"Wildhammer Clan Dwarves—a variety of Dwarves
Inhabiting the Hinterlands, in Aerie Peak.
Named after the eponymous titular clan.
After the War of the Three Hammers,
They left the lands native to all Dwarves,
Heading north, where they founded a new city
Near a griffon nesting ground.
Stately and proud, like their loyal friends the griffons,
They became famous for their ferocity, resilience, and courage,
Which any warrior of Azeroth could envy!"
"Close ranks!"
The Sarge's booming cry interrupted the insane roar of hundreds of throats—echoing off our ruined fortifications. The ancient battle cry with which Orcs always went into battle sounded once again over Tol Barad!
"LOK'TAR OGAR!"
Holding my shield in front of me, I thrust forward my modernized pistol, in which a gear struck the flint itself, throwing sparks. Just pull the trigger, and in practically ten seconds, six bullets—my little steel babies, no matter what Sarochka called them or how she mocked them—would fly into the fanged face of the monster.
The pistol spat out projectiles one after another, shattering skulls and leaving painful wounds in the bodies of the seven-foot brutes. My weapon could shoot further than anyone else's, so in every encounter, single shots with small intervals opened the parade, Barzul! (Untranslatable Dwarven curse)
"Kazuk-ha! Kazuki-ha!"
"HAAA!"
Yelling at the top of my lungs, the Human soldiers repeated after me, taking the wave of green-skinned bodies onto their shields. The first rows collapsed to the ground, buried under massive carcasses. They had no chance of holding in this collision, but that was exactly the plan.
"BARU!"
At my command, the second row pushed huge pikes forward with all their might. Iron-shod, sturdy, and thick so that the Orcish brute strength couldn't snap them, they skewered the bare-bottomed savages through, piercing those behind them as well.
The joyful cries of our enemies turned into wails of pain and howling as several spears lifted the largest bastard into the air like a cursed banner, hoisting him over the battlefield so the others wouldn't dare.
The "beast" roared, kicked, and thrashed in convulsions, screaming in his vile, grotesque language, but we didn't let him die, blocking the path for the others. He was to serve as an example of what would happen if they didn't stop.
"Sara!"
"I know, I know!"
Not another word was spoken as arrows flew into the narrow passage from behind our backs. Volley after volley, they felled the mighty bodies, reaching even the swiftest. Then spears flew forward, the remains of gunpowder bombs, crossbow bolts, and reloaded pistols—of which we had very few left—were discharged.
The corridor filled with hundreds of lethal projectiles, resembling a fallen forest where Orcs and Trolls stood in place of trunks.
To top it all off, a dense fireball flashed right over our heads, flying deep into the enemy formation and exploding in a massive wave of flame and death.
"Take that!" Thrusting a fist, I sent a couple of indecent gestures after the fleeing green-skins. "Taste our Azerothian hospitality, you fucking savages!"
"YES! GET 'EM, BOYS!"
"ATTACK!"
The scattered and disoriented members of The Horde presented easy prey, and unleashing our rage and pain, we ran straight at them, finishing off anyone who moved, while the rest were prodded and had their heads split with blades just in case.
"Back! Back!" Grabbing the most eager by the scruff of their necks, one of the sergeants held the boys and girls back from pursuing the fanged freaks. "Don't go near the doors!"
Taught by bitter experience, we were now afraid to go near windows or doors, trying to stay deep within the fortress and shooting at anything that flashed in the openings. Besides the damn lizards, Goblins had now taken to climbing in there and tossing gunpowder bombs at us. The little shits, giggling nastily, committed atrocities, reducing our already meager forces.
"I'll wipe my beard with it!" Trying to ignore the bruise forming under my clothes on my left shoulder, I addressed the warriors gathered around me. "That was a great battle! At this rate, we might just win this war all by ourselves!"
"YES!"
Shaking their weapons and hollering, the soldiers vented their emotions under my satisfied gaze.
Today there were even fewer of us; not a single battle with Orcs passes without losses, not a single day ends without injuries, and not once have we fully healed our ailments.
Too little of everything, too many enemies.
"At this rate, they'll wipe us out in a couple of days, and that's if they don't decide on a full-scale assault," I whispered under my breath, receiving nodding agreement from Sarandiel as she approached. "And all this—it's just child's play. Like they're weeding out the most rowdy ones."
"Could very well be." Furrowing her brow amusingly, making her long eyebrows twitch—followed by my amused gaze—Sarochka recalled the information known to the entire Systems Alliance about the Orcs and their cultural life. "If the chieftain has changed or there's internal strife, this is the best solution to their problems."
"I hope they have many more such candidates," I said, catching the beauty's skeptical look and giving her a jaunty wink. "We'll live longer."
"You're an optimist, midget."
"Pff, I don't want to hear anything from a pointy-eared Ranger who could have run away at any second," I grumbled under my breath, adjusting my battered gear as I went, but I couldn't resist a small jab, "but stayed here..."
I even felt a sort of inner warmth toward this skinny, troublesome brat. Not like the warmth from mushroom brew, dragon meat, or a job well done, but still...
I even thought about punching her in the shoulder, but decided against it.
"I'll probably just break her arm."
"Let's go rest; these might be the last quiet hours."
"True enough, Dwarf."
Our pair was the last to leave the body-strewn corridor; only a couple of sentries at the very end, which bordered our territory of the castle, stood guard and watched to warn the others in time.
The fortunate layout and the collapses had made the defense of Tol Barad many times easier. At least the remaining defenders convinced themselves of this, trying not to think about the fact that this was our last stand, and should the Orcs break through, our fate would be sealed.
"What's even left of this Tol Barad..."
"What are you grumbling about again? Speak up." Overtaking me by a couple of steps, her appetizing backside swaying at the level of my face, Sarandiel rolled her eyes in annoyance as soon as she realized where I was looking... To my surprise, she didn't even react to it! "I knew you mostly talk to stones, but you're constantly muttering under your breath when there are plenty of people around."
"Tree goat, leave an old man in peace," I said, letting her huff pass my ears and waiting until the doors were shut behind us before speaking again. "I'm actually busy with important business."
Glancing suggestively at my hands, which had begun packing a pipe for smoking without commands from my brain, I unabashedly continued our "social" conversation amidst the groans of the wounded and the foul smell of dead bodies.
"Here's the thing, my dear..."
"Dog."
"...The lads who inspected the Beer Lord said he looks quite decent," I said, taking a deep drag and blissfully blowing a couple of smoke rings right into my "beloved's" face. "Of course, there are no guns left and maneuvering is questionable, but... I'm thinking of sending Gorbin with a couple of crazed volunteers to drag him onto some half-sunken vessel and fix him up."
"A magnificent plan..."
"You bet!"
"And the dragons there don't bother you?"
"Reinforcements from Aerie Peak will arrive today or tomorrow." I shrugged carelessly, as if what I said was already a fait accompli; nevertheless, I couldn't help but jab at our kin from the far north, whose help we so eagerly awaited. "The Wildhammer Clan are total zoophiles and fools, but they keep their word."
Grimacing at the vulgar words, the girl sat down on a nearby stone, brushing her hair and adjusting her armor. Her eyes closed, and she fell into silence, reflecting on my words.
"Think we'll make it?"
"No other options."
Shrugging my broad shoulders, I sat down beside her, casting a dull gaze over our surroundings.
"Wounded, half-empty supplies, broken weapons being fixed practically on our knees. At this rate, we'll soon have to fight in a semi-delirium, with bare fists." A crooked grin crossed my face. In the dim light, with such an expression on my mug, it was clearly visible how many new scars adorned my already battered face. "Not that the Orcs would mind. I think they'd welcome it, roaring and exulting fiercely, but it doesn't make it any easier."
"Don't state the obvious, Dwarf; my eyes are sharper than any hawk's—I see and understand everything perfectly well myself," Sara said, twisting her lips as our eyes met, nodding understandingly. "Then we'll need masters and guards to get them out if necessary, and we'll have to work only at night so the dragons don't notice—or better yet, in fog. I don't know how well those beasts see in the dark."
"We'll ask your sister to heat up some water," I didn't see many other options, even knowing in advance how Sarandiel would object. "Let her and her 'magic battalion' work for the common good."
"And who will hold the shields over the castle?"
"We'll hold out for a day, and after that, it's do or die."
"You're suggesting a truly gruesome death by fire or suffocation instead of a battle with mighty enemies."
A crooked smirk—identical to mine—looked rather unnatural on the Elf's perfect face.
"BA!"
Slapping my leg, I burst into laughter, seeing out of the corner of my eye my companion's sulky face.
"So you're a fan of a good fight, are you?" My irony flowed in tons, causing Sarochka's expression to instantly change to her usual contemptuous-suspicious-indignant one. "Maybe there is something of a normal species in you after all?"
"What are you implying?"
Ignoring the threat, I changed the subject, pulling out a small flask and shaking the contents at the very bottom.
"The last drops. I was waiting for a suitable occasion, and it seems it will soon arrive," nostalgia broke through my steel mask, and memories and reflections on the fate of Ironforge flooded back again. "Perhaps they'll never make anything like this again."
"..."
"So, what I'm getting at is," I said, turning to face Sarandiel and holding out the flask, "keep this for now, and once we deal with all this pile of Rukhas (Orcish shit), we'll drink it together."
Accepting the container from me with doubt, the Elf looked at my turned-away face for a few more seconds, weighing something for herself, until she finally stood up.
"So be it." I didn't notice it myself, rather I felt how the intonations in the pointy-ear's voice changed, and her cheeks began to flush. "I'm going up to watch for a new attack and keep an eye on the dragons; you take care of our transport, Rodgirn..."
Tossing her hair, she turned around so quickly that I didn't even have time to react. And the only thing that came to mind was her disregard for our airship.
"It's actually the Beer Lord! Not just some 'transport'!"
I shouted after the departing girl, who quickly navigated the makeshift camp, deftly avoiding collisions and jumping over the resting bodies of the soldiers.
"Brat, she could have at least said a proper goodbye. Well, time to get to work."
Something insane, dangerous, and illogical awaited me, so for such a job, I knew exactly one proven and reliable candidate.
"Tim!"
******
Getting Narandiel to heat a large amount of water for us and burn straw along with various trash to create smoke and fog wasn't difficult.
With her signature tender smile, she listened to my plan, nodding in the right places; only this made our entire repair team break into a sweat and avert their eyes.
The elder of the sisters said nothing, but I felt as if I were walking on a razor's edge and was only a step away from death. A painful and terrifying one; at the same time, I wondered once again what on earth Anduin had told them, that at even the slightest threat to my life, the Elf loses her mask and looks like a seasoned killer!?
And finally, having waited for evening and survived another attack, we all set off together toward the crash site, where my dear little airship was "napping" on the wreckage of some frigate. Literally dear. Thoras had sunk so much money into my toys that it would have been possible to build a small naval fleet, but what's done is done.
Swimming through the wreckage of ships, trying not to raise my head too high and keeping to the shadows of the nautical giants, I followed right behind a pair of scrawny fellows. To the eye, they were ordinary men, weather-beaten and dry as a rail, but these guys swam well enough to make many envious. Deftly rowing with their hands, they covered a distance in a couple of strokes that would take ordinary people half a minute.
Thus we continued our journey, occasionally hiding from dragon riders flying at low altitudes or their larger and prouder kin. A couple of times we dove to avoid the attention of a Troll ship patrolling this sector; using torches, mirrors, and some kind of fabric, they had created a directed beam of light that pierced the darkness like the Holy Light.
"Where did they even find mirrors of that shape? They don't even wipe their own asses, yet they have this... Oh right, Goblins."
Restraining myself from the urge to spit into the water, I continued on, trying to catch up with the others without making any unnecessary noise.
In general, the swim was extremely difficult for all of us. Burdened with heaps of junk in leather bags, we dove often—swimming under ships, holding in one place for minutes while waiting for a patrol to sail or fly past—and overall covered a considerable distance.
At the end, when we boarded the tilted deck of the ship that had taken the Beer Lord upon itself, I nearly collapsed at my own feet along with the rest. Only natural endurance and a life of hard labor helped me maintain some semblance of strength and face.
"Well done, Your Inventiveness," one of the sailors said, grinning with his few remaining teeth as he patted me on the shoulder. "We were afraid we wouldn't make it in one go, but look at that—everyone's here and everyone's alive."
"Save your jokes, there's no time. It's time to get to work."
My mood was beyond foul. I'd had to leave my pipe in the castle, there was no beer, and I was hungry as a dog. Ahead lay an entire night of heavy labor, mixed with partisan activity and constant hiding from dragons and passing Orcs.
The ship was positioned damnably inconveniently, and despite the fact that the Beer Lord had successfully fallen nearby, submerged only a few cubits into the water and mostly hanging from the vessel's masts, the negatives outweighed all the positives.
We were perfectly visible, and while internal work could be done under the dome of the deflated balloon, the real trouble would start when we began patching the holes in the fabric and pumping gas from the spare cylinders that still had to be hauled up from underwater.
"Alright! Come on, boys, to work!"
It looked comical. Continuing to hide and speaking as quietly as possible, I gently clapped my hands and pointed to the ruins that remained of my masterpiece.
"This is our ticket home, so remember—everything depends on you!"
And the work began. Long, tedious, and heavy. As the strongest and most compact, I was forced to crawl frequently through the most awkward places where I could stand at full height. I helped retrieve the cylinders from the bottom where the pair had gone. Thank the ancestors the depth here wasn't that great, and a couple of sailors who had spent a long time in the fleet easily coached me on how to work properly underwater.
"I'll have to thank Narandiel for these glowing crystals."
Extinguishing the last one before surfacing, I rushed upward, carefully emerging and inhaling the much-desired air.
"Oh, it's good that all the critters finally cleared out. Probably got scared of the dragons, or those things ate everything in the area they could find."
Progress was slow, and there was no way to speed up. Despite all our efforts, by sunset we had only finished the repairs; we still had to pump the gas and start the engine, which we were overhauling mostly by feel, trying not to show any light in the darkness.
"Master Rodgirn, I suggest we leave! If we're caught here, they'll just burn us along with the vessel! We'll come back tomorrow and continue then."
Speaking on behalf of all interested parties, Tim was the only one who dared to approach me, seeing that this wouldn't end well.
"The devils take you, Tim! Today the Wildhammer Clan will arrive, and we must be in a condition to fly out and pick up our people from the fortress..."
"But master," the boy hesitated, choosing his words carefully, realizing that in this mood I might just strike him, "they haven't been seen for several days. What makes you think they'll come at all?"
"Because they gave their word! And a Dwarven word is not like the others!"
Feeling my voice begin to rise and my blood boil with rage, I turned back, checking the engine one last time. By a cruel twist of fate, only one of the four remained, so normal speed would be a mere dream, but it would allow us to lift the tub into the air, and we'd figure things out from there.
"I hope we figure it out... Bitch, I'll harness both the Hammers and their Griffons if they don't show up today."
My thoughts were interrupted by the philosophical reflections of one of the sailors. Sitting down on the deck, he leaned back, tilting his face toward the first rays of the sun.
"The sun is rising. Soon the Orcs will wake up too."
Confirming the man's words, Orcish drums began to beat in the distance, meaning the brutes would be storming Tol Barad.
A dragon's roar sounded in the sky, rapidly approaching us. Dropping onto the deck of the Lord, I stretched my legs, enjoying the long-awaited rest. There was no reason to jump anymore. If the lizards had spotted us, there was no running, and the transport would burn anyway.
To my surprise, the rest of the crew also stayed in place, resignedly accepting their fate.
We heard the flapping of mighty wings. The guttural cry of a rider spurring his dragon, the beast's dissatisfied and expectant roar. But a new sound intervened in this cacophony of our death serenade. A sound so familiar and alluring that, unable to restrain my curiosity, I jumped to my feet, peering out from under the dome.
"Baruk khazad!" Another legacy from ancient times. Words of the old tongue, with a clearly recognizable accent, swept through the sky.
Following this, a piercing eagle-like cry struck our ears before two mighty beasts collided in the air right above our heads. More precisely, a Griffon flew full tilt into the back of a diving lizard, tearing the Orc rider to pieces.
The two mythical beasts spun in flight, falling somewhere out of our sight, and then other Wildhammer Clan members began to dive from the heavens.
One after another, they fell upon the dragons, circling and harrying them from all sides, forcing the much larger opponents to constantly fear a strike from behind.
Thunder struck, and one of the more fortunate Griffon riders broke a lizard's spine with his runic hammer. The sound was so loud and piercing through any barrier that I was even afraid to imagine what the combatants were feeling.
Soon, following the first, new flashes and crashes rolled across the sky. A true storm struck above our heads. The swift onslaught of the brave lads from the Wildhammer Clan was crowned with success.
"Now we mustn't screw up either! Why are you standing there!? Get to work, quickly!" Kicking and cuffing them, I dispersed the men who stood frozen with their mouths open, forcing them to distract themselves from such a captivating sight and continue the work. "Start pumping the gas! We'll check all the patches on the move, engine to work! Spin the propellers, give them speed. Hey, you two, why are you frozen? Just because your dicks are in seawater doesn't mean I won't find work for you on a real vessel! Move it, help out, check the cables and knots!"
Loud commands poured out in all directions, and the work took off. The dome inflated actively, pulling us out of the water, while a couple of the strongest guys bailed out water, working the buckets to their limits.
The Beer Lord... Battered, beaten, and with many wounds, began to rise slowly as the working propellers joined in. With a strain, groaning and wheezing, my dear airship tore away from the water.
"HA-HA-HA!" My thunderous laughter was accompanied by the strained puffing of the engine, sounding more like the cough of a sick old woman. "Go on, darling, show them that Dwarves can fly themselves, not just on some beasts!"
Obeying my voice, the Lord, straining its strength, spun the propellers. The engine roared like a madman, constantly shaking and rattling. A light smoke came from it, but it worked! It worked and carried us upward, to where a battle from the legends themselves was taking place.
Dragons and Griffons fell from the sky; flames flooded the clouds, cut by flashes of lightning and thunder.
One of the lizards fell at full speed onto a neighboring vessel, impaling its entire body on a mast. The proud beast shrieked one last time before its strength left it, and there it remained hanging while its blood flooded the deck of the broken ship.
"Full speed ahead to Tol Barad!" Pointing toward the island surrounded on all sides by Horde ships, I didn't even notice myself grinning expectantly. "We're picking up our boys and girls, or I'm no Dwarf!"
"YES!"
***
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