Garbhan
06-01-2006, 01:32 AM
Every time a Regiment axe rose and fell, Garbhan knew about it. Every forray, from Troggs in Loch Modan to the Scourge in the Plaguelands was meticulously reported on and filed. He'd read enough about the world through his soldiers that he could probably answer the questions of even the most remote member of the Explorer's League.
There was always more work to be done. He'd lost one of his finest officers, Odonna Stoneguard, to unknown dangers. Signs pointed to Silithus. Another Captain, Ruma, had retired to her home near the Loch. A Lieutenant had resigned. All needed to be replaced. And yet despite losses and deaths and the letters he wrote to families, there were new recruits every day. They had papers he went over, histories. Everyone had a story.
One Lieutenant would be a Captain tomorrow. He'd need a Lieutenant. A new Officer was joining the ranks the next day, bringing one of his fellow enlisted up to Master Sergeant as an aid.
Scores of Troggs died each day, but they were never dwindled. If anything, there were more now than ever before. The Dark Irons worked their subterfuge. The Thandol Span and Dun Modr had yet to be retaken. Half of the Ironforge Siege Brigade was inoperable due to lack of supplies. Yet, despite this, Khaz Modan, the kingdom of the Dwarves, was as rich and prosperous as ever. Trade brought untold wealth to Ironforge. Why did these problems persist?
Manpower. There were no more men to be drafted. If the craftsmen were drafted, weapons would run out. Food would run out. Mercenaries came from accross the realm. The Gnomes were in no position to be offering aid. The Humans had problems of their own, with considerations going to the Defias as well as Kobold infestations in nearly every mine from Stormwind to Moonbrook and beyond. The Elves fought an ever loosing battle for their place in Kalimdor.
The Horde, though not openly at war, was certainly not at peace with the Alliance.
Not enough manpower. Too much work and not enough bodies. Everyone was stretched thin. One of the new soldiers under his command - Recruit Togrimm - had gone out for drinks the other night with Garbhan and some of the veterans. He'd refused to drink much, stating that he needed to stay on his toes. Weeks of constant battle, and still everyone was wound tight on their down-time. Even a new recruit.
Garbhan signed his name on another issueing of the Longrifle OpOrder before leaning back in his chair to marvel at the fact that his hands still worked. On his desk, his Gnomebox crackled to life. "General Garbhan, sir? Ye busy?"
A wheezing sigh, and he clicked the the Box on. "What c'n I do fer ye, Corporal?"
There was always more work to be done. He'd lost one of his finest officers, Odonna Stoneguard, to unknown dangers. Signs pointed to Silithus. Another Captain, Ruma, had retired to her home near the Loch. A Lieutenant had resigned. All needed to be replaced. And yet despite losses and deaths and the letters he wrote to families, there were new recruits every day. They had papers he went over, histories. Everyone had a story.
One Lieutenant would be a Captain tomorrow. He'd need a Lieutenant. A new Officer was joining the ranks the next day, bringing one of his fellow enlisted up to Master Sergeant as an aid.
Scores of Troggs died each day, but they were never dwindled. If anything, there were more now than ever before. The Dark Irons worked their subterfuge. The Thandol Span and Dun Modr had yet to be retaken. Half of the Ironforge Siege Brigade was inoperable due to lack of supplies. Yet, despite this, Khaz Modan, the kingdom of the Dwarves, was as rich and prosperous as ever. Trade brought untold wealth to Ironforge. Why did these problems persist?
Manpower. There were no more men to be drafted. If the craftsmen were drafted, weapons would run out. Food would run out. Mercenaries came from accross the realm. The Gnomes were in no position to be offering aid. The Humans had problems of their own, with considerations going to the Defias as well as Kobold infestations in nearly every mine from Stormwind to Moonbrook and beyond. The Elves fought an ever loosing battle for their place in Kalimdor.
The Horde, though not openly at war, was certainly not at peace with the Alliance.
Not enough manpower. Too much work and not enough bodies. Everyone was stretched thin. One of the new soldiers under his command - Recruit Togrimm - had gone out for drinks the other night with Garbhan and some of the veterans. He'd refused to drink much, stating that he needed to stay on his toes. Weeks of constant battle, and still everyone was wound tight on their down-time. Even a new recruit.
Garbhan signed his name on another issueing of the Longrifle OpOrder before leaning back in his chair to marvel at the fact that his hands still worked. On his desk, his Gnomebox crackled to life. "General Garbhan, sir? Ye busy?"
A wheezing sigh, and he clicked the the Box on. "What c'n I do fer ye, Corporal?"