Khaz Modan Infantry

Prologue

The Founding of the Khaz Modan Infantry



The stoic Dwarves spent countless generations mining treasures from deep within Khaz Modan, a region of rugged mountains and snowy peaks, home to the proud dwarves of Ironforge.


The story begins in the aftermath of the Second War, as Azeroth's kingdoms lick their wounds and prepare for uncertain times.

High King Magni Bronzebeard stood upon the parapets of Ironforge, overlooking the snow dusted peaks of Dun Morogh. The Second War had left scars upon his people: the loss of comrades, the destruction of homesteads, and the haunting memories of battles against the orcs.

Yet the dwarves were resilient, and Magni knew it was time to bolster Khaz Modan’s defenses and ensure the survival of their way of life.

The High King gathered his most trusted advisors in the Great Forge. Among them stood Muradin Bronzebeard, his brother and a battle-hardened warrior, General Grimsteel, commander of Ironforge’s standing forces, and Thaldran Flintbeard, an engineer renowned for his mastery of war machines.


It’s not enough to rely on the Mountain Guard alone, Magni began.

The orcs be defeated, aye, but threats be comin’ from all sides - trolls in the Hinterlands, Dark Iron uprisings, and even whispers o’ dragons stirrin’ in the south. We need an army that represents all o’ Khaz Modan. An army that fights not just for Ironforge, but for every dwarf, gnome, and ally who calls these lands home.


Among the crowd stood Movrak Grudgebearer, a seasoned warrior who had seen the horrors of both the Second and Third Wars.
Beside him was Gilda Ironbraid, a sharpshooter known for her skill with a rifle. Others included Bruk Granitefist, a brawler who had earned his name in the fighting pits, and Delran Brightforge, a young paladin eager to prove himself in service to the Light. As the king spoke, Movrak stepped forward :

Yer Majesty, he rumbled, if ye’re callin’ fer a force tae defend our homeland, I’ll stand at the front o’ it. But this cannae just be a band o’ warriors. We need structure, tactics - a true infantry.

Magni nodded.

Aye, Movrak. Ye’ll have me full support. But ye’ll nae do this alone. Pick yer captains, build yer ranks, and forge the Khaz Modan Infantry.


Thus, the Khaz Modan Infantry was born, a group of warriors, engineers, and scouts designed to protect the Khaz mountains and its people.

TO BE CONTINUED

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Chapter 1 : Gathering the Clans



The announcement of the new infantry spread quickly. From the bustling halls of Ironforge to the remote hamlets of the Wetlands, Magni’s decree called for dwarves of all walks of life to enlist.


In the Wetlands, a young blacksmith named Durin Ironfist heard the call. His family had lost their farm during the Horde’s march, and though he had no formal training as a soldier, his skill with a hammer and his thirst for justice drove him to join. He packed his tools and began the long trek to Ironforge.


Meanwhile, in Gnomeregan, an ambitious young tinkerer named Wizzle Fizzlegrind saw the opportunity to test her inventions on the battlefield. She arrived at Ironforge with a pack full of experimental gadgets, a cocky grin, and a dream of proving the gnomes’ worth to their dwarven allies.


And deep within the snowy peaks of Dun Morogh, the grizzled hunter Movrak Grudgebearer - a dwarf with a lifelong hatred for trolls and troggs - left Kharanos and made his way up to the Gates of Ironforge, determined to lend his gun to the new army.



The first gathering of the Khaz Modan Infantry was held in the Hall of Explorers, where recruits from all corners of the realm assembled. General Grimsteel addressed the crowd :


Ye come here as farmers, hunters, and tinkerers. But if ye’ve got the mettle, we’ll forge ye into warriors !


The recruits were divided into squads and subjected to rigorous training. The infantry was designed to be a versatile force, and so each squad was trained in a variety of disciplines: heavy infantry for front-line combat, riflemen for ranged support, and engineers to deploy explosives and siege engines.


Durin quickly proved his worth with his hammer, his strength unmatched in melee combat. Wizzle’s gadgets were met with skepticism at first, but when she successfully dismantled a mock siege engine using her automated “gnome zapper,” even the gruffest dwarves begrudgingly admitted her genius. Movrak, meanwhile, impressed his instructors with his marksmanship and ability to track enemies across harsh terrain.


Tensions occasionally flared between the recruits - traditionalist dwarves often clashed with the eccentric gnomes, but under General Grimsteel’s leadership, they learned to work together.


Over the next few weeks, Movrak and his chosen captains scoured the lands of Khaz Modan, from the snowy peaks of Dun Morogh to the grassy hills of Loch Modan. They called upon the dwarven clans - the Bronzebeards, Wildhammers, and Dark Irons - to set aside their differences and unite under one banner.

At Thelsamar, Movrak stood before a crowd of skeptical Wildhammer dwarves.

I ken ye’ve nae love fer us Bronzebeards, he admitted, but the Horde willnae care what clan ye hail from when they come fer yer homes. Stand wi’ us, an’ we’ll ensure they dinnae take one stone o’ yer land.

From the Wildhammers came Falric Thunderaxe, a warrior with a fierce loyalty to his kin. His gryphon riders pledged to provide aerial support for the infantry.

The Dark Irons were harder to convince, their mistrust of the other clans deeply rooted. But Delran Brightforge, managed to sway them.

Your flames burn as bright as the forge that birthed them, he told them. Let us temper that fire into a weapon that will defend all of Khaz Modan.

Mordrin Emberfall, a fiery sorcerer from the Dark Irons, joined the ranks with a contingent of battle-hardened spellcasters.

The newly formed Khaz Modan Infantry convened in Dun Morogh, where they began their grueling training. Under Grimsteel's leadership, the warriors learned to fight as one, combining the brute strength of the Bronzebeards, the aerial prowess of the Wildhammers, and the fiery magic of the Dark Irons.

Gilda Ironbraid took charge of training the sharpshooters, teaching them to pick off targets with deadly precision.

Ye miss yer shot, she growled, and it’s yer brothers an’ sisters payin’ the price. Steady hands, steady hearts !

Falric and his gryphon riders practiced harrying tactics, swooping down to scatter mock enemy formations. Meanwhile, Mordrin and his spellcasters unleashed waves of fire and stone, testing the infantry’s resilience under magical assault.

But harmony didn’t come easily. Old grudges flared during training. Wildhammer gryphon riders accused the Dark Irons of sabotage, and Bronzebeards brawled with anyone who looked at them the wrong way.

Enough ! Grimsteel bellowed one evening.

We fight together, or we die divided. Look around ye ! These are yer brothers and sisters now. Act like it, or we’ve already lost.


The Khaz Modan Infantry’s first test came sooner than expected.

A distress call arrived from the Coldridge Valley: a band of frostmane trolls have emerged from the caves and are advancing toward the Anvilmar outpost. The situation is dire, and immediate reinforcements are needed to protect the settlement. General Grimsteel wasted no time deploying the fledgling infantry.

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



Chapter 2: The Infantry on the march



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.

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. 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.

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Chapter 3 : Anvilmar


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.

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Chapter 4 : Fighting the Troggs


As we stood there, ready to face 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 - 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 , then all of them.


I started firing 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 powerful incantations, bullets were flying through the air, and from the rear, the 4 Battle Tanks were launching their heavy projectiles.


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


Through the Valley, there were 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 occasional 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 losses, 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 Gryphon divisions 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, i already knew it - they were battle Gryphons, unlike their wild brothers, these were protected by armor specially made 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 manners.

The wild fire soon spread in the caves, turning to crisp the Troggs blocked inside the tunnels.


A few hours later, 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 the day, the Wildhammers agreed to accompany us back to Ironforge and give some style to our triumphal march in Ironforge.

Chapter 5 : Infantry Training


Back in Ironforge, the dwarves celebrated their recent victory over the troggs. The Great Forge was alive with the sounds of hammers striking anvils and mugs clinking in toasts. Yet, amidst the revelry, a solemn undertone persisted.

Each dwarf knew the pride of another battle fought and won, bringing fame and prestige to the clans and honor to the warriors' families. However, many had lost comrades, and some had even lost family members in the campaign - lives given in defense of Dun Morogh.

It wasn't seen as a tragedy but as a necessity.

This was the law of the Mountain, which always demanded sacrifice. All dwarves understood that they would eventually be called back to the Mountain from which they came, to join their brethren on the other side.

Imagining the formidable army the Mountain could raise from all the brave dwarves who had already given their lives, they believed it would be invincible against all armies of Azeroth.

But the dead were gone, and it was time to honor them, as tradition dictated.

In the midst of these reflections, General Grimsteel convened a council of his captains in the War Room of Ironforge. Maps of Dun Morogh lay spread across the stone table, with particular attention to the southeastern region.

Our victory against the troggs was hard-earned, Grimsteel began. But reports indicate increased trogg activity near Gol'Bolar Quarry. We cannot afford to be complacent. I am ordering the infantry to commence training immediately in preparation for an expedition to secure the quarry.

The captains nodded in agreement, understanding the urgency. The following morning, the training grounds of Ironforge bustled with activity. Veteran soldiers and fresh recruits assembled, ready to hone their skills for the challenges ahead.

The training regimen was rigorous and comprehensive. Infantry units practiced formation drills, ensuring that each dwarf knew their position and role within the unit. Shield walls were perfected, with rows of dwarves interlocking their shields to create an impenetrable barrier - a tactic that had proven effective against orcish hordes and subterranean threats.

Weapons training was equally intense. Axemen practiced their swings, aiming for precision and power, while spearmen focused on thrusting techniques to keep enemies at bay. Riflemen, though fewer in number, honed their marksmanship, ensuring they could provide support from a distance.

In addition to combat training, the dwarves engaged in endurance exercises. Marching through the snow-laden valleys of Dun Morogh, they built stamina and resilience, acclimating themselves to the harsh conditions they would face near Gol'Bolar Quarry. Engineers accompanied the infantry, instructing them on the use of explosives and siege equipment, anticipating the need to clear any blockades or enemy fortifications.

Morale was bolstered through nightly gatherings in the mess halls. Stories of past glories were shared, songs of valor were sung, and the memory of fallen comrades was honored.

As days turned into weeks, the infantry transformed into a formidable force.

With their preparations complete, they stood ready to embark on the expedition to Gol'Bolar Quarry, ready to protect their homeland.

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Chapter 6: Gol'Bolar Quarry


The Khaz Modan Infantry gathered at the outskirts of Gol'Bolar Quarry. The distant clang of mining hammers echoed faintly, but a tension hung in the atmosphere. Reports of Trogg sightings had reached Commander Boulderfist, and the stout dwarf wasn’t about to let those vermin overrun another dwarven mine.



Commander Boulderfist: Alright, lads an' lasses, listen up! Scouts say Troggs've been filchin' our supplies an' draggin' 'em into them tunnels. That don't sit right wi' me. We've got orders tae sort this mess oot—an' sort it, we shall!" He glared at his assembled troops, his fiery beard bristling. Thrain, get me five o' yer sneakiest. Ye're headin' in first.



A grizzled scout named Thrain Stonefoot stepped forward, his bow slung over his shoulder.

Thrain: Sneakiest, eh? Aye, I'll grab the usual troublemakers. If ye hear an explosion, dinnae worry—we probably meant tae do it.

Commander Boulderfist: Just get me numbers an' eyes on them supplies. No heroics—ye'll get plenty o' that once we're all in there.

Thrain: Aye, aye, Commander. Nae promises, though. Ye know us sneaky types—danger’s in the job description.


The infiltration team, five dwarves clad in light armor, vanished into the quarry's shadowy entrance.


Inside the tunnels, the air was damp and heavy. The flicker of their lanterns cast eerie shadows as they moved deeper.

Dalf Ironwhisker: Bah, smells like me uncle's socks after a week in his boots.

Thrain: Focus, Dalf. We’re no’ here tae sniff Trogg feet—though I’d nae be surprised if they took yer uncle’s socks as well.

Ahead, muffled grunts and scraping sounds echoed. The group halted, crouching behind a jagged rock. Peering around the corner, they saw a gang of Troggs hauling crates of dwarven supplies.

Kargan Runeshaper (whispering): Would ye look at that? Stealin' our best ale, the filthy swine!

Dalf: That’s war crimes, that is!

Thrain: Shush, ye dolts. Count 'em first—how many Troggs d’ye see?

Kargan: Ten over there, another dozen lugging barrels. But I hear more deeper in...

Further investigation revealed several small groups scattered throughout the tunnels, totaling nearly fifty Troggs.

Thrain: Right. We've seen enough. Let's get back tae the Commander afore they sniff us out.



The infiltration unit returned to the surface, faces grim.

Thrain: Commander, it’s worse than we thought. Near fifty o’ the brutes, and they’ve turned the quarry intae a pantry. Supplies are piled up in every corner. Looks like they’re diggin’ their way straight tae Loch Modan.

Commander Boulderfist: Fifty, ye say? Bah, I’ve fought off worse wi' a hangover. Alright, troops! We’re nae lettin' a single one o’ those beasts crawl back tae their holes. Prepare fer a full assault. Engineers, prep yer charges—we’re sealing those tunnels once we’re done!



The battle was fierce. The dwarves charged into the quarry, hammers and axes gleaming in the early sunlight.

Commander Boulderfist: Dinnae let 'em regroup! And fer th’ love o’ brew, watch where yer swingin’—these tunnels are narrow enough wi'out takin’ oot yer own!

Kargan: Oi, I just killed three wi' one swing! That’s a new record fer me!

Dalf: Bah, I just took doon four! Catch up, Kargan!

Thrain (dodging a Trogg swing): Quit braggin’ an’ keep fightin’, ye daft fools!

The dwarves pushed deeper into the quarry until the last of the Troggs fell. Bloodied but victorious, they regrouped near the entrance.



The engineers set their charges along the most vulnerable tunnel walls.

Engineer Brum Flintlock: Alright, lads, stand back. This’ll be a boom tae remember!

The explosion echoed across the valley, sealing the Trogg tunnels for good.

Commander Boulderfist: Fine work, Brum. Remind me tae keep ye away from the ale barrels, though. Yer too handy wi' explosives.



That evening, the miners hosted a grand feast in the infantry’s honor. Roasted boar, freshly baked bread, and barrels of ale flowed freely.

Miner Grimgut: To the finest bunch o’ Trogg-slayers this side o' Khaz Modan! Ye saved our quarry an’ our skins. Let’s drink tae yer health!

Dalf: An’ tae our record-breaking Trogg kills! Though, fer the record, I still say I got more than Kargan.

Kargan: Ye’ll be countin’ wrong even in yer grave, Dalf!

Commander Boulderfist: Enough o' yer squabblin’. Drink yer ale an’ shut yer gobs—ye’ve earned it!

Chapter 7: Ranks and organization of the Khaz Modan Infantry


Level 0 - 10 : Recruit
Level 10 - 30 : Stoneguard
Level 30 - 40 : Ironbreaker
Level 40 - 50 : Longbeard
Level 50 - 70 : Oathkeeper
Level 70 - 80 : King's Guard



The warmth of the tavern was sooo comforting as a young recruit, Movrak Grudgebearer, barely past his first training weeks, stood at the door, wide-eyed and clutching his mug of frothy ale.


Across the room sat an aged dwarf with a beard as white as freshly fallen snow, puffing on a well-worn pipe. Movrak approached nervously and set his mug down.


Ah, a fresh-faced lad seekin’ knowledge, eh? the Greybeard chuckled, taking a deep puff of his pipe.
Sit yer arse down then, and let me tell ye about the ranks and organization of the Khaz Modan Infantry.


The young recruit obliged, leaning in as the elder dwarf began to speak.



Ah, the path starts where you are now, lad, at the rank o’ Recruit, just like every other brave soul. From level 1 to 10, ye learn the basics—how to swing yer axe without hittin’ yer own beard, how to march in formation without fallin’ over yer boots. A recruit’s duties may seem humble, but these are the foundations upon which true warriors are forged. Every Ironbreaker an’ Oathkeeper once stood where you are now, lad, green and eager.


Movrak straightened his back, pride shining in his young eyes.



When a recruit shows promise and survives to level 10, they earn the honor of bein’ called Stoneguard. These dwarves are the backbone of the Infantry, the iron bones of our clan. They train harder, fight tougher, and are placed into divisions where they’ll hone their craft. Whether it’s shield walls, skirmishes, or defending the mines, a Stoneguard is no common soldier. Remember this, lad: the Stoneguard carry the weight of Khaz Modan on their shoulders.



The Greybeard’s voice lowered as his eyes gleamed with memory. Now, should ye live long enough an’ reach level 30, ye’ll stand among the Ironbreakers. These warriors are veterans, proven in the fires of battle. They’ve seen the whites of an orc’s eyes and lived to tell the tale. Ironbreakers are the first rank from which officers are chosen—though it’s a rare honor indeed.


Ah, but the true legends begin with the Longbeards, the elder continued. These are warriors of level 40 to 50, with scars like maps and stories that could fill a library. They’ve seen every corner of the battlefield and earned their place through blood and sweat. When a Longbeard speaks, lad, ye listen—because they’ve likely faced what yer just startin’ to fear.



And then, the Greybeard said, there are the Oathkeepers. To reach level 50 and beyond, ye must dedicate yer life to the defense of Khaz Modan. These elite warriors take an oath so sacred it binds their very soul. They forsake personal gain, becoming shields for our kin, protectors of the mountains, and symbols of duty. When the dark tides rise, the Oathkeepers are the first to charge, ready to fall so others may live.



The young recruit leaned forward, captivated. And the King’s Guards, sir?


Ah, now ye speak of legends within legends, the Greybeard replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. The King’s Guards are handpicked by the King himself. They’ve proved their loyalty and strength countless times, their deeds spoken of in halls far and wide. They’re more than warriors—they’re a force of nature, crushin’ enemies like a warhammer on shale. When not defendin’ the King or Thane personally, they’re tasked with guardin’ the most critical places in our halls.



And the leader of it all? Movrak asked.


The Greybeard’s gaze turned serious. The Thane. He’s second only to the King and must be the epitome of courage, wisdom, and strength. His word is law, and his orders are absolute. A Thane does not ask fer loyalty - he commands it through his actions. To fail the Thane is t’ fail all of Khaz Modan. Remember that, lad.



The old dwarf leaned back, finishing his ale with a satisfied sigh. There ye have it, the story of the Khaz Modan Infantry. If ye’ve the heart and grit, maybe one day ye’ll be an Oathkeeper or even stand among the King’s Guard.


Movrak nodded.

He had much to learn, but he knew he had taken his first steps on the path.

Chapter 8 : Reinforcements to Menethil



The heavy doors of Ironforge’s Great Forge Hall swung open.

General Grimsteel strode forward, clutching the sealed letter brought by the courier.


His expression was grave, his eyes scanning the contents.

Menethil Harbor is under threat, he declared. Dragonmaw orcs have set up camp to the east and are preparing for a siege. The garrison is undermanned. King Magni's orders - Menethil must not fall !


The gathered officers murmured. Though the Dragonmaw were scattered after the Second War, their remnants had proven persistent, emboldened in recent months. General Grimsteel turned to his lieutenant, Durgan Ironaxe.


Summon the Khaz Modan Infantry. We march for Menethil by dawn.


The infantry formed swiftly, battle-hardened dwarves in mail armor with hammers, axes, and rifles slung over their shoulders. War banners bearing the hammer-and-anvil emblem of Ironforge fluttered in the cold mountain winds.

In the lead, General Grimsteel addressed his soldiers :


The Dragonmaw dare to threaten our lands again. These orcs have forgotten the strength of Khaz Modan and the wrath of Ironforge. We will remind them ! March with pride, for we are dwarves, and no orcish scum will take our land from us.


The ranks erupted into a resounding cheer, boots stamping the ground as they set off. Across the snowy trails and valleys, the soldiers marched in tight formation.

Alongside the infantry, Ironforge's gyrocopters buzzed overhead, their pilots scouting ahead for signs of the enemy.


By the third day, Menethil Harbor came into view, nestled on the edge of the Wetlands. Smoke from forges and cooking fires rose in the distance, but the signs of preparation for siege were clear. Hastily built barricades lined the eastern walls, and the garrison moved in hurried, nervous clusters. From the watchtower, the banners of Ironforge were spotted, and the gates opened to greet the reinforcements.



General Grimsteel rode in at the head of his column, his presence immediately restoring order among the anxious defenders.


Captain Tharnan Stouthammer of Menethil’s garrison approached, saluting.


General Grimsteel, Tharnan began, your arrival couldn't be more timely. The orcs have fortified their position in the marshlands east of here. Scouts report war machines and dragons among their ranks. They're preparing for a full assault.


Grimsteel frowned. Then we’ll meet them before they strike. Assemble your men, Captain. Khaz Modan fights today.


As dusk fell, the dwarven forces made their move. Under cover of darkness, Ironforge’s gyrocopters led the way, dropping explosives on the Dragonmaw encampments to sow chaos and weaken their defenses. The infantry, divided into two battalions, approached from the north and west, cutting off any chance of retreat.

The first clash came as Dragonmaw sentries sounded their war horns, rousing the camp. The orcs, armed with crude axes and spiked armor, charged to meet the dwarves. Rifles cracked in the night as the first wave of orcs fell to Ironforge's sharpshooters. Battle cries echoed through the marshes as the dwarves met the orcish charge with shields and steel.


Amid the chaos, General Grimsteel led a decisive assault on the heart of the Dragonmaw camp.


The Dragonmaw, realizing their defeat, began to falter. A roar split the air as one of their dragons took flight, flames licking the night sky. But Ironforge’s gyrocopters were ready. Bombs rained down on the beast, forcing it into a frantic retreat.


By dawn, the battlefield was silent. The Dragonmaw encampment lay in ruins, their forces scattered or slain. General Grimsteel stood atop a felled orcish catapult, surveying the victory. Menethil’s defenders, now bolstered by the Khaz Modan Infantry, cheered as the Ironforge banners were planted firmly in the marshy ground.


Grimsteel turned to Captain Tharnan.


Menethil is safe - for now. But the Dragonmaw must know that wherever they crawl from, Khaz Modan will answer.

Tharnan nodded.


We'll hold strong, General. You have our thanks.


With the Dragonmaw broken, the dwarves began fortifying Menethil further, ensuring the harbor would remain a strong bastion in Khaz Modan.


Though the battle was won, General Grimsteel knew the war against the remnants of the Dragonmaw was far from over. But for now, Menethil was safe.