The outpost of Razor Hill was quiet as a young grunt arrived. His name was Jarax; he was fresh from the Valley of Trials and newly enlisted in the horde army. Razor Hill was his first post.

The outpost itself was small, with only three main buildings: the Barracks and training area, the Inn and the command bunker. At the centre, two roads met: one connected the Valley of Trials to Orgrimmar; the other lead to the Crossroads.

Jarax needed to find the outpost commander, so he approached a grunt who was patrolling between the south and west gates.

“Hail,” Jarax said, raising his hand; the grunt stopped.

“Hail, Youngling,” the grunt responded. “What do you need?”

“My orders are to report to Blood Guard Gar’Thok. Where can he be found?” Jarax asked.

“In the bunker,” the grunt responded. “You must be Tor’Leg’s replacement. Better move it: you don’t want to keep him waiting,”he added as he resumed his patrol.

Jarax headed for the bunker, which was situated so it could watch over the outpost with ease. Entering and climbing the stairs to the viewing platform, Jarax found Blood Guard Gar’Thok looking out over the junction as two traders made their way to Orgrimmar.

“So you’re the reinforcements that I was promised,” the Blood Guard commented without turning around.

“Sir?” Jarax asked, not sure what the Blood Guard meant.

“Never mind,” Gar’Thok said, turning round. “Let’s see those orders then.”

Gar’Thok inspected the note Jarax handed him for a brief moment. Then he nodded and returned it.

“Report to the Quartermaster for your gear,” Gar’Thok ordered. “Once you’re ready, talk to Sergeant Blac’Mar at the east gate for your shift rotation.”

“Zug zug,” Jarax saluted and left.

The Quartermaster was an orc who, long ago, had hung up his axe after decades of fighting for the Horde. He looked on in amusement as he handed Jarax his gear, and laughed heartily as the outpost’s newest grunt struggled to secure his red, spiked shoulder pads. This one piece of armour, more than any other, identified him as a grunt.

“Don’t worry about it, we all had trouble with those damn shoulders when we first put them on,” the Quartermaster laughed. “Here, let me help you,” he offered, stepping closer and tightening the straps that held the shoulders in place.

Once he was ready, Jarax picked up his heavy iron axe and headed for the east gate. Sergeant Blac’Mar was easy to spot: he stood a head taller than the others around him. As Jarax drew close, he noticed that the large orc’s dark skin had a slight red tinge to it.

“Sergeant Blac’Mar, Sir,” Jarax said, saluting. “Blood Guard Gar’Thok told me to report to you for my shift rotations, Sir.”

Blac’Mar turned slowly to look at him. In his right hand was the largest mace Jarax had ever seen.

“Don’t sir, me, I’m no officer! I work living,” Blac’Mar said loudly; a few orcs close by grinned. “So you’re the new grunt, huh? You look more like a runt to me.”

Being called a runt infuriated Jarax, so, all of a sudden, he swung his axe at Blac’Mar. Without the use of his Mace the large orc both blocked and deflected the blow, then as Jarax staggered back, he kicked him to the ground. The spectators laughed as the younger orc flew through the air and landed on his back. Before he could get back up, that huge mace had pinned his chest and the sergeant looked down at him. Defiantly, Jarax stared back; for a moment Blac’Mar held his stare, then he too laughed.

“You got some guts attacking me like that, orc,” Blac’Mar said as he laughed. “For now, you can man the north road between here and Orgrimmar,” he ordered as he helped Jarax to his feet. Jarax dusted himself off, saluted and headed for the north road as he was ordered.

The rest of the day passed without incident; in fact it was rather boring and not at all like Jarax had thought it would be. He had pictured himself in the middle of a vast battlefield, slaying all the enemies of the horde that came before him, not standing watching the local traders argue over who had right of way.

The most interesting civilian to pass by was a troll mounted on a raptor: he sped past the slow moving trade wagons. Upon entering the outpost he dismounted his steed and entered the bunker. Jarax watched until the troll was out of sight and he found himself giving directions to the Valley of trials to a Peon.

It was only a few minutes after the Peon had left that Jarax sighted a group of six Razormane Scouts approaching along the road. The six short stubby pig men walked in a row, their Quills raised. Jarax looked at them for a moment and then towards the other grunt on the other side of the road with a puzzled expression, the other orc returned his look.

Then in unison the Razormanes pulled up their crossbows and fired at both orcs. Lucky they were poor shots due to their small eyes. Also they were stupid enough to fire all at the same time and so as they were reloading Jarax and the other grunt charged.

The first Razormane was decapitated by Jarax’s initial swing and a second was knocked to the ground a crashed under his massive boot. A third drew a short dagger and stabbed at his exposed torso but the orc caught the pig’s neck with ease and with a twist snapped it, the other grunt by now had killed the other three Razormanes.

Just then a horn sounded coming from the direction of the eastern gate. Both orcs ran leaving the bodies of their attackers where they lay. When they reached the eastern gate they found the area covered in the corpses of many more Razormane and a few groaning orcs. Blood Guard Gor’Thok was there talking with Blac’Mar and the Troll who had arrived just moments before the attack had begun.

“Its gone sir,”Blac’Mar said to his superior “While we have not lost any Grunts there were to many to hold back and a small force manage to make off with the pay-roll”

“This is unheard of, the Razormane have been pests yes but they have never openly attacked Razor Hill so blatantly,” Gor’Thok declared. “Well what ever the reason we must get that pay-roll back.”

Though out this the troll remained quiet and said nothing, he looked over the scent and moved to the gate. With a deep breath he then spoke.

“There is more going on here than a simple raid by the Razormane, their leader has been seen in the company of a quilboar from the much more aggressive tribes living in the Barrens, Geolord Mottle” The troll explained. “It seems to me that it is this quilboar has pushed the Razormane tribe into attacking Razor hill. It is critical that this quilboar is captured or killed in order to keep the peace in Durotar and sever this tribe from the others,” he declared, then turned back to look at both orcs.

“Sergeant I want you to gather a squad of capable Grunts and assist Dakal’jin in dealing with this threat,”

“Yes sir,”Blac’Mar replied saluting. “You Grunt,” he said pointing at Jarax. “Since you seem to be happy to listen in to this conversation you just volunteered to join the squad.”

Jarax blinked a few times in surprise as Blac’Mar picked another ten orcs who had little or no wounds to slow them down. No sooner had the last ‘volunteer’ joined the squad that they were off in hot pursuit. Just over the hill they quickly came across the bodies of more Razormanes who had been wounded and left to die just out of view of Razor Hill.

While the quilboars had a good half an hour head start they were burdened by the loot they had stolen from the camp and their wounded, while the orcs were not. The main Razormane encampment was insight when the orcs finally caught up with their prey.
Screaming battle cries the orcs fell upon the rear of the fleeing Razormanes. Two Orc Raiders along with Dakal’jin Plunged into the front of the Razormanes forcing them to fight rather than escape.

Jarax was busy swinging his axe killing and maiming them with ease while he notice Blac’Mar crushing all the quilboar between him and Captain Flat Tusk leader of the Razormane tribe.

Squealing his own battle cry Flat Tusk charged towards the huge figure of the sergeant. With his opening attack the quilboar swung his axe in the exact same way Jarax had done when Blac’Mar was taunting him. The orcs response was exactly the same, only this time with more force. As he kicked the quilboar back he griped the wrist that held the axe and pulled it towards him, resulting it a cringe making crack as Flat Tusk’s arm broke. As the quilboar struggled to get back on its feet Blac’Mar swung his two handed mace with all his strength in an over head swing directly onto the leader of the Razormane skull.

That would have been the end of the fight had another much larger quilboar appeared, this one had the power of fire magic to call on. It was Geolord Mottle; his fireballs struck two orcs and killed one Razormane who just got in the way. Then just as suddenly as he had appeared Dakal’jin was behind him bringing a mace down on the back of his head.

None of the Razormanes escaped, most were killed the others taken back to Razor hill to be held until they could be shipped off to the Under City where the Forsaken researchers could study them in detail. As for Geolord Mottle he was taken back to Orgrimmar for interrogation and eventually execution.

Jarax however knew none of what happened to the defeated quilboar life for him went on. As he sat by the watch tower looking out as the sun set over his home land the old orc next to him regaled him with tales of wars and battle long ago were he fought for the glory of the horde. While he listened Jarax wondered when his time for such events would come.