Even with a wall of his troops with the keenest senses watching the smoldering wooden wall, Gutteral couldn't shake off his apprehension. His chest clenched tightly and his teeth grinded as he tried to imagine the possibilities.
Ten minutes had passed, and the wall was still burning. Away from both the group of watching troops and those resting, the raider sat on a rock and drew hatch marks in the soil. Only his most trusted troops sat with him.
Drawing numbers and a map in addition to the tick marks, Gutteral tried to mark down everything they knew up until then. A few symbols represented individuals and supplies, rounding out the diagram he'd drawn. Zyrdax's mouth dropped open as if his cousin was performing rocket science.
Gnugs, an actual rocket scientist, proved more focused. "That's complete," she said just as the twig Gutteral had been using snapped. "I don't think there's any more to add."
"Good, good. The peasants on the other side of the fire are trying to put it out, so we only have a few more minutes to spare."
Ola scooted closer and rested her chin in her palm. Although she couldn't read, she understood pictographs well and figured out the meanings quickly. "This is Valdisdall," she asked rhetorically while pointing to the point on the dirt map. "There are a few military officers there who the humans could be trying to contact. There's no way we can get there within the next day even if we sent someone now."
"So they're going to tattletale on us," Zyrdax sighed.
"What's done is done; the important thing is that neither us nor them has access to reinforcements for at least a full day," Gutteral said. "This is between us and them. We have ourselves and what we know about them."
"We don't know how many there are," Ola said.
"But we know the architectural standards for mountain fortresses of the Gilnean army, and that can help us to make an educated guess," Gnugs replied. "Gilneas had a stronger legal code than Stormwind, and they retain that for all of their structures built outside. I've seen plenty of schematics passed around by the Shattered Hand."
"What can we conclude about this one?" Gutteral asked.
Gnugs didn't hesitate. "The air is too thin up here for farming, and it's too forested for herding. That means that their supplies are likely flown in regularly, which means they'll be operating on a shoestring budget and a skeleton staff." She paused to look back at the burning wall and held up her thumbs as if guesstimating the width. "We're likely looking at only two structures for barracks, and maybe only one supply building. One more could be fit for their laborers if they build two stories, but no town hall. No specific structure for their gryphons. No horses at all given the terrain and lack of space for their style of stables."
"What does that mean in terms of troops?" Gutteral asked.
"If It were only Gilneans, then they could fit forth assuming they all sleep in human form. But they also have dwarves who occupy less space, so that changes things a bit. We saw at least ten dwarves atop that wall, but we don't know if there are more. For humans and dwarves in there, it could be a split like 35-10, 30-20, we can't know for sure. This is ignoring civilians, of course."
"What about our citizens?" he asked.
At that topic, Gnugs did hesitate. "Assuming they haven't been executed?" she asked.
"Yes. The world has been quiet since Argus, and if this camp is as impoverished as we estimate, then they're unlikely to kill their only bargaining chips. All that keeps them from negotiating with us is likely the belief that they can ransom those refugees for a better deal if they can reach higher ranking officials than me."
"So we're racing against the clock, then?" Ola asked, also rhetorically. "They're hoping to hold us off until they can get a response from higher ups who will call us off?"
"More than likely, yes. It's not a bad move on their part." Gutteral paused again and counted up his hatch marks. "They're backed into a corner, and if we make them think we're out for blood, they'll fight harder, and maybe even hurt our citizens. What we need to do is punish them, and thin out their numbers until they're convinced that nobody can save them from us. Then we extend the olive branch."
"They'll force you to kill them regardless."
All eyes turned to the source of the voice, finding a familiar enchanted cloak and unholy staff between the trees. Nolash had been eavesdropping, as she often did, and was already prepared with her pessimism.
Not willing to allow her to challenge him in public, Gutteral snapped at her. "Any suggestions, Nolash, or are you too busy finding excuses not to participate?" She actually looked offended; usually he just took her neurotic comments in a stride, and she seemed unused to facing his retaliation. If he could extend an olive branch to the enemy, he could to her as well. "What could be the result if they force us to kill them?"
Pursing her lips resentfully for a second, she chose her words a bit more carefully once she'd recovered from his ire. "If you want to save the hostages, you must surrender troops specifically for finding them. This must be during the battle, not after the monsters are beaten, otherwise they'll kill our citizens out of spite." She didn't elaborate beyond that. Indeed, it was the most Nolash had said in over a week, and explaining her cryptic ramblings was likely tiring for her.
While Gutteral was trying to link a few coherent thoughts for just a second, his cousin leaned closer to him. "I can do it," Zyrdax whispered.
"Quiet," Gutteral whispered back. "I'm thinking."
"You know I've wanted to sack this place for weeks. Let me prove to you that I can do this."
"I'm considering that and other possibilities. You've made your request clear."
"Gutteral, please, I'm being serious."
"And I'm being serious; it's a possibility."
Zyrdax pouted like a big baby. "You lead everyone here except for me."
"Do you want to repeat what you just said?" Gutteral asked sharply.
He didn't expect his cousin to actually reply. "You lead your troops so well, yet you make a point to leave me behind. I wish you would trust me like you trust unblooded."
Heat actually rose up to Gutteral's jaw, in his throat, and in his fist. Not backhanding his cousin in front of the others took an incredible amount of willpower. That effort expended, more than Zyrdax's comment itself, forced the commander to accept the truth: Zyrdax was technically correct.
Realizing that his most trusted troops would judge his leadership, Gutteral internally admitted the checkmate facing him. He didn't like it, but then again, he didn't like the whole situation.
"Ola, I want you and Zyrdax to sweep the entire fort once our frontline can breach the wall. Rulfim is over there with the other archers; he can back the two of you up. Consider your mission one of hostage extraction."
Ever his right hand, Ola nodded to him and then slapped Zyrdax on the back. "We'll make it work," she said, and the youth looked overjoyed.
Gnugs continued staring at the diagram in the dirt. "So how does this go for the rest of us?"
Gutteral looked up to check the wall. The flames had died down, causing an inordinate amount of exceptionally dark plumes of smoke to billow up into the sky. He couldn't tell how many enemy troops were on the other side of the dark cloud, but he could see little splashes of water insinuating that they were actively trying to douse the remaining parts of the fire deep at the bottom of the piles of rubble.
A plan quickly formed in his mind. "That's your machine gun over there, right?" he asked the tinker.
"Yes, the one we modified after raiding that gnomish caravan."
"Alright, here's what we're going to do. I'll need you stationed perpendicular to their gate to avoid hitting either the hostages or our troops."
"That thing can only sustain about twenty seconds of fire before it overheats, sir. Our ammo is also low, and those pellets the dwarves have aren't compatible."
"Twenty seconds are all we need, Gnugs. I need Bob to be ready with it to the side; you make sure he doesn't shoot unless the enemy tries to exitthe gate. Only when we're sure that those cowards won't come out will we go in. At that point, I'll need you, Bob, and Bertha to stand watch and ensure that none of them can escape."
"And the rest of you?"
He looked over at his troops, noticing how they'd become agitated watching the humans put out the fire on the wall. "We'll do the only thing we can in a situation like this. Nolash?"
"My sight is yours, Chief."
"We'll need that soon. But first...can you help prepare the troops?"
Suspicious after his previous tongue-lashing, she looked him over cautiously. When he nodded to her to reassure her that her help was needed, she relaxed. She nodded back and removed her hood, revealing hair that had only recently begun to turn grey. Her gaze swept over the troops as well as the gate, though Gutteral didn't know what she was looking for.
"Let them hear me," she asked.
"Alright. Gnugs, go get Bob ready. Ola, find Rulfim. Zyrdax?"
"Yes, boss?" his cousin asked.
They all stood, and Gutteral grabbed his younger by the pauldron. It was the most personal gesture he'd shown in front of anybody other than Ola, and Zyrdax almost looked surprised.
"Give them hell," he said, almost smiling for a second.
Flattered beyond words, Zyrdax could only nod and hurry after Ola, who was already passing the news of their plan to the rest of the troops. Gnugs was shoving Bob in a weak attempt to get him to stand up, though the hobgoblin was trying to eat his own ear and would likely need another minute or so to realize that they were about to fight again. Nolash waited patiently, and Gutteral took a deep breath realizing that they had no more to do other than begin.
The raider and the warlock walked to the center of the troops; all of them except for Ola and Rulfim turned to watch their leader, leaving the smoking scene of the wall for a moment. When he was sure he had their attention, he nudged Nolash to get her started.
She cleared her throat. "Let me be the cover for your bodies, as your bodies are cover for your souls," she announced, though a number of the troops had no idea what she was talking about. "To minimize our sacrifice this day, we need another...blood for blood quenches the spirits. Who will give their blood for the refugees of the Rageroar?"
The long ears of one of their troll berserkers pricked up. Nahreneh, a survivor from the decimated Shatterspear tribe, appeared to have been struck emotionally by the mention of another group considered refugees. Knocking over Sprig, she stepped in front of the other soldiers. "Take my blood!" she yelled, tearing off the leather wraps of one of her thick thighs.
Nolash grinned. "Glad we don't need to resort to demon blood this time," the Shadowmoon orc said while drawing a curved dagger. "We don't need much."
Nahreneh glared impatiently. "I'll be healing soon, now let's get started!"
Nolash plunged the dagger into the troll's rubbery skin, drawing a long cut down Nahreneh's thigh that made the Shatterspear former refugee wince. The dark purple woman's blood was thick like gelatin, and Nolash was actually able to cup it in her hands.
"Let the elements stay away from here...this is a pact of blood!" The warlock then reached to one of the grunts and smeared Nahreneh's blood on his forehead and chest without asking permission. He appeared annoyed, especially when no visible effects took place, but when Gutteral nodded in approval, the others started to line up. "Yes, all of you, the ritual must commence!"
One by one, all of the front line troops except for Nahreneh were smeared with the woman's blood. Nolash chanted the whole time, freaking a few of them out when the blood began to tingle on their bodies.
"This is the limit," she told Gutteral once she'd finished with the last grunt.
Kneeling down next to Nahreneh, Gutteral put an arm around her shoulder. "Do not forget the gift you've been given!" he told the others while squeezing the cut on her leg closed.
"My blood be coming back now!" Nahreneh said while gritting her teeth. "I'll be ready with them in a minute!" She looked fine, but she remained sitting, and he figured that even with her regeneration she would need a few moments to heal up.
"You'll be at the front with the rest of us," he told her. He then looked up to the others. "We're breaking down that burnt gate now. Once it's down, stand back and wait for our gunners to announce when it's clear. And then..." He paused and continued looking at them all, waiting for them to finish the sentence.
His cousin was ready. "It's war!" Zyrdax said, garnering a round of shouts from the others.
More lumber from the wall collapsed, and shouting could be heard on the other side of the wall. Nahreneh wiggled her leg in reaction. "It closed, my cut be closed," she said, squirming as if she couldn't wait to fight.
"Then it's time!" Gutteral said while rising. "Gnugs, do you have everything set up?"
"Yeah, boss," the tinker replied. Bob was carrying the heavy machine gun he'd ripped off of a gnomish arachnodroid last year, a chain of ammo wrapped over his suspenders.
"Take position by the side of the door. Sprig, make sure that you and Case can screen them from sneek attacks."
"You got it, Chief."
Finally, Gutteral turned to a hiterto reserved member of their squadron. "Big Bertha?" he said loudly.
Striding forward with all the swagger of a showhorse, a wall of flesh and iron answered his call. Twirling a big flanged mace in her hands, the Stonemaul ogre stood at the ready, and the others immediately started clapping and hollering. Bertha didn't even do anything else, but Horde soldiers everywhere often applauded her simply for showing up, and she worked it for all it was worth.
"Alright, simmer down!" Gutteral ordered the troops while the ogre posed. He looked up at her. "Are you ready?"
After blinking at him twice with her single eye - which was her way of winking - she pulled the metal face grill of her helmet down. "Let's get show on road," she said, earning a few whistles from Fon'kei.
Gutteral mounted his dire wolf for a better view, causing the other frontline troops to ready their weapons. "Shields up!" he ordered as he rode next to Big Bertha toward the gate. The shouting of the humans on the other side increased on volume, and the damaged gate shook as if they were trying to barricade it. "Whenever you're ready!"
Taking a broad stance, Bertha stood to the side of the gate, giving Gutteral's wolf time to back up. Waving her mace around like a big kid playing stickball, she reared back so far that Murgrin had to duck under the weapon. Swaying her hips toward the gate, the ogre demonstrated perfect form as he struck the wooden entrance. The entire wall shook and rattled, causing the troops to cheer again, and she milked it for all it was worth. Waving her weapon in a circle comically, she hit the gate again, sending half a ton of ash and smoke puffing up in the air above them. The whole squadron was eating it up, hooting and hollering as their adrenaline pumped and increased their want for battle.
Everyone, that is, save Gutteral and Nolash. Ever wary of tricks and sneak attacks, he peered around for possible problems as Bertha smashed Greywatch's wall down. When he noticed Nolash squinting and staring at the wall with her cursed dark vision, he knew that things were awry.
"What do you see?" he whispered, knowing that she had a sort of sixth sense for living souls. Despite that sense, she still seemed perplexed.
"They have...something," she murmured in confusion. "Not someone...something..."
With a final heave, Big Bertha knocked the gate down, causing the frontline troops to roar with approval. The wooden planks forming the gate broke in half and collapsed into a pile of nothing, giving them their first view inside of the fort. Even through the smoke, Gutteral could tell that there weren't any opposing soldiers waiting for them; just the body silhouette of an inanimate object the size of the ogre herself. As every second passed, the object became clearer, and Gutteral's suspicion was validated.
There was an entire siege tank aimed directly at them.
The top hatch flung open, and a dwarf wearing an eyepatch crawled out. "Great to meet ya!" the dirtied, greasy creature sneered at them.
And then the tank fired.