Tales of the Gun

[Movrak]

Tales of the Gun

"- EVERYONE OUTSIDE, RIFLES READY AND PREPARE FOR THE FIRST WAVE !


TROLL ATAAACK ! "



Everyone jumped from their tents out in the blizzard, running around in the camp like scared trolls, but in that chaos, every single dwarf knew where he had to go and what to do.
Everyone to their camouflage nests.

When we were all set, you could almost hear your own heartbeat pounding in your chest, waiting for all hell to break loose. This is where the training kicks in, reminding you to keep your feet on the ground, cover your head, and keep your rifle steady.

In the distance, a dark mass was approaching, steadily but surely, they were still in the woods, and from what I could tell of their numbers, our blunderbusses had their work cut out for them.

Squad captains were shouting out orders – battle-medics in the rear, bandages ready, rifles upfront, everyone in his nest, load ‘em up and wait the attack order.

Everyone was eager to start off the fight, to get that first round away and draw first blood, but no one dared to fire without the proper command. “Fingers off the trigger, or prepare to lose them” , that’s what our drill-sergeant always said.

From the trees up ahead, a battle horn sounded, echoing throughout the pass, making that distinct noise we all knew – the battle horn of the 5th Rifles Division, King’s Royal Army.

I can’t tell you how relieved we all were when we realized – one by one : it was only a drill, just another exercise meant to keep us on our toes, ready for battle at any time.
In the distance, from the first line of trees, our drill sergeant shouted :



“Well done lads ! This time you were ready. Fall out and assemble in the camp for inspection”





Welcome to the 5th Rifles Division, King’s Royal Army.

Boot Camp

[Movrak]

Where do I begin ?

To tell you how I got in the King's Royal Army would be to skip some major events that brought me here , and to tell you how I first discovered my pappy's rifle would be too much of a stretch down memory lane.

I think it would be better to start off from the point when my life took an unexpected turn.

It was about 5 years ago, when I was still a lad in me pappy's house.

Now, me pappy was a proper hunter, with trophies on the wall to bear witness. He would sometimes go out in the woods for days but when he would come back , his pack was full. More than once, he provided for us with everything we needed, in times when Kharanos was not so thriving.

Because me pops was suborned ( like all dwarves are from the begging of time) and hell bent on tradition, one day he took me hunting with him, to pass on "the family tradition". As it turned out, his father was a hunter, as his father before him, and his father's father . And now, it was my turn to prove me self and continue the tradition. My son would off course be raised to be a hunter as well.

Those few years I spent with my old man in the woods tracking down pray, were the best years of my childhood.

I remember marching through the snow for hours and hours, making shelters with our bear hands, sleeping whenever we could, wherever we could.

I didn't realized until later in life, but even from the start, my pappy was teaching me everything I needed to survive in the wild, and also giving me lessons for life.
For me, it was fun tracking down animals, it was like a game of hide and seek, but behind the game and the thrill of the hunt, i was learning to see, to hear, and to smell everything around me.

Under my pappy's careful guidance, in just a couple of years, I was able to tell what kind of animal I was tracking, if it was tired or not, injured or not, alone or in a pack, and even how much time passed since he left the footprints.
I learned how to carry a rifle, how to protect it from the freezing snow, how to hold it and how to fire it.

Pappy always reminded me :

- "Your rifle is your best friend, without it you are nothing, your rifle does not miss. You do , and whatever happens, take care of your rifle as your life would depend on it. Because most of the time - it really does.

As for the snow part - now THAT was a lesson I'll never forget. As with the gun, the snow was by best friend, my cover, my blanket, my bed and my pillow. Snow provided shelter at night, water when I was thirsty, cover when I needed to hide. I marched through the snow until I couldn't feel my legs anymore, my beard was frozen and I didn't know where I was. I learned to accept the cold, and to realize that the mountain is fair, taking away the week and the ill, and keeping only the strong. Snow was the trial, death would approach if you would fight against it.

One day, pops wanted to further my education and showed me that the beasts can also be friends, not just foes.

Can you imagine my surprise when I saw him calling a white bear at his side , and the bear came by his own free will, acknowledging my pops as his master, not his lunch ?!

It took me quite a while to learn how to tame beasts, and not even now I'm not sure I mastered the skill, but once you friend a beast, your life changes, forever.

Speaking of life changing events, i should probably tell you about the time we first encountered trolls and started "troll hunting" !

[Movrak]

Trolls…

When I say the word, my trigger finger starts itching.

These creatures changed the way I saw hunting, life, and everything in this world.

In short, how I met the trolls :



We were in the woods, me and me poppy, hunting. Things were kind of slow, it wasn’t a good day for hunting, but a hunter’s greatest quality is it’s patience. So we carried on, tracking, marching, looking everywhere.

At some point, when the sun was about to rise on the horizon, from the cold silence, we heard…well…the sound of death. Animals dying, frightened, scared, screaming while butchered.

For a hunter, the noise is unbearable, it’s horror, it’s… something it shouldn’t happen.

As you can imagine, we ran to see what was going on. When we saw, we wished we never had.

I was troubled, because this group of beasts were killed by things I never saw before, were these a new kind of animals that my father forgot to tell me about ?
So I asked :

- Pop…what are those animals ?
- Aye son…animals. Animals they are…


He didn’t said anything else, but turned in shame and walked away. I followed him to our hunting cabin, with a bunch of questions on my mind. What were those beasts, why didn’t he told me about them, and most of all, why did pops walked away from that massacre ?

By the end of the day, he told me the story, the facts and reality of the beasts I would come to know as Trolls.

Enough to say they were killing beasts not for food, but just for the sport of killing something. When they didn’t had beasts, they would fight among themselves and kill each other . Killing was in their blood.

Unfortunate for them, it was in our own as well.

The following day, pops told me he knew where to find these trolls and that he will show me a whole different way of hunting – troll hunting.

So we went, through the same forest, through the same snow, but tracking a whole different kind of animals. The worst kind.
When we came close to their caves, from up on a ledge, my pop showed me what to do :

- Son, Trolls are not like beasts, they don’t follow the same rules of engagement. They will not run when scared, they will not stand still and listen if you make too much noise, and they will not run away if they see you.
So lie down on your belly, load up your rifle, cover yourself in snow and wait.
Wait as long as you have too, but when those vile creatures get between your crosshairs…go for the throat. Their heads, even better.
Don’t just wound them, ‘cause they’ll recover and learn from their mistakes.

That night, covered in snow, with snow in my mouth even, to cover my breath, I realized that all those hunting games I played as a pup, just got serious. I wasn’t killing a bear or some rabbits, but creatures that lived to kill, who would kill me if they had the chance.
The trick was – not give them the chance.

So we waited for them…

[Movrak]

We waited, and soon enough it was dark, their time to come out of their caves and feast.

From our covers, we saw two Trolls coming out and sniffing the air to catch the smell of their pray.

A couple of more feet and they would be in range of our rifles. We prepared and looked at each other. My pappy was proud of me, I was becoming a proper dwarf, and a hunter none the less.

We fired at the same time and hit our targets dead on. In one loud bang, both Trolls were dead on the ground, bleeding from their heads . Never knew what hit them ! Hehe...

My pops stood up and went over there to get some trophies, pulled out his skinning knife and started to skin the Trolls.
I was looking through the scope for more Trolls, when I saw another two Trolls sneaking up on my pop from behind.
I couldn't yell at him and he was too far away to run over and help him.

This was it ! I had the foes in my crosshairs, the gun in my hand and all those years of hunter training . I was going to make pappy proud of me, AND save his life.

I loaded the rifle, aimed at the first Troll, held my breath and fired.

Aaaand - MISSED !


How could I have missed ??? when this was the only shot I needed to make a difference, I missed !

The sound of my rifle alerted the Trolls who in turn jumped on my pops and overwhelmed him.

While my pop was struggling with the Trolls, I started to reload. I panicked and lost track of what was important, the bullets were slipping from my hands, I couldn't reload fast enough.
I threw my rifle aside, pulled out my skinning knife and started to charge at those Trolls, with the intent to die if I have to, but to try to save my pops.

When I got there, my pop was all worn out, tired from all that fighting and, for a fraction of a second while he looked at me, I realized it. We was not going to make it.

I jumped in the fight, but one of the Trolls managed to surprise him and scraped his neck with a blade.
I plunged at the Troll and thrusted my knife in his throat. He dropped his knife and grabbed his neck while chocking with his own blood.
I pulled out my knife, blood splashing on my face.
The other Troll came at me to revenge his kin, but I had something stronger going for me - I had hate and anger.

- "For Khaz Modaaaan !" I yield

I threw the hunting knife at him hitting him in the head.
Once the fight was over, I turned to my pops to help him. He was on his back, holding his hand over his throat

- "Let me see pops, let me see, I can fix it, I can make a bandage and patch you up" I said while ripping my cloth hood.

His eyes were foggy with bleeding veins showing around his eyes
He grabbed my hand and put it on his forehead :

- "Let me go son, the mountain is calling me"

He gasped one more time and closed his eyes. Forever.
His hand slipped from his throat and blood started to flow from the cut, making a pool of blood next to him.

This event, this...tragedy, I could never recover from, and thinking back now , everything I did later on in life, was influenced by this - the passing of my old man, murdered by Trolls.

That day, something changed inside me, something fundamentally changed, forever . I don't like going back to that event, I just pushed it somewhere in the back of my mind, but never forgot. And will never forget. That was when my life changed, when change was forced upon me, when I stopped being a hunter, and started being a marksman.

[Movrak]

Back in Kharanos, not much had changed. The ending of one's life does not echo but in those close to him.

I started practicing at the Kharanos firing range , making sure none of my bullets ever miss their target.

Days would go by, hours on end on the range, shooting away at those dummy targets. I didn't went in the forest anymore, it would just bring back memories I prefer keeping locked away. Anyways, the thrill of the hunt was long gone for me; I was still consumed by hatred to be concerned with anything else.

Days would come and go, and then weeks, then months, I think I spent almost a full year on different drills, improving my marksmanship, knowing my rifle, thinking of strategies and making up plans.

Up until one day when I met the 5th Rifles Division, King's Royal Army.

The firing range I was using for practice, apparently was the closest one to Ironforge, and was also used by the military when carrying out exercises or maneuvers.

I was about finished when the Division arrived at the range, some curious about the firing noises coming from the range.
As it was told to me later on, the 5th Rifles Division's Drill Sargent was also present that day, and he noticed me on the range.

When I was finished for the day, as I was about to leave, the Sargent took an interest in me and came to see me in Kharanos.

- Oi ! Lad, I saw you at the firing range practicing with your rifle. May I know what you do, what is your profession?"

- I have none Sir, I used to hunt a lot, that's where the rifle comes in handy, but after a hunting accident, I just fire a couple of rounds now and then in the firing range. Old habits die hard, you know ?

- Son, how would you like to do this AND get paid for it? If you're willing to pass a couple of tests, I'm sure I can find you a spot somewhere in my Division, according to your skill, off course"

- A couple of tests you say ? What would those tests be then?
- Why don't you come in Ironforge and look me up when you're ready?

- Thank you Sir, I will think about it and come see you In Ironforge

[Movrak]

Right the next morning, I jumped out of bed, had my pint of ale, some roasted beef and a couple of beer basted Boar ribs and got just one small jug of wine in, before heading outside.

It was somewhat cold, and the road uphill to Ironforge wasn't making things better. Halfway through and it was all too obvious : I wouldn't be getting all the way up anytime soon !

When I finally reached the main Gates of Ironforge, I was all sweaty and barely breathing.

I kindly asked a guard to point me in the right direction of the Military Ward, where I would surely find the Sergeant i met not so long ago.

When I approached the massive hall , there was already a long line of Dwarves forming just outside the Ward. Apparently I wasn't the only one making his way in the King's Army.

Ever since the troubles with the Dark Iron Clan, Ironforge was in need of more and more soldiers for the battles ahead.

I took my place in the line and waited to enter, just like everybody else.


They were taking us in groups of twenty. Once my group's turn was up, we entered the Military Ward and proceeded into a large hall, decorated with an entire Dwarven arsenal of weapons, shields and armors. You couldn't help feeling a bit small.. - even for a Dwarf ! when surrounded by all those war machines. They had every kind of rifle, a couple of cannons and all the way in the back , a damn Siege Tank, if you can belive it ! Our jaws dropped when we saw the beast, already feeling goosebumps at the thought of piloting such a machine.

Once we were assembled in a nice military formation - 5 rows of 6 Dwarfs each , the Arms Master Kelv Sternhammer stepped in the high balcony and addressed us bellow :

Brothers!

Here we are on the brink of war, a mere hundred dwarves standing between the treacherous Dark Iron Dwarves and our capital city of Ironforge. Our weapons are dull, our hands untrained in combat. We have not had a decent nap in months. Our ale stores have diminished, leading many to suckle their beards for sustenance. Some have even resorted to water and vegetables !

And yet, we do not waver. We do not back down from the costly call of destiny. Why?

I look down on this here map of the Eastern Kingdoms and see two thousand Dark Iron Dwarves from the realm of shadows and fiery pits of Lord Ragnaros. They stalk back and forth as bloodlust consumes them. They possess incredible strength, unmatched thirst, and great swords made with Titansteel.

We, however, have pride. I am truly proud of you guys. Really. Muren - of the Stormpikes, remember when you drew that white Battle Ram? That was a great drawing. Good stuff. I'm proud of you.


Beyond the Dark Iron Clan I see the clattering, restless forms of the Elemental Lords. Their crowns are pieced together from the teeth of their victims. Each holds the femur of a legendary warrior, torn from the victim's body as it still bled out, dipped in molten gold and fashioned into a grim scepter. Some say the Elemental Lords are unstoppable. After all, how can you kill an enemy that cannot bleed, a foe which magically pieces itself back together when you smash it apart?


I'll tell you how: With decency. We are all good, well-meaning dwarves, and that's something that the Dark Iron dwarves can't say. Let's see them defeat that!


Look out once more over the skies of Dun Morogh, and you shall also see the great crystal form of a Proto-drake. Note how the sunlight glints across his ruby eyes like a flash of steel reflected in a pool of blood. Some say he is as old as the world itself, possibly as old as the Titans.

You know what's also old? More than half of our troops. Most of us are greybeards with so many years behind us that we can barely lift our chipped axes. That might not be as old as the dragon, but I certainly think it's impressive!

There, around Blackrock Mountain, stand nearly two hundred Murloc Sorcerers, foul creatures whose inability to use eating utensils is only surpassed by their ability to conjure up crustacean magics. What could possibly be more mysterious than the ways of a Murloc Sorcerer ?

The answer is simple: A dwarf's inability to move quickly. Well, that and the fact that our wounds bleed so profusely. It's a toss-up, really, but either way we have the Murlocs beat.

What's that I see, cresting the horizon? Is it a company of Dark Iron dwarves charging across the land to siege our unguarded South Outpost? I believe so! Their magnificent cannons appear to be brand new.


Also alarmingly young, however, are those few dwarves among us who are not ancient and feeble. I believe that many of you are scarcely forty years of age. Again, not as new as the gear belonging to the Dark Iron dwarves, but quite impressive!


Ah, yes. As expected, the sky is darkening with the silhouettes of Horde Zeppelins. Those flying contraptions are built to tear and rend with metallic claws and spikes. Singular in purpose, they are frightening marvels of engineering.

If you ask me, however, I think that Magni's tummy scratcher was the most clever contraption I had ever seen. So, on that point the advantage goes to us.


And there, in the Plaguelands, the rest of the horde has given way to other abominations. Those would be the necromancers from Acherus - The Ebon Hold. Those evil necromancers are able to raise the dead to do their bidding. When the battle begins, they will breathe cruel life back into our fallen opponents and friends then turn them against us.

We, on the other hand, are courteous enough to leave the dead alone. I'm going to call that one a moral victory.


As you can see, my brothers, the very best qualities displayed by our enemies are equaled or bettered by the very traits which make us dwarves. Come join your King's royal army, fight bravely, and let our actions forge a new tomorrow! Muren, put down that drawing for one blasted moment, will you ?




We were all holding our bellies when he stepped down from the balcony and made room for the Brigadier General Borim Goldhammer.


- Sternhammer , how many times do I need to tell you ? Stop addressing the new recruits and making a fool of our kind !


He then took his role and addressed us :



-Brothers ! he begun...

... .... ... ... ...

We were all biting our lips trying not to laugh at yet another speech.


After all, this king's army doesn't seem to be that bad !

[Movrak]

He who so sheds dwarf blood, by dwarf shall his blood be shed !

Troubles in Coldridge Valley

The orders came early in the morning: All recruits are to assemble in the Military Ward, in formation and ready to march out.


Destination : Coldridge Valley.


Recently, the dwarven outposts have reported an increased Troll activity in the area and have sent news to Ironforge about an imminent Troll invasion of lower Kharanos and surrounding regions.

As would be expected, the regular Army of Ironforge was deployed too far from the land - all the way up in the Burning Steppes, trying to keep those Dark Iron Dwarfs at bay.

In their absence, only a couple of Mountaineer divisions were sent to deal with the Trolls in Coldridge Valley.

Late last night, reports came to Ironforge that the 2 divisions of Mountaineers were pinned down by Trolls, which were barricaded in the caves system and were planning an attack on the dwarven divisions, somewhat caught in the middle, surrounded by the caves system.


We were only a handful of recruits to start with :

90 recruits from the Heavy Infantry Division, making their way into battle hardened Warriors

125 recruits from the Infantry Support Division : Paladins, Battle-Medics and Engineers

50 recruits forming up 5 mortar teams from the Artillery Batteries

100 recruits from the Rifles Division

And last but not least, 4 Battle Tanks repaired from the Artillery Batteries, reentered in service after spending a couple of years in the Military Ward showcasing for new recruits.


In all , about 400 recruits, gathered in marching formation in front of the Military Ward.

Heavy Infantry up front with their spiked shields, followed by the Infantry Support, Rifles and, taking care of business from a distance, the Artillery Batteries at the rear.

We set out marching through the Gates of Ironforge, as so many dwarves before us, thousands of Divisions, in the same spirit as them - to defend the dwarven homeland of Dun Morogh and controlled territories.

We were greeted with enthusiasm in Kharanos, taking our last goodbyes and heading off to battle.

Not before long, we reached the Coldridge Pass, linking Dun Morogh to the Valley.

Commander Stonebreaker dismounted and gave the order :

- Rifles Division, form up a patrol and send some scouts ahead in the Pass to check for Trolls. Remember , one shot - to the throat. Don't get greedy, you'll have your share of blood once we reach the Mountaineers Divisions in the Valley !


I was chosen, along with other 4 rifleman to scout ahead and clear any resistance.

As we were making our way through the Pass, the tunnel was getting darker and darker, only the torches lighting up chunks of the trail. In the cold, dark, wet galleries, we heard digging sounds, like miners digging a tunnel.

Approaching carefully, we were surprised to see a dozen Troggs digging a tunnel to make their way secretly in Dun Morogh.

We took cover behind some rocks, rested our rifles on the hard cold rock and signaled the assault. We all fired at the same time, each aiming for his target. With the first volley, 5 Troggs fell, spilling their blood on the floor. After the second volley, another 5 Troggs found their death from dwarven copper bullets.

While we were quickly reloading, 2 remaining Troggs realized they were ambushed and tried to flee, running towards the Pass exit , on the other side of the Valley. If they would have escaped, they would have surely raised the Hordes and send us back with a counter-attack.

Just as they were ready to come out of the Tunnel , 2 bullets swooshed through the air and found their necks. They stumbled and fell to the ground, unable to scream for help.

Apparently all that training in Ironforge has it's uses in real life, who would have known that aiming for the throat serves a specific purpose : to not be able to scream for help.

Once we made sure the Pass was clear, we returned to the main force and reported our first mission success ! We were briefly commended by our Officer and then we made way into the Pass.

Coming through the other side, we arrived to a site hard to imagine, yet alone to describe :

The Anvilmar Outpost was barely holding out, many dwarven camps were ransacked, supplies burned, livestock butchered and not few dwarves, still holding on to their axes, grimed at us from the cold death.



We made our way to Anvilmar and started organizing the Mountaineer's rescue.

[Movrak]

We found Anvilmar outpost in a desperate situation : they were all out of ale !

The 6 months winter supply was raided either by the Troggs, either by our own kin.

T'was indeed a grim sight - ragged old dwarves, beaten, hungry, stinky, but above all, thirsty !

Lucky for them, we brought our own supplies, and, having anticipated a much larger force to come to the rescue, we brought extras :)

That night - that night right there - was the essence of what it is to be Dwarf , it was a testimony of our iron will and strong headedness : in the midst of all the fighting that was going on, inside the outpost you could still find some hot spicy boar ribs and half of pint of ale from the emergency supplies.

But that night when we arrived, the cooks were really busy cooking all that food, and setting up a feast worthy of a Dwarf.

It was really something grand, even by dwarven standards!

After all, it was a tradition, to feast the night before battle. For some, it would be their last, so we drank, and we ate, and we sang, we joked and we told stories, as if there would be no tomorrow. Of course, for some, that was ...quite accurate...

The following morning, we all gathered scraps of what we could find and improvised the most basic and crude defenses for the Outpost. If the attack would fail and we would face defeat, we wouldn't retreat! Never! ...We would just hastily advance in the opposite direction, and use the outpost as our last line of defense ! holding out until reinforcements could arrive.

So we were pretty determined to do a good job, our lives would potentially be in the balance.
Once the barricades where up, we regrouped and formed our battle formations.


Just a couple of hours before the main attack, every able dwarf was sharpening his axe, checking his blunderbuss, getting ready to perform his duty to Ironforge, to his Clan and to his kin.

At a preset time, Commander Stonebreaker organized the scout patrols - even if we all knew - the blasted Trolls where there - in those caves - and we began advancing towards the bottom of the Valley, where the caves system was.

From afar, we could see the remaining Mountaineers trapped by the Troggs from the caves on one side, and the savage Trolls from the other, blocking their retreat.

At the sight of reinforcements, the Trolls flanked the Mountaineers and joined up with the Troggs at the Caves entrances. Now, even if the Mountaineers where able to retreat, those vermins in the caves still pose a great deal of danger. We still had no idea why were they holding out in the caves, instead of coming out for a head on assault as they usually do.

Nonetheless, we got the Mountaineers behind our lines, just as the Troggs were making their way out of the caves.

For a moment there, the Valley was quiet, all you could hear was the sweet music of our axes touching each other and the eventual roar of the Troggs.

As we stood there, face to face with the Troggs, they started to charge towards us, in their usual manner : no coordination, no battle plan. Just pure blood craze and an instinctual need for killing and fighting. We underestimated them once in the past - never again!

In the front lines, the Heavy Infantry raised their shields and started a slow advance towards the enemy, bracing for impact.

Behind them, the Paladins were enchanting their spells and activating the runes of the Warrior's blades. The Battle Medics were standing ready with their potions and bandages.

Further behind, the Rifles Division was camouflaged on top of a hill, buried in snow, waiting for just the right range to begin their deadly volley.

In the foxhole next to me was a young recruit named Baro, a skilled marksman from what I was able to see on the firing range. He wasn't pleased with the military way of life, but he had good instincts and even better reflexes.

We loaded our rifles and waited for the first line of Troggs to come into range

- Hey Movrak ! Baro whispered. Bet I can kill more Troggs than you, care for a wager ?
- Sure laddie, how about a keg of Thunderbrew ale ?

Instead of answering, Baro took a quick breath, looked through his scope and fired the first shot.
The sound of his rifle echoed like thunder through the Valley, and not before long, 2 rifles detonated, than 5, than 10 , than all of them.

-"This is for Pappy !" - I thought for myself

I started firing also at the advancing Troggs, as they were falling one after another, leaving behind only red snow - tainted with their blood.

The warriors bashed their shields, Paladins were releasing powerfull incantations, bullets were flying through the air, and from the rear, the 4 Battle Tanks were launching their heavy projectiles in the air.

Where they would hit, they ripped apart everything, without discrimination, be it dwarf or Trogg.

Through the Valley, there was only screams of rage, of pain, savage roars from the Troggs, and once in a while, a fierce dwarf would let out our mighty battle cry :

- For Khaaaz Modaaaaan !

What we made up in firepower and military discipline, the Troggs, combined with the Trolls were exceeding in pure numbers. They were so many, that we just couldn't hold them off for too much longer.

My fingers were starting to hurt, all I was tasting was gunpowder (and the occasionally wolf steak hidden in my pocket)

Baro was firing and reloading, bent on winning that keg of ale.

From where I was standing, I had a perfect vantage point and could see all of the battlefield. The situation was begging to get complicated. The Troggs were slowly but surely pushing us back with sheer numbers. Despite their huge loses, they were pouring out of the caves.

Where were they all coming from ? Last time I checked, those caves were not so deep , just complex in their tunnels.

And yet, more and more Trolls were coming out, pushing us back.

I noticed our Commander getting ready to call a "tactical regrouping" when something caught my eye. At the horizon, all the way up in the skies, small black dots were moving and dancing on the line of the horizon.

As they got bigger and bigger, I finally realized what they were.

I got up from my foxhole, stood up and yelled :


- THE GRYPHONS ARE COMING ! The Gryphons are coming !

Commander Stonebreaker looked in the direction I was pointing and saw the Gryphons armada coming towards us.

Moments later, the Dwarfs were looking up too, in awe of their numbers.
They were detachments sent by the Wildhammer Clan.

The Troggs too realized something was happening and stopped and looked in the same direction. They were seeing the Gryphons, but were having no particular reaction to them.

For me, it was clear - they were battle Gryphons, unlike their wild brothers, these were protected by armor specially designed for them.

This new hope gave us the will to fight even harder and more fiercely than before. No one wanted to die now, when victory was so close and so final.

When the Gryphons did arrive they entered the battle and helped us fight the Trogg invasion.

The Gryphon pilots dropped Gnomish explosives over the Troggs, small contraptions that detonated and spread wild fire - a highly volatile liquid that burned everything in its path.

For the Troggs, it was their worst nightmare, surpassing even starvation or good maners.
The wild fire soon spread in the caves, turning to crisp the Troggs blocked inside the tunnels.

Few hours after, when the smoke cleared, when we searched the caves, besides the horrible stench and body parts, we found that the Troggs managed to dig tunnels under the mountain, tunnels that were leading all the way into Loch Modan, from where the Troggs could replenish their numbers.

We left an Engineers company to blast those tunnels and we returned to Anvilmar outpost.

At the end of day, the Wildhammers agreed to accompany us back to Ironforge and give some style to our triumphal march in Ironforge.

[Movrak]

Back in Ironforge, the dwarves were celebrating the recent victory over the Troggs.

We all knew we did good, another battle fought, another one won by the dwarves, fame and prestige for the Clans and honor for the warrior's families. But almost every dwarf had someone close, some even family, who died in this campaign, who gave their lives in defense of Dun Morogh.

It wasn't sad - it was necessary.

It was the law of the Mountain, who always asked for sacrifice. We are all eventually called back to the Mountain from which we came, to join our brethrens on the other side.

And what a formidable dwarven army the Mountain could raise, out of all the brave dwarves and all the warriors who gave their lives already. It would surely be invincible, by all the armies of Azeroth !


But dead is dead, and all that remains is to honor our dead ones, as it is tradition.


Speaking of traditions, another tradition, held high in esteem by all the dwarven kind, was entering the military service and joining the King's Royal Army.

Of course, not all dwarves followed this warrior's path or even joined any military unit, but those who did, brought much honor and respect to their families and to their Clan.

We also needed Blacksmiths, Tailors, Cooks and Medics, but those who were entering military service were regarded with more respect and considered the elite of the dwarven kind.

Folowing our loses in the Coldridge Valley campaign, and, truth be told, for lack of reinforcements to the regular army, King Magni Bronzebeard, Thane of the Bronzebeard Clan and the king of the dwarven capital City of Ironforge, decided to hold the investment ceremony for those who fought in Coldridge Valley and make them regular soldiers in his royal army.


In the spirit of the dwarven tradition, we had to attend The Oath Ceremony, in which we all swear an Oath to our King.



This here is the dwarven Oath :

Praise the Ancestors for their Sacrifice,
As their Memory endures so shall We.
We, who are the Bearers of Grudges,
shall strive for their deserved Justice for eternity.

We the Oath Keepers,
Shall delve deep into the dark places of the world
We shall seek out the Oath breakers,
We shall pursue these lowest of the dishonorable.

It is we who stand guard,
Our Eternal watch shall not fail.
Until the time when all Grudges are settled and all Debts paid!

We Dwarfs of the Hammer and the Axe,
We slay the darkness without fear.
From long ago we came to the Mountains,
And long still will watch over them.

Though in the deep of our Holds we be hidden,
Yet our eyes encompass the Old World.
No Oath breaker shall elude our gaze,
No Friend shall be without our aid.

Into the fires of battle we go,
Unto the Anvil of war we strike.
The hot rage of the Mountain flows through us,
His strength lives in us all.

In bloodshed shall we serve our King,
Death shall be our Everlasting Creed.
War unending shall be our fate,
till we are called to join our Ancestors.

We shall be unstinting in Hatred,
We shall hunger for Grudge War.
For we are the Oath keepers!




The Oath Ceremony is a very important one in dwarven society, the Clans gather, the families come to see their loved ones taking the Oath, and, from that moment on, we are bound by our ancestor's laws and by honor to uphold the Oath, even with our lives.

Those who fail and betray the Oath are no longer considered worthy and are forever called The Oath brakers. They are relentlessly hunted down by all swarned in , called The Oath keepers .

After we gathered in the King's Hall, we all took the Oath and became Oath Keepers.

Around us, our families and Clan members were celebrating us, cheering, drinking and singing.

I had no family, just my Clan. Baro's family was there, as well as many others, but since I had no living relatives, the dwarven brothers of my Clan was the closest thing to a family.

[Movrak]

Everyone knows Dwarves are renowned for their mining skills, but let me tell you right now, without the proper tools we were stuck in there without much choice in the matter. The only way out was to move boulders from one place to another, with our bear hands.


The first thing we did was to remove enough rocks to make a small crack through the other side so we get air in.

After that, we took a nap, haha !, because lifting rocks and moving them takes a lot of effort, trust this dwarf !

It took us little more than 2 days and all of our food supplies to make a hole big enough for the two of us to squeeze through and make it to the other side of the cave-in.

New hope caught up with us once we were out of that trap and out in the open galleries, but also a little worried - we had no idea if the tunnels were deserted or not. Troggs could be waiting for us behind every corner, or , even worse, the end of the tunnel could have been caved-in as well by the Troggs, making our escape impossible.

We navigated through the tunnels all the way underneath the South Gate Outpost - here - the Troggs left tools and claw marks, evidence of a plan to dig through and assault the Outpost.

No Troggs to be found anywhere...yet.

But we both knew, all too well, that this couldn't last for too long. We were after all , in THEIR tunnels !

After a couple of hours through the tunnels, we finally reached the end of it, while only a slight draft was letting us know we were close to the exit. Following the draft, we made it to the tunnel's exit in Loch Modan, only to see two dozen Troggs hard at work at the tunnel's entrance.


- Great , now what do we do ? We can't take them all, we can't even take 3 of them before they realize what's happening, and that would be the end of us

- We're in for it now, Movrak ! we need a plan !


As we were considering alternatives and the best course of action, outside, the spirits were getting hoter. From where we stood in the tunnel, we could hear the all too familiar sound of our Ram Cavallery charging just above us in the Trogg Camp.

The Rams were making the ground tremble, but filled our hearts with joy at their beautifull sound of freedom and salvation.

Moments later, as the Dwarves were charging through the Camp, several voices started to yell :


- For Khaaaz Modaaaan !

- You hear that Baro ? Our brothers are coming ! Come on now, we can stir things up a bit by joining them in the attack ! Imagine the surprise when they realize they're attacked from above and below the mountain !
This will remain in legends as the time the Mountain came in the aid of the Dwarves and defeated the Troggs. Come on !


We noticed a couple of barrels at the entrance and thought of shooting them so the blast would kill at least a few dozen Troggs.


- That would cause another cave-in Movrak ! remember how we got here in the first place We don't want another explosion, thank you very much ! - Baro pointed out

- All right, we'll wait for the Troggs to carry the barrels away, and we'll shoot them right off their backs ! Hahahahaha



The Troggs, fearing for their precious powder barrels, as soon as they realized they're under attack, hurried to get the barrels to safety.

That was our moment, we took out our rifles, took aim and fired away !

And boy, you should have seen those Troggs flying through the air ! Hilarious

At the same time, those who weren't stampede to death by the charging cavalry, were confused about the barrel's explosions and the Troggs dropping dead, as we picked them one by one with our rifles from inside the tunnel.

They eventually dropped everything and made a run for it into the woods.

And THAT'S Dwarven superiority, at its finest !



As we were coming ouf of the tunnel, dirty, thirsty, but with longer beards, the Dwarven cavalry from Amberstill Ranch was outside, forming a corridor for us

Walking through it, their commander yelled the order :

- Ram Cavalry ! Axes high for our brothers !


They all pulled out their axes and cried out :


- For Khaz Modan ! For Ironforge !

[Movrak]

Our victory over the Trolls was somewhat short lived. Back in the city, the Ironforge Senators were talking about “the duty of any dwarf to defend his lands” and “less than what the regular army would have done with the Trolls”. Tell you what – I wouldn’t mind seeing a bunch of Senators holding off the Trolls and keeping their wits about them. Whoever invented politics – may his ale turn forever into water !

We did get a couple of days off, to relax and recover from the hardships of battle, although some of us believed it was yet another political scheme to keep us away from Ironforge for the time being.

During this time, proper dwarves that we are, we all stormed the Taverns, and not before long, we were fighting kegs of ale and…our own sense of balance.
Veterans rifleman knew all too well when to stop – being drunk might be an advantage for our Warrior brothers, but for us rifleman, a shaky hand could mean the difference between hitting your mark and missing. And no one wanted to miss. It was…an unnecessary gamble with your own life.

For me, I quickly returned to the wilderness of the mountains, where I always felt at home. During my first years as a pup next to my Poppy, the mountains of Khaz Modan actually were my home.
Packing enough supplies for a 2 days hike up the mountain, I began my journey feeling excited and a bit drowsy from the leftover ale.

Climbing the untraveled path, adventuring in parts long time abandoned by fellow kin, I was, at times, feeling watched, or better yet, followed. And yet, every time I would turn around – no one was there. I just thought it was the wind playing his usual songs and stopped thinking about it.

Not before long, night took over day, just as I was unpacking and getting ready to set camp in a shallow valley. Starting a small cozy fire to warm me up, also had the advantage of roasting some tasty beef. To be quickly followed by a light brew, thank you very much.

As I was warming by the fire, I felt distracted by some noises coming from the woods, somewhere behind me. I stood up, rifle ready at my side and waited to what I expected to be a hungry wolf or lost mountain boar.

To my surprise, it was either!

Starring me from the darkness, was a beautiful snow-white bear ! The creature was following me, out of curiosity or hunger, but kept his distance because of the flames of my little fire.
We stood there for a good couple of seconds, him looking at me, I looking at him, until we both realized we weren’t a threat to each other. A silent pact was reached between us – he wouldn’t eat me – I wouldn’t shoot him. The simple rules and simple life in the Khaz mountains.

The bear started to move and came closer and closer to me, driven by what I would only guess to be curiosity. When he got 10 feet away from me, I stretched out my hand towards him, in a gesture of “stop there, close enough”. Which could also be seen as a sign of “hello there, how are you ?”. No way of knowing what the bear made of that. As he continued to come closer and closer, I closed my eyes and thought I was done for !
In fact, with my hand stretching out, fingers spread wide open , the bear gently touched my hand with his nose just enough to feel his warm breath on my hand. You could say…his nose bump gave me goose bumps.

Opening my eyes, the bear was right there in front of me, with his nose glued to my hand.
His brown eyes had something in them, something deep, something wild and ancient, long forgotten. I surprised myself wondering how old was the bear, and if it had any family here up on the mountain.

It lasted only for a couple of seconds before the bear slowly backed away, walked in a wide circle around me and found his place on the other side of the fire, opposite to mine.

I stood down by the fire, still intrigued, with the white bear on the other side, wondering if I should sleep or keep guard until morning. If I would sleep, I risk being gnawed at, if I keep guard, I might not have the energy to continue my journey.
The cold, the beef I had earlier and the brew helped me decide – slowly closing my eyes and slipping into a state of sleep.

Next morning, as I woke up, the bear was nowhere in sight, but his tracks were barely visible in the snow, heading away from the camp.

I decided that morning to return to Ironforge and continue my adventures into the wild some other time.

As I was making my way down the mountain path, from time to time I would catch a glimpse of the same bear following me from a distance. Sure enough, the bear was following me down the mountain. A hilarious thought crossed my mind – wouldn’t it be funny if the bear would walk with me all the way up in Ironforge, making his way through the main gates ?
Ridiculous idea, but the bear would surely be hunted down if he would come too close to the city gates.

I stopped and tried to scare the bear away, so he would return to his cave, somewhere up in the mountains, away from any dangers. I was making terrible noises, throwing the occasional branch, pine cone or rock at the bear, but he stubbornly held his ground and not run away.
Some part of me admired his courage, his will to face me, an unknown menace.

Suddenly, I realized the awkwardness of the whole thing – I was trying to scare off a bear (an unusual thing even for a dwarf! ), he was holding his ground because he was on his ground, it was me who should leave him, not the other way around.

I abandoned my attempts and made my way down the mountain.

As I was approaching Ironforge, the bear slowed down, stopped, lifted himself on his back paws and fiercely roared at me. Was he trying to tell me to stay away from his mountain, or was he just saying “so long”?

I turned once last time and waved at him:

“- So long brother! May your courage never leave you and your guard be forever as fierce as it was today! “

[Movrak]

For us dwarves, peaceful days are like good ale – they don’t last long and you always want more of them !

As it happens, our rest and relaxation was put on hold, on account of the South Gate Outpost needing our help.

In the aftermath of the Trolls intrusion, our Southern Outpost was hit the hardest, being the first point of contact of the Trolls coming from the other side of the mountain, from our beautiful village on a lake’s shores - Loch Modan.

Messengers dispatched after the initial attack brought word of dwindling supplies and low ammunitions. Commander Boulderfist organized a convoy to relive the effort and resupply our North and South Outposts.
With a military career in mind, I quickly offered to volunteer on this mission, in hopes of working through the ranks of the mightiest army in Azeroth.

The caravans left Ironforge in the 4th week of winter, slowly making its way through the passes towards Dun Morogh’s Outposts.


There was no shortage of dwarves on the caravan, as everyone not drunk or away from home, came to the rescue. Most of us saw the mission as it was – a slow patrol inside our own borders, without any real danger. As a consequence, not only that a bunch of soldiers offered to go, but the veterans among us brought their young apprentices with them. It was the perfect opportunity for our young inexperienced cadets to get a taste of real military life. Dwarven education at its finest !

Passing through Kharanos and making our way past Amberstill Ranch and Gol’Bolar Quarry, the trip was rather uneventful : the occasional snow leopard, rabid wolf or a couple of hungry boars, nothing to get too excited about, just lessons to teach our young ones.
The only time we broke formation, was at Gol’Bolar Quarry, where the 5th Rifles Division took positions on the surrounding hills, while the Hammerfall warriors recovered some war machines left behind during our last fight with the Trolls.

We finally reached the South Gate Outpost on the second day of our march, and we were more than welcomed ! The sight of numerous keg carts cheered everyone up and boosted morale as if the Magni himself was inspecting the troops.

In times of peace, the North and South Ouposts also serve as a base of operations for scouting missions. The mountaineers stationed at the outpost are busily defending it from encroaching wildlife, and some dwarves have gone missing in the mountains in search of the more ferocious beasts. Young dwarves are also tasked with exploring the area and looking for any signs of the lost mountaineers and the animals which killed them.

As if the Trolls weren’t bad enough, the assault on our outposts also meant the area went unprotected for quite some time, allowing the most daring beasts to approach the outposts.
While we were there, the task of clearing the area of any dangers, was placed upon our very mobile 5th Rifles Division and some of the fellows from the Hammerfall Division.

As night fell over the outposts, we made our way on the surrounding hills, already starting to feel the thrill of the hunt.
We were soon spread wide, in order to cover as much ground as possible.

As I was making my way through some wild berry bushes, I suddenly heard grumbling noises coming from my right side. Something that sounded like a boar or a bear was lurking around.
Taking a deep breath, I loaded up my blunderbuss and slowly made my way towards the noises that were getting louder and louder.

Crouched behind a tree stomp, I looked through the gun’s scope and was able to see the creature – an enormous Ice Claw Bear.
The beast was dragging a body into his den.
I made ready, rifle loaded, I aimed my sights and was getting ready to fire, when, out of nowhere, ANOTHER BEAR came charging at the Ice Claw Bear and got into a fight.

I was…surprised, confused. There they were – 2 bears, clawing each other for no good reason.
The fight was fierce, each of them was fighting for their lives, there would only be one of them left standing once the fight was over.

The second bear that attacked seemed enraged and quite simply put, out of his minds, clawing and biting the Ice Claw Bear. On the other hand, the Ice Claw Bear was bigger and somewhat older, packing a stronger punch.
In just a couple of minutes of intense fighting, while the Ice Claw Bear seamed to grow tired from all the effort, one powerful punch threw the other bear on his back, exposing his belly to his enemy.
I still don’t know what came over me, maybe seeing the little one losing to the big guy, but I got a grip of my Rifle and pointed at the Ice Claw Bear.
Meantime, the other bear managed to roll over and got back on his feat, still dizzy and bleeding from his wounds.

I fired, aiming for the throat. I didn’t missed, I hit the Ice Claw Bear, but the bugger wouldn’t go down. He was hurt, I could tell, but still able to keep on fighting, and easily kill me,even with a bullet in his throat !
Fortunately, while I wounded the Ice Claw Bear, I managed to get his attention long enough to allow the other bear to mount one last desperate attack, jumping in the fight and grabbing the Ice Claw Bear by the throat.
In one furious jerk, he ripped his throat open and managed to kill the impressive beast.

Blood dripping from his mouth, all wounded from the incredible fight that just took place under my eyes, the bear turned his head towards me and then it just hit me ! It was the same bear who followed me up – and down – the mountain, not more than a week ago.
He stared at me, without anger or any kind of violence in his eyes. It was…on the contrary, it was like he was pleading me for something, as if he asked me for something but was missing the words to articulate.

He laid down, next to the corpse of his now defeated enemy.

I felt pity for this magnificent creature, not only for his courage and bravery, but for the simple fact that he jumped into a fight he had little to no chance of winning, and didn’t gave up, not even for a second. I thought to myself – if not for a bear, he would have made one hell of a dwarf !

I walked over to him, seeing the bear doesn’t growl at me or even mind my presence.
I ripped my jacket and improvised some sort of bandages for his wounds.

That moment there, with him bleeding and me trying to help him in any way I could, that moment stayed with me for the rest of my life.

Little I knew, it was only the start of a bond so strong, that it would change the meaning of both of our lives.


- “Rest now brother, you have fought well. I will forever be in your debt”

[dukerasputin]

This is plain awesome, when will we get more?

[MrRosh]

Yes please, we need more! I loved reading this!

[Movrak2]

Returning at the South Gate Outpost, brothers from the Hammerfall Division were going up the mountain to relieve us and carry on the patrol.

Back in the safety of the Outpost, sharing a beer with fellow dwarves, i started thinking about the latest events. Was it usual for a dwarf to befriend a bear ? Or a boar ? Or a wolf ? Or any other kind of animal for that matter ?
I wished me poppy was still here, i would have asked him, he surely would have known !

Come to think of it, as far as i can remember, i haven’t seen dwarves befriending wild animals.
Sure, there were the Wildhammer clan with their Gryphon riders, but the beasts were kept in cages, trained, fed, and often...expendable in battle.
I’m sure some kind of trust must have existed between the rider and the Gryphon, but friendship ?
Would a Gryphon fight for his rider*? Would the beast lay down it’s life to save his master ?
All good questions !
Maybe if someday, the 5th Rifles Division makes her way up Aerie Peaks, i can ask a Wildhammer brother about this.

But for now, i would better be cautious and keep this... developping friendship a secret. After all, who knows if having a bear as a compagnion is normal in a Rifle Regiment ?

Would my commanders allow such a bond ?
Would the bear be quartered with us, would it wear uniform ?
Would he be issued a rifle after basic training ?
Would he be the rank of Corporal in this dwarven army ?
Would he rise through the ranks and one day be my superior ?
Like...taking orders from a bear ?

By Muradin’s beard, i think i had too much ale to drink and it all went to my head.

I had to slap myself in order to get all these silly questions out of my head.
Offcourse none of it is even remotely possible !

And yet, an afterthought remained, that i just couldn’t shake off. Something i couldn’t quite put my finger on, but was growing stronger and stronger : me and this bear, this wild beast, we had something, a connection, we understood eachother, we bonded, in a way hard to describe, yet alone explain to someone else.
We had a moment, and it was real.

With everything going on, it would seem preferable to put all these ideas in the back of my head and concentrate on the tasks ahead of me :
Rapports were starting to come through, from the other side of the mountain, Loch Modan was having...let’s say...a Trogg infestation problem.

Left unchecked, the Troggs in the area got more and more aggresive and hostile, to the point they were grouping in packs and attacking Loch Modan itself !

And that was simply unacceptable, after all, Loch Modan was the heartland of us, proud and feisty Ironforge dwarves.

The more seasoned riflemens already knew, it was just a matter of time before the orders would came...a military expedition in Loch Modan was iminent, and, as always, the 5th would lead the way.

Those who knew, the veterans, were eating and drinking, resting well and kept inventory of their weapons.




A storm was brewing, and it would sweep away Troggs in their thousands...