Diplomacy action isn't written yet, thoughts on the rest of it?
The integration of the Alliance delegation goes quite well, soldiers in the colours of Stormwind are soon seen training alongside those of Lordaeron and swiftly it's as if the Alliance of old has returned, with few questioning the actions of the other over the years.
Vishas, an officer of the Crusade you'd heard mentioned before, takes an almost cruel approach to demonstrating the various weaknesses of individual undead to the newcomers and more than a few of them unused to such sights have to excuse themselves, while the other side the knights of Stormwind have only good things to say about the stewardship of Good King Teranas.
Indeed, there are many things not mentioned, and you suppose it's the natural response of any diverse organisation. The Crusaders don't mention to the elven rangers supporting them that the kingdom of said people would likely still be strong if the Quel'dorei hadn't taken such an isolationist stance during the three wars which shook Azeroth in the past generation or so.
But the more you observe it, the more you see Gilneans and Alteraci interacting pleasantly with the men of Lordaeron or other kingdoms, the more you recognise the same sort of polite cooperation that you'd seen plenty of times in the Horde. Your clan is a clan of warlocks, your father is the Elder Warlock of the Horde, and perhaps it's greatest authority on magic, yet few speak openly regarding the Orcish history with the Fel. Each of the peoples of the Horde have secrets, and you think too on the unsavoury practices of the Darkspear, from cannibalism to sacrificial magics. Supposedly the tribe have abandoned such practices but you distinctly remember a hooded captive being led into the elders' hut at Sen'jin and never coming out again...
And yet was this not merely the manner in which allies interacted, was this not merely the way of bringing together disparate peoples in a single cause?
Bolvar and Dathrohan had conducted an elaborate ceremony in which they prayed together, made speeches and embraced each other as brothers, and from all anyone in the camp might observe there had never been any break in the Alliance at all.
With your people it was not quite the same. Well certainly the humans had accepted you, they were not particularly warm. Eating places and campsites were not shared, and the language barrier remained between most of the warband and the rest of the Crusade. That perhaps, was the first thing to solve.
"This goes poorly." Scorn remarks.
You looked on the exercises and scowl.
"They will do better in true battle." the orc says trying to assure you as he looks at you and your expression.
You comprehend the differences in tactics between your warband and the desperate military of the camp, especially in essential tactics such as those Tirion described to you as the most effective in combating the undead, and have resolved to correct the ways of battle held by your orcs, more used to fighting the living than the dead. Through Darion you've gained the cooperation of a unit of Crusaders and have been drilling with them for the last few days yet all that seems to have happened is confusion, anger, and ill-discipline.
While you make little progress, you do at least identify the issues you face, and you speak with your first officer later following the conclusions of the drills.
"They do not understand." you bite out, your well of anger burning in your stomach, contained yet still making you flush with annoyance.
"It'll take them time to do so." your sergeant replies, "It took time for us to work without shaman and then with warlocks back years ago, it took us time to tolerate the Ogres when Blackhand brought them in. They've fought centaur and quillboar for a decade, and neither are fond of battle."
The greatest problem had been the inclination of your warriors to let their guard down after getting the upper hand, and to proceed forward without orders. While Orcs could stand perfectly well when opposed, it was difficult to get across the point that the Crusaders had noted in not trusting that the dead were truly dead. Just as the centaur practiced the feigned retreat, the Scourge were apparently fond of a tactic where they would feign death.
Redpath, the commander of the humans who accepted Darion's request, explained it to you, "That's how they took Darrowshire." he says, his features gaunt at the memory of some terrible battle, "They sent their strongest in and had them fall at the first blows as if slain, then when we advanced to face the others they sprang back to life and hit the town behind us."
While the Scarlet Crusade are well aware of such tactics, you're immensely worried that some old Scourge tactician will exploit your ignorance in this area, and Darion has been a great help in expositing the various strategies. You are to beware of all supplies not verified, to never drink from springs or brooks in areas of high enemy concentration, to beware any sort of spirit or apparition which might be a spy for the enemy, and many other things, some of them composed into rhymes the Crusaders apparently teach to their children, 'For if throat is parched and of infected water sip... Forever your soul will be in cursed Scourge grip.' the boy recounts sagely as he discusses it with you.
And more and more you come back to Sesk's words previously, that as a captain you should have more of an idea of your warband's actions, the importance of deliberate and proactive action, rather than simply moving to each threat.
"What do you think I should do? I intend to hold something of a conference for all to give their opinions, but you've more experience than most here, what're your thoughts?" You ask.
Scorn takes an easy stance, moving his hand up to stroke his chin, "Be bold." he says, "You're not a coward, I'm well aware of that, I wouldn't serve you if you were, but you're too careful sometimes. You wait and plan and think, you sit like a shaman but you get stuck in the moment. We don't need a shaman, we need a war-leader."
You look at him in confusion, "How am I to be bold as you advise, yet also apparently plan more, surely that would lead to more sitting around as you say?"
You're fully aware that your pursuit of shamanism and a connection with the Spirits has sometimes cost you, but to hear Scorn's words feels hurtful.
"It's not about that." the sergeant says, "It's about considering what you want to do, how you're going to do it, and with what means. I seek advancement and greater freedom, to do that I need status and position, to do that I need to serve a rising chief who doesn't already have capable commanders. When you return to the Horde and claim your position, I'll be there beside you. That's enough for me."
And you considered the issue as Scorn sees himself out.
You'd come here to fight the Scourge. They were evil, destructive, and needed to be opposed. That was simple enough. Similarly, your newer objective of attempting to mend ties between Horde and Alliance was relatively simple too. Your mind goes to the various helpers of the Crusade in similar positions as your own. You doubt the contributions of the Quel'dorei or the Wildhammer will be material in the Crusade's war and subsequent policies. Certainly, their aid is helpful, but they're too few to be of true value and the contribution is symbolic for the most part.
You had purpose, but how could you measure whether you'd been successful? If as Scorn says, you returned to Orgrimmar at the head of a coalition of orcs, elves, dwarves, redeemed undead, and humans, the Scourge vanquished, with an offer of admittance to the Alliance, that could certainly be deemed a worthy success, but to be more realistic you wanted to make sure the contribution of the orcs against the Scourge wasn't as symbolic as that of the elves or dwarves currently.
Over the next week you call each of your officers to you and speak with them in preparation for the conference you've decided to call. Kartha is first, prompted by your realisation that she'd been absent for a while.
"I've been at the Monastery, learning and teaching." Kartha reports. "I've gotten a lot more out of it than they have, they've got no idea about anything in Kalimdor."
"They haven't been in contact with Theramore?"
"No." she confirms, "At least Lordaeron hasn't. Also, there's a lot of speculation on the Scarlet Princess, no one seems to know where she is, but she sends letters to people apparently."
Kartha, as it turns out, has been quite industrious, although with her quill rather than her twin axes. She's acquired a vast amount of trivium such as the names of various Scarlet Crusade heroes or the disposition of the Crusade internally, "There's an older guard, the first lot, they're Silver Hand mainly, and a few the first Mograine trusted like Westwind the admiral, I assume they all shared the same sort of prejudices against non-humans as there seems to be nothing else connecting them, but then there's a second wave of the remnants of Lordaeron's military which the Ashbringer gathered after the kingdom fell, then there's a further wave of anyone who wasn't caught up in the first two, lots of refugees from other kingdoms, and finally there's us and some others as the fourth."
And while a lot of the other information is interesting but not immediately useful, some of it's very helpful. Apparently, there are pockets of orcs left over from the Third War and the liberation of the internment camps. You'd known they existed, Jubei'thos had led one such pocket after all, but Kartha provides some interesting leads such as a large settlement built on the site of Doomhammer's death and Thrall's accession to the office of Warchief. Appropriately, it's named 'Hammerfall' and serves as a sort of refuge for those left behind from various races in the region.
"I've a mission for you." you say after she's finished, "There should be a settlement of Forsaken to the west in the hills, I'm not sure where specifically. I want to prevent what happened at Brill from happening there."
"That might be out of your hands." she replies, but nods and sets off shortly after your conversation.
Next is Vark, who hands you a list. "I've been thinking about what we need." he says.
While generally you wouldn't suspect it from his valour and strength, Vark is also somewhat of a tinkerer and craftsman. You remember him having to learn to sew his own clothes and make his own equipment due to his great size, and the list he gives you is full of a number of interesting ideas, some of which you'd only vaguely considered, others of which you'd never thought of before.
"What's this?" you ask, noting a particular sketch.
"Well, I haven't got a name for it yet, but perhaps 'double armour'." your brother explains, "The Crusade doesn't have enough steel for plate for all of us, or really enough crafters to make such suits, but they've got a decent amount of cloth and leather just from the animals they bring in, so I was thinking we could sew patches of mail on top of the leather."
The idea is ingenious. While such a form would be excessively bulky and heavy on a human, for an orc it's perfect, allowing for a fairly rapid manufacturing process where smaller patches of already existing mail are matched with leather pieces and then joined to a larger harness. It wouldn't be flawless, not by any stretch of the imagination, and it would be useless against the larger Scourge constructs, but it would essentially make your warriors impervious to the more minor threats.
"We just need to get our hands on a large quantity of mail." Vark continues, "Apparently the Crusaders raid old armouries for it. The Scourge don't bother with scavenging and Lordaeron had a well-equipped army before it fell."
"I hope it helps us more than it did them." you remark, "Also, see about finding some more doors or something similar, it worked against the necromancers, we'll be facing some of them again at some point and we'll need defences."
Vok'fon is less helpful. The battles he fought were political, and against an enemy that has neither morale, nor politics, he has little to contribute in terms of advice.
"As you said when we faced the beasts," you tell him, "We need more with ranged weapons. Most of my folk have hunted before, we use spears mostly, but some use bows or throwing axes. Find out which ones are best and train them, also, I need some way of tackling fortifications. The Scourge can't be starved out or put to siege, any bastions they hold have to be stormed, and I'd rather do it on my terms, what would you suggest?"
The Darkspear are hardly masters of siege warfare, but they're an agile folk. Vok'fon quickly presents a few suggestions around ropes and grappling hooks, and you resolve to make the appropriate requisitions with the Scarlet Crusade's quartermaster.
Darion arrives shortly after, "I've heard more about the orcish prisoners, they're mostly Blackrocks who've been taken in battle around Redridge."
"The Blackrock Clan occupy much of the mountains in the centre of this continent do they not?" You didn't know a great deal about them, mostly the memories of various Orcs who'd spoken with the powerful clan in the years following the liberation of the camps.
Darion nods, "There's one, known for the pleasure he took in executing prisoners from Stormwind in view of various settlements, he was being held in the Stockade along with some others captured alongside him by one of Lady Prestor's knights."
"They were being held?" you ask, "What for?"
Darion only shrugs, "It's our custom, once a prisoner is taken we do not execute them."
The idea was strange to you. Then again your people had rarely taken prisoners and had no such thing as jails or stockades. If an orc committed some offence they were usually punished by their chief or the offended party, and while it was a bloody system it furnished few prisoners.
"I'll go retrieve them soon. Do you know if Stormwind knew we were here? Was that why they brought the Blackrocks along?"
Darion thinks for a moment, "It's... six weeks voyage from Stormwind, perhaps more? I think either they brought them along at the last moment, or they simply gave them the same offer they gave most people in the Stormwind stockades, most of them are from some outlaw gang which has grown over the last few years, they even ransomed the king, or so I've heard!"
It was mildly interesting but not immediately relevant and you nodded, "I want you to get a few things, I've set Vark to getting some equipment but I also need warriors. You are the Ashbringer's son, even if you're a second son there'll still be men willing to follow you." and began, recalling Scorn's motivations, "I'd welcome any warriors you can rally, one's who won't mind fighting alongside orcs, and ones who'll obey my commands in battle."
"Redpath." Darion replies, "He's a good man, he'll come."
You'd not spoken a great deal with the man during the previous exercises, but he seemed solid and you nodded again, "Besides that I also need magical support, as much as you can procure, especially those that can heal the wounded, or mages who can battle any necromancers we face. I and the Blademasters will take the most powerful, but I want more than just defensive tactics against them."
You stand after that, stretching in your small tent, numbed by a day of sitting. Soon enough Keldran comes and you speak to him of the usual sorts of things, asking whether he'd be interested in trying to train others in his necromantic arts, but he's reluctant, "There's whole schools of Necromancy out there, notably the Scholomance under Caer Darrow." he says, "I'd need resources from there to properly investigate, and as far as I'm aware you don't follow your father in your love of the Fel, which is the only thing I could teach as of now."
"What about simply undoing the spells of others? Like you did with the wickerman or the necromancer at the Mills?"
"Competency like that took me years, and an existing base of knowledge as a warlock." Keldran replies, "Shadow magic is a tricky thing, I wouldn't want to even try and teach others without knowing more about it myself."
You take a break after, heading out to spar with Sorek and the other aspirants. They're getting along alright, they all have a talent, but you're still significantly better than most of them, with Sorek being the only one to approach your level. You procure some long daggers and have them train with them as well, otherwise just like you they'll be useless in close quarters where they can't swing their swords.
Weeks pass, you arrange the necessary requisitions, and receive cart loads of equipment from the Scarlet Monastery to the north. The Crusade favour a certain style of warfare, one reliant on relatively lightly equipped forces, with a core of paladins and priests who smash any great opposition aside. You take advantage of their standardisation, differentiating your own forces into two rough groups. Firstly, your infantry, now all equipped with large shields, which for humans would be the side of a door. They had to be modified somewhat, apparently the tower shields had previously been used as portable walls in sieges, but for orcs they're just large shields. Then the others have been given javelins and harpoons and they'll serve as skirmishers for any of the larger Scourge constructs, using hooks and ropes to bring down Abominations or other large creatures.
A priestess, 'Whitemane' joins the warband, a small company of lesser healers accompanying her, though none appear to have copied her unusual clothing. Whitemane, Darion assures you with a red face, is known for her power with the Light, and the others are just helpers to patch up the more lightly wounded. With her also comes sixty or so human soldiers under their captain, Redpath, seeking mainly to accompany Darion in battle, a couple of them having some skill in arcane magic too.
Soon enough the appointed time comes and you gather your warriors in conference. You lead the warband out into a wide field, ordering them into a circle, you make a ceremony of it, building up a fire, calling on the blessings of the Spirits with the words you learnt in Orgrimmar. You have no love for the skulking that went on behind your back between your father and the Warchief, and you intend to hold your conference under the open sky, where all may contribute.
"We've been in Lordaeron for six months." you announce, "And we've made our reputation among the humans. We've met the Scourge in battle and defeated them, we've made our mark." you pause, taking in the posture of the others, "But this is not enough. There are more undead in these lands than there are orcs on this whole world. We must not only be valiant, not only be skilful, we must be victorious, and in this we must consider the future. We've taken losses, these are guaranteed in any war, but we're far away from resupply or reinforcement and we now have time to consider what we might use to replenish ourselves. Firstly, we'll take from the Crusade, the humans will reinforce us. Secondly, I intend to investigate reports of orcs left over from the Second War, ones who escaped the camps or were never captured. Thirdly, there's existing settlements, notably of the Dragonmaw, we'll journey to them in time and they'll join us."
"I doubt it." scoffs Vark, "Didn't they kill the Kul Tiran king's son?"
The others murmur in agreement, though you see Kartha, Scorn and the Blademasters looking at you, seeing what you'll say. You draw a long breath.
"We were made for war." you begin, "We slaughtered our way through the Draenei, a great race, then we brought the Highmaul low and hunted the Gronn to the edges of the world to cast them down as well. Yet what are we now? Warriors without war, our skill is dulled against enemies unworthy of us and we waste our strength in small conflicts." and your fingers close tight around your swordhilt, "The Kolkar, the Bristleback, the Skytalon, what are these before the killers of worlds?"
The assembly is silent, then you feel a hand on your shoulder, "You finally understand."
You turn, Sesk is grinning an evil grin, the felfire bright in his eyes, his black veins standing out against red skin.
"The old speak of peace. Saurfang, Eitrigg, the rest of them. They speak of a time before the Horde, where our people would go about and hunt, would live alongside the beasts of the land and honour the Spirits. We walk upon Azeroth in the present, not on Draenor generations ago. It is time to accept our place. That time is gone, perhaps never to return."
Your warband are relatively young, either around your own age or among those who were artificially aged to provide the Horde with more warriors. The Blademasters are older, as is Scorn, but there are only a few like them.
"This much is certain, there can be no peace without victory. What have the Dragonmaw done in the last decade? Squatted in villages along the coast? Been driven out of Grim Batol, driven out of every fastness each time the Alliance moved itself to war? Raided and thieved the occasional caravan? In time I intend to go to them, I intend to give them the purpose of the blade."
You speak of the things you'd established with the officers prior to the event, the new equipment, the new personnel who'd be joining you, and of other things.
Throughout the session you carefully watch the faces of your warriors. While they'd been steady before you think you see a new light in their eyes too. The old resentment comes to you, anger against those long dead orcs who still seemed to meddle in your affairs... But now you struck back, and to a people who'd not had a vision, a purpose, in years, your words were a light in the darkness.
In the following weeks the warriors continue to train with their new weapons and allies, but you take only a monitoring role, attending to other matters. Kartha is first, slipping into your tent with her report, "Deathknell is closed and well hidden." she says, "They barely spoke to me, they're getting ready for siege and war, by my count there's a few hundred of them in there."
You sit back. What could you do about the situation? Could you prevent the same burning that had destroyed Brill?
Then again, recalling Scorn's words, is this truly your affair?
"Tell no one of this." you instruct the Shattered Hand before she departs. The situation isn't pressing, as far as you know no one knows about the secret glen anyway.
Later you speak with the officers again, sitting around the embers of the fire.
"The training goes well." Scorn reports, "The warriors have taken your words to heart, but they still need a target."
"Andorhal."
The others look at you, eyes glinting in the dying flames. Then a pleasant smile breaks out on Ishi's face across from you, joined by Vark and a few others.
"Good." Scorn finally says, "Good. A fine target, how though?"
"The warband will take some fortified place and hold the city's garrison there. That's how they fight, they'll try and grind us down. Then the Blademasters and I will go ahead and cut the head from the snake. After that they'll crumble, there's a lich controlling Andorhal, his destruction will be enough of a shock to disrupt the enchantments in the area keeping the Scourge together." and you turn to Keldran in unasked question.
The necrolyte nods, confirming your understanding of the Scourge.
"When does the Crusade march?" Scorn continues.
"Not them." you reply, "Us. By the end of the year."
"We're going on ahead then as part of some larger attack?"
"We're taking the city."
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