Trials of Azeroth

Chapter 10

"Alright gents, Listen Up!" Bellowed Marshal Redpath, pacing up and down the line of both Southshore guards and the 4 intrepid adventurers.
"In two hours, we will begin the assault on the objective! Ramley and his men, accompanied by our 4 volunteers, will approach the hideout dressed in the garb our informant has so kindly provided us!" Stated the broad shouldered, battle scarred Marshal. He paused to inspect the men of the strike force. The rank of alliance guards, veteraned from many a skirmish with the horde of these parts, stood proud in their well worn armour, bearing a multitude of vicious looking weaponry. For the 4 volunteers, it was a different story. The tall lanky elf, bearded veteran warrior, minuscule grey haired gnome and red faced drunken dwarf didn't look like much of an effective, cohesive fighting unit, but no one doubted their enthusiasm. They would have the opportunity to prove themselves to their colleagues soon enough.

"You will enter under the guise of a resupply wagon from the Alterac mountains, with our 4 friends hidden inside the wagon. Whilst you're readying yourselves, Captain Tavers and his men will launch the assault on the outside of the hideout. Use this as your signal to spring your attack. We will clear the hideout with force, capturing any information or prisoners that we can. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!"
"Yes, Sir!"
"Good! Now, Mr Brackbyrne has something he needs to say." Continued the Marshall, nodding at the warrior.
"Thank you kindly, Marshall Redpath. Now, if anyone happens to spot a certain bandit in their with a heavily scarred face and a bandaged leg, leave him alive. He has something very important of mine that I wouldn't mind taking back." Explained Codin.
"Is that all, Master Brackbyrne?"
"It is, Marshall. Thank you."
Redpath nodded and turned back to face the line of guardsmen.
"Dismissed"
"Yes Sir!"
The guards sprang into action, readying themselves for what was about to come. Belmin turned to his comrades and as usual, voiced his opinion.
"I don't suppose it's too late to get my old job back is it?" He gulped, scratching his beard nervously.

The force got themselves ready, dressed in the appropriate Stoneraven garb and set off into the wilds of Hillsbrad. The four had hidden themselves under the tarpaulin that wrapped the wagon, ready to emerge with weapons drawn at a moments notice. The party ventured north, towards the foothills, aware of their surroundings at all times. As they marched, a dense fog descended onto the wilds of Hillsbrad, thankfully concealing the men from the watchful eyes of the horde.

After a solid half hour of trekking off the beaten track, they finally made it to their objective. A small path lead up to a secluded wooden gate in the side of the mountain that stood watching over the path. The party took cover behind a clump of trees, and Sergeant Ramley met with Captain Tavers and discussed their next action.
"Are we ready to move, Captain?" Asked the Sergeant, in his gruff, working class accent.
"As soon as my men get into position, sergeant." Replied Captain Jon Tavers, a grey, whiskered survivor of the 1st and 2nd war.
"Right-o, sir." Winked Ramley, setting off back to his men.

Meanwhile, the four were becoming rather uncomfortable in their concealed positions.
"Get that bloody elvish bow outta my back!" Whispered Belmin, adjusting himself.
"How dare you, this bow happens to be-"
"Belmin, move your damn hammer! Its poking some place where it definitely shouldn't be!" Cursed Codin.
"Well I would if this wee little thing moves over a bit!"
"Who are you calling 'little', dwarf? It seems very rich coming from you!" Hissed Fizzbiscuit.

They suddenly heard footsteps approaching the cart.
"Shut up, the lot of you!" Ordered the sergeant. "We're moving in!"
The four fell silent as the guards began to move themselves and the wagon into position. They advanced up the slope until they got to the gate of the hideout, where they then stopped and set down the wagon. Ramley pulled up the purple bandana over his mouth and three times, knocked hard on the wooden gate. He waited a second or two before a narrow slit in the entrance was opened, where the eyes of the Stoneraven gatekeeper peered through. "The raven sits atop the mountain." Rasped the gatekeeper.
"And is a steadfast as the stones it rests upon." Replied the sergeant, presenting the correct pass phrase. The gate keeper studied him for a good few moments before opening his mouth once more.
"What's your business here, brother?" He asked.
"Delivering supplies and reinforcements." Stated Ramley, hoping his cover story would hold.
"Really?" Questioned the bandit, a puzzled look on his face. "Half the garrison left two days ago."

'Oh bugger...' Codin sighed internally.
"Well my orders say that these men and this here wagon have to be delivered to this establishment by the 3rd week of this moon." Argued Ramley, trying to stay calm whilst presenting the guard with his forged document.
"See, even got old Tully's signature and all." He continued. The stoneraven studied the parchment for a few dozen seconds, making sure nothing was out of order. Eventually, he complied.
"Alright then, mate, in you come." He replied, handing the document back to Ramley and opening the barred wooden gate. The wagon was wheeled into the hideout, with all four passengers silently giving thanks. The group made their way down into the subterranean hideaway and along to the storehouse. The guards heaved the wagon along neatly carved passages, wide enough for half a dozen horsemen, with torches neatly illuminating the surroundings. The dull sound of chatter echoed throughout the hideout, with the ring of the smithy and the smell of smoke accentuating the general atmosphere. It was clear this was no amateur set up.

The cart was finally set down in the storehouse, a large round room with stacks of crates and shelves piled high on top of each other, after a few minutes of navigating the winding passageways of the mountain retreat. The Stoneraven lieutenant who had led the party here then turned to the disguised guards and spoke up.
"Alright, you lot, come with me. We're off to see the boss to get you your orders." He stated. "And you, the leader." He continued , pointing to Ramley. "I want you to start unloading these supplies. I'll send someone down to help in a while. Understood?"
"Yes sir." Replied the sergeant.
"Good. Then get to work, come on!"
He led the group of guards out of the storehouse and down to the main hall whilst Ramley went about unpacking the cart. He was about to tear off the tarpaulin and let the 4 out, but suddenly the sound of footsteps grew closer to the door.
"Oh thank the gods! I couldn't spend another damn minute in this blasted thi-" Stated Belmin, near the top of his lungs as always.
"Shut up!" Hissed Ramley as he watched the door open. A huge brute of a man came walking through the doorway and into the storehouse, scratching his belly and belching loudly.
"Lootenant says he needs you in the mess hall, now." Stated the near incomprehensible bandit.
"But he said I was supposed to-" Protested Ramley.
"It wasn't a blaady request! Hop to it!" Shouted the brute.
"Sir." Replied the sergeant, helpless in the situation. Ramley reluctantly exited the room as the brute made his way over to the cart. Codin's blood ran cold as he tightened his grasp on his bastard sword. Though, through a stroke of luck, the giant passed by the wagon and made his way to a keg of beer right next to it, and began to pour himself a drink. Seizing the initiative, Fizzbiscuit crawled out from underneath the tarp, climbed onto of the wagon and tapped the brute on his shoulder. He turned around clumsily, to find a small grey haired gnome dressed in a purple robe with a fiendish grin on his face staring right at him.
"Salutations." Greeted the gnome.
"What the?!"

Before he could react, Fizzbiscuit fired off a fireball into the brute's chest, sending him rocketing into a towering shelve behind him. He crashed into the wooden structure and fell on his behind, with the whole structure toppling down onto him. The crash echoed throughout the multitude of passageways, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the hideout right to their position. Hwinion emerged from the wagon first, and shot his old time colleague a disappointed frown. All that the gnome could do was smile and laugh nervously.
"Hehe, sorry..."