As Onki Quirkwire and his flymates flew through the cold air of Dun Morogh for another scouting run with his goggles on tight as his flight suit did its best to keep him warm, he could not help but feel dread at what he could see peeking over the horizon and making its way through the Searing Gorge and towards his home.

Namely, campfires. Thousands upon thousands of campfires.

He, like other pilots, had been patrolling the edges of Dun Morogh, pushing the limits of how far their machines could reach with no other places besides home to refuel for months now on the order of the High Tinkerer. Ever since these otherworldly invaders called the Horde had destroyed Stormwind, both Ironforge and Gnomeregan were worried they would turn their attention north to fuel their lust for conquest. For a while the orcs, those green-skinned creatures that made humans seem small, seemed happy enough ravaging the former lands of Stormwind, but he and others noticed how they kept building and building up their forces.

They made countless weapons in their equally countless forges, built hundreds and hundreds of siege weapons, and gathered more and more troops at Blackrock Mountain. All signs pointed towards the Horde preparing for further conflict.

Some in Ironforge even believed that the Horde had allied with their cast out cousins, the Dark Iron Clan, after hearing about how they had so easily taken territory that belonged to the dark-skinned dwarfs. Judging by the quality of the arms and armor of the Horde that Onki and other pilots could see through their spyglasses, they believed it.

Day by day, Onki watched as the war machine pointed toward his home grew more and more terrible, the vastness of it all enough to make him feel hopeless…

Then the horrible day came when that army started to move north as everyone had predicted, and all Onki and his flymates could do was report back how much closer the Horde got every day to Dun Morogh. Soon they would be entering the first passes and tunnels into the snowy region, but they would be ready… he hoped.

His were not a warlike people, the gnomes never having to face any large-scale conflict in all their history. They invented for betterment, progress, exploration, industry, and fun.

Not for war.

Onki was feeling glad now that the dwarfs saw fit to create the tools of war that might allow them to survive this coming calamity. He didn’t know what he would do if they didn’t have guns and bombs to even the scale against such a terrible foe.

But not even the dwarfs of Ironforge, their closest friends, allies, and some even believed cousins, had seen large-scale fighting since the War of Three Hammers over two centuries ago, and that would be more comparable to a small skirmish compared to this.

They were not like the humans, who seemed to exist in a near-constant state of war, and were out of their element against a seemingly unending hostile force who had already destroyed a whole kingdom that had won its last two wars against terrible threats, but fallen here.

Already both rulers had sounded the evacuation of all dwarfs and gnomes in Khaz Modan to the safety and fortifications of the cities, resulting in a situation where both Ironfroge and Gnomeregan contained practically every living soul in the entire region. Rushed efforts were being done to upgrade and improve upon both capital’s already extensive defenses while both populations were being put through hurried militia training to fight alongside the proper military of both kingdoms if need be.

The idea that things were so grim and the threat so large that everyone had to fight… it made Onki glad there were gnomes and dwarfs far to the north so that should the worst happen…

He didn’t even want to think about it.

Still, the best he could do right now as the Horde drew steadily closer was to keep an eye on their movements and make sure that the dwarfs knew where to hit them to make them really hurt.

After all, it wasn’t as if the Horde had anything that could bring down true gnomish craftsmanship!

Ironforge was talking about arming things like his baby with guns and bombs so they could do more, but the idea of his machine being used for such violence and not flying and exploration like she was made for made him sick to his stomach.

There had been proposals like that before, of course. While his people did not like using their inventions for violence, they were not stupid or blind enough to not notice the possibilities, but there had simply never been any need before now.

Still, war required sacrifices and if that was the worst thing that he would have to compromise on, then it would be a blessing.

A quick look at his fuel gauge showed he was nearing the halfway point, so he signaled his flymates and they turned around to head home for maintenance and refueling, both for their machines and themselves. The next flight would take over the scouting and patrolling while they reported on what they found and got their rest.

Unfortunately, one thing was undoubtedly certain.

The Horde had come to Khaz Modan.

“Just a little more…” Brann Bronzebeard, youngest of the Brothers Bronzebeard, said quietly as he looked through his spyglass at the approaching greenskin army that was making their way through the single pass they hadn’t yet collapsed.

Once word had come through of the Horde’s advance into Dun Morogh proper he and his fellow mountaineers, along with the demolition teams, got to work right quick to make certain the Horde only had one way to go. They knew they couldn’t stop the tide of greenskins, but they could slow them down and make sure they went where they wanted.

With that in mind, they left this large pass suspiciously open. Oh, Brann was sure the Horde’s leadership had noticed, but the bastards couldn’t do anything about it unless they wanted to spend weeks digging through the collapsed passes and tunnels or brave a trek through the high mountains.

So they sent their army through… and surprisingly nothing happened, so they just kept going; the ambush they were likely expecting did not come and they began to lower their guard.

Brann didn’t believe in fighting fair against already unfair odds, which was why he and his fellows set up a trap for the greenskins, one which relied on his knowledge of the mountains.

There was no other dwarf in all of Khaz Modan that knew these mountains’ geography as well as he… and none knew their geology as well either.

Brann watched the greenskins patiently as they slowly marched themselves to their deaths.

“Now!” he signaled to the various demo teams throughout the area, firing a flare into the sky for everyone in the area to see. That got the Horde to stop short and get on guard, likely thinking it was the beginning of some kind of magical attack.

Oh no, Brann had far worse in store for the monsters… he had a lot of friends from Stormwind to avenge after all.

All around the Horde’s advancing force, muted booms could be heard coming from every direction, causing many orcs to look around them in confusion trying to find the source of the noise. But then a new sound began booming throughout the pass… one that rumbled like thunder and came with all the force of a tsunami on land.

Brann picked this spot specifically to force the Horde through since its mountain peaks were full of snow… snow which was easily dislodged by a few well-placed explosives.

Rushing toward the Horde like an unrelenting wave, snow and stone tumbled down from the surrounding mountains, funneled specifically to crash down on the approaching army. They recognized the danger right away and many attempted to flee, but none could outrun the avalanche that Brann had meticulously planned.

Brann and his forces watched from the safety of their carefully selected spots as the front part of the Horde’s army simply vanished in mere moments as the greenskins were buried in snow until the pass was no longer a pass. By the time it was over, there was nothing left but a large hill of debris that would take the Horde no small amount of time and resources to even attempt to get past.

Still, even Brann was shocked as he witnessed a few of the creatures dig themselves out of their tomb. Not many, and clearly very injured, but the fact that anything at all survived that avalanche was nothing short of amazing… and terrifying.

“Just how tough are these damn things?” Brann couldn’t help but growl as he saw what few survivors of the trap pulled themselves out of the snow.

Even worse, this wasn’t even the whole army, merely the frontmost part of it, and Brann was sure it was the ‘expendable’ part since the Horde had been no doubt expecting an ambush. Now that they had shown them what they were capable of, Brann was certain that the Horde would be more careful going through Dun Morogh.

Of course, that wasn’t all of his tricks, and the more successful they were at slowing the Horde down the more time his eldest brother and king had time to prepare his people and the gnomes.

If the Horde wanted to make their way through Dun Morogh to attack his home, then he would make them pay in blood for every step they took.

After all, Brann thought as he picked up his rifle and looked down its scope, aiming directly at the healthiest looking orc that had survived the trap and even now was looking for its weapon, no one knows these mountains better than me.

Thus was the first official shot of the Invasion of Khaz Modan made that day, followed by many others as the dwarves of Ironforge drew first blood.

“For Khaz Modan!” Muradin Bronzebeard, middle child of the Brothers Bronzebeard and High Thane of Ironforge, let out a furious war cry as he split an orc in twain with his rune axe in one hand while crushing the head of another with his hammer.

He didn’t allow himself to slow down for a single moment, with each strike of his weapons outright killing or at least mortally wounding every orc that attempted to get close to him.

An orc raider, riding upon its giant wolf mount, attempted to ram him only for him to toss his hammer into the rider, knocking the orc off clean into the air and collapsing its chest. Muradin swiftly followed up ramming his axe into the wolf’s skull, killing it instantly.

With a raised hand his hammer flew back to him, returning to his grip easily and its head stained with blood and pieces of bone.

That wasn’t the end of it though as the creature that shouldn’t even be able to breathe picked itself up, coughing blood all the while, and ran at him with his ax raised high. Muradin admired the determination if nothing else, even if he wished it wasn’t pointed at his people. He blocked the orc’s strike with his hammer and counterstuck with his own ax, bisecting the orc from his waist to his shoulder.

“Try getting up from that,” Muradin growled as the two halves of the orc fell down dead.

Several more orcs charged at him, in hopes of avenging their fallen comrade, but their efforts were useless. Not only was Muradin a highly accomplished warrior, but every single piece of gear that he was wearing was heavily enchanted and masterfully crafted.

That meant that Muradin slaughtered the orcs easily as soon as they drew close enough to meet his axe.

All around him the sounds of battle could be heard as he and his warriors did combat with a party of orc scouts. Doughty warriors fought and killed creatures nearly three times their size, all with skill and bravery while armed and armored with the best Ironforge had to offer.

Muradin had been leading parties such as this for weeks now, for while they could not beat the Horde in numbers face to face they could ride out on their rams and slaughter their scouting parties and the smaller warbands that the Horde sent ahead to secure ground.

At first, it was easy. Using their mounts and their home environment to their advantage, they usually managed to get the drop on the creature, take them out quickly, and then head off before any reinforcements could come.

The goal was to blind the Horde as much as possible, while their own eyes in the sky kept constant watch on them. This made it easier to lead them into traps, dead ends, and slow them down more and more, delivering a thousand cuts to a colossal beast until it bled out.

Sadly, as the weeks dragged on and the Horde’s main body kept on marching into Dun Morogh their numbers and forces grew… and so did the challenge to fight them back.

First, it was the ogres, lumbering brutes that were twice the size of the orcs themselves. Stupid as stones but just as strong and tough to kill as they looked. Muradin had seen many brave dwarf warriors be crushed under their bulk or tossed aside with ease, their bodies collapsing under the immense strength of the stupid creatures.

They were dumb muscle, yes, but muscle all the same.

Of course, they were nothing compared to the two-headed variants who could actually think. They had all the strength and toughness of their less intelligent cousins, but also the ability to use arcane magic, not unlike the mages up north. Although unlike them they used their magic brutally and savagely but no less effectively against his warriors. Thankfully they were rarer to see on the battlefield than the single-headed and non-magical kind.

But the worst were not the ogres, oh no. There was something far worse among the Horde that showed their wicked nature more than anything else Muradin had ever seen.

“Death Knight!” one of his warriors cried out in warning, and Muradin was quick to turn his head and see the approaching enemy reinforcements, more orc raiders being led by the being in question.

An abomination of life and death riding upon an equally undead steed; the former knights of Stormwind rode again as monsters in service of the Horde. He knew not what foul magics animated them, only that they took delight in slaughter and that they thrived in death.

Muradin recalled seeing the literal life of dwarf warriors being sucked out of them before such creatures, seemingly refusing to fall no matter how much damage they suffered. And worst of all, the monsters raised the dead as mindless servants, both enemies and allies, to sick upon the living. Such creatures took far too many lives to take down, especially when every living dwarf was needed in this war, so there was only one thing to do at this time.

“Fall back! Fall back!” he bellowed his order for all to hear. “Disengage and fall back!”

It was sadly an order that he had to give more and more as the fighting kept on. He and his warriors killed and killed, but it didn’t feel as if they were even making a dent in the Horde’s numbers. It seemed no matter how many bands he personally saw defeated, the Horde’s movement continued undaunted.

So it was with an increasingly heavy heart as he helped cover his warriors' retreat before mounting his ram and beating feet to safety as fast they could.

Thankfully, despite the speed and endurance of the Death Knights' undead steeds, they were still limited in how they could move like the live horses they once were, while Ironforges rams were made to move within their mountainous home. They quickly escaped their enemies and made for safety to regroup, Marudin counting his party to see how many they had lost.

Less than he feared, more than he hoped.

His was not the only warrior band striking at the Horde where they could, but their casualties were building quickly and soon it would not be safe for even probing attacks. They might be slowing down the Horde, but he wondered at times if they were only delaying the inevitable.

No, he shook his head. I can’t think like that.

“Let’s get home, lads! Will get them back next time!” he encouraged his men.

Though I wished I believed it more myself.

Deep in the Military Ward of Ironforge, dwarfs and gnomes of all kinds were rushing around delivering reports, transporting messages, giving status updates, and everything else needed to help run an army as smoothly as possible. This was the first major conflict for the people of Ironforge in centuries, but they had been training and preparing since that time… even if the enemy they were facing was far from the one they were expecting.

Within said ward the king of Ironforge himself, Magni Bronzebeard, stood next to his fellow ruler and close friend, Gelbin Mekkatorque, High Tinkerer of Gnomeregan. Both were listening to Angus Stonehammer, captain of the Ironforge Guard, give them a personal update about the conflict with the Horde.

It was not good news.

“They simply number too many,” he repeated the fact that all knew but dreaded to hear. “Our efforts have slowed them down considerably, but the Horde’s soldiers are tough and determined. They will reach our gates soon, my lords, and we have no hope of matching them in open combat. All other major settlements and holdouts have fallen, their populations here, fled or worse.”

“Then we make our stand,” King Magni said grimly. “We’ve done all that we can and now we must trust that our defenses will see us through this dark night.”

“We’ve made all the preparations we could in such a short time,” Gelbin finally spoke up. “But Gnomeregan is not Ironforge… I fear we will prove to be a weak link to you, dear friend.”

“Nonsense! Gnomeregan’s gates are as tough as ours and your inventions will scare off the Horde, this I’m sure!” Magni was quick to counter his friend’s dire words.

“Still… should the worst happen…” Gelbin started hesitantly, before his expression turned to one of firm resolve. “I’ll evacuate as many of my people as I can through the tunnels connecting us together. Then you’ll close the gates behind them and collapse them.”

“Only if you promise to offer my people the same,” Magni said grimly. “Knowing the Horde they will come at us first, thinking we are the toughest nut to crack, and breach our walls first.”

“Only because your people have shown you are the better warriors, while all we’ve done—” Gelbin started, only to be interrupted by Magni.

“Is provide invaluable aerial reconnaissance, nearly all your city’s engineers to help strengthen our defenses and build our weapons, lent me your clerks and workers to help run the logistics for my warriors, and a million other things,” said Magni, listing out the gnomes’ many contributions. “Your people are not weak Gelbin, your strengths are many and have been proven time and again. Ironforge is blessed to have an ally like Gnomeregan in these dark times.”

Gelbin could only smile at the kind words, even if the smile did not reach his eyes and he did not totally believe them. His thoughts turned to the steam armor that he had begun constructing as soon as he learned of the Horde, but he knew that it would not be ready nearly in time. His people had not been ready for war.

“Still, we still have time to do what work we can and make sure we are ready,” Gelbin finally decided to say after a moment of silence. “We’ll double-check the stockpiles, but according to my calculations, we should have enough supplies to last us years if we manage it right. We can still mine, get water, and build things even during a prolonged siege, and we have the experimental mushroom farms working overtime to produce all the food we might need.”

“So the only way we are losing this fight is if the Horde breaks in our front door, which we won’t allow,” Magni said with a cruel smirk. “They’ll drown in their own blood before they even make a dent, you’ll see.”

“While I am not one for such graphic descriptions, I hope so my friend,” Gelbin nodded solemnly, hating the loss of life but also knowing it was the only way for them to survive. “I must return to Gnomeregan soon to go over any final checks before the Horde reaches us. That and I’m sure Sicco is getting tired of being in charge while I’m over here,” he finished with a laugh.

“To victory then, my friend,” Magni said as he grabbed a nearby mug of ale.

“To peace,” Gelbin said as he grabbed his own mug.

Hopefully, they could share another drink when this was all over and they were still alive… hopefully.

“What an utter waste of time,” Orgrim Doomhammer, Warchief of the Horde, could not help but growl.

While the invasion of Khaz Modan was necessary for the Horde to get access to the resources it needed to invade the northern human kingdoms it didn’t mean that the whole experience wasn’t a bloody slog the entire way. The dwarfs, and surprisingly even the gnomes, had resisted their advance with a determination that was very orclike, worthy of respect for their courage and fortitude. They made the Horde fight for every inch they gained and were still making them earn it as all attempts at breaching Ironforge and Gnomeregan produced only failure and piles of orc corpses.

It got so bad that Doomhammer had no choice but to put a stop to the assaults and simply instruct Kilrogg Deadeye and his Bleeding Hollow Clan to keep up the siege and keep them contained. They had what they needed anyhow, full control of Khaz Modan’s natural resources and access to the dwarven forges that they had conquered during the course of their invasion.

The Bleeding Hollow would keep the short folk contained while the Blackrock would create more armaments and siege weapons for the Horde to better prepare them for their northern invasion.

It was absolutely essential that they destroyed the humans as quickly as possible so that his people could have a new home away from their dying homeland. They had to strike before they could be destroyed.

For that cause, there was nothing that he would not do and no line that he would not cross.

He would even suffer Gul’dan’s continued survival and that of his pet ogre so long as the traitorous warlock kept providing Death Knights. The abominations had proven their worth several times over during the course of the invasion and had done much to smash apart organized resistance to their advance.

That would change once the war was over and the warlock’s assistance was no longer so valuable, of course.

Still, they had much to prepare for still, beyond arming his warriors and recovering the losses taken coming this far.

It would be the height of foolishness to attempt to invade the north by land since the only means to do so was across a single bridge no doubt the humans would well fortify. So the only other choice they had to transport his warriors to their enemies would be to cross the sea, something orcs did not particularly have much experience with.

Creating a fleet large enough to transport most of the Horde that far would take time, time he would need to convince his warriors of this plan and ideally find more allies. Fortunately, he had options on that front, such as the creatures called ‘goblins’ who had been reading out to the Horde recently to do ‘business’ with them, along with envoys from those in the north that had no love of humans, trolls of a different clan from the ones encountered during the war with Stormwind.

Time was also his enemy for he knew the northern kingdoms at this time must have been preparing for their arrival, but there was no helping it.

For now, they were victorious and that was worth celebrating.

They would rest and prepare, and then the Horde would conquer the north and destroy anything that could be a threat to their future.

‘It is the only way,’ he thought as he gripped his family’s weapon tightly.