Chapter 5-5

Arathi Basin

Spout, already comfy before the fire, was busily munching the berries and beer Garl had set out for him even before Garl himself had gotten his cloak off. Unstrapping and unbuckling his armor, he wondered what it would be like to so easily forget the day’s events as the white bear seemed to be able to do. He laid out his armor on the table and prepared to inspect it for any necessary cleaning and repairs.

This stitching, rendered by a mace….that buckle, forged into a lump by some mage…the blood stains alone would take hours to prep and clean. He sighed and went over to his chemicals and supplies, pausing at the cabinet to remove an ale. He brought his now well-worn tools back to the table, and cleared some room to work and spied the briefing packet. Sent to him by Aediwen, a druid who was fast becoming both a friend and an ally, it was still on the table where he had left it. He had been able to read it before the summons from Donal Osgood of The League of Arathor, and was glad of it. The chaos of his inital forays into Warsong, while tempered by the experience of Aediwen, was not to his liking. Donal, apparently, placed more value in preparing his fighters than Lylandris of the Silverwing Sentinels, having bid Aedi to prepare the briefing for him.

Picking up the packet, Garl reflected that comparing the briefing to his actual experience might have some benefit…not the least being to delay the drudgery of repair work. Grabbing his ale, he took the seat next to the fire, with Spout’s ruminations over his meal mingling with the fire’s pop and crackle.

“Prepared by Aediwen for Donal…”. Garl skipped over the intro and down to the first section which read:

“Background:

The many and varied resources of Arathi Basin are essential to Alliance operations in the Arathi Highlands, as they have always been to the powers of the area, beginning with the Kingdom of Stromgarde. From its origins at Stromgarde, humans spread out, founding Stormwind and Lordaeron, among others. This migration, combined with the losses to Stromgarde forces during the Second and Third Wars, now leaves Stromgarde Keep with a force of roughly 1200. From this meager remnant, the League of Arathor was founded in order to secure the Arathi Basin and keep the Forsaken Defilers at bay. Currently led in battle by Donal Osgood, the main adversary is the Forsaken, with their general hatred and wish to destroy humanity. They are occasionally assisted by Horde forces based at Hammerfall, though those forces are split between Arathi Basin and efforts to clear the local Boulderfist ogre and Winterbark troll tribes, and also their rebuilding efforts at Hammerfall. Hammerfall was originally an internment camp for the orcs, and was liberated by Thrall and the Horde, though at the cost of losing Ogrim Doomhammer…thus it’s name, Hammerfall. Split as they are, however, Hammerfall is still a force to be reckoned with in the fight with the Forsaken to control Arathi Basin. The orc internment at Hammerfall was done over the objections of Stromgarde, though not for humanitarian reasons … Stromgarde wished to simply execute the orcs, and this is likely a reason Hammerfall quite willingly and actively oppose the League of Arathor. The mutual antipathy between Stromgarde and the Forsaken and Hammerfall means little quarter is given or expected in the Basin.”

Garl took a draught of his ale and propped his feet up on Spout’s haunches, now slowly rising and falling as he slept by the fire. The small table by the chair had a simple wood box upon it; he removed his pipe and tobacco from it, lighting it by taking a long branch kept leaning between the table and the wall, kept there for that express purpose, and extending it to the fire. He had to lean forward slightly, and made a mental note that he would have to get a new branch soon to replace this one as it gradually shortened.

The brief continued:

“Objective:

Arathi Basin holds a Lumber Mill, a Blacksmith, a …. “

Garl knew the objectives in Arathi Basin, not from the dry statements of the brief, though. To him, the Lumber Yard did not mean resources for Alliance use. It meant arcane explosions mixed with slashing steel, flashing Light tempered with smoldering Dark….the giant saw of the mill spewing not sawdust but spatters of blood and other…things.

The crops at the Farm were trampled, but would recover with the new “fertilizer”….the carts at the Gold Mine carried rent bodies and organs, not boulders and ore…the metal at the Blacksmith was forged in fires fed by energies other than charcoal and was quenched in blood, not water…

Arathi no longer meant lumber and ore to Garl.

The battle had been a maelstorm of fluid chaos, a rushing whirlpool drawing the unlucky and ill-trained to Death at its depths…

“Strategy:

From the jump point at Trollbane Hall, equal forces will sortie to the closest objectives and assess opposing…..”

Garl grunted….that was about as far as the strategy was followed. He knew enough about battle to know that first contact pretty much threw any tactical plan to the winds. The basic plan of smaller, independent forces attacking targets of opportunity had worked, though costing heavy casualties. Perhaps Donal Osgood recognized that the training of his fighters had been geared towards individual and small group fighting, and that their training in larger formations was not yet sufficient.

Garl continued reading, finishing the brief and his ale together, thinking that the history books his mother had made him read had likely been written before the fact….

He sighed and carefully lifted his feet off of Spout so as not to wake him. His armor still waited, patiently, unperturbed at its disarray and damage. Garl picked up his tools and began to pick at a stitch, reflecting that he was getting too good at repairing it…

* * * * *

“I was tasked by the League of Arathor to help secure resources for the Alliance. Hopefully, our efforts are coming to fruition, and the shortages at home will lessen for you.”

It isn’t often I get to spend close to 1000g on gems and enchants in a single night, but after topping damage and dps in VoA on Koralon, I won the Relentless Wristguards of Triumph that dropped (with a 99 no less). We had captured Wintergrasp just prior, and the 3 Wintergrasp Marks were just enough for me to get my Titan-Forged Chain Leggings of Triumph with 40 marks. I had 30+ Emblems of Triumph, so I went for the trifecta and picked up Windrunner’s Handguards of Conquest, my first Windrunner’s gear.

OC’s PvP gear, as mentioned before, is north of 800, so I gemmed and enchanted/leg armored the PvP gear for more dps, as opposed to stamina or resilience. I should end up with about 840 Resilience (down from the 870 previous), but with a 50 dps increase in white damage, a 9-10% increase, so I think I’m better off than before, as long as I’m not up against a pally

I like Koralon, as I get to stand and shoot, hence the *almost* 6k dps (dam, did I miss a cd? late hitting a cd? soooo close….). We wiped on Emalon 3x and ran out of time before WG reset the bosses because folks stood in the fire, but I topped those efforts, also, with 4700 dps.

Dead dps, doesn’t.

Several in raid were suggesting we kick a few undergeared dpsers (had a couple with GearScores under 3k, and several under 4k), to which those of us who were more intelligent responded with a resounding “STAY OUT OF THE FIRE”.

I’d rather have someone doing 2k the WHOLE fight, than a 4ker who dies 25% into the fight because they are stupid.

Again: Dead dps, doesn’t.

Seriously. GTFO the FIRE!

With Oilcan’s acquistion of a Deadly Gladiator’s Chain Helm, I finally have a full PvP set. Only my weapons are non-PvP.

Closing in on 20k kills in the BGs, I can only wonder at where I might be if I hadn’t taken almost 2 full years off from PvP.

Some random notes (keep in mind, records are only since WotLK and Achievements and don’t include anything prior):

Alterac Valley: 28-33 record, 2030 HKs, 208 deaths, Loyal Defender and The Alterac Blitz

Arathi Basin: 13-25, 873 HKs, 209 deaths

Warsong Gulch: 22-33, 1180 HKs, 365 deaths, Supreme Defender

Eye of the Storm: 9-13, 549 HKs, 121 deaths, The Perfect Storm

Wintergrasp: Not tracked as Achievements apparently, but have Vehicular Gnomeslaughter, which is just cool anyway

Oilcan currently has Resilience north of 800. Cuts chance to be hit and crit by about 9%, reduces damage from crits by about 20%, and an additional damage reduction of another 9%.

When I got back onto PvP, OC had less than 300 Resilience. The difference between 300 and 800+ is quite noticeable. You just live longer and survive more. If you’re getting into PvP and are discouraged by your squishiness, just keep at it. More and more Resilience will keep piling on as you get PvP gear; in addition, the frantic and furious skills you develop as a squishie desperately trying to stay alive will make you all the more formidable when you ARE able to stay alive.

Just stay away from Ret pallies.

Give an old hunter time to hobble over to his rocking chair with his Diamond-Tipped Cane, plop down on a folded Flumbub’s Seat Cushion, and light up his Hickory Pipe, and I’ll tell you how PvP was in the olden days.

When the Mines and the Lumber Yard in Arathi Basin were uphill…both ways.

When you didn’t bring raid gear to run Alterac Valley.

When you could fight in Warsong Gulch for an hour, and were GRATEFUL to be there, dadgum it!

There was no resilience (other than that Ally would get their heads beat in, yet still come back for more).

No traps in combat for hunters, no sirree! You had to PLAN back then. No plopping down a trap whenever you felt like it.

Mages would Frost Nova, hop back a couple yards and pew-pew from 6-7 yards and a hunter had to sit there and take it. Or go get a drink while waiting for the Inevitability that was the Dead Zone.

Warriors’ Hamstring had the same effect as Wing Clip, PLUS a Bleed added in…AND lasted 3 seconds longer than said Wing Clip….hmm….that one hasn’t changed, come to think of it…but at least you younguns got Disengage now. Back when, we had to dip and dodge like a drunken butterfly and hope the warrior got dizzy…

Priests and Locks would DoT you to death…even if you killed them…you whippersnappers got your Resilience now, are you happy?

Rogues, having literally danced around our traps (inside their 5 yard arming radius) without setting them off, would then go and complain that our pets could see through their Stealth…conveniently forgetting that animal senses are 10-1000 times more sensitive than human senses.

Pallies…well, they warnt none, y’see, ’cause if you were a pally, you were ally. There still warnt none, tho, ’cause lolRets were, well, LOL…..Holy pallies were barely better than Mend Pet….and Prot pallies in PvP were even more LOL than the lolRets….

And CC lasted as long as the tooltip said. I’ve got popsicles that last longer in the sun than Freeze Trap does now.

So, I’m gonna sit here and remember the good old days of honor farming, HK-generating, GY-camping, and /waves to same-server Horde.

Are you still here?

GTFO MY LAWN!

The din of the crowded Auction House in Ironforge barely asserted itself in Garl’s mind, as he intently studied the auction boards. He’d hoped his skills as a leatherworker would be enough to start earning a living of it, but sales for his goods were still slow. But the skins, hides, and leathers he offered as raw goods were consistent sellers. And he knew the other trades needed other raw goods as well. He gently shook his purse; the few coins within were enough to start jingling, but still too few to jangle. Ah well, “Buy low and sell high” worked whether you started large or small.The murmurs swelling in the crowd were therefore unnoticed by him, until the sharp bark of the Ironforge Guards’ orders cut through the barkers’ calls. He was then aware that the crisp, incessant banter of buyers and sellers echoing off the House’s walls had been swallowed by the whispers and questions of those within.

He looked around, past faces at once worried yet unconcerned. He recognized the look as one he had watched passersby assume in Stormwind, as they passed the orphanage on their way to service in the Cathedral.

“Tsk, tsk.”

“Awful. What can you do?”

The guards half-whispered the words they shared, dutifully following orders not to cause a panic, but knowing few here would listen any further than the words:

“Horde at Sentinel Hill.”

* * * * *

His parents half-whispered the words they shared, thinking he was still napping. The knock at the door had awakened him, however, and he breathed lightly as he tried to hear the words outside.

“…Horde…farm…four dead…..here….”

So hard was he listening outside the walls, the steps were almost inside his door before he heard them. He realized his eyes were open, and snapped them tight as his door creaked open.

“Garl? Wake up.”
His mother’s voice was quiet, but tense, not gay and teasing like this morning. He pretended to rouse, not looking at her, the questions in his eyes replaced with

“Ah’m still sleepy…doan’ wanna wake up…”

“Come on, get these on. Hurry. You can go back to sleep soon. You’re going to finish your nap next door. Your father and I have something to do, right now.”

He dressed as slowly as he could, fumbling with laces and ties, hoping for more from his mother, but she merely kissed him and dressed him more quickly than he wanted, and shunted him out of the room. He heard his father in the stables, cursing the rams, as he and his mother crossed the path to the house next door. His mother kissed him again and pushed him over the neighbor’s hearth; he glanced up and saw the anxious look in the eyes of his elderly sitter before she closed the door behind him, and, a moment later, cheerily invited him to finish his nap amongst the giant quilts by the fireplace in the next room.

The shifting fire and subtle warmth of the quilts lulled him back to sleep, to dream of his mother and father standing before a dark mass called Horde that had no face, no other name.

* * * * *

He had quietly and quickly finished his business at the auctions, and slipped out, his gait and breath a little too forced, but no one noticed. He had been to Westfall, of course, and fought the Defias, but why were the Horde there? A mill, a tower, a desolated village, nothing was there would have sent him hordeside for the same. At the Gryphonmaster, some were inbound from, and outbound to, Sentinel Hill. More than a few outbound decided not to, after looking at those inbound.

As the tower came into view from atop the gryphon, he saw a battle south of the hill, the cries and screams reaching him in the air. As he jumped down off the gryphon, several humans almost knocked him back into the air as they fought to get on the very gryphon he had flown in on. He got clear of that scrum, only to nearly get trampled by a mage’s horse as it vaulted over him and headed to the tower. This was chaos; he followed the mage to the crest of a low hill and peered over it into the setting sun and saw…

…more chaos. more running. more yelling.

Not orders being given but just…yelling…and screaming…and running, lots of running. Priests and hunters, warriors and rogues were all in the clearing south of the tower.

The mage glanced at him.

“Best stay clear, boy, until Koy and Stryke dispatch the stupid ones. Orders were to assemble and organize, not wade in, flailing away. Koy and Stryke aren’t troggs, you know.”
Garl nodded. No, they weren’t. They laughed at the ones coming at them in ones and twos, and mowed them down like wheat, then looked for more. The mage was right. Coordination and numbers were needed.
The two horde now stood alone in the clearing, challenging those gathering on the hilltops around them. The numbers were growing, with more and more experienced fighters coming to the aid of the tower guards. Garl saw insignia of rank, of service, on battle-scarred armor, and grim looks on those who wore it as they discussed their attack. No one else but the mage had talked to Garl, though.
“I have a gun, and Spout,” he thought, “When they attack, I’ll follow them.”

Koy and Stryke cut down two more fools. Then, without warning, the mage attacked, blasting them with arcane fire. Hunters around the two horde opened fire, as warriors and rogues rushed them. The clearing in front of Garl shone bright with fire and magic as he fired as fast as he could. Two rogues dropped, screaming, as the Horde fought their way out of the mass, trying to get room for their weapons. They whirled and spun, blades flashing in the dusky light, trying to work their way south and clear of their attackers. Suddenly, they broke clear and ran for the hilltop…straight towards Garl’s position. Too close to fire, Garl drew his axe and leaped at them, hoping to at least slow them down. If they got away, they would be back. Best to kill them now.

Two warriors had already caught one of the Horde, but the other was ahead and clear, swinging straight at Garl as Garl swept his axe through the air. He dodged the blow only partially, but it was still more powerful than any he had ever felt, sending him rolling down the hill ahead of his attacker. As he rolled over to rise, expecting to see a final blow, he saw the Horde struggling to reach him. He had clipped him! And saved his own life. As he rolled, he jumped off to the side, out of his opponent’s direction, trying to draw him back to the others. The Horde decided not to follow as those of the Alliance crested the hill, presumably having sent the other Horde to whatever god he worshipped. At range now, Garl stunned him with a shot as he tried to run off, and the others charged the now-wounded Horde. Even so, several paid dearly for getting within reach of his blade. Overwhelmed, the Horde still fought fiercely, until finally sheer numbers brought him down, literally, to his knees, to his end.

As quickly as it had started, the battle ended. Garl helped tend the wounded, bandaging and salving, before heading back to Ironforge. He had been no match for either Horde, alone, but was glad he had been able to help. He was deep in thought as he climbed aboard the gryphon for the flight home, and so did not notice as the Tower Captain pointed at him while speaking to a corporal.

“I saw my first Horde”, Garl wrote to his parents, “at Sentinel Hill in Westfall. There were only two, and we had plenty of help. Don’t worry, I keep a close watch when I’m out and about; I’m sure they won’t be the last I see. The Tower Captain noticed me, though, and Regnus is training me in a few things that don’t exactly help with the Hunt.”