you. Accepting the commission had gained you a powerful ally in this mission, but you'd been finding it difficult to remember what you'd come here for in the first place.
True, you'd come to Lordaeron to fight the Scourge, but you'd also intended to seek out the old fortresses in Alterac, the places where remnants of the demon-worshipping Horde had clung on, the places where Jubei'thos fell and was presumable raised as a Death Knight… or whatever he was…
But in the discussions with your commanders the issue had barely come up. Instead it was talk of supply lines and bases through the Alterac Valley, of the numbers of your enemies, of potential allies, of tactics in the mountains and formations. Not once had anyone mentioned scouting to discover the location of the old Orcish bases, and truly it just seemed an oversight. Your people were made for war, and now war lay before you, just as Dathrohan had said.
The tramp of boots came up the trail and you found Scorn jogging along toward you, drawing up beside you at a rapid stride. "You must survey the warriors. Draw up on the left there, on the crest, and I shall stand beside and you shall call out their names."
You agreed easily enough. In truth you had relatively little experience in command, and it was credible advice. Despite this, Scorn had a tendency to talk down to you, which was somewhat grating, besides being inappropriate to your rank.
You urged the warg up the small rise as Scorn has said, letting the column march on. Dismounting you dismissed the beast to rest, Vark climbing off his own mount too, coming to stand beside you.
"It was good advice. I'd not have thought of it." your brother said.
"It was." you acknowledged quietly.
"I've been talking to my Ogres. The other Boulderfist are apparently the strongest force in Alterac. Five hundred at least." Vark said, his voice low.
Five hundred!
"I thought yours were the main part!" you hissed back, "We knew there were some in Alterac, but hundreds?"
"Apparently they just form up and charge their enemies, run them down, trample them." Vark remarked lightly.
Five hundred ogres, apparently reasonably well organised, would be a fearsome foe. Indeed they were one of the largest forces of their kind in the world you guessed. There were thousands down in Feralas, and ogre mounds in general had been established all over Azeroth. You supposed they'd been difficult to turf out and there'd been no organised force to limit their growth. Even hostile wildlife wasn't usually fierce enough to prevent ogres from breeding, because an ogre child was usually more dangerous than a wolf or sometimes a bear. And while you didn't doubt they were extracting a tribute of food from the Alteraci, they could also eat a much greater variety of food than most, being happy crunching bones or snacking on tree bark.
"We'll meet them if it comes to it. Ambushes maybe…"
"Maybe." Vark agreed, "I mention it though because I doubt my lot are reliable. They might abandon us. I'm not sure where they should be placed to prevent any treachery."
You nodded, "We'll consider it when we're closer. We need to know more about what's going on anyway."
You estimated, from Dathrohan's spies as well as other sources, that the Syndicate couldn't have more than a few thousand in their army, and that was spread out over various locations. The passes through the mountains were narrow enough, and Orcs were stronger than humans anyway. If you were pinned down it would go poorly, you thought, but you already had a few ideas there too.
Myzrael stirred on your wrist.
The commission from Dathrohan was limited in scope and time, it placed your authority at six months, and commanded others of the Alliance to aid you against the Syndicate, and to let you go where you would, but it did little more. The idea that you might gain a kingdom by such engagement though… Well, that was tempting…
A strong place for your clan if Thrall sought their destruction again, stable employment fighting trolls or helping the Alliance in their wars, perhaps even mercenary work fighting between kingdoms. It was hardly glorious, but the Horde squatted in Kalimdor because of that search for glory. At least it was honourable.
"Dathrohan has offered to make me," you paused, the word 'Constable' didn't really translate, and you weren't sure Vark's grasp of Tirassian extended to it either, "A sort of warleader for all Alterac, to command it's military, ensure the mines are productive."
"Really?" Vark remarked, "Hm!"
You waited, ready to reply, but nothing came. "What do you mean?"
Vark looked down at you, "What?"
"You said 'hm', I thought you were about to remark, offer some insight."
The Mok'Nathal laughed, "By the Spirits no, you're the philosopher!"
You bit your lip to stop the smile, it would hardly do to encourage him. "I don't know what to do. We're already more involved in Alliance politics than we should be. More than I have the authority to do."
"Well that doesn't matter really." Vark replied, "You're an exile remember?"
It was your turn to grunt then, as you looked out at the well-equipped force your 'exile' had furnished you with.
"This could be good for us, for the Horde, for the clans." you said, tapping a finger on the gem you'd lashed to the Fireblade's hilt.
"Very well." Vark shrugged. "But I'd ask what you're actually thinking to do."
You looked wordlessly up at him.
"You want to make friends with the humans. Alright, I don't think it'll work but it's better than my plan of just killing them I suppose. But allying with them is inherently different from securing your clan, from finding work for us instead of raiding. Say you drive off all the trolls, what then? What about our sons' sons? Will they just fight the humans again?"
There was a pause as the warriors march by, eyes bright, axes ready.
"The humans don't fight each other. Well," you paused, "Not as much as the clans do."
Vark nodded slowly, "I suppose it would be like that. But again, what would you do with it? It's time to grow, time to build, and that is worthy, time to bring warriors to your banner, but as I've said before, if the Warchief sees that you're gathering warriors in a far place, you know what he's going to think."
You didn't respond to that. You'd like to think that Thrall thinks the best of people, and you'd like to think that he know you have no intention of challenging him. But also, you suppose, he knows that you lied to him about being responsible for the demonic activities of the Burning Blade. There's much your father hasn't told you, much that might be hidden…
"And what about this southern Warchief? Dal'rend, son of Blackhand? You have some of his warriors, and some from clans who might be his allies, he'll respond too. You're caught between them, them and the Alliance. If you declare for one the others will see you as an enemy."
"But it need not be that way, it-" you began, but Scorn's bellow cut you off.
"You're meant to be surveying the warriors!" he shouted, and somehow managed to make that call loud enough to shame you, but quiet enough not to be overheard, "Call out to them, acknowledge their feats!"
The sullen orc leapt up on the rise, nodding down at one or another warrior, telling you their deeds as you called to them.
"Fine work against the shamblers, Dok'ral!" you said to one, injecting some element of enthusiasm to your praise of an event which you'd barely been aware of.
"If you lose the respect of the warriors you'll lose your life." Scorn hissed. "That's what happened to Blackhand."
What had happened to Blackhand was that he'd been fooled by demon-lovers, but you didn't bother to correct Scorn.
"And you need to hold some sort of festival soon, a celebration of their efforts. You've been feted by the humans, and they got a few casks of grog out of it, but they need victory in word as well as deed."
That brought the weight of shame onto you. You shouldn't have to be reminded of such things, and Scorn was right. You'd held the funerary rites for those who died in the distraction forces to take Naxxramas, but Scorn was right, you should have done more.
"I will." you said, "Promise them they'll feast in the king of Alterac's halls."
And so you would, for when you remount you see a gap in the mountains, a tight pass through to Alterac proper beyond. This is the main pass of the kingdom, Alterac Valley, and you know it is contested fiercely between those who would protect or raid travellers from the south.
The next choice is one of speed against security. You came to fight the Syndicate, and you could simply go swiftly onto them, take Strahnbrad by storm and surprise, and then make away to continue your campaign. Alternatively, the Dwarves of the Stormpike Brigade will have information, resources and potentially reinforcements, let alone what the Frostwolves might offer if you decided to contact them in the Valley itself. Going into Alterac with greater information and strength might be just as wise as going swiftly.
Choose 1:
[ ] Quickly through Alterac Valley, and on against the Syndicate.
[ ] Tarry in the pass, and try to gather information from the Stormpike Brigade or Frostwolf Clan, and perhaps even gather reinforcements from either party.
