Drek'jar Frosthowl shielded his eyes from the blazing sun, gritting his teeth as sweat beaded across his forehead. Looking behind him, he examined the gathering of both grots and grunts alike that bore the tabard of the Blacktooth Grin. Behind them all stooda flag bearer, the orc that set this raid up, even though command was relinquished to Drek'jar..... Melraudius.
'Grin, FALL IN LINE!' Drek'jar barked the orders viciously, and almost immediately Grunts filled the front line as grots filled the back. Drek'jar was at the head, flanked by Kel'thorin, Mizzerix and Melraudius. Behind him was Siaculian and Zorba. In front of him lay the town of Lakeshire... home to scum.
'Grots, take the head! Strike fear into their hearts!' Drek'jar yelled, setting the said grots into motion. The grots whooped and hollered, charging into the fray on roaring war mounts. Human guards looked up, astonished, as goblin and tauren alike tore into their flesh and left them for dead.
Drek'jar observed the carnage wrought from only a few and nodded in satisfaction. He looked to both side and watched the Grunts lick their mouths in anticipation for bloodshed. Grinning wickedly to himself, Drek'jar gave the final order for that raid:
'Grin, ATTACK!'
Races of many uttered the famous warcry of the Blackooth Grin, unsheathing weapons and readying spells for an easy takeover. What seemed easy.
More and more demonspawn guards flooded the town to come to the aid of their cowardous brethren. Many lay strewn on the floor, heads severed and intestines visible. The scenery was almost beautiful. Barking out orders for Kel'thorin to cover the entrance to the town hall, Drek'jar lumbered into the said building and crushed the skull of the nearest clerk. The rest of the humans screamed and cowered in fear in the shadow of Melraudius as well, bearing the banner of the fabled clan. Zorba popped behind another clerk, searing him from the inside out with her coveted fire. The battle was turning out well as the rest of the small raiding party were battling outside.
Drek'jar grabbed and threw a waiting citizen into the wall, cracking the spine and inevitably killing the weakling. The prize was in sight: The Magistrate of Lakeshire. The said magistrate caught sight of Drek'jar, and fear was visibly seen as more and more Grinners flooded into the main chamber.
'By order of decree, I declare you beheaded.; Drek'jar taunted, howling his famous battle cry which pierced the suddenly cold air, and proceeded the hurl a throwing axe at the magistrate. The weapon lodged itself deep into the magistrate's cranium, killing him on impact. The raiding party cheered and roared, a musical symphony on many levels.
'Grin! FEAR THE GRIN!' Drek'jar roared, followed by the roars and hollers of others. Marching outside, Drek'jar caught siight of Kel'thorin killing two guards single-handed and cackled maniacally.
'Weakling scum! You should be glad to be eradicated.' Bellowed Siaculian, kicked the corpse of a decapitated guard. Zorba giggled and gave the same corpse a little nudge as well.
'Ground mounts, Grin! We ride to the Aerie Peak!' And with that, Drek'jar mounted his war wolf and sped to the Hinterlands.
The fortress gloomed mysteriously in the twilight. Torches and braziers were light, and guards manned nearly every post. Word travels fast of attack.
Drek'jar knew the real reason for coming here, to the Aerie Peaks: the supplies. The dwarves held nearly as much technology and supplies here in the Aerie Peaks as they did in Ironforge. However, the others thought it was just lambs to slaughter in the Hinterlands. They were right.
'Form up, on me!' A phalanx formation was set up, and with Melraudius and the banner at the head, the party charged into the escarpment and screamed, 'FEAR THE GRIN!'.
The stout guards were, quite clearly, taken off guard, and many we slain before any alarm was sounded. Drek'jar watched atop his war wolf as Siaculian went into melee with one dwarf, jumping backwards while nocking an arrow, and ending the short, miserable creature's life. Turning his head, Drek'jar watched once more as Zorba burnt her counterparts to the ground with ease, and much pleasure. She was giggling the whole time.
Melraudius howled with fury as he swiped with the banner, fitted with a serrated edge, and severed the head of the other combatant. Eventually, the entire group worked their way inside the keep, until finally all resistance was crushed for the moment. Siaculian and Zorba proceeded to rig the place with explosives placed on gunpowder barrels, artillery, and in the nearby armory, while Kel'thorin sabotaged all of the dwarves' flying contraptions. All except one.
'Grin, status update?!' Drek'jar bellowed.
'Shes gonna blow!' Zorba and Siaculian scream in unision.
Kel'thorin hops into the airplane he didnt sabotage and works the controls, quickly figuring out the kinks. 'Hop in!' Kel'thorin firmly states, grinning wickedly at Drek'jar.
A human death knight shatters the wall in the hanger, just as Zorba becomes the last person to board the contraption. Leaping off, Drek'jar unslings Frosthowl and severs the head of the death knight. The airplane is off, however, and Drek'jar proceeds to find his own way out. He quickly --- and luckily --- does. Diving out of the path of debris as the bunker blows into oblivion, Drek'jar peers curiously back to the way he came from and discovered a wrecked bunker. Grinning wickedly to himself, Drek'jar whisper three words:
'Fear the Grin.'