User:Morderi/Archive/Under Development/Warsong Gulch (story)

Warsong Gulch

The calm over Ashenvale was pierced by the shriek of goblin shredders grinding into motion, tearing into trunks. Gorshaka grinned as she wheeled the worg around and gestured to two others with her spear. Together the trio rode confidently across the plain toward the enemy base.

A quick look around the entrance ramp confirmed it was deserted; with weapons ready, the attack party followed warily behind their leader as she strode into the lair of the night elves...



"Just a few steps closer..." Aron thought, his breath held as he kneeled on a perch overlooking the flag room below. The stench of unwashed orcs drifted through the corridor long before they showed themselves. The filthy creatures were sauntering into the stronghold as if they owned the place!

The orc wench and her two lackeys strode in, closing in on the battle standard displayed proudly in the main hall. He unsheathed his daggers. The time was right.

Aron jumped down from his hiding place behind the trailing orc and shouted, "NOW!" He stabbed swiftly at the unprotected back of the shaman, and the orc quickly fell to Aron's poisoned blades. Two other night elves appeared from concealment, weapons drawn and springing into action.



Gorshaka whipped around, eyes wide. A trap! She shoved the remaining orc forward. "Grab the flag," Gorshaka yelled, as she drew her sword.

The young orc stumbled blindly toward the flag, too terrified to notice the menacing Freezing Trap set in his path. Instantly he was caught in its teeth, unable to move or to scream. The trap's owner took aim and let fly three arrows in rapid succession, and Aron and the remaining night elf pounced on the stunned orc with vengeance in their hearts.

Realizing she was caught fighting a losing battle, Gorshaka turned and fled down the hallway, leaving her acolyte to his fate. All too soon, trailing shouts in the alien elf-tongue echoed behind her. Pursuit was not far behind.

She'd seen something on her way in... there! Off to the side, a strange magical rune of some sort. The swift elves were closing in on her. The warrior grabbed the rune in desperation, her chances of escape quickly fading. The rune burst in her hand, and magic flooded into Gorshaka's body, strengthening her legs. She felt renewed, recharged. Glancing back once at the angry throng just behind her, the orc dashed away at speeds rivaling her worg at full charge. The defenders were left far behind as she left their compound and fled to the safety of the lumber mill.

Gorshaka slowed to a walk as she entered her own base. The night elves were trickier than she had assumed. She would be ready next time - that base, and the whole of the forest, would belong to the Warsong clan in good time.

Source

 *