The ancient horn of war bellowed, signaling Galen's assault on Storm Peaks!
Leading the charge from Crystal Song Forest, Ymiron and his Vrykul Dragonriders were a sight of terrifying majesty.
They tore through the Iron Dwarf defenses guarding the mountain pass like a storm of iron and fury, reaching the Ice Vrykul territory with breathtaking speed!
The Storm King's capitulation had galvanized the Ice Vrykul. These fierce warrior women, now sworn to Galen's cause, charged into the subterranean plains alongside their age-old enemies, the Frost Giants. Together, they unleashed a brutal onslaught, purging the Iron Dwarves from around the Engine of the Makers!
One by one, Loken's strongholds fell. The Makers' Terrace was overrun, Snowdrift Plains was conquered, and before Loken could mount a proper defense, he was besieged within the seemingly impregnable fortress of Ulduar.
But Loken was far from defeated.
Though Ulduar loomed as the ultimate prize, Galen's army did not control all of Storm Peaks.
The vast, mountainous region teemed with Loken's minions. Galen's forces, a coalition of heavy troops, were designed for a focused, unstoppable push, not a sprawling occupation.
As the ten thousand Vrykul Dragonriders reached the gates of Ulduar, the Earthen armies of Uldaman fortified the Makers' Terrace. The elemental legions of Arcanum garrisoned Snowdrift Plains. And the Dragon Aspects' Dragonmaw clan, relentless hunters in the sky, scoured the peaks for Loken's hidden Iron Dwarves.
These Iron Dwarves, twisted from their creation by the taint of chaos, were easily identified by their malevolent, blood-red eyes.
The fate of the outlying territories would be decided by these outer legions. Now, Galen and his inner circle stood before the imposing gates of Ulduar.
"So, the path to Ulduar lies through these 'Halls of Lightning' and 'Halls of Stone'?" Galen confirmed with Thorim.
"That is correct," Thorim affirmed. "To breach Ulduar, we must first secure these two halls."
The Halls of Stone and the Halls of Lightning were Ulduar's first line of defense, satellite fortresses guarding the main complex.
Behind Thorim, the Winter King Hodir, the Earth King Uldaz, Freya's avatar, and even Tyr, disguised in his human form, remained silent in grim agreement.
"It's almost comical," Galen mused, "that a prison built to contain Yogg-Saron has become his most secure refuge."
Many of the Titan Keepers lowered their heads in shame.
"We are here now," Galen declared, his voice ringing with resolve. "We will overcome every obstacle, real or imagined!"
Though his words were blunt, none dared to argue.
The Earth King Uldaz stepped forward, a rare fire in his ancient eyes. "The Halls of Stone are where I stored the unawakened Earthen. Deep within lies the Ancient Court, where the Titans judged those who defied their will. I shall go there, and Al'Akir will accompany me."
A chance to return to Ulduar after millennia and reclaim his legacy stirred a long-dormant excitement within him.
"The Halls of Stone hold a Titan control console," Uldaz explained, "We can use it to sever Loken's control over the Lightningforged Legion within the Halls of Lightning, leaving him isolated."
"Then go," Galen commanded. "And take the four Arcanum brothers with you. And don't forget the Discs of Norgannon!"
Despite the Earth King's eagerness, Galen remained wary of his combat prowess and assigned him a formidable escort.
"The Halls of Lightning are Loken's domain," Thorim growled, his voice like the rumble of thunder. "Hodir and I will take that challenge. We will avenge Sif and our fallen kin!"
"Go, and may justice be served!" Galen said.
...
Meanwhile, within the Halls of Lightning, Loken was jolted awake by the clamor. Iron Legionnaires surged from the depths, their heavy footsteps shaking the ancient halls.
The King of Wisdom, his golden hair adorned with a sapphire crown, his blue eyes gleaming with regal authority, rose from his throne. His white robes, cinched with a golden belt, and the elegant blue and white ribbons flowing from his shoulders gave him the appearance of a god from ancient tales.
Clutching his scepter, he summoned his most trusted general. "My loyal Byargrim! Come to my side!"
A heavily armed Lightningforged Vrykul general knelt before Loken. "Great King of Wisdom, I heed your call!"
"What is the meaning of this chaos?" Loken demanded, his voice a mix of confusion and irritation.
"King of Wisdom, Ulduar is under siege! The Great Presence has awakened us to repel the invaders!"
"What?!"
Loken's shock was palpable. He activated his surveillance systems, his face paling as a flood of distress signals filled the screens.
"The Makers' Terrace is under attack! We need support!"
"The Engine of the Makers is under attack! We need support!"
"The Halls of Stone are under attack! We need support!"
"The Halls of Stone?" Loken's voice cracked. His carefully laid plans were crumbling. The loss of the Halls of Stone would sever his connection to half his forces, leaving him vulnerable.
Loken, the architect of his brother's downfall, the manipulator who had orchestrated Tyr's assassination with Yogg-Saron, the betrayer who had turned his insidious schemes against his remaining six brethren, now faced the consequences of his actions.
His record of seven victories against none was a twisted source of pride.
The Titan Keepers were beings of immense power, each a reflection of their Titan creator.
Aman'Thul had imbued the Great Keeper Ra-den and the Keeper Odyn with a fraction of his cosmic power.
Khaz'goroth had gifted Uldaz with dominion over earth and the art of forging.
Golganneth had granted Thorim and Hodir command over storms and the skies.
Eonar had bestowed upon Freya the power to command the flora and fauna of Azeroth.
Norgannon had shared his vast wisdom and mastery of magic with Loken and Mimirion.
And Aggramar had given Tyr his strength and courage, making him the mightiest warrior among the Titan creations.
Of the nine Titan Keepers, Tyr had been the most formidable in combat, followed by Odyn and Ra-den with their immense reserves of energy. Thorim and Hodir were powerful mages, leaving Loken, despite his cunning, as one of the weaker Keepers in terms of raw power.
His perfect record was a shield against his own fear. He knew that one day, retribution would come. So, he had used the Titan facilities to create the Iron Legions, his ultimate weapon.
"Great Guardian," the Iron Vrykul General Byargrim interrupted his thoughts. "We await your orders! Your loyal Ironforged Legion is ready to crush your enemies!"
"Attack at once!" Loken roared. "My loyal general, crush the flesh Vrykul at the gates of Ulduar! Purge those fragile creatures! They defile the glory of the Iron Legion!"
"As you command, Great Loken! King of Wisdom!"
As the Iron General departed, an unsettling silence filled the hall.
Loken felt a growing unease. These events had unfolded too rapidly, too cleanly. Was he a pawn in a larger game?
He activated the throne's controls, projecting a holographic representation of Azeroth. He zoomed in on Northrend, then Storm Peaks, and finally Ulduar.
Loken's face contorted in disbelief.
He saw them:
Storm King Thorim, Winter King Hodir, Earth King Archaedas, and the four Vault Wardens, all gathered at the gates of Ulduar!
His former brothers, the ones who had defied him, who he had manipulated and betrayed, now stood united against him.
Loken was shaken. He could face them individually, but together they were a force to be reckoned with.
As Loken dispatched his Iron Legions, a brutal war erupted across the landscape around Ulduar.
The Iron Vrykul Legion launched relentless assaults on Snowdrift Plains and the Creator's Terrace.
"Reinforce them! Do not yield!" Galen ordered, sending a fresh army into the fray.
Against the relentless tide of the Iron Soldiers, his heavy infantry and musketeer legions were being decimated.
Fortunately, Loken's forces were not entirely composed of Iron Vrykul. The Iron Dwarves, though corrupted, were less formidable.
"Pull back the battered legions," Galen commanded. "They have earned their rest. And I have more where they came from."
For the first time, Galen was fighting a war on three fronts. The constant battles in Draenor had prepared him, but the added pressures in Icecrown Glacier and Storm Peaks were a heavy burden.
"Archaedas... they have been gone for two days. Are they too slow?" Galen wondered aloud. The Halls of Stone were their domain. All he could do was wait.
"Tell the artillery battalions to increase their fire," he ordered. "And send in two more flights of bombers, targeting the Iron Vrykul!"
Only a fool would engage those iron giants in close combat. Even the Dragonrider Vrykul, for all their courage, were flesh and blood.
Storm King Thorim and Winter King Hodir paced anxiously before Galen. It was their proto-dragons and the Sons of Hodir who held the line against the Iron Vrykul tide.
"We cannot tarry much longer, Highlord," Thorim said, his voice edged with impatience. "Shall we attack the Halls of Lightning?"
"Wait one more day," Galen decided. "We must trust Archaedas." He paused, then added, "If the Halls of Stone are not secured by this time tomorrow, you two will storm the Halls of Lightning!"
Inside the Halls of Stone, Archaedas and the four Vault Wardens battled their way through hordes of constructs and colossal Dark Rune Giants.
The Dark Rune Iron Dwarves were less of a threat. Algalon, with his cosmic strength, crushed them with contemptuous ease.
Finally, they reached a crossroads.
"Algalon," Archaedas said, "The Ancient Court, our destination, lies to the left. But we must first venture to the Chamber of Rest ahead to rescue an old friend. It will take some time." He sought the approval of his companions, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia for a subordinate he remembered fondly from ten thousand years past.
"We will brook no delay," Algalon replied. "With our combined strength, we shall overcome any obstacle swiftly."
As the five giants strode away, three small, shadowy figures emerged from the gloom.
"Well, brothers, which way now?" Brann Bronzebeard whispered, his voice filled with excitement. "My explorer's instincts tell me..."
"Hush, Brann," Muradin growled. "We must keep our distance from Archaedas and his lot. They would crush us like ants if they knew we were here."
The Bronzebeard brothers, companions of Galen, had been given free rein within his army. But the lure of discovery, and Brann's insatiable curiosity, had drawn them into the Halls of Stone.
"They are far enough," Brann declared. "Let us proceed with caution... and haste!"
"Look," Muradin pointed. "They went that way," he gestured to the main passage, "That path to the right is a haphazard tunnel - not much to explore. But those Titan runes... 'Ancient Court'? That's our path!"
"The time has come to uncover the secrets of our ancestors!" Brann exclaimed, brandishing his double-barreled shotgun. "Lead the way, brothers! Let us leave a trail of broken Iron Dwarves in our wake!"
Muradin and Magni exchanged weary glances. Their younger brother's enthusiasm rarely matched his combat prowess.
"Just try not to get us killed, Brann," Magni sighed, hefting his warhammer. "We'll take the lead."
The two legendary dwarf mountain kings charged into the left passage, carving a path through the Iron Dwarf ranks.
They soon entered a vast chamber.
"By my beard!" Brann exclaimed, his eyes widening at the sight of a massive disc-shaped device. "I know this contraption! Stand back, brothers, I'll handle this!"
"Brann, wait!" Muradin shouted, but it was too late.
Brann eagerly pressed a series of runes on the disc.
Magni facepalmed. "How has the Explorers' League survived this long with you at the helm? It's a miracle they haven't been wiped out."
"Worry not, my brothers!" Brann declared, striking a heroic pose. "In moments, we shall know the secrets of our forefathers!"