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Tuuroto

They Came From the Dark Portal ((Open to All))

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The Blasted Lands.

Many years ago, the lush southern marshes of the Black Morass transformed into an arid wasteland irrevocably tainted with Fel energy. The region's state of despair was a constant reminder to Alliance and Horde alike of the devastation caused by the Burning Legion and the implosion of the Dark Portal which shattered Draenor.

Thus, no one expected to see history repeat itself.

Anyone in the region, whether as far south as the Alliance fishing village of Surwich or as far north as Dreadmaul Hold bordering the Swamp of Sorrows, would have sensed the overwhelming cry of agony when the Ironmarch Expeditionary Force emerged from the Dark Portal and began its barbaric assault. Legions of Draenic Orcs and Ogres razed the land, seizing and setting fire to every possible settlement in its path.

The sky had vanished: what remained was a perpetual cloud of black smoke that encompassed the entire Blasted Lands. The blood of civillians seeped into the ground, painting the land dark crimson. The torrential rains and roars of thunder only fueled the Iron Horde's fury. News of their attack would spread almost instantaneously to every major city.

Peace and prosperity on Azeroth were, once again, just a fleeting, foolish notion.

((This is an IC reaction thread to the events of Patch 6.0. All are welcome to post how where their characters were when they heard the news and how they reacted.))

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Cyllos looks to his radio upon his Cybernetic Arm. Chatter on all channels speak of the Iron Horde appearing from the Dark Portal, in mere hours the radio shouts of the Orcs taking over Nethergarde Keep. He stands outside of the Inn waiting for the attacks to migrate to Surwich.

As the civilians began to evacuate, the Iron horde march to the village with there cannons and mass army of orange-red Orcs. Many others join him outside to form a flank to protect from the attacks. The battle of surwich would begin soon.

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It was a normal day in the small fishing town of Surwich. The rain had let up for a bit, allowing Rose to stroll around to see the finally rebuilt town. She put a lot of work into fixing her mistake months ago, and the windmill in the center of town was receiving its finishing touches. Finally, she could be forgiven. They could move on.

A rumble. It started out in the distance, near the dark portal. It grew large, then the ground shook beneath her feet.

BOOM!

What was that? A cannon? More explosions. Rose looked out in the direction of the portal. A dark plume of smoke rose over the red mountains of the Blasted Lands.

"Oh-Oh... RUN!"

Rose rushed to sound the new alarm bell they installed as a precaution since the last attack on the town. The town was to begin evacuation, as the Redblades, defenders of Surwich, shouted in their radios and grouped up to protect.

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The wraith entered the tombs through the portal room, not so much walking, as floating. It carried with it a sense of urgency as it came to Mason, whom was in the middle of studying an older looking tome and comparing notes with Edward, the tombs doctor. "Lord Mason" it said, in its gravely whisper of a voice, he turned to face the ghostly sentry.

"Aye? What have you to report."

The wraith kept its attention on Mason, disregarding whatever experiments he was working on with the doctor "Orc's have attacked the Blastedlands, The main footholds have already fallen and Surwich is under attack. They'd begun evacuation when I left to deliver the report."

"What?!" Mason replied "The horde's laid siege to the alliances hold in the blasted lands. Those greenskinned bastards.."

"No, sir. These Orc's have broken through the dark portal, shortly after it changed to red. They've laid siege to every foothold in the blasted lands. Not simply the alliances. And they're orange."

Mason paused, taking in the report. A rare expression growing on his face, a genuine, cruel smile. "Good work, Find Commander Jared. Have him rally the Soldiers in the Shadowrealm. As well as the other Commanders."

"Yes, Lord Mason.." the wraith replied "How many soldiers?"

"All of them"

Mason turned, without further word, seeking out Zolkor to inform him of their duties. The bulk of his force would prepare to join the alliance in whatever counter offensive they had begun devising, he however, would take a small guard along with Zolkor to Surwich, Weather to aid in evacuation, or draw Orc blood. He wasn't quite sure of himself.

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Zolkor was in a middle of training with the other men when all of the sudden they started heading out. He holds up his hand to stop the sparring when Mason told him to follow him along with another. "Whats going on ? " He whispered to the soldier."Orcs have invaded the blastedlands from the Dark Portal. They are attacking Surwhich. Zolkor nods as they walk through one of mason's portals, It seems he would meet the Redblades again once more.

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Several nights prior to the invasion...

The dwarf Murue continued to piece together his latest project. A mechanical prosthetic to replace his lost limb. Despite his knowledge of machines and mechanical creations, he felt unsure of his work. He'd taken on the methods of the Goblins years ago to develop weapons and tools he could use on the battlefield. The effects were extraordinarily useful and effective when they worked properly. That said, it was rarely reliable. With his know how and the aid of several colleagues and a few sympathetic engineers of slightly less ill reputation, he'd come up with a design he could use to at least have some function from the missing arm. It would serve well enough to hold a shield and help him balance out as he swung the massive hammer of his family name.

The dwarf's eyes turned from his work to the weapon as it came to mind. The Azure Hammer, whose faint glow and warmth had always been peculiar, now raged as if it knew something it could not say. The heat and light of the weapon made Murue think to the depictions of his grandfather, who had wielded it before him. The long dead paladin was said to have been a pious dwarf in times of peace but a thundering pillar of vengeance when at war. The shining maul in his hands served as a reminder to ally and foe alike the power of the light and its servants.

Now, Murue could not find reason for its emanations. His own heart, he felt, was not strong enough to carry on that legacy. He was not the dwarf his grandfather had been. He was not a righteous paladin who the Light could give such power. He was just one soldier. Yet the Azure Hammer continued to shine. As he stared intently at the hypnotic glow, his mind began to revel in memory. For a second, he could almost swear they were not his own.

Murue shook himself out of his stupor and turned back to his work. A moment had passed before he stood up and began to root through his drawers and packed away crates. It took a while, but then, the dwarf Murue pulled free a pile of brown and white cloth and set it by the ancient weapon. An eerie feeling settled in his bones as he turned back to his work. An urgency seemed to possess him despite not knowing what was driving that feeling.

---------------

Several hours after the Iron Horde first breached the Dark Portal...

The lines of war had formed. The Iron Horde had pushed into the Blasted Lands and the soldiers of the Alliance had stopped their progress. At least for the moment. Volunteers and fresh recruits were arriving by the hour as they prepared for the larger assault to come. While the leaders planned their defenses and prepared their assaults, the soldiers held back the ferocious red orcs and their devastating cannons. Despite the casualties and losses incurred, they held the line.

One such grouping of troops from Stormwind had been lucky to catch a moment of respite. The orcs hadn't let up for some time now and any moment they could be back. The newest recruit was a brown haired young man from the human's capital. While they were able to, he was set about pulling the wounded and dead away from the front of the line to receive healing or to at least receive the rest they deserved. Fresh faces arrived as he diligently helped a comrade hobble further into the Alliance's territory. One that caught his eyes, was a dwarf carrying a great banner of one of the many guilds chartered under the Alliance. As the wounded soldier sat down, the younger man watched as the dwarf planted the banner behind the greater colors of the Alliance and then pushed past the crowd at the very front. Having lost track of the peculiar warrior, the young trooper set back to his work.

By the time the new assault began, the young soldier had gotten all of his wounded and fallen comrades out of the dangers of the fray. A barrage of cannon fire struck their defensive line and barriers, opening the way for the oncoming orcs. The brown haired youth was reaching for his spear when another round of shells hit the line, just before the crimson orcs made it to the Alliances line. The young man felt himself thrown to the side as the blast obliterated the wall of spears they had erected. For a moment, he was sure he was dead, yet as his armor had held, so to did he. Bruised and battered but alive, the young soldier rose to his feet preparing to meet the oncoming charge. As the first orcs drew close, another explosion caught his ears. Not one like had almost done him in but an explosion none the less. As he gathered his wits, the young soldier watched as a number of orcs went flying. A second later, another explosion. This one he saw.

A small bundle arced its way from the Alliance's barricade into the throng of the orcish charge. The explosion caught a large group of them as yet another tied together stack of dynamite was hurled into the enemy advance. Another explosion disrupted the once strong assault as the few surviving orcs were dealt with. A fourth blast was emitted but it caught fewer orcs as they had either retreated from this new threat, or been cut down by the Alliance's defenses. For a second the young soldier thought it would be alright, but the booming of cannon fire once again filled the air. The last thing he heard before being knocked to the ground was the heavy dwarvish voice calling out,

"GET DOWN!"

His eyes closed as the brown haired young man found it harder and harder to breath...

...

...

...

...*pat pat*...

...

"Oi..."

...

"Lad wake up..."

...

...

*SLAP*

The young man from Stormwind was awoken abruptly by the large open hand of the dwarf clapping him on the side of the head.

"Oi, lad, there'll be no sleeping on this job I'm afraid. Had us worried a moment you did."

The soldier looked up as a medic gave the dwarf a thumbs up and moved on. It wasn't even a solid three seconds before the young man was hoisted back to his feet.

"Name lad? Be partial to know whose coming with me on this little detail."

A mixture of confusion and disorientation filled the young man as he got used to standing again.

"Augustus...Th-ooh...Thatcher..."

"Alright, Augustus, I'm Murue Bluehammer. Vanguard of the Dusk Watch. Grab yer gear. Yer comin with me."

As his head cleared up, Augustus looked down at the dwarven warrior. A smoke belching mechanical arm adorned his left side. On his right, a brilliant blue maul was firmly held. Old patched and worked steel covered his body under the brown and white tabard. A bag of explosives was held against his back in a thick leather pack. Despite being geared for war, the red bearded dwarf had a smirk.

"You'n me er gonna go give these new orcs here a welcome present they are na likely to forget if they survive it."

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