We crossed over into the Red World at first light. The passing through the portal seemed to tear at every inch of muscle and flesh in my body. I could hardly imagine what it was doing to the gyphons. Their world is barren and dead. We marched through after the human regiments, and what little fortifications we could make barely dug into their red sand. My Magna has told me we are to push up to a ridge near their fortress. We've been given orders for bombing runs along their lines.
They were prepared for us when we came. We expected some level of respite when crossing over, but we instead had to do so with hammer in hand. I saw three of my shield-brothers fall in securing our foothold. We've been told to burn our dead; we don't know what the dark sorcerers of the Orcish Horde are capable of.
Dawnwing seems to be reacting poorly to the thin air on this hellish world. They call it Draenor. I call it one rock better than a pile of shite. If asked, I couldn't tell you why they even fought to protect this land. But I know full well why they fought so hard to leave it.
Alliance Expeditionary Force