Story of Wartorn Valley

The following story details the events leading up to the Battle for Wartorn Valley. It follows key characters, especially Merandar Haifrall.

This work is a WIP.

Part 1 - Merandar - Nethergarde Company
Merandar marched in sync with the rest of his platoon into the stone walls of Nethergarde Keep, and mused how much the entire landscape looked like the battlefield he had envisioned. Soldiers kept to patrols all around him as rolling thunder boomed in the clouded sky. Lightning struck the ground around Nethergarde Keep here and there, and the dirt was a simple red. This was, indeed, the damage caused by the Orcish Horde. Now, they were going to pay for it.

The platoon stopped in front of the barracks. "Attention!" cried an officer before the platoon, and the entire group stood at attention at the same time. The officer began to walk along the platoon, observant, looking out for any notable persons. He stopped at Merandar.

"Who the hell're you, and what you doing here? You look quite fresh, son," the officer said, staring at Merandar, though Merandar seemed a few centimeters taller. The officer, however, noted Merandar's age and appearance. The latter was eighteen in his years, and, though he looked older, he appeared to be about twenty years in age. He wasn't as muscular as most soldiers, though he had some build, and seemed like the mage he was. At least, the simplistic would call him a mage. Merandar, however, was no simple mage, just as this platoon was not a bunch of recruits, but combat-experienced fighters of sword and spell.

Merandar never looked to the officer as he spoke, keeping his gaze straightforward in attention. "Sir, Merandar Haifrall, battle-mage of Dalaran, sir!" The officer raised an eyebrow. "How many Orcs have you killed, son?"

Merandar had an answer to that. "I don't know, because I don't bother counting. Better to be focused on the battle than on kills." The officer looked over Merandar before nodding, either in acknowledgement or approval. "At ease, soldiers." The newly arrived soldiers followed the command.

"Men, welcome to Nethergarde Keep. That's all the welcome you'll get here in Nethergarde. The real welcoming committy is the Orcs. You'll fight them, you'll hate them, and they'll do the same to you. If you aren't a man today, you'll become a man soon enough once you get a taste of what you're in for. You, him, me, and the rest of you are all going to be stuck in one group to not defend Nethergarde, but to assault the Orcs wherever they come up.

"From this day forward, consider yourselves official members of Nethergarde Company."

Part 2 - Merandar - Savages
A man says, "War is hell," as though he's experienced it, yet now Merandar was inclined to disagree. The Nethergarde Company was practically the best thing to happen to his military career, as the elite were now hunting Orcs as if for sport. The savages were stuck in this land with the Company, and the only one who would be feeling hell were the damn black-bloods.

Now, they battled Orcs and Ogres around an ogre encampment west of Nethergarde Keep. Despite how tough both could be called, the Company was having injuries and wounds, no casulties. Merandar was astounded by the natural teamwork of the Company, how each mage coordinated attacks from one foe to the next, without pause, without failure. Ogres were just dead weight on the Orcs as they were both nearly wiped out from the encampment.

"Lok'tar!" screamed an Orc racing towards Merandar, brandishing a crude mace. Merandar whipped around to behold the green-skin, and threw a fireball in response. The blast caught the Orc in the chest, causing him to stumble. Taking this chance, Merandar rushed forward with his sword, and thrust it right into the singed chest. The Orc cried out, attempting to reach for the battle-mage, before finally falling to the ground, lifeless.

The Orcs had begun retreating from the Nethergarde Company. They were outnumbered and outskilled, without a means to counter. They fled for a narrow, steep pathway up a hill into the mountains. The ogres were left to die, since they were no more than a distraction for the Company.

"Look at 'em run, boys! That's what we do, send them brutes runnin'!" the captain of the Company cried out, and the Company responded with cheering. Merandar joined in, but was now wondering about where they retreated. Where did they go? Did they have a group of holdouts in there?

"I'd ask Haifrall how many he killed, but we all know he probably killed too many to remember," many of the soldiers joked and said as they returned to the keep. Merandar had fought viciously, putting an end to as many Orcs as he could. It was true; he had no recollection as to how many had fallen to his sword. He, however, wasn't going to brag over kills. He raced over to the captain.

"Permission to speak, sir." The captain looked to Merandar. "Granted, what's goin' on?" Merandar nodded. "I was curious about the Orcs we fought and where they went. Shouldn't we investigate that area at some point?"

The captain nodded. "I'm already plannin' to bring it up to the commanding officers of the keep here. I'm hopin' we'll get a chance to see what's up in that area. Anythin' else to report?"

Merandar shook his head, and the captain nodded as the former left. Merandar was pleased with hunting down those brutes. He'd kill as many savages as he needed to keep everything; his safety, the safety of others, and ensure the honor of his Alteraci heritage wasn't disgraced forever by Perenolde.