Swifthoof Arrives from the Front
Posted: Tue Feb 15, 2011 7:51 pm
The dusty figure on an equally dirty bear trudged wearily through the gate of the Horde outpost. The two orc guards on the gate were polar opposites in their reactions to the new arrival. The first snapped to a parade ground attention while the figure, now distinguishable as a Tauren of advanced years, was some way off. The other continued to lean on the gatepost, and eyed the dirty traveler with scarcely concealed contempt.
As he grew closer, the Tauren raised his head and his eyes looked over the insolent guard, who wavered as the he felt the elder’s eyes bore into him with a penetrating gaze he had not expected. Casting a worried look over to his companion, he received no help. The other’s pose was still perfect, eyes front, chest out, pike straight up into the air. Nervously the confused guard came to something resembling attention, but continued to watch as the figure passed toward the gate.
Now he was closer, the vast size of bear and rider was apparent. Though they were dirty, neither was disheveled, and their armor and tack were in top condition. The pair were clearly at ease with each other and both were in excellent shape; muscles rippled under skin and there was no fat between flesh, muscle and bone. As they passed the two orcs, the bear added its stare to that of its rider and seemed to add its contempt as well. Under the twin gazes, the guard took an involuntary step back and dropped his eyes. The rider and mount passed by.
The first guard let his breath out in one long sigh. Turning to his companion, he gave him a look of pure hatred. “Are you fuckin’ mad? Don’t you know who dat was?”
The other was defiant. “Looked like an old cow on a mangy bear, we should eat ‘em both for supper. Aint had much meat around here lately.”
“Shut-up! You fuckin’ idiot! That is Lord Swifthoof and he was wearin’ a Grim Tabard. An’ if neither of those make your balls tighten and you to mind yer manners, yer a twice damned fool.”
The other didn’t respond, but did cast a nervous look behind him to where the figures had disappeared amongst the buildings and piles of supplies within the outpost.
His companion had moved on. “So Swifthoof’s with The Grim now; makes sense I suppose. Whatever happens, it’s going to be good fer us. Wonder what he is doing here? Probably come to tell us what a good job we done training those recruits we sent to the front. Maybe we’re going to get some kinda reward.”
The second orc was still digesting the other’s rebuke. “He don’t look much. I coulda taken him”
The first snorted. “You couldn’t dent ‘im. His skin is like ironwood and he does this green shit that just heals everything. Not to mention that there isn’t a sergeant in here, whose life he hasn’t saved on the battlefield. You might get two swings off, before they cut you to pieces and fed yer to the bear. And quit talking like that or yer gonna wake up with a thorn bush growing out yer arse.”
“So what about dese grim people, what are dey?”
“The Grim, fool. The’re a company fightin’ in the war. They don’t mess around. Hate the Alliance worsen a case of scrotal plague. Glad they are on our side. A few years back we was in a bind. About a dozen of us were out looking for game, and we was jumped by a group of alliance scum. We was already tryin’ to take down raptors and these stunties come outta nowhere; typical lowdown Alliance trick. Anyway, these three or four Grim guys showed up an’ saved us. Made short work of dem. If you are in a tough spot, it is The Grim ye want to see comin’ to help. An’ now they got Swifthoof as well. That’s gonna make dem doubly welcome.”
***
Inside the fort Swifthoof drew his bear to a stop by a trough full of water. Dismounting, he buried his head in the liquid and swept his mane and forelock back, then bowed his head back to the water and took a long draught. With a quick glance back at his bear which was now moving to take his turn to drink, he imparted a ‘stay put’ message. The bear was a long time companion, and could be trusted to wait without restraint.
With measured strides he entered the cool darkness of the command hut, and paused to let his eyes become accustomed to the shadow. Inside the Bloodguard seated at the desk, rose and saluted, fist across chest, orc style. Swifthoof smiled. “Relax Grat, you don’t have to salute me, I’m not army.”
“I’ll salute yer if I want Swifty”, the orc replied with a smile, “Goodness knows you deserve it more than dose useless turds we have to call officers these days. What brings you to our castle.”
Swifthoof fell wearily into a chair. My boss in The Grim wanted me to give you guys a heads up on what is going on at the front. From here, I go on to The Grim Guildhall to make my report to our leaders.”
The orc the other side of the table had also slumped into his seat and grinned back. “Lord Swifthoof turned messenger. How da mighty hat fallen.”
Swifthoof grinned back. “Indeed.”, he shrugged, “Takes time to get to know a body I guess. I may make it out of Supplicant rank soon, and then others can do the taking and fetching for them.”
“Let’s have your report then. Once we are done we can go bust a keg and get drunk. I don’t have anything to do until evening training. Round here we pretty much stay outta da sun durin’ da day.”
Swifthoof reached into his tunic and tossed an oilskin pouch onto the table. “Here is a written copy; you can pass it on to Command. I have a copy for The Grim leaders who are not at the front lines.”
“Overall, we are doing OK. We are fighting a war on two sides. Deathwing’s forces and the Alliance are both trying to destroy us, and we are caught in the middle. We are taking the fight to Deathwing’s leaders with some success and manage to keep the Alliance at bay for now, but the big problem we have is equipment or more specifically, lack of it.”
“How so Swifty, we is getting’ lotsa help from our friends. Once they get to know you, dey give ya stuff. Da Ramkahen, Dragonmaw, Earden Ring, dey all will help.”
Swifthoof shook his head. “That’s good for fighting the Twilight Hammer and Deathwing, but it doesn’t do squat against the Alliance. The armor just doesn’t work. The stuff that is good for that is in short supply. Your leaders have it, but they are passing out based on some cockamamie points system and it takes forever to get any. We have been able to make our own, but it is inferior, as we don’t have the equipment or the time to make the really good stuff.”
“What are ya gonna do about dat”
“The Grim are going along with it for now. We need the armor and weapons, so we have to play ball. The hard part is convincing our own to go out and skirmish, so that they can earn these stupid points. The fight against Deathwing takes a lot of resources; food supplies, potions, money for repairs all have to be obtained. Finding the time to fight Alliance as well is problematic.”
“The good thing is that if you get into the skirmishes, and you have mostly equipment designed for it, you are pretty much invincible.” Swifthoof paused, “By the way; did you empty every asylum in Orgrimmar, and send them to the front? Most of your forces are completely insane. No idea of tactics, lazy, and disrespectful.”
Grat sighed. “I know, it isn’t like the old days. We got nothing ta work wid. Dey come in here an tink everyting is easy and dey gonna get everyting handed to ‘em. We try and prepare dem, but dey don’t listen, or understand, it’s difficult to know which. It was de war in Northrend dat did it. We was winning so big at the end, good equipment was easy to get. Now all dese scrubs expect it. You meet any organized resistance?”
Swifthoof nodded. “Yep, it’s in the report. The Grim have been in battle against several organized regiments. We have more than held our own. There are some strong fighters on the Alliance, and a few times we have had to accept defeat, but we have also taught the enemy to recognize our banners. We are well led, and fight as one, that is the key. We started with wargames to learn our tactics. It helped a lot.”
“Wargames?” Grat looked puzzled.
“Yep, Wargames. We set up a replica battlefield and sparred against each other. It was excellent training for co-operative fighting. Team arena fights are useful too. Once you get into the battle the tactics are very similar.”
“Hmmm”, Grat was thoughtful, “We can perhaps set up something like dat ‘ere. Maybe even de mad will benefit. Anything else?”
“Not really. Just making sure that there are no delays passing out the gear we do earn. Our real problem is getting our own to get equipped to fight. We would like to get two companies into the field for battles. Then we can make a push on the Alliance cities. Right now, all we can do is mount raids. We hit Darnassus last week and killed one of their leaders. We tried to take it to Stormwind, but got beaten back.”
“Sounds like a good fight; wish I was there.” Grat shuffled restlessly in his seat. “How about that ale then?” Grat rose to his feet.
Swifthoof got up as well. “Let’s go get it, old friend. By the way, you may want to go easy on one of your gate guards for a day or two.”
“Oh, why?” Grat was curious.
“He is going to come down with a bad case of bedbugs.”
“If I went easy on every soldier who had bedbug bites we wouldn’t have anyone at training.”
“These are going to be really bad; quite painful.”
“What did he do?”
“Not much. But he needed a lesson in manners and I felt that I should do my bit to help your training efforts.”
Grat sighed. “Not sure how he will learn anything from a few bedbug bites.”
Swifthoof smiled, “Well he is going to learn the word ‘Respect’, because it is going to be tattooed onto his dick in bug-bite scars until the day he dies.”
Grat guffawed and clapped Swifthoof on the back, “Fuck, I’ve missed you Swifty. Let’s get drunk.”
As he grew closer, the Tauren raised his head and his eyes looked over the insolent guard, who wavered as the he felt the elder’s eyes bore into him with a penetrating gaze he had not expected. Casting a worried look over to his companion, he received no help. The other’s pose was still perfect, eyes front, chest out, pike straight up into the air. Nervously the confused guard came to something resembling attention, but continued to watch as the figure passed toward the gate.
Now he was closer, the vast size of bear and rider was apparent. Though they were dirty, neither was disheveled, and their armor and tack were in top condition. The pair were clearly at ease with each other and both were in excellent shape; muscles rippled under skin and there was no fat between flesh, muscle and bone. As they passed the two orcs, the bear added its stare to that of its rider and seemed to add its contempt as well. Under the twin gazes, the guard took an involuntary step back and dropped his eyes. The rider and mount passed by.
The first guard let his breath out in one long sigh. Turning to his companion, he gave him a look of pure hatred. “Are you fuckin’ mad? Don’t you know who dat was?”
The other was defiant. “Looked like an old cow on a mangy bear, we should eat ‘em both for supper. Aint had much meat around here lately.”
“Shut-up! You fuckin’ idiot! That is Lord Swifthoof and he was wearin’ a Grim Tabard. An’ if neither of those make your balls tighten and you to mind yer manners, yer a twice damned fool.”
The other didn’t respond, but did cast a nervous look behind him to where the figures had disappeared amongst the buildings and piles of supplies within the outpost.
His companion had moved on. “So Swifthoof’s with The Grim now; makes sense I suppose. Whatever happens, it’s going to be good fer us. Wonder what he is doing here? Probably come to tell us what a good job we done training those recruits we sent to the front. Maybe we’re going to get some kinda reward.”
The second orc was still digesting the other’s rebuke. “He don’t look much. I coulda taken him”
The first snorted. “You couldn’t dent ‘im. His skin is like ironwood and he does this green shit that just heals everything. Not to mention that there isn’t a sergeant in here, whose life he hasn’t saved on the battlefield. You might get two swings off, before they cut you to pieces and fed yer to the bear. And quit talking like that or yer gonna wake up with a thorn bush growing out yer arse.”
“So what about dese grim people, what are dey?”
“The Grim, fool. The’re a company fightin’ in the war. They don’t mess around. Hate the Alliance worsen a case of scrotal plague. Glad they are on our side. A few years back we was in a bind. About a dozen of us were out looking for game, and we was jumped by a group of alliance scum. We was already tryin’ to take down raptors and these stunties come outta nowhere; typical lowdown Alliance trick. Anyway, these three or four Grim guys showed up an’ saved us. Made short work of dem. If you are in a tough spot, it is The Grim ye want to see comin’ to help. An’ now they got Swifthoof as well. That’s gonna make dem doubly welcome.”
***
Inside the fort Swifthoof drew his bear to a stop by a trough full of water. Dismounting, he buried his head in the liquid and swept his mane and forelock back, then bowed his head back to the water and took a long draught. With a quick glance back at his bear which was now moving to take his turn to drink, he imparted a ‘stay put’ message. The bear was a long time companion, and could be trusted to wait without restraint.
With measured strides he entered the cool darkness of the command hut, and paused to let his eyes become accustomed to the shadow. Inside the Bloodguard seated at the desk, rose and saluted, fist across chest, orc style. Swifthoof smiled. “Relax Grat, you don’t have to salute me, I’m not army.”
“I’ll salute yer if I want Swifty”, the orc replied with a smile, “Goodness knows you deserve it more than dose useless turds we have to call officers these days. What brings you to our castle.”
Swifthoof fell wearily into a chair. My boss in The Grim wanted me to give you guys a heads up on what is going on at the front. From here, I go on to The Grim Guildhall to make my report to our leaders.”
The orc the other side of the table had also slumped into his seat and grinned back. “Lord Swifthoof turned messenger. How da mighty hat fallen.”
Swifthoof grinned back. “Indeed.”, he shrugged, “Takes time to get to know a body I guess. I may make it out of Supplicant rank soon, and then others can do the taking and fetching for them.”
“Let’s have your report then. Once we are done we can go bust a keg and get drunk. I don’t have anything to do until evening training. Round here we pretty much stay outta da sun durin’ da day.”
Swifthoof reached into his tunic and tossed an oilskin pouch onto the table. “Here is a written copy; you can pass it on to Command. I have a copy for The Grim leaders who are not at the front lines.”
“Overall, we are doing OK. We are fighting a war on two sides. Deathwing’s forces and the Alliance are both trying to destroy us, and we are caught in the middle. We are taking the fight to Deathwing’s leaders with some success and manage to keep the Alliance at bay for now, but the big problem we have is equipment or more specifically, lack of it.”
“How so Swifty, we is getting’ lotsa help from our friends. Once they get to know you, dey give ya stuff. Da Ramkahen, Dragonmaw, Earden Ring, dey all will help.”
Swifthoof shook his head. “That’s good for fighting the Twilight Hammer and Deathwing, but it doesn’t do squat against the Alliance. The armor just doesn’t work. The stuff that is good for that is in short supply. Your leaders have it, but they are passing out based on some cockamamie points system and it takes forever to get any. We have been able to make our own, but it is inferior, as we don’t have the equipment or the time to make the really good stuff.”
“What are ya gonna do about dat”
“The Grim are going along with it for now. We need the armor and weapons, so we have to play ball. The hard part is convincing our own to go out and skirmish, so that they can earn these stupid points. The fight against Deathwing takes a lot of resources; food supplies, potions, money for repairs all have to be obtained. Finding the time to fight Alliance as well is problematic.”
“The good thing is that if you get into the skirmishes, and you have mostly equipment designed for it, you are pretty much invincible.” Swifthoof paused, “By the way; did you empty every asylum in Orgrimmar, and send them to the front? Most of your forces are completely insane. No idea of tactics, lazy, and disrespectful.”
Grat sighed. “I know, it isn’t like the old days. We got nothing ta work wid. Dey come in here an tink everyting is easy and dey gonna get everyting handed to ‘em. We try and prepare dem, but dey don’t listen, or understand, it’s difficult to know which. It was de war in Northrend dat did it. We was winning so big at the end, good equipment was easy to get. Now all dese scrubs expect it. You meet any organized resistance?”
Swifthoof nodded. “Yep, it’s in the report. The Grim have been in battle against several organized regiments. We have more than held our own. There are some strong fighters on the Alliance, and a few times we have had to accept defeat, but we have also taught the enemy to recognize our banners. We are well led, and fight as one, that is the key. We started with wargames to learn our tactics. It helped a lot.”
“Wargames?” Grat looked puzzled.
“Yep, Wargames. We set up a replica battlefield and sparred against each other. It was excellent training for co-operative fighting. Team arena fights are useful too. Once you get into the battle the tactics are very similar.”
“Hmmm”, Grat was thoughtful, “We can perhaps set up something like dat ‘ere. Maybe even de mad will benefit. Anything else?”
“Not really. Just making sure that there are no delays passing out the gear we do earn. Our real problem is getting our own to get equipped to fight. We would like to get two companies into the field for battles. Then we can make a push on the Alliance cities. Right now, all we can do is mount raids. We hit Darnassus last week and killed one of their leaders. We tried to take it to Stormwind, but got beaten back.”
“Sounds like a good fight; wish I was there.” Grat shuffled restlessly in his seat. “How about that ale then?” Grat rose to his feet.
Swifthoof got up as well. “Let’s go get it, old friend. By the way, you may want to go easy on one of your gate guards for a day or two.”
“Oh, why?” Grat was curious.
“He is going to come down with a bad case of bedbugs.”
“If I went easy on every soldier who had bedbug bites we wouldn’t have anyone at training.”
“These are going to be really bad; quite painful.”
“What did he do?”
“Not much. But he needed a lesson in manners and I felt that I should do my bit to help your training efforts.”
Grat sighed. “Not sure how he will learn anything from a few bedbug bites.”
Swifthoof smiled, “Well he is going to learn the word ‘Respect’, because it is going to be tattooed onto his dick in bug-bite scars until the day he dies.”
Grat guffawed and clapped Swifthoof on the back, “Fuck, I’ve missed you Swifty. Let’s get drunk.”