Ruination: The Battle of Razor Hill

Morning dawned bright and early. The intense heat betrayed our location, but the weather seemed perfect.

At breakfast, we learned that Sathreyn and Relcha had disappeared. Not much of a surprise. After we’d seen the warlocks caged in the Cleft of Shadows, it was inevitable. No warlock would stay in Orgrimmar of their own free will.

As the sun peaked, Sorlain called us to order.

‘I trust everyone knows the plan?’ He asked briefly for confirmation, before launching into it anyway.

‘Because teleporting in Orgrimmar is forbidden after our lucky escape last night, I will have to remain here to ensure the passage of the rest of the Hand. Milva Jarath will be leading the charge as we move in a pincer movement to distract the defenders of Razor Hill while the Kor’kron attack from the front. If… this rebellion is to go ahead, then Milva Jarath must be taken out, and Vol’jin’s forces must win.’

‘How can we trust you?’ Khairan interjected over the comms.

That argument quickly devolved. ‘What we’ve seen under Orgrimmar does not bear repeating. If we cannot trust the Archon, then we are all dead anyway.’

Khairan, outside the city already, was to ambush the main Kor’kron force after they passed into the narrow canyons north of Razor Hill, with the rest of us forming part of the elven division and attacking from within. So we set off.

Milva Jarath was as vain as ever. Her trollskin cloak was more vibrant than usual, tinged with Darkspear blue, while troll-bone jewellery adorned every bit of exposed skin.

‘Ah, good. You’re here. Let’s go.’ Diverging from the large Kor’kron force of demolishers, a ground army and two caged Cho’thaki, we made haste across the desert, reaching the western edge of Razor Hill in under an hour. It was still mid-afternoon.

‘They are almost into the canyon.’

‘If no one else is going to give orders, attack whenever you think is best. If the demolishers and the Cho’thaki are in the canyon it’ll be harder for them to turn around.’

As Milva turned to give some sort of speech, I startled my hawkstrider and leapt off him, sending him charging through the carefully-ordered formation. Bo-bo followed suit, although the giant undead bear was slightly more effective.

The shredders accompanying us opened fire, setting the western wall ablaze. Gunfire filled the air and I tossed a grenade at the shredders, cursing as it didn’t go off. Caught by the surprise, the Horde forces briefly stood still, allowing Aleck time to cut their numbers in his usual beautiful fashion.

The air became smoky as a round fired from within Razor Hill itself, flinging Milva from her mount and into Thelnarion. Taleberaite was yelling something, I could no longer hear what, only able to see the Hand stood still.

Curses rang out around me as the betrayal was realised, while I desperately attempted to use my communicator. Why isn’t it working?

Then, everything began to go wrong at once. Huge explosions began to sound from the north – Khairan – and the Hand let loose, arrows upon arrows – upon us. I felt the muscle in my leg snap before I felt the pain, screaming as I fell into the dirt. Aleck was unconscious and the shredders kept firing, exchanging fire with some sort of cannon in Razor Hill – which exploded.

My vision faded as I saw snippets of the battle.

Thelnarion healing Milva.

Tauren reinforcements as the Kor’kron reached the village.

The elven forces fleeing in panic.

Thialen firing from one of the towers.

Trolls dragging bodies back to the village.

More curses, gunfire, explosions. The walls collapsed.

Darkstrike running – gliding – garrotting any orcs that came near.

Cho’thaki and orcs rampaging, confused.

A dark phoenix flying overhead, shadowflame plummeting around us.


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