King’s Run | 9.3.2019
South of Ironbeard’s Tomb, Wetlands
The gunpowder blast from the blunderbass disturbs the murky-still air of the swamps. Slicing through the thick mist, a dwarf emerges, trudging through the swamp water and wielding the flintlock weapon. He realizes that six hours in the slime has clouded his hunter instincts and he has, in fact, shot at thin air. Orlam Flaskbow is despondent for a moment, and the giant black bear that follows in his heels seems hungry. He reaches out, and his leather glove gently pats the bear’s head. Soon, the two companions would have killed enough Fen Creepers and they could be out of this hell hole. He manages a smile, and looks forward to Helbrek’s famous Honeymead at Deepwater Tavern.
Orlam reaches for his pouch to refill his ammunition, and then he hears it. A battlecry in the distance.
“Th’ horn o’ Clan Battlehammer shall sound in th’ deep…one more time!”
Orlam ducks, does a dexterous forward roll and hides in the thick vegetation. The black bear does the same, crouching deeper into the swampwater to camouflage itself. Two pairs of beady eyes look to the source of the noise from down the road. What was previously distinguishable as a single shout has now devolved into a crescendo of shouting, swearing and…singing?
Soon enough, the rowdy host presents itself. Watching from his hiding position, Orlam gasps, “Wha’ in Muradin’s name…”
A great company of dwarves and men are running down the road. The middle of the pack is a motley assortment of axe-wielders, hammerers, sword champions and riflemen. Dwarves of the cloth occupy the centre of the unit, tossing out prayers of fortitude to buff their clansmen and allies. The company is flanked on both sides by human and elven allies, some shouting their allegiances to the Alliance, while others keeping pace in solemn determination. Orlam shifts his gaze to the front of the company. One dwarf catches his eye, and he recognizes the leader instantly – King Bruenor Battlehammer, leading the charge, bedecked in common mail armor and wielding a fine warhammer.
The company turns at the fork of the road towards Menethil Harbor. Orlam sighs, knowing where the great company is headed.
The king is on the warpath. And there would be no ale or honeymead left at Deepwater Tavern by the time Orlam got back.
Dwarven Moot | 9.3.2019
Road outside Southshore, Hillsbrad Foothills
Nimbus clouds floating in from the horizon over the foothills bear the promise of evening rain. A great company, fourty strong, gathers the road outside Southshore. Formed by three great guilds and led by Bruenor, clansmen and allies stand at attention. Battalion commanders slowly pace the length of the three columns, relaying orders.
Mifune Mountainbreaker stands to the side of the road and takes a long drag from his pipe. He studies his clansmen and allies closely. A lot of young pups and old veterans in the mix. He sees familiar faces: Belregard the scout catching up with the venerable Pragus Blessedfeet, detailing his recent skirmishes in Kalimdor picking off horde with his rogue unit; Adaron Wokenstone, the Knight of Thistles, describing his arduous journey to paladinhood since Thelsamar; Longbeard Kalstad debating heatedly with Longbeard Callahan regarding whether Retribution was a viable path for the young clan paladins; General Arnirdan teasing ol’ Darrkale on the length of his beard; Scoutmaster Shadowforge sullenly and characteristically standing alone in the back, sharpening his daggers for the fight to come.
The drums of war and the promise of settling grudges has united three strong guilds: Clan Battlehammer, Lionguard and the Northern Alpha Company of Lordaeron (NaCl). He looks over to his old Lionguard allies. While their numbers are small, they are battle-hardened mercenaries, and stand in a small huddle, listening intently to their commander, a night elven druid by the name ‘Wildfiretips’. Satisfied, Mifune slowly walks over to the rear of the company, and finds Lord Commander Syrelion Thorne, who leads their new allies: Alpha Company.
“Lord Commander Syrelion Thorne, innit?” inquires Mifune, as he reaches out with a chainmail hand.
The tall human turns to regard the dwarf warrior, and shakes his hand with a smile. “Sorry, we haven’t been introduced.”
“Mifune Mountainbreaker, at yer service. Glad tah have oor clans workin’ tahgether”.
“Well master dwarf…ours isn’t quite a clan. We are a military outfit, with an aim to reclaim Lordaeron and eliminate the scourge.”
Mifune nods. “Aye, an’ yer reputation preceds yeh”.
Syrelion Throne seems pleased. “We have marched all the way from Ironforge to Hillsbrad, and your King hasn’t quite told us the plan yet. Is there a particular reason for stopping at Southshore?”
“It will all beh clear soone enough, Syrelion. Walk wit’ meh”.
Intrigued, Syrelion follows the black-bearded dwarf as he walks to the head of the formation, where Bruenor is consulting with his generals and longbeards. From this vantage, Syrelion is able to see up the road into the Alliance port town a little more clearly – green banners displaying gold anvils snap proudly against the breeze coming down from Baradin Bay. Below the banners, a small regiment of dwarves and gnomes stand in orderly ranks, shouting in unison: “An’ now weh sing th’ Hammersong!”
Syrelion raises his eyebrows. “Another clan?”
Mifune chuckles, adding, “Aye, wha’ yer about tah witness is a good ol’ fashion’d dwarven moot”.
At this point, Bruenor wraps up his conversation. “Well, time tah add more muscle tah our noble company! Rhusty, make sure these men don’ break their formations.” With this, he turns to Mifune and Sylerion. “Attend tah meh, Mifune.”
The dark skies open up, and it begins to pour heavily. Bruenor and Mifune walk slowly up the road to the town. They come to a stop a few hundred feet from the small regiment. There are cheers from the other clan, which prompty die down as the dwarf leading them raises a mailed fist.
As silence settles on Southshore, the commanding officer approaches Bruenor and Mifune. He comes to stand facing the two, and takes off his coif, before addressing them.
“Hail, King. It is good tah see yeh finally in th’ flesh! They call meh Thane Gargrim, an’ I am delight’d yah could make it tah Southshore.”
The King beams at Gargrim, and adds, “Aye, Thane. As yah know, I beh Bruenor Battlehammer, an’ I lead this great host outside Southshore. Yer ambassador had reach’d meh earlier regardin’ an alliance between oor clans.”
Thane Gagrim slowly nods in acquiescence. “These are troublin’ times. Did yeh meet any resistance on th’ road here?”
Bruenor grins, “A few poor sods bravin’ the road through Thoradin’s Wall. Weh trampl’d them tah dust.”
They exchange pleasantries for a while, before settling on a course of action. Mifune reaches for his backpack, and produces a detailed map, before handing it to Bruenor.
A few Hammersong dwarves bring out a table, and Bruenor lays the map down. He continues, explaining the battleplan while trailing his finger across the map.
“…an’ here. Pockets o’ resistance, but weh should beh strong. Tarren Mill will provide th’ necessary distraction, while oor scouting party maps the secret backtrail.”
The Thane’s eyes grow wide, slowly comprehending the strategy. “So weh will have a few losses here tah th’ Horde, which would buy th’ scouts enough time tah safely track th’ passage tah th’ Hinterlands”.
Bruenor folds the map, and straightens himself, “Aye, Gargim. Tah Aerie Peak, one o’ our defensive outposts. A strong footing here at th’ outset will beh greatly advantageous fer future attacks from th’ north.”
Martyrs at the Mill | 9.3.2019
Outskirts of Tarren Mill, Hillsbrad Foothills
Dwarven clans and allies stand solemnly outside the forsaken blight known as Tarren Mill. On close inspection, one might note that their numbers are poorly equipped to deal with the sheer strength and power of the tireless Deathguard Elite guarding the forsaken town. The Alliance vanguard is formed of warriors and paladins decked in copper mail armor, led by Bruenor and his commanding officers. Most of the clansmen and allies are in poor leather and cloth armor, with hammers, axes and rifles of war that are moderately effective in the context of the current attack. In comparison, the Deathguard Elite strides the edge of town in midnight black plate armor, staring hungrily at the dwarven host like a swarm of hostile insects ready to devour the rabble to pulp. In the distance, the shadowy ruins of Durnholde Keep rises ominously, blocking them off of the east.
Morale is low. Bruenor understands the sacrifice that they are about to make, like hanging a chess piece to gain a tempo. He turns to address the gathering of sombre dwarves, humans and elves under a brittle sky.
“Kinsfolk, an’ allies. Yer all meh kin now. Many of yeh will fall, an’ yer weapons an’ armor may beh covered wit’ yer own blood. But today, our sacrifice on these fields will buy th’ victory elsewhere. Weh will concentrate oor attack on this precious forsaken town, an’ horde will gather for miles tah fight us here. An’ while they ar’ distracted,” Bruenor adds, while swiping the rainwater from his eyes, “Weh will open th’ path tah Aerie Peak!”
Cheers of victory go all around, as clansmen take up the Battlehammer call and allies shout for the glory of the alliance. The clan’s notorious vanguard, the Gutbusters, clang their axes and swords against their shields, and allies shout for the glory of the noble Alliance. And with that, Bruenor picks up the pace and begins running at Tarren Mill with warhammer raised, with the might of forty behind him.
The gutbusters form the shield wall at the front of the line, while dwarven rangers and mages sling bullet and spells from the well-guarded middle. The Alpha Company, led by Lord Commander Sylerion, charge out of the formation, in a maneuver to weaken the Deathguard’s left flank. Clan Hammersong and Lionguard bring up the right flank, as they charge into the town. The tide of dwarves and allies meet the Deathguard Elite in a deafening crash.
After thirty minutes of hard fighting, the battle is in complete disarray. The merciless Elite eventually cuts through the dwarven ranks like a serrated cleaver brutalizing soft Dalaran cheese. As Horde forces join and swell the Deathguard numbers, the dwarven company is beaten down and pushed back. Mifune raises his shield, and catches a blow from a hulking Elite. His arm seems to ring from the force of the blow, and his helm is covered in blood. He looks around the battlefield, and takes full measure of the slaughter. Clan banners are strewn about the road, soaked in rainwater and blood. Cries of anguish fill the roads, as dwarves and allies are mercilessly beaten down. Hammersong dwarves and gnomes rally, forming a defensive circle around Thane Gargrim who seems to be fighting an Elite. His coif is missing, and he is bleeding profusely from his right arm.
A horn sounds loudly over the commotion. “Retreat!” barks General Rhusty. “Fall back tah Southshore!”
With the call, dwarves and allies slowly retreat, with the rearguard barely containing the onslaught of the dead. Mifune notes the Knight of Thistles in the rearguard with other dwarven paladins, who collectively beseech the light and form an unbreakable barrier against the dead. Dwarves and allies carry their injured back to the safety of Southshore, making quick work of any stragglers of the Horde who overstep the protection of the Deathguard.
The rain stops, and the road between Southshore and Tarren Mill is littered with the brutalities of war.
Mantle of the Dead | 9.3.2019
Secret backroad, a mile east of Aerie Peak, Hinterlands
A battered and reduced company of dwarves and allies slowly trek through the secret path in the mountains. After the defeat at Tarren Mill, the company had managed to lure horde within the surrounding areas into the Mill for its defense, thus securing the backroads to Aerie Peak. As the pristine home of the Wildhammer clan came into view, a few gryphon-riders flew down to the company, to carry the injured to the recently-erected field hospitals at the bottom of the peak. As instructed, Longbeard Yajin had secured the backroad and alerted the Wildhammers of the clans’ arrival.The King halts at the front and lets the company pass by him, austerely nodding to clansmen and allies. A costly victory to fight to the Peak, but one that would prove an invaluable asset in the bloody days to come.
Night gathers, and campfires light up the secluded glen, all the way up to the peak. At the top of the peak, Mifune finds Belregard staring off into the campfires below.
“Yeh aright, Belregard?”
“A costly victory, Mountainbreaker.” The dwarf seems angry, almost lost for words.
“I believe in th’ King. This foothold will save us in th’ days tah come”.
“An’ if it doesn’t?”
Mifune smiles ruefully. “If it doesn’t Bel, th’ horde ar’ going tah answer fer th’ dead”.