Rhog, the Bloody Fist

by T0NAN

Rhog, an orc with a deep loyalty to the Horde, has found himself in the hands of the Alliance after the crushing defeat of Blackrock Spire at the end of the Second War. In a internment camp with his people, he longs for the days that freedom brought him. His life would take an upturn, however, when he is freed by a charismatic orc called 'Thrall'.

1. Prologue

Prologue

The intense sound of battle erupted throughout the ash-covered lands around Blackrock Spire, the forces of the Alliance clashing with the Horde in what could be the final battle of the Second War. They had succeeded in pushing back the Horde since their failed attempt at conquering Lordaeron thanks to their own treacherous ranks, more specifically Gul'dan.

Orgrim Doomhammer, the Warchief of the Horde, slammed his hammer into the chest of an Alliance soldier, their chest caved in from the impact and sent them flying back into the dense crowd of soldiers. The Warchief took a quick glance at the orcs that were fighting the forces of the Alliance, his teeth gritting as he watched several of them get cut down by humans, along with a few being frozen or enflamed by mages. He needed a way to sway the battle in their favor, but from what he saw there was no feasible way.

Then his eyes fell upon the human leader, an old man dressed in the blue colors of the Alliance, wielding a greatsword of gold and steel. That was his way to win the battle, to possibly win the war. He noticed how the old human seemingly lifted the spirits of those around him from his presence alone, and his skill with the blade was greater than that of any orc he currently had. If he could get him alone though…

"Rhog!" The Warchief shouted, "Rhog, to me!" He heard a roar behind him that he instinctively turned his head towards. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw an Alliance soldier charging at him, too close for him to react, sword level with his side. The human was set to pierce Orgrim's armor!

The adrenaline in Orgrim made the world seemingly slow down, but it gave him enough time to see an orc come from the side of the soldier, one large hand grabbing the soldier's sword arm and twisting. With a yell of agony, the soldier dropped his sword, but was swiftly beheaded by the orc's war axe, not given a chance to continue his assault.

Orgrim let a small smile crawl across his face as the orc turned to him, and he recognized the brutish face of Rhog, the "Bloody Fist" as he was more well known among his people. Rhog was large, even for an orc, with two tusks protruding from his maw as he huffed a breath of acknowledgement. His green skinned face was covered in blood, two burning red eyes staring back with an expectant look.

The Warchief remembered when Rhog joined the Horde all those years ago; once a small whelp barely able to heft an axe, now a monster of an orc ready for any battle to be thrown at him. Orgrim might have even said how proud he was of Rhog, if they weren't in the middle of a battlefield.

Orgrim turned and pointed out the human leader, "Get him alone, away from his troops. I'll take his head when he's isolated." Rhog responded with a grunt and a nod, before running back into the heat of battle, cutting a path towards the old human.