Clan Battlehammer set out for blood to celebrate their 11th year anniversary. They charged through the Badlands in direct assault of Kargath. Four or five Horde that wandered about just outside the entrance now wander no more. Afterwards, the Hammers headed to the pass to play dwarven land mines, a game that was quickly becoming a favorite past time. There is nothing like the look of a befuddled Horde face that walks upon a war band of dwarves taking a nap in the road. The dwarves are easy to wake. The only way through is a slow and careful walk. Those that tread honorably and slowly are usually granted passage with an escort to the bottom of the hill. Those that attempt to run through are efficiently slaughtered.
After ending the wills of a few that tried to pass through the dwarven mine field, the hammers headed up to the overlook near the spire. Veteran members shouted to newer ones, letting them know the rules of engagement for the pass. After 11 years, there are still new Hammers made that need to be taught the ways. A small contingent of Horde finally showed it’s face together in a weak attempt to defend Kargath. They were slaughtered or sent wailing back to the down with their tails between their legs.
As reports went out that the Hammers were guarding the pass, Horde traffic slowed a trickle. The King made the call on the word of his Mountaineer scouts to charge the mountain. A force of Horde had apparently entered from the south and needed to be dealt with. The dwarves paused briefly atop the fire path above the gate of the mountain. Many Horde had they slaughtered atop this cliff. Confirmation from the scouts came in and Clan Battlehammer charged into the mountain to eliminate the Horde. “Long live Clan Battlehammer!" echoed in the tunnel to the center of the mountain just as mighty and as intimidating as it sounded 11 years ago. The blood shed and opponents bested in this time are too many too count. This time was no different as the Hammers charged down the chain and sent chunks of their enemies flying into the lava below. The mountain had again been cleaned of Horde filth!
After the mountain had been secured, the King ordered his forces to fly out to Southshore. Almost as soon as they landed, there were calls for help from squires of Alliance troops that were being assaulted repeatedly in the Yeti caves. The Hammers mounted up and quickly extinguished the menace. To make sure the Alliance troops in the area had no more resistance, the Hammer smashed into the nearby Tarren Mill leaving a trail of fully dead corpses in their wake.
Clan Battlehammer flew back to Menethil Harbor and boarded the boat for Theramore Isle. As they waited for the ship to depart, the Hammers drank heavily and celebrated their anniversary with much fanfare. At one point they climbed all up on the ropes and cheered out their battlecry, “Long live Clan Battlehammer!” The sun beat down on the swampy landscape of Theramore Isle as the boat full of dwarves approached the dock. “Head fer Astranaar!” ordered the King. The Hammers paid the toll and hopped on gryphons to Astranaar, though it was clear to any that have ever heard the name Bruenor that this was not their final destination. Inspired by the anniversary eve, Thrandrin began loudly reminiscing atop his gryphon, “I remember when we as Battlehammers rode alongside a great Alliance on gryphons just like this, though we headed directly into Orgrimmar. Life was disrupted so much in the city for such a length of time that the Alliance actually established a foothold, bringing the Horde leaders to their knees in front of their own people more than once.”
The gryphons carrying the dwarves began to land in Astranaar. King Bruenor ordered his troops to mount up and wait for all to arrive before beginning their final assault of the celebratory night. As they waited, other dwarves began to chime in on their memories over life span of the Clan. General Yajin spoke up on a particularly memorable Brewfest. “Yeah, the Crew were brutal enemies, but this one Brewfest weh invited them in teh drink and party with us! They accepted and it was a really good time. We killed each other on sight any other time, but that moment was special.” The King began reminiscing as well, “Aye, I remember th’ bareknuckle fights we’d ‘ave at Brewfest. They were particularly painful tha’ year!” He chuckled. After all were accounted for and more stories shared in Astranaar, Clan Battlehammer moved forward toward their inevitable destination were this to be a true celebration of all the Clan has stood for over the years. They paused again atop a bridge over the river that would lead them down the side of the city of Orgrimmar. More stories poured forth as they waited on a few slower dwarves that were just leaving Astranaar.
“Aye the demon raids!” exclaimed the King as a veteran members started buzzing about the words. “Weh used teh ‘ave a magical cave tha’ would transform us into th’ most vile creatures for a duration. Weh’d always return to dwarves o’ course. Well, there was a time weh made a deal with a warlock that ‘ad managed teh sneak inteh Orgrimmar. We’d all change into demons an’ then summon straight into Orgrimmar to unleash foul magics on th’ Horde. We’d of course do the same as not demons, as simply dwarves. Weh took some painful beatings, but they were always worthy battles!”
“Ready! Jump!” yelled the King as the final dwarves approached the bridge. The Hammers jumped with joy and landed with giant splashes in the river below. As they swam toward the banks of river where they would prepare for their strike, more dwarves yelled out stories of their time in Clan Battlehammer. Between breaths Mithrildur shared “I was parked outside of Orgrimmar looking for trouble one day when I saw a giant Kodo stomp by me. It approached the gates of Orgrimmar and out jumped 20 dwarves! Thas when I knew tha’ Clan Battlehammer was fer meh!” Lighthouse also called out, “There was a time we used magics to turn into a bunch of itty, bitty pandas before running into Orgrimmar. The Horde were so confused!”
The dwarves of Clan Battlehammer finally got back on dry land and summoned their mounts. As they approached the gates of Orgrimmar they noticed a group of Horde gathered together. They approached and found what looked to be a barbeque hosted by… tauren?! Though not all tauren, the tabards revealed most of the Horde to be members of the Redwood Tribe, a more tolerable sect of the Horde due to their exceptional honor in battle and a stranglehold on some of the notable media news outlets in Azeroth, the Redwood Times. The Horde barbeque goers barked exclamations of excitement and curiosity as the dwarves surrounded them. “Long live Clan Battlehammer!” yelled the dwarves, inviting possible opposition to an honorable spar.
The challenge was accepted and the battle was on! Both sides fought well, but the spirit of the anniversary was with the dwarves of Clan Battlehammer was with the dwarves. The dwarves were successful victors of the first match and lined up to see their rivals ready to engage in a second round. “Long live Clan Battlehammer!” yelled the Hammers, each of them filled with the feeling of importance that comes with carrying out a tradition. Long had this been a tradition for many Hammers over 11 years. So many battles had been fought in this spot and so many others. The Horde had begun to receive additional numbers beyond the initial sparring barbeque goers. The fight became more intense as good willed sparring devolved into the endless battle it had always been. Just as with the Alliance, some sects of the Horde may be relatively neutral. But when enough blood has been spilt and enough enemies join the fray, self-preservation becomes of utmost importance. More Horde began to press forward beyond the line at a faster rate. A third wave of battle formed with no quarter being given to either side at this point. The dwarves charged forward with the loudest and most peace shattering “Long live Clan Battlehammer!” yet. Residents well on the other side of Orgrimmar likely heard the ruckus. The battle became pure chaos as spells and arrows whizzed by in every direction. Friend and foe began to drop at a rate unacceptable for either side. The King signaled the retreat to Ironforge.
Back at the forge, the King bellowed "Dwarves of Clan Battlehammer! Yeh ‘ave been proving yerselves worthy teh wear our tabard tonight! Slayin’ countless horde! Some of yeh ‘ave ben doin’ it fer 11 years! Many Alliance were nursing when weh started! But weh be dwarves! Ol’ as th’ mountains themselves!” A random gnome ran by the celebratory display and gushed, “My heroes!” The King laughed and ordered his troops to respond with a ram salute to the Commons of Ironforge. “Long live Clan Battlehammer!” the dwarves yelled with all their might!
King Bruenor ordered his troops to finish the celebration with a tradition longstanding in Clan Battlehammer. Dwarves mounted their rams and marched around Ironforge in a semi-orderly line. “11 years!” sounded off each of the Hammers as they exited the Commons.
Happy 11th Anniversary Clan Battlehammer! Hail King Bruenor!
Photo style story from the event:
https://imgur.com/gallery/wUqpdsG