Two Flying Machines buzzed aggressively, flanking a steampunk combat robot propelled by a roaring jetpack!
A flash of white light heralded Galen's arrival on the Skybreaker's deck. Leaning against the railing, he settled in to enjoy the spectacle. Flying Machines were old news to him, the quintessential early war machine for countless adventurers in his past life. This pioneering foray into aerial warfare was novel, yet the goblin-engineered contraptions were predictably crude. Their workmanship was rough, their styling questionable, and their movements accompanied by an ear-splitting, unlubricated whine. However, their emergence had spurred advancements in cutting technology, opening avenues for mechanized resource gathering.
Gazlowe's Flying Machine sported a grappling hook on its left arm and a whirring circular saw on its right. Hemet's, while also equipped with a circular saw, replaced the other mechanical arm with a chattering machine gun, boosting its ranged capabilities.
Mekgineer Thermaplugg's combat robot bore a striking resemblance to the Platinum Mechagnomes of Mechagon, save for a cockpit now occupying the head. This war machine was clearly a prototype of Thermaplugg's later, more refined creations. As the great tinker landed, the robot's jetpack detached, revealing a menacing muzzle that hovered independently in the sky with a mechanical hiss.
These little guys have some ingenuity! Galen mused.
"Aha! Thermaplugg, we're here! Prepare to witness the might of the Flying Machine!" Hemet shrieked in his characteristic high-pitched voice.
"Shut your green hide, Hemet! My Crowd Pummeler is superior! I could crush this oversized fool myself!" Thermaplugg retorted, fiercely proud of his creation. "Did you see that frost wyrm? Mine!"
"A beast with a brain the size of a pebble. I've shot down dozens on the Wealthy!" Hemet countered.
"Insolent vermin! You dare mock me!" Skadi the Ruthless bellowed, fury contorting his features beneath his horned helmet. Four clanking iron contraptions surrounded him, yet their pilots engaged in petty squabbles. Though he couldn't decipher their words, their casual banter spoke volumes of their disregard.
Skadi lunged towards Thermaplugg's Crowd Pummeler, the very device that had electrocuted Glauf. Though he held no affection for his mount, the humiliating shock still stung. But as he closed in, Gazlowe expertly deployed his Flying Machine's grappling hook, yanking Skadi away.
Surprise flickered across Skadi's face, quickly replaced by a cruel grin as he spotted the unprotected goblin pilot perched on the Flying Machine. With a powerful heave, he hurled his harpoon directly at Gazlowe's cockpit, aiming for a swift kill.
Just as the harpoon hurtled towards its target, a thick, arched metal shield snapped forward from the Flying Machine's rear, intercepting the projectile. Skadi's harpoon shattered into useless fragments upon impact.
"Hahahaha!" Hemet's ear-splitting laughter echoed across the battlefield. Skadi's face darkened, but before he could react, the grappling hook dragged him towards the Flying Machine, and the circular saw whirred into action.
An azure arm fell, severed cleanly. Agony blotted Skadi's vision, but the next onslaught offered no respite. Hemet's machine gun and Thermaplugg's plasma cannon ripped into his back in a brutal thirty-second barrage, reducing the Vrykul Lord Skadi's corpse to a riddled mess.
"Tsk tsk tsk! Too savage!" Galen muttered, averting his gaze.
Nielas, astride her red dragon, waved a quick greeting to Galen before rejoining the aerial dogfight above Utgarde Keep. Galen watched his heroic sister-in-law, a curious smile playing on his lips as he pondered the dynamic of her relationship with his cousin.
With Skadi's demise, the already struggling proto-dragon knights above Utgarde Keep were utterly routed. Unlike the ground forces, Galen showed no mercy, ordering a complete annihilation of the Dragonflayer clan's aerial power.
The four airships circled the summit of Utgarde Keep. The First Legion of Stromgarde surrounded the castle gates and terrace exits, while the combined First and Second Legions of the Argent Crusade and the armies of Lordaeron strategically ambushed any potential reinforcements in the surrounding area, relishing the one-sided engagements.
These ambushed rescue parties, decimated and demoralized, limped back to their villages, only to find them already under Alliance control, the flags of various nations – bearing heavy anchors, unyielding lions, three iron spears, the letters "LD," soaring falcons, iron felt and crossed hammers, and phoenixes in flames – now flying overhead. In every corner of these banners, a red fist was prominently displayed.
Ancient human legends attributed the fist to Tyr's Silver Hand, its symbol becoming a common totem for the human tribes of the region, believed to ward off evil, heal the sick, and protect warriors. Galen had replaced the old Alliance insignia with this red fist, a clear declaration of Stromgarde's leadership over this new political and military union.
Ymiron's northern fortress, a formidable military stronghold built into the mountains, guarded the northern reaches of the Dragonflayer kingdom. Fifteen thousand years prior, King Ymiron had decreed the execution of all "deformed" infants, with those who disobeyed facing his personal judgment. Under his rule, the Dragonflayer Vrykul had desperately sought to purify the Curse of Flesh, yet it continued to weaken them. Eventually, Ymiron himself succumbed to a severe form of the affliction, forcing him to magically place most of his army into a deep slumber within the fortress, hoping to escape the curse's relentless grip.
Now, the Dragonflayer queen raced frantically through the fortress's depths, consumed by regret. Her impatience had cost them dearly. Relying on only a third of their awakened forces had proven disastrous against the invading "little dwarves." Utgarde Keep was lost, and most of their kingdom had fallen. The elite of the Dragonflayer clan lay dormant within Ymiron's fortress. She should have awakened her husband sooner