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"HERE THEY COME! BROTHERS AND SISTERS OF THE MOUNTAIN, SHOW THESE FOOLS THE MIGHT OF THE DWARVES!"
Kurdan Wildhammer, clad in his personally crafted dwarven power armor and wielding a massive power axe, bellowed from atop the stronghold's walls as a vast wave of daemons surged forward.
Immediately, lines of dwarves along the battlements opened fire on the approaching enemy, supported by mounted cannons and other heavy weapon emplacements.
Normally, daemons were impervious to damage from conventional weapons. However, the dwarves—like the other races of Azeroth—had nearly three millennia of experience fighting them.
Like the other races, they had developed their own methods of dealing with such foes. As a people famed for their craftsmanship and forging mastery, they possessed an abundance of weapons personally crafted and inscribed with powerful runes, designed specifically to circumvent a daemon's unnatural resilience.
Daemons were banished in droves, yet they continued to advance like a unrelenting tide.
Seeing this Kurdan relayed order to the defenders outside the walls via his commlink.
The thick columns of armored dwarves shifted formation, locking shields to form a veritable iron wall against the incoming tide. Tower shields overlapped, creating an unyielding barrier.
Before them stood bipedal dwarven walkers. Those positioned at the rear were equipped with cannons, missile launchers, energy weapons, and other ranged armaments to provide heavy fire support.
The walkers at the front of the line were more heavily armored and primarily outfitted for melee combat, though some carried secondary ranged weapons.
As soon as the daemons reached them, the melee walkers absorbed the brunt of the assault, sweeping through entire groups of enemies.
Whilst the shield wall behind them held firm, preventing any breakthrough while the dwarves took every chance to shoot or stab the daemons through the small gaps of their shield wall.
Behind the shield columns, the ranged walkers unleashed devastating volleys into dense concentrations of daemons, explosions tearing through the horde.
Kurdan frowned as he surveyed his defenses. He knew he could not allow the enemy to pass through this stronghold. If they did, they would gain a direct route to Aerie Peak—and such a siege was something he would never permit.
The problem was that the daemons had been harassing their defensive positions for weeks. They had finally breached the southwestern region of the kingdom, making this stronghold the last line of defense before the Wildhammer capital.
Under normal circumstances, defence and fortification would not have been overly difficult. The Hinterlands were naturally defensible, with their rugged mountains and dense forests.
And the Wildhammer Dwarves who lived here for so long knew the terrain best.
Unfortunately, the Wildhammer dwarves' greatest pride and strength—their aerial forces—were scattered across distant corners of the kingdom.
It had been a clever diversion.
Outer settlements had reported attacks, prompting Kurdan and his generals to deploy most of their air power to support those regions.
In reality, it had been a calculated ploy to draw them away, clearing the path for this massive assault aimed directly at Aerie Peak.
Now Kurdan was forced to hold the line as best he could, hoping that his communication were quickly received and enough of his aerial forces return in time to reclaim the skies so that they could drive the enemy out of their home.
"Daemon engines!!" a Wildhammer dwarf shouted from the wall.
Kurdan's eyes widened as he followed the direction of the cry. Emerging from the enemy's rear were large daemonic Daemon engines of Khorne—Blood Slaughterers, Brass Scorpions, and Defilers—advancing rapidly through the battlefield.
A chill ran through him.
If those engines reached the defensive columns, they would not only overwhelm the walkers but slaughter the dwarves below like sheep.
Yet he could not afford to redirect his artillery. It was only through the concentrated fire of his batteries and the relentless volleys from the walls that the dwarven formations below were not already being drowned in the daemon tide.
If he ordered the artillery to shift targets toward the approaching engines, there was no guarantee they would destroy them in time—and his defensive columns would begin taking catastrophic losses.
The realization settled heavily upon him.
He might have to make another brutal decision.
He might have to sacrifice the warriors outside the walls.
The thought made him sick—using his own brothers and sisters as pawns.
Thankfully he would not have to made such a decision.
BANG!
A thunderous crack split the battlefield.
The lead Blood Slaughterer's head detonated in a violent explosion, the massive engine collapsing to the ground.
Kurdan blinked in shock.
The shot had come from behind the enemy lines.
"Your Majesty! Multiple unknown signals detected!"
Could it be reinforcements?
Hope flickered within him.
Had their aerial forces returned early?
Before he could get an answer himself, more explosions erupted among the daemon engines—precise, devastating strikes.
Kurdan could swear he saw large figures moving behind the daemon host—moving at speeds he had never seen something of their size move before.
Then—
A massive white bipedal mech soared into the air, thrusters blazing from its back. It descended like a falling star, slamming into a Defiler and driving a pile bunker straight through its chassis.
In one fluid motion, it extended an energy blade from its opposite forearm, cleaving the Defiler in half before casting the ruined machine aside.
Without slowing, the mech surged forward, gliding across the battlefield at incredible speed. Its energy blade extended with each sweeping strike, cutting down swathes of daemons in blazing arcs of destruction.
Kurdan—and every dwarf upon the walls—watched in stunned awe.
It was a masterpiece.
A union of art and annihilation.
The blood of master craftsmen stirred within them, filled with reverence and exhilaration at the sight of such technological brilliance. And more importantly—it was clear these machines were allies.
Moments later, several more war machines descended upon the battlefield. Some dropped from the skies like meteors, while others charged directly into the daemon ranks like high-speed battering rams, tearing through the enemy lines with unstoppable force.
While not as elegant or powerful as the white one, it was obvious they were of the same design lineage as they tore through the daemons in a multitude of ways.
Some engaged from range, firing massive rifles, bazookas, or heavy machine guns. Others preferred to charge at high speed, smashing into the enemy lines. Those not crushed by the sheer force of impact were cut down by energy blades or high-frequency weapons that sliced through daemon flesh and warped metal alike.
The daemons found themselves helpless as these war machines prioritized the daemon engines first before turning their attention to the horde.
They could not swarm them—the machines were far too fast, rarely remaining still long enough to be surrounded.
Heralds of Nurgle attempted to unleash rotting plagues upon them, only to find the corruption barely effective. Tzeentchian sorcery fared little better, their spells missing entirely as the mechs blurred across the battlefield.
And it soon became clear why.
The armor plating of the machines was infused and blessed with the Holy Light!
What had moments ago been a tide threatening to overwhelm the dwarves now found itself being overwhelmed instead—slaughtered in kind, and doubly so when Kurdan ordered his own forces to resume full offensive fire.
Caught between dwarven artillery and these unknown allies, the daemon host began to collapse.
From the rear of the battlefield, vehicles bearing the sigil of Stormwind advanced and took position. Tanks and MRLs opened fire, unleashing devastating barrages.
Troop transports deployed Stormwind soldiers, who quickly formed disciplined firing lines and unleashed concentrated volleys into the enemy.
Stormwind aircraft screamed overhead, executing bombing runs and precision strafing attacks.
Within minutes, the majority of the daemon host had been destroyed or banished back to the Warp. The remaining pockets of resistance were swiftly eliminated by coordinated dwarven and human forces.
Kurdan's comm-link beeped with an unknown signal. He activated it.
"Who is this?"
"High Thane Kurdan, my name is Alastor Wrynn, general of this army. We have come to reinforce your defenses and relieve the attacks upon your kingdom."
Kurdan's eyes widened.
He had met the Stormwind prince on a few occasions and had formed a favorable impression of him. And in recent years, the young man had only continued to astonish the world as his legend and prestige spread throughout Arda.
"Lad, on behalf of my people and my kingdom, I thank you for your aid. We owe you greatly—many of my kin would have died today without your intervention."
"Likewise," Alastor replied.
Kurdan watched as the white mech glided toward the main gate, before stopping gracefully before the massive doors. Its chest hatch opened, and from the cockpit extended two seats.
Seated within were Alastor and Anduin.
Anduin removed his pilot helmet, breathing heavily, his hair disheveled. Alastor, by contrast, appeared perfectly composed as he jumped down with ease.
"You said these ACs were completely safe!" Anduin exclaimed, exasperated as he followed.
"I may have neglected to mention that I designed White Glint according to my personal specifications," Alastor admitted with a slightly guilty smile. "The inertia dampeners aren't as finely calibrated as the other ACs."
Anduin shot him an irritated glare.
Fortunately for Alastor, the stronghold's gates began to open.
Kurdan emerged, accompanied by several Wildhammer dwarves.
His gaze immediately locked onto White Glint.
He stared at it the way a dwarf might admire an impossibly exquisite masterpiece of craftsmanship—reverent, transfixed, and faintly emotional. The dwarves beside him wore similar expressions.
"By the Maker… she's even more beautiful up close," Kurdan murmured.
He quickly cleared his throat and invited Alastor and Anduin inside the stronghold.
Alastor could not help but smirk in pride at the reaction his personal Armored Core had received.
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Within one of the stronghold's inner chambers, Alastor and Anduin briefed Kurdan on the broader war situation, their strategic objectives, and their request for him to join their campaign toward Ironforge.
Kurdan agreed readily—and even enthusiastically. The plan appealed to him greatly.
It was decided that within a few days, Kurdan would personally lead one of his hosts alongside Alastor's expeditionary army toward Ironforge.
There, they would coordinate with the main Stormwind army—led by Varian Wrynn—and, hopefully, the Bronzebeard dwarves, to launch a three-pronged assault against the enemy besieging the Bronzebeard Capital of Ironforge.
Kurdan was deeply saddened to hear of Llane Wrynn's death. He had regarded the man as one of humanity's best leaders and stated openly that Azeroth had suffered a great loss with his death.
Yet it also explained the cold decisiveness he had witnessed in Alastor's eyes—the ruthless efficiency with which he had slaughtered their enemies and prepared for the coming battles.
Not that Kurdan could blame him.
Dwarves were not known for forgiving those who crossed them. And there were many debts yet to be repaid to the bastards who had plunged their world into its current state—who had caused so many of their kin to die needlessly.
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Once official matters were concluded, Kurdan—almost casually—asked about the war machines he had witnessed.
Alastor was more than willing to speak about his Armored Cores.
While Kurdan briefly felt the urge to strangle the young prince upon hearing the current models described as "prototypes," that irritation was quickly overshadowed by excitement at the thought of what future versions might be capable of.
Especially when Alastor expressed his desire to collaborate with the Wildhammer dwarves after the war—particularly to improve the ACs' flight capabilities and booster systems.
Suffice it to say, one of the two dwarven kings felt positively giddy at the prospect of such machines taking to the skies for prolonged periods.
He agreed almost immediately.
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