The burdens of command

Having endured the occasional pain that Looking For Raid, or LFR, can be when stuck with a group without order or knowledge of tactics I had to go for a walk. It appears my poor old Shuanna will never taste the sweetness of victory in bringing down Garrosh Hellscream. Two weeks in a row now groups has disbanded either on Siegecrafter Blackfuse or, wich has been more the case, on the trash after Paragons of the Klaxxi.

So my mind wandered a bit. I wonder what the debriefings sound like? You know, the report whoever was in charge has to make to king Varian Wrynn …

“Come in, marshal. I hope you bring some good news. Light knows we could use some.” Varian sat down, an expectant look on his face. “Well?”
“Ah, my liege,” the grand marshal, a veteran from both Icecrown and Alterac, cleared his throat. He had a nervous tick to his right eye. His left chin also twitched. All in all it made him look quite mad. His nervous laugh didn’t help as he started: “Sir, ah yes … Uhm … ”
“Yes?”
“The twentyfive brave heroes that stormed the gates of Ogrimmar. Ahem.”
“Yes?”
“Well, sir … Our scouts report bit of a … confusion.”
“Confusion? Speak up man!”
“They ran into some trouble, my king.”
Trouble?”
“Yes sir.”
“Explain!”
“Yes sir. Well, as you may well know, our initial contact with the enemy at the port and later at the gates came off rather well, if you allow me to say so, sir. No casualties to speak of.”
“Except lady Jaina Proudmoore, who suffered some terrible fractures when that storming orc wasn’t caught and put down in time!”
“Most unfortunate, sir. I gather she’ll be up and about soon?”
“And lady Windrunner ended up with two broken arms and a shattered pelvis!”
“Yes sir, quite. Allthough our healers did a terrific job, if I may say so.”
“And the broke my nose!”
“It’s mending qquite nice sir.”
“Never mind! What about the assault on those, what was it, Dark Shaman!?”
“Ah, yes sir. Well, sir … Uhm … A few of the troops obeyed the order to sneak past the blind blademasters, sir.”
“And!?”
“Others did not, sir.” The marshal cleared his throat. “It appears all but one managed to sneak past the blademasters, sir. Then an unfortunate incident occured.”
“Go on … ”
“It appears a mage accidentally ‘targeted’ the blademaster. As fierce fighting broke out with a few platoons of orcs in the center of the valley, the blademaster followed the sound. He wreaked quite the havoc, sir. Before being put down by a warlock.”
“A warlock? We employ demonsuckers in our army now, do we!?”
“Yes sir, the destruction warlocks, ad they like to call themselves, appear to be quite good … ‘turrets’. Sir.”
“Turrets?”
“Soldiers slang for standing still and pounding away heavy projectiles of magic, sir.”
“I knew that, marshal! go on!”
“Well, once the ‘trash’ were taken care of – with no significant losses I might add – things went according to operational plans. The strike team made ready. Then, as instructed, they sent a stealthed unit inside the warchiefs palace to make contact with an ally of Vol’Jins rebels.”
“Good! Go on!”
“The strike team lacked rogues, sir. The rogues having been carted off to the healers following the unfortunate assault on the Iron Juggernaut, sir.”
“Oh Light!”
“Yes sir, quite.”
“don’t tell me they used a … ”
“The used a hunter instead, sir.”
“Oh dear mercy, no!”
“The hunter in question did a magnificent job, sir. Just one small, very minor, detail.”
“Yes..?”
“It appears the hunter hadn’t trained her pet in the appropriate ways of handling such a situation, sir. It … growled.”
“It growled?”
“Yes sir. From what I gather the four hunters in the group had been informed in the strictest way possible to keep their pets from growling. I believe the sergeants exact words were ‘Turn your fucking growl off, huntards! And change apsects too!’.”
“Segeants do have a … way with words.” Varian sighed. “Go on, if you please.”
“The growlin pet must have attracted the attention of the three Dark Shamans, hiding in the shadows, sir. They … came upon the strike team with a vengeance.”
“Casulaties?”
“Severe, sir. Close to hundred percent.” The marshal swallowed, hard. “We had battle healers standing by. All in all the strike team came back in more or less good order. The operation as such was not delayed more than, most, an hour. Then … ”
“I dread this, marshal. I truly do!”
“One of the point-men, the ‘tank’ as they call them, had suffered serious injuries. She was taken out of service and replaced with a paladin, sir.”
“Who?”
“the one among the troops known as ‘Scrub’, sir.”
“Oh no … Tell me, please, that’s not his nickname!”
“Yes sir.” The grand marshal twitched. “You inspected his armor yourself, sir.”
“Mighty fine one too! better than the one I’m wearing!” Varian nodded. “He seemed confident and proffesional, you know.”
“Yes sir. Allthough … well. It appears he bought the title, sir.”
“Bought it?”
“Yes sir, as his armor. My forward automated scouts report –”
“That’s those mechanical cats, right?”
“Yes sir. Ingenious, if I may say so, sir. Anyway – they report he was given advice by a shadowy priest in how to wield his sword. Sir. He appears to have held it by the wrong end at first.”
“Are you trying to make me mad, marshal!?”
“No sir, far from it. I’m happy to say the team of death knights behaved like proffessionals, sir.”
“Well jolly good then, eh?”
“Yes sir. More or less.”
“Go on …”
“Some of them appeared to have had some trouble with their blood pressure. Presence, sorry. they became quite threatening. The enemy didn’t care much about hitting the tanks and went hunting for the other threat instead. Heavy losses were incurred, sir.”
“Is it over?”
“Not quite, sir.”
“Sweet Light … Enough!”
“Yes sir.”
“How is it possible that the Alliance’s finest … never mind. I’veh ad reports that an poorly geared strike team of horde rebels managed just fine, marshal. They cut through every single line of defense and are now laying siege to Garrosh final holdout. Tell me, marshal … How is that possible?”
“That’s easy, sir.”
“How? Tell me, please … ”
“Vol’Jin will cut off their heads if they fail, sir.”
“You think it’s possible I could do that to our troops?”
“No sir. You’re a, as teh grunts put it, a ‘good guy’. Sir.”
“I had a brilliant career as a gladiator once …”
“Yes sir. Shall I order a new attack sir? We still have twentyfive heroes in queue.”
“Send the word, marshal.”
“Yes sir.”
“Oh, and marshal?”

“Yes sir?”
“This time you take point … “

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