Campaign Story Beginning, Please Comment!

The human forces remaining in Azeroth after Jaina Proudmoore’s expedition was sent crumbled before wave after wave of walking corpses. Their land was defiled and their families slaughtered by the merciless Scourge. As the Burning Legion’s invasion of Azeroth progressed, the few remaining leaders of the land began to resort to more and more desperate actions to halt the onslaught. When the military failed, they turned to mercenary bands and anybody else willing to pick up a weapon in defense of their world. When these poorly led and organized makeshift troops failed, it was decided that the interned orcs would be drafted into service. The presence of chaos apparently stirred something in their blood, because they fought with a greater ferocity than had any of the previous forces. It made no difference, however, as they too were soon overrun.

The battle had been grim and bloody, at least for those who could still bleed. Everywhere was the stench of decay, the moans of the dying. Gorn could still feel the fire that had burned in his blood as battle engulfed him, but it was of little use to him caged as he was, guarded by enormous crimson demons. There were about twenty other orcs in the clearing, each hanging in a cage like his. Broken and bleeding in a dozen places, Gorn could only curl up and try to sleep.
As his eyes closed, he felt the electric chill of magic and sat bolt upright. In the middle of the clearing appeared a luminescent disc, which quickly grew into a large magical gateway. A huge shadow approached from the other side, wherever it was, and out stepped a being which radiated pure evil. A four-legged pitlord, and a lieutenant to Archimonde himself.
“Bow down!” bellowed one of the lesser daemons, and the Gorn and the other prisoners did so immediately. The Pit Lord moved to the center of the clearing and began to speak in a rough, guttural voice. It was daemon tongue. Although not consciously understanding the powerful words, it was clear to the orcs that they were to be taken to a Legion stronghold and enslaved. The daemons began to open the cages and let the prisoners descend to the ground. One orc ran for the trees, but was overtaken in a few strides and cut nearly in half by a demonic blade nearly his size. The others were herded to the center of the clearing and flanked by guards. Again the Pit Lord spoke his terrible words, and this time a grizzled and aging orc stepped out of the group. Gorn recognized him as the one the human captain had chosen to lead the group.
“My lord, it was I who led these warriors in battle. We—“ but he was cut off as the Pit Lord motioned to one of its daemon warriors. Immediately it stepped forward and lopped off his head. The other orcs made no motion. By then terror and exhaustion had sucked from them any thoughts of resistance. The Pit Lord, its job apparently done, turned and reentered the portal. The daemonic guards herded the prisoners, soon to be slaves, into the portal behind it.
Gorn felt a brief moment of fear, but the blinding light engulfed him and the sound of the howling void stripped him of thought.

It's a nice start, many possibilities for a campaign.