The Northern Cleft
Your armor is still scratched and dented from your fight against the Arrakoa and the duels within the Ring of Blood, but you have no time to buff out the kinks. The time for battle has come once more. Not against demons, but against the oldest of foes for the whole of the orcs. Before the draenei came. Before all of the horrible conflict against them came, there was the ogre and orc. Blood has been shed between your two races before. Blood will likely be shed again even after this is done. In either case, the Boulderfist have too long remained in the shadows around Halaa, raiding and ruining the land as they please. They lack the iron control of Cho'war, who was strong enough and brutal enough to not only force out the Gronn from the caves but forcibly unite the clans beneath him into the Warmaul. Or at least most. The Boulderfist have been a nuisance, but one that cannot be understated in its potential for disaster. They are, after all, still ogres. Mighty and tough, as typical examples of their kind.
Few of them, few of the Warmaul for that matter, display the storied intelligence and cunning of lost Highmaul. You are unsure whether or not that is a good thing. On the other hand you might prefer that over the greater majority of ogres that you can see from the tops of the clefts looking down. Who to your disgust relieve themselves wherever they please, leave their refuse in disorganized piles all about the place, and stink enough to be smelled from even as high up as you are. Or perhaps that is Cho'war and the rest of his Warmaul who are eagerly waiting for battle. Behind you, on the other hand, is an assemblage of mighty orc warriors, the Mag'har, ready to cleanse the Northern Cleft entirely. Jorin, unfortunately, could not make it, and Kaz is pregnant enough for you to be unwilling to risk her in combat. Instead, you are joined by yet another of your oldest companions, Garrosh, dressed in the priestly vestments of the Aldor. His steel staff is topped with a slowly bobbing purple crystal that glimmers yet with holy light.
"Hurngh, you look beat up, orc,"
Cho'war chortles at you as he walks up, the ground shaking beneath his bulk.
He truly is an odd example of his kind, the bony growths on his shoulders and head making him stand out from all others of his kind. The titular warmaul for which he named his new clan bobs in his fat fist, repeated coats of dried blood on it flaking off in the winds of Nagrand. This is, you realize, the first time the Warmaul have been out of their hills for quite some time, especially considering how the Mag'har's boundaries have been set. As of yet, however, the element of surprise has not yet been totally lost. The Boulderfist do not have any dedicated patrols, seemingly happy to emerge from their cave in the cleft to rampage before returning to nap at random. No discipline to them at all. However…
"Report, Bloodmarrow," you snap the order out.
The greenskinned orc slams a fist into his chest with a meaty thwack, bowing his skull-painted head deeply. Not in the face-painted manner of Ner'zhul – may his spirit be damned forever – but the entire skull. For the entire head. Your heart beat fiercely for Kaz, but the intricacies of the Laughing Skulls would likely never cease to confuse you. For instance, for an orc as heavily muscled as Bloodmarrow to somehow be an excellent scout, you'll never know. Regardless, the rogue slides his rough calloused feet along the ground to sweep it clear before he begins marking positions in the dirt.
(Boulderfist Conditions: 72/100)
"The Boulderfist just got back from a hunt, so most of them are inside gorging themselves on the clefthoof they brought back," Bloodmarrow grins, his purposefully sharpened teeth gleaming in the daylight. "What's left on the outside are dregs, those that were pushed out to act as guards, so on and so forth. Couldn't get deep inside though. They've got their own…primitive mages too."
Huh. Jorin might be interested in whatever spellbooks they've cobbled together.
"They will fall all the same," Garrosh intones, his hands gripped tightly around his staff.
"We gonna smash dem or not, eh?" Cho'war towers over all of you, his smile too-wide, his eye narrowed along with it.
…you do not trust this ogre, you find.
"Our warriors are ready, Warchief," Bloodmarrow bows again, "We only await your orders."
"Indeed. What is the plan, Dranosh? I would prefer not to charge in recklessly," Garrosh says with a quirked eyebrow.
When you open your mouth, Cho'war interrupts with a groaning belch. Entirely uncaring of your and Garrosh's glares, he rubs absentmindedly as his stomach with his free hand.
"Talk talk talk, that all you orcs do? Da Warmaul ain't had a good fight in a
while, none of the Goronn are left cause we got stuck up there for so long," he grumbles. "We don't need no plan, we can just go smash 'em right now!"
Technically, that was true. At the same time, the purpose of this exercise was to show the Warmaul your own strengths. On the other, your warriors – while brave and stalwart as could possibly be asked of them – are exhausted and hurt after the battle against the Arrakoa. They are not at their best. The Warmaul have indeed not had a true fight in some time. Garrosh says nothing, but both of his hands are on his staff, so he clearly is waiting for your decision and is ready to enforce it. You glare at Cho'war again, before rubbing at your chin in thought.
Choose Method Of Attack To Reach Cleft Entrance:
[] Lead The Way: You are healed fully from your battle against the Arrakoa, and Garrosh has yet to fully display the powers of the Light at his command in battle just yet. It might be good to both see them to get a better sense on how to use them tactically, to show the other Mag'har the value of the Aldor and the Light, and to further display your strength to the Warmaul.
[] Tactical Valor: There is no need to rush headlong into a fight just like an ogre. Because you aren't one. You are Dranosh Saurfang, and you are not so foolish. Let your raiders draw the ogres out, your archers fire upon them at a distance from atop the clefts and from far away within the waters. Allow the shamans to unleash themselves without forcing your troops into melee with the ogres – which is, of course, where they thrive. Less impressive to the ogres, more likely than not, but it would preserve your troops better.
[] If They Are So Eager: Cho'war is so eager for battle? Let him, then. Let the Warmaul lead the way, and try to smash their way through. Giving him the authority however…may make him think to push ahead without you, or disobey orders in this cooperative attempt. On the other hand, the Warmaul have been pent up for quite a while now, and have apparently been so bored they hunted down and exterminated the last of the Gronn of Nagrand's hills in the meantime before this. It might be better to let them fight now and thus not have the energy to do anything foolish later.