Orgrimmar, capital city of the Horde. Hellscream's Horde. A city fortified to the point that many within would deem impregnable, but it did not stop others from trying, of course. The true Horde, rebellious, and the Alliance both sought to siege it from without, and as such it's guardians were on high alert constantly. Orcish voices barked orders day in and day out. What some would call training, I simply called whipping your men into a mindless frenzy prior to battle. Or so it seemed.

That's where I found myself before it all happened, you see. I had been a prisoner for a month or so, caught in the Barrens of Kalimdor along with several of my lieutenants during a scouting mission for the Alliance. It was a sloppy mistake that did it, but I shan't bore you with the details of my failure so soon. It was myself, my close friend and second hand man, Brunwal, the High Elven twins Asylillia and Alaram Azurecrest, and a wizened Priest, Father Oloric Bandon.

Our jailor was a very pleasant Orc named Durkha, who spent a majority of his time guarding us from a little corner in the dungeon where he read steamy romance novels, and frequently saw to pleasuring himself while we were awake. I shan't go into much detail about that, either. We five were kept in the same cell, but separated in cages. Myself and Brunwal were kept together, Asylillia and Oloric together, and Alaram in a specially built cage to negate his magical abilities.

After a time, though, we picked up on the rumors. The siege would being in no less than a few days time, and so, we thought, it was time to leave. Being caught in a city under siege was not on our schedule, you see. Brunwal and I recalled a tactic from a favorite book of ours by Jasper Crowen, "The Lady's Lad," which really is a classic I hope you read some time, but further to the point...

Brunwal sat himself down in the corner of the cage one day, starting in the morning, and by the night Durkha was obviously concerned, or at least, was as concerned as an Orc whose livelihood is jeopardized by a dead prisoner could be. I, the biggest of the two, took up the role of a bully.

"Oi, you lazy sod, come on! You're lazy and fat, and I don't like your face! NEVER HAVE!" I bellowed, to which Brunwal raised and offered his fists to me. We began to grapple instantly, to which our Orcish warden immediately took notice. He grabbed his axe and lurched in, forcing open the cage and moving to break us up. Brunwal dodged the warning swing of the axe, causing the Orc to stumble. I deftly grabbed his arm and with a swift maneuver, there was a snap, and a howl of pain, which lasted mere moments before it was silenced by another snap, this time the Orc's neck.

"Handy work, Brunwal." I said, collecting myself, and giving the man a rewarding pat on the shoulder. I grabbed the axe from the corpse and quickly hacked open the cage with Asylillia and Oloric in it, while Brunwal took the Orc's key to unlock Alaram's cage.

"We cannot linger here, milord, someone ought to have heard that yell." Asylillia said quickly, moving to grab a spear from a nearby weapon's rack. I followed suit, and grabbed myself a broadsword, obviously spoils from some unlucky prisoner before me.

"You have a point, Asy, and so we must go. From what I've heard, we must be in a dungeon near the sewers. Lucky for us." I smirked, heading out the cramped prison, friends in tow.

"Lucky? Only in your mind, sir." Alaram groaned. I prepared a reply, before we were met with a two-Orc patrol. They weren't exactly expecting us, but we were expecting them. By the time they had raised their weapons, ours were implanted in their corpses.

"Lucky, no. Divine providence, I think, at this point." Father Bandon intoned after we slew and removed the Orc guards.

"Luck or fate, it doesn't matter, we still need to hurry. The more bodies we leave the less time it'll take for someone to figure out we're gone." Asylillia said, checking around a corner before waving us onward. We were met with the oppressive smell of Orc waste and other ungodly sewages coming from a pipe in the ground. The Elves wrinkled their noses in disgust, and even Oloric winced as he whiffed it.

"Our exit, companions." Brunwal chuckled, waving a hand forward to me. "As you will, fearless leader."

"By all means, young men fi-" I prepared to say, before I was interrupted by the swift push of the Elven Ranger Asylillia, pushing me into the pipe and directly into the filth. Were I in actual clothes and not prisoner's rags, I'd have had stern words with her, but alas. The sewage pipe led us directly into the sea, fortunately, and we were able to make our escape to the Southfury River, and back to the Barrens to our comrades.

When we arrived at the bustling camp, we were greeted enthusiastically. I feigned exhaustion and went directly to the command tent, plopping myself down at the main table to look over the updated maps. The siege, it seemed, would be a success. Any proper tactician could see it at this point. I exhaled a sigh of relief and leaned back in my chair to think. I did not notice right away when my tent flap opened.

"What is our move, milord?" The voice of a familiar Priest said with it's usual calm. I glanced up to see him in his normal blue and gold robes, and hair not filled with detritus.

"As I see it, Oloric, we are no longer needed here. As I see it, Oloric, the time may yet be nigh." I said, staring at the old bearded face I knew so well. He smiled.

"As you see it, milord? Your eyesight is not the best. What do you feel is the right course?" He spoke with a sly smirk only a Priest could muster.

I replied after a sigh, and a pause, as I thought to myself. "Yes. It is time. Rally the men, we leave at first light." I nodded, to which he bowed. Oloric exited the camp, and after a few moments I heard the booming voice of Brunwal over the camp.

"Lads n' lasses, we're headin' out! Back to the Eastern Kingdoms!" He barked, and a few seconds passed before he spoke again, obviously in response to a question on many minds. "Don't you worry about why we're goin', you'll find out soon enough!"

I rose and exited the tent, looking down from my little hill to the camp. All the eyes turned upon me in an instant. Almost eight hundred strong, my loyal followers. My friends. Over the past decade we had lived and died together as one, but the time had come for us to return to our home. The time had come, for us to retake what was ours.

"Blood of Lordaeron, of Stromgarde, of the Alliance... We return now to the Eastern Kingdoms. Our time has come, brothers and sisters. We shall RETAKE what is rightfully ours!" I had scarcely ended my second sentence before a chorus of cheers and hurrahs broke the silence of the night.

"Praise be to the Light! Glory of Lordaeron! Honor of the Alliance! Hail, our Lord, the King: Beytran Baast!" One of the captains shouted as he pointed to me as Oloric came up from behind, clothing me in my tabard: The blue gryphon of Lordaeron on a bleach white backing.

That, my friends, is where it all began.