Post by Skreeran
“I think you should really take a moment and think about what you are saying,” Dranosh Saurfang nodded. “Mak’gora is a very serious thing. Not only do you risk upsetting the very delicate political balance that Thrall has brought about, but also you risk your own shame and banishment.”
“I know, Dranosh, I know…” Garrosh shook his head. “But I see no other way. I merely seek to do what is best for my people.”
“As do we all,” Dranosh nodded. “At least, most of us…” he shook his head, “but you’ve not been here a full year, and already you seek to make changes that may or may not need to be made. I think that we should be a little more patient. Those such as us are not equipped to handle the heavy burden of inter-faction politics. We are warriors, you and I. Thrall is a politician, and he may very well know better in those matters.”
Garrosh shook his head, but grunted in agreement
“Perhaps you are right, Dranosh,” he nodded. “It pains me, though, to see our people so far from where they should be. Our people deserve better than this, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would,” Dranosh nodded. “No orc should have to watch their children go hungry, this is true. However, we are only a part of this world. There are many other peoples on Azeroth, and they deserve no less than us. We cannot merely take what we desire.”
“But think of the beast,” Garrosh nodded. “The wolf pack. They will not hesitate to kill the talbuk to feed their cubs. It is not out of malice to the talbuk, but rather out of necessity for survival. It is nature’s way. If war must be made to keep our race alive, then we must not hesitate to take up the cup of war.”
“All I ask is that you wait a little while further, Garrosh,” Dranosh nodded. “You do not yet know if what you speak of is necessary or not.”
“So be it,“ Garrosh nodded. “You have stayed my hand, at least for now. I thank you for the honor of your counsel.”
“The honor is mine, Hellscream,” Dranosh nodded with a smile. “I am glad to help a friend.”
Garrosh smiled and left the hall, and was surprised to find a wolf-mounted orc riding towards him. The wolf appeared to be on the brink of exhaustion and the orc had air of urgency about him.
“Lord Hellscream!” the orc called out. “The Crossroads is under attack!”
“What?” Garrosh barked, his eyes widening in surprise. “By whom? The Alliance?”
“Nay, Lord Hellscream,” the orc answered. “On of our patrols past the town did not return as scheduled, and so my company went to investigate. When we arrived, we found the whole town taken over by undead. Fresh undead. Horde. We helped the survivors escape to Far Watch Post, but there were too many to take by ourselves,” he nodded. “Reports indicate that it is not localized to Crossroads either. Camp Taurajo has also reported a smaller infection. We have not yet heard back from Ratchet.”
“Did you warn Thrall?” Garrosh asked.
“Yes, someone has already been sent to the Warchief,” the orc nodded. “He is assembling a retaliatory force now.”
“Very well,” Garrosh nodded. “I will join them. I am interested in knowing what the undead are doing so far from any known Scourge-controlled land. I will take Dranosh and a full platoon of raiders,” he finished. “You’ve done good, brother,” he added. “Get yourself and your wolf some water.”
Garrosh quickly informed Dranosh of the situation and they both immediately mounted their wolves and rode to the Valley of Wisdom.
“Ah, excellent timing, Garrosh,” Thrall nodded as the two Mag‘har rode up. With him were Vol‘jin, Varok Saurfang, Eitrigg, and Rehgar Earthfury. “I was just about to send for you.”
“Indeed,” Garrosh nodded. “Let us be off, then. We must not waste time.”
“Agreed,” Thrall nodded, mounting his wolf, Snowsong.
The trip was long, but they finally arrived at the Crossroads, where scores of undead orcs, trolls, and tauren lumbered about.
“By the Ancestors,” Garrosh spat. “So many… Lost…”
“Indeed,” Dranosh nodded. “Let us at least give them the peace of death.”
Varok Saurfang was the first to charge, leaping from his wolf and immediately cutting through a half-dozen zombies. Thrall followed the High Overlord’s attack with a burst of chain lightning that jumped through the crowd of undead. Soon, they were all boiled in combat with their reanimated foes.
Garrosh hacked apart a female orc, blood and gore covering his armor and skin, before setting into another. “By the spirits… Where did they come from?”
“Plagued food, I would wager,” Thrall nodded as he set a large group of undead aflame. “That is what happened to Lordaeron in the Third War.”
“But where is the source?” Rehgar asked, hurling a lightning bolt at a particularly large tauren zombie.
“Well, we don’t know that yet,” Thrall nodded, bashing in the skull of a ghoul. “I have already ordered that no food be consumed without a shaman’s inspection, but that could take days to spread to the whole Horde.”
Finally, the last zombie had been killed, and what remained of the Horde forces took a short respite.
“Huh…” Garrosh nodded, examining a crate inside he inn. “These crates bear the markings of Booty Bay. Could the goblins be working with the Scourge?”
“While possible, I would not say that it is likely,” Thrall nodded. “Some goblins will do anything for money, but even the stupidest goblin knows that delivering plagued grain will kill your business. Quite literally, in fact.”
“I see,” Garrosh nodded. “Then who is to blame?”
“The Scourge, certainly,” Thrall nodded. “I suspect that their cultists are to blame. Using Booty Bay as a distributor, they must be sending the grain out.”
“Then we must cut off trade with Booty Bay,” Garrosh answered.
“Indeed, it seems we must. At least for the time being,” Thrall nodded. “I sense that this is not the end, however.”
“Agreed,” Garrosh nodded. “As you recall, the human king also spoke of Scourge attacks.”
“Let us hope that we are wrong,” Dranosh added.