The dwarves of Clan Battlehammer gathered on the Wind’s Redemption in Boralus in larger numbers than had been seen at any point in the past moon. Spirits were high and the King was present. Plans were made to assist the Alliance in crippling the Horde forces throughout Zandalar. The first hunting ground would be in the bogs of Nazmir.
The hooves of their rams muffled by the soft mud ground, the Hammers paraded around Nazmir. There were a few Horde that met their end through clean, dwarven steel, but the swamp was quiet. The King grew restless, his thirst for blood unsated. The Hammers were ordered to whistle a taxi to the nearest Alliance camp. As the dwarves landed and dismounted, gyrphons flew off into the sky in every direction, looking like the top part of a fountain where the droplets of water disperse to return to the source. Clan Battlehammer returned to the Forge and made plans to lay siege to the cities of the Horde. A dwarf does not simply abandon his lust for battle in the absence of foes. He instead dives straight into the nest.
Soon, the dwarven army hovered above that very nest deep in Durotar. The spikey Gates of Orgrimmar lay before them. Many races would be intimidated, but the dwarves of Clan Battlehammer only found their heads full of bloody visions in which they took gross delight, the city’s very own inhabitants stacked like kebabs on the points. King Bruenor led the charge with even his swiftests of dwarves struggling to keep up. The gryphons landed in several spaced apart thumps that sounded like a large clefthoof might be on a rampage headed towards the door. There was no clefthoof today, only the chiseled, bearded faces of stone backlit with maddened eyes fueld by of fire, ice, and the Light. The guards at the front gate were easily hacked to pieces as the Hammers pressed forward and descended into the Orgrimmar portal room.
After dispatching the unlucky portal room guards, the King gave the order to encircle spawn point. “Yeh all came here fer one thing and one thing onleh!” shouted the King. His face oozed rage. “To kill Horde! But don’t yeh ferget…” He paused dramatically with a battle-hardened stare that stirred nervousness in his ranks. The silence in the portal room was surreal as the King stared down his own troops. There were yells coming down the tunnel from incensed Horde guards bent on reclaiming the room.
Suddenly, the King’s face softened into a cheery grin as he chuckled out “… teh ‘ave a drink an’ do some dancin’ while weh do it! Weh beh dwarves!” The room was filled with guffaws as the dwarves pulled out flasks and began to drink and show off their moves. “Tha’s right!” King Bruneor yelled. “Dance! The dance of death! Don’t kill 'em right away. Let ‘em see yer style first! Then up teh th’ spikes with 'em!” he roared. His troops let forth cheers of merriment that oddly juxtaposed the impending air of slaughter. Dwarves took turns guarding the entrance and doing the dance of death, throwing incoming portal users into a catatonic state of confusion and fear as they materialized inside of circle of drunken, dancing, and battle-hungry dwarves.
Scouts report sizable Horde resistance gathering just inside the gates of the city beyond the portal room entrance. King Bruenor led the Hammers back out through the front gates Durotar, mercilessly ending the lives of the few Horde defenders that tried to attack the dwarves as they exited. Gryphons showered down just outside the gates, and the dwarves ascended as the King forced his gryphon to bank hard towards the west gates of the city. The Horde thought the merry madness over, but the King was just getting started.
First the Hammers crashed into the Hall of Legends claiming it for their own. They were met with little resistance, and soon the King ordered the troops to charge back out. They raced down the hill toward the auction house in the Valley of Strength. The Horde far outnumbered the dwarves, but it did not matter on this night. The drunken ranks were feeling no pain while distributing it in unfathomable amounts. They rolled into the auction house, pinballing around until nothing red breathed further. They crashed back out into the Valley just as quickly murdering the Horde reinforcements that scrambled awkwardly to their deaths.
Finally satisfied with the kill count, King Bruenor led the troops back out the front gates with little opposition. Several dwarves planted a banner in their wake. The floor of the Valley was painted with Horde blood and body parts with the crossed-hammer banners serving as a signature on the twisted piece of art.
(( I’m not trust level anything. If you’d like to see this story with pictures, I have an imgur setup for that.
https://imgur.com/gallery/H948dmQ))