orthrend is a continent steeped in mystery. Wreathed in mist and ice and studded with tangled jungle and blazing volcanism, the northlands evoke the curiosity of pioneers as much as they evoke fear and respect in those marching forth to the frontlines of the war there. Amongst such stout, adventurous hearts, none beats more loudly than that of Brann Bronzebeard. A legend in exploration and one of the first to catch sight of the gleaming seat of the Titans in the heart of the Storm Peaks, it was only natural for him to aim to be the first mortal to set foot within those mysterious halls of creation. The pinnacle of this was the great hall of Ulduar itself.

Brann was indeed the first to enter, but what he found is perhaps more terrifying than the threat of the Lich King: the palace was in fact a prison. A prison for an Old God.

Scant days ago, Bronzebeard called an emergency conclave in Dalaran to announce his discovery of the true purpose of Ulduar. Since then, the bravest and strongest of both Horde and Alliance have pitched themselves into the task of penetrating the prison’s mysteries and stymieing the slowly-growing power of the captive Yogg Saron. One such band, led by dwarven explorer Taminak Silverthorn made an attempt to gauge the defences of the towering structure, and I was lucky enough to join them on this expedition.

I say lucky, though the fact of the matter is we were only lucky in escaping with our lives to tell this tale.

Ulduar is rendered inaccessible without flying machines or a feat of climbing that would give a spider pause. Having assembles our motley troop from adventurers and scholars from various venerable guilds within the Alliance, we marched the long entrance hall into a huge courtyard. Here we were met and briefed by Brann Bronzebeard himself. We were, it seemed, too late, as the forces of the Iron Dwarves of Northrend had already penetrated Ulduar’s outer defences and subverted them for their own ends. Brann had however foresight enough to prepare a staging area with the assistance of the mages of Dalaran, stocked with war machines to take on the hundreds of Irons that stood between us and the goal of the first barrier.

Acting force commander Silverthorn gave us a swift tactical breakdown of our mission and what lay ahead. We then took control of the various tanks, siege engines and choppers assembled and acquainted ourselves with their operation. Then, with Bronzebeard waving us on, we passed though the magical barrier the Dalaran mages held to cover our actions and steadily rumbled towards our foes who formed a seething sea of metal and anger before us.

Almost immediately the Irons were upon us. Not just in small groups, but in their dozens. In their first charge maybe a hundred of them drove headlong into us. The crews of the tanks and siege catapults must have pulverised almost half of them, but their numbers did not seem to dwindle. For each iron dwarf that fell, another took his place. Behind these first ranks we could see an approaching war golem; a titan as tall as the gates of Stormwind, colossal feet making the stones tremble. Our force ventured on towards the monster, annihilating dozens more of the iron dwarves. It was at about this time those of us riding choppers heard a dreadful screeching coming from above us.

We looked up only to see squadrons of gyrocopters, manned by mechanical gnomes. These machines peppered us from the safety of the sky with countless shrieking missiles. If that was not enough, something else was plummeting from the skies; explosive canisters that drifted to the ground on rotating blades. Between the surging waves of dwarves and the new assault from the heavens the battlegroup was pushed back and forced to regroup. A new stratagem was formed where the tanks formed a line and drove abreast of one another at the oncoming foes. Behind them the siege catapults fired over them into the midst of the enemy, breaking their ranks and lessening their impetus. As each war machine became too damaged to move further, the more mobile choppers picked up the escaping crew and ferried them back to supply line to fetch new vehicles.

The Irons were seen to be flooding from towers across the hall’s floor, so the structures were bombarded until the collapsed on the enemy and blocked their reinforcements from entering the field. The huge war golem was met and brought to the ground in a cascade of glowering iron and sparks. We carried on, destroying the towers and demolishing the strange devices the Titans had placed to feed energy to their energy fields that rose to block our progress. Then another gigantic metal monster rose to fight us; a leviathan of a mechanical arachnid that clattered cannonfire at our tanks and attempted to pick off the smaller choppers and slow-moving siege engines with beams of fire. The spider lurched over our heads several times, stomping on the steamtanks and attempting to either crush or kick them out of its path. Eventually a pair of tanks began to hammer at its legs with steam-driven battering rams. Even as their hulls began to glow with heat from the beam weapon, they managed to shatter the spider’s leg and bring it tumbling to the floor.

While it seemed we had only been fighting the constructs and the Irons for a short time, we must have been in the field for hours; rushing back and forth to replace damaged vehicles and rescue those poor souls left on the field at the mercy of the swarms of gyrocopters above. Eventually we broke the last of the Titan’s power-pylons and the engineers back at the supply line managed to reactivate a set of teleportation devices and magical disks in the floor that could repair damaged machines. I spent some time watching this wonder straighten buckled metal and renew charred wood without a single movement or the touch of a visible hand on the surface of the damaged war machines.

After taking numerous pictures and notes I was called back to the ever-advancing frontline. When I arrived there I was confronted by a new horror. The wargroup had managed to pacify the Irons and the Titan’s first line of defence. The gate through to the next section of the structure was in sight, though something stood between us and further progress; the mother of all tanks, bristling with cannons and all kinds of weapons and bearing a huge blade at its front that looked like it could sheer our tiny tanks in half. It simply sat there, awaiting our next move. We drew to a halt and discussed whether advancing further was anything less than suicide.

Our acting-commander Silverthorn sent word back to the supply lines and Brann Bronzebeard about this new technological nightmare we faced. By now we were all nursing wounds and were tired by the endless battery we had taken at the hands of the Irons. Bronzebeard said he would think no less of us if we turned back to rest and then attempt to bring this foe low after formulating a battle plan. Silverthorn though gave a rousing speech on how we had come so far and frankly decimated a force that had seemed hopeless to assail. We had to at least try. There were cheers and applause from the gathered soldiers, so once again we saddled up and prepared to charge the monster.

We edged forward slowly, once again assembled in ranks of vehicles. The tank made no movements to meet us. Cautiously we continued towards it. Then with a howl and crackle of electricity a golden barrier sprung up behind us, hemming us in. Only then did the hulking war machine give a deafening roar and come thundering at us.

We parted the lines to allow the massive machine to pass through. It struck one tank, flinging it through the air like a child tossing a doll to the ground. Then two towers on its upper hull began to spit countless rockets into the air. These missiles screamed down at anything that moved, following a target no matter how much it twisted and jinked out of the way until it struck home. Its main cannon belched fire and a pillar of death exploded skywards. Vehicles began to come to a halt as wheels were blown off and axels were ripped apart under the strain. As men fled for cover smaller guns on the huge machine fired lances of flame that set solders ablaze in seconds. The number of functional war machines in our possession dwindled, and the courtyard became littered with the shattered, smoking forms of our tanks and catapults. The battle was over in minutes, and the call went up for a general retreat. The few remaining choppers, mine among them, picked up as many survivors and wounded as we dared and drove at full speed towards the energy field. Miraculously our speed carried us through it unscathed, and as soon as it met the barrier the giant tank rumbled to a halt then slowly rolled back to the exact spot it had started from, patiently waiting for our counter-attack.

In the end though, our chance for revenge never came. Apparently Bronzebeard had been monitoring our fight via magical scrying and ordered us to quit the field. We had though succeeded in ousting the Iron Dwarves from the entrance of the Ulduar complex; no mean feat considering the hundreds of them we had faced and defeated. We recovered what damaged vehicles from the battlefield that still had mobility and limped back to the supply line; weary, wounded, but far from defeated.

Close to the Dalaran shield we gathered our surviving machines and had one last moment of celebration before we marched back to the basecamp. Bronzebeard greeted us with elation, and as the injured received treatment and the tired sat down for an earned drink and moment’s rest we saw that reinforcements had arrived. Another group of warriors had come to relieve us and continue the fight. We did not envy them, facing that monster that awaited them, and whatever other devices the Titans had put in place to prevent the Old God Yogg Saron from escaping his prison, but we knew that the battle they were heading into is one of the most important in this world. For if Yogg Saron was to slip his chains and escape through the gap innocently split in his prison, we could face a danger that makes even the threat of the Scourge pale into comparison.

This new battle must continue – at any cost.