| "What may be considered the first battle of the Raid happened in the early hours of the morn. Least, I think so. Before then, we knew it was coming, but not when. As far as I know we were the first ones to encounter them. Or at least I was the first one to survive.
Our group was camped along the river, within sight of it, but far enough into the trees to be all but invisible, and we were posted there so the command would know when they were coming. We were a small band, three humans, a dwarf, and two elves.
If you were wondering who was writing this, make no mistake I was among the humans. Srg. Hardiff Mallun, I've done quite a few things in my days. The one that I write of now is not one I'm proud of. Be I have derailed enough, back to my story.
Our dwarf, a shrewd one, had set traps for food to cook in our fire. As we woke up and prepared to move our camp in case an Hordesman happened to wander upon our camp and make away with the knowledge of our location, the dwarf of our company set out to check the traps in case he had caught some treat during the night. He never made back, and eventually we were worried. Two of my fellows among the 14th Stormwind Brigade, one of them human, one of them elf, went to check it out while the rest of us made ready to make haste with as many things as we could bring to report possible Horde contact in case they never came back. They never did.
We made a run for it, to report to the nearest post that whatever we had seen. Although it wasn't much, I wasn't up for arguing to find out what was out there. None of us were. But try as we might, we were doomed. They had anticipated that we would run, and so we ran into a trap. A simple wire set at our heels to send us barreling, and a small group of agile trolls, seemingly half-mad, with good eyes to turn us first into pin-cushions, then into skull trophies. We were caught with our trousers down, and we were aghast. We probably weren't too optimistic. I know I was.
The volley came at us as soon as we were in sight, leaving me with a crippled leg, and a spear through my side. Funny how the armor we wore was supposed to turn aside projectiles, anything short of ballistae or large stones, with enchantments. I seem to remember making a mental note to kill the armourer. The other human, his name was Arduer P. Carsin died with a spear halfway through his neck and spewing blood. The elf, the brave soul, bound one of trolls with barbed, twisting roots, and brought down another with a short sword quickly ripped from it's scabbard, before being taken down in the process of turning his nail to claws, and his teeth into sharp knives in order to rip out another's throat. I myself saw no future in fighting to the death.
I had met the enemy, and I had all the proof I needed, and frankly more than I wanted to have. I dragged myself behind a tree, allowing myself some temporary cover. I took a chance at tested my luck against theirs as I made a blind rush for the nearby river, they hounded me through the woods, and as I ran back towards the river, I noticed a grim sight. I witnessed the corpse of the dwarf, an arm hewed, and the armor cracked from a series of furious blows. I still don't know what happened to the other two. Most likely dead. But what appalled me was that his guts had been thrown to deck the forest floor for a few good feet. Whatever killed the poor dwarf, overpowered him like a mountain to a butterfly.
Light preserved me that day, as I didn't get to meet the same fate. I found myself within range of the river, by this time my wounded leg numb and drenched in my own blood, with more covering the ground with each step. I ran as fast as I could to midstream, until the current began to carry me away. I took one last breath before being swept under. I guess I forgot to come back up for breath, for I was miles away from the grizly site of my fallen comrades, and the Raid was already a cold, biting reality. On a side note, I found out who had led the attack that wounded me and killed my companions. I intend to repay him.
Jur' Harn Coldtooth, son of the Storm Hound. An orc who was killed, but then rejoined the life as one among The Forsaken. You I shall slay for indignities you have given me. Your brutality shall be brought to a finish."
Excerpt from the Journal of Cpt. Mallun, Hardiff.
He died bravely in combat, un-phased by all but Trag' Urt the Storm Hound, who slew him.
I hope shorts stories are received as kindly as short citings. |
