#ironforge clan

[boufsy]

Hi, I love Dagran 🥹

[aquadestinyswriting]

Truth's Embers

Summary: Vera finally makes it to the front door of the Ironforge household, but finds her resolve wavering.

Words: 2,290

Warnings: None, amazingly. Aside from quite a lot of angst.

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @asher-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds, @odysseywritings, @writeblrsupport,@freedominique

note: this is a continuation of the story started in Where Secrets Lie

Vera swallowed nervously, dithering at the front door of the modest house just off the main street of the trading district. All she had to do was knock on the door, hand the journal in her hands, hidden underneath her cloak, to whoever answered, then walk away.

The young dwarven woman cleared her throat, raised her hand and rapped on the smooth stone surface. She waited, holding her breath as she heard heavy footsteps approach the door. Whoever was coming to answer was grumbling profusely.

It seemed like it took forever before the door opened to reveal a portly middle-aged man wearing a toughened leather jerkin and troos. He blinked in surprise, staring at the sandy coloured vestments that trailed under the travel cloak the young woman at his door was wearing. He cleared his throat and stepped to one side,

"Well, ye might as well come in rather than dithering in the doorway." He sighed. Vera startled a little,

"I really shouldn't… I-I don't want to impose." She stammered. Gruk Ovaksson rolled his eyes and jerked his head towards the hall behind him,

"Given that ye're clearly from the Cathedral and are otherwise unknown to me, I absolutely insist." He said, voice low. Vera swallowed thickly, nodded and stepped through the door. Gruk closed it behind her and chivvied the younger dwarf straight through to the sitting room.

"Morag, hen, we've a visitor." He called as Vera swept her hood back and cautiously sat on the chair the middle aged blacksmith had chased her to. She glanced to a doorway, leading to what she presumed was a kitchen, where another dwarven man, nearly five inches taller than she was, wearing scuffed mail armour had just appeared. This new person cocked his head to one side as he regarded the inquisitor in front of him, stepping into the sitting room,

"Oh, hello Vera. You finally managed to make Inquisitor, huh?" He asked. Vera blinked owlishly at the paladin, hardly believing her luck,

"As I live and breathe. What in Moradin's name are you doing here Forhoksson? Last I heard you went on a five year expedition to Khull." She exclaimed. Gruk grunted as he sat in his favourite chair by the fire, eyeing the young woman warily,

"You know each other?” he asked. Yoruk turned to the blacksmith and nodded,

"Aye, Vera was the one who convinced me to go into training as a paladin." He explained. The younger man turned his attention back to Vera,

"I ken ye were away for a bit to deal with some family stuff, so you missed out on a lot. I'm here because Gruk and Morag offered me a place to stay once I came back. My mother decided to disown me not long after I proposed to Merri, so I can't exactly go back there." 

Vera's eyes went wide. The last time she and Yoruk had seen each other, he'd mentioned falling for one of the acolytes he'd noticed in combat training, but that had been the last she'd heard about it. Now he was telling her that the girl he'd fallen for – and had since proposed to – was the same young woman that she'd helped to wrongly arrest for treason and heresy? She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was one thing to have to speak to Meredith’s parents, it was quite another to have to inform her fiance about what had transpired. Vera was shaken out of her thoughts by another, feminine voice, piping up from the door to the hall,

“Och, Gruk, the least you could’ve done was offer the poor lassie a drink.” Morag chastised, waddling into the sitting room and sitting heavily on the sofa next to Yoruk. Yoruk clapped a hand to his forehead,

“Sorry, I was the last one in the kitchen, and I didn’t think.” he groaned, “Let me get that sorted out.” he offered. Vera vehemently shook her head,

“No, please, you honestly don’t need to go to such trouble.” she said quickly, feeling a wave of nervous nausea hit her upon realising that Morag was several months pregnant. No, there was no way she could do this. Not if she became responsible for anything happening here.

Morag sighed softly and shook her head, noticing that the younger woman had gone very pale under her beard and had started to hyperventilate,

“It’s alright, hen. We already ken that this is probably about Meredith.” she said. Yoruk snapped his head around to stare in confusion at the middle aged woman,

“Wait… why does this have anything to do with Meredith?” he asked slowly, “ I know I only showed up an hour ago but-” he cut off as Morag shook her head,

“We’ll explain everything that’s been going on shortly, son. I want to know what yer friend wants to tell us first, then we can backtrack.” he told him patiently. Yoruk’s mouth twisted into an unhappy grimace, but he nodded and sat back, his gaze sweeping over to Vera.

Vera shrank back at the expectant looks on everyones’ faces. She slowly took out the journal Meredith had handed to her, swallowing thickly before taking a deep breath and staring between Morag and Yoruk’s heads.

“Given your reaction to my appearance at the door, I believe that you know there’s something up.” she said, glancing over to Gruk. The smith nodded, crossing his arms over his chest,

“Aye.” he snorted, “Given that the Toreguarde situation is all anybody’s been talking about for the last few months, I figured you were the sorry sod sent to give us an update.” Vera grimaced,

“Not exactly.” she said, her voice low. “I’m not actually here on official business by any means, but I am here to tell you about what’s going with regards to your daughter.” Morag tilted her head in confusion, while both Gruk and Yoruk’s faces fell into deep frowns. Vera’s heart hammered as she looked around the room,

“What was the last thing you heard?” she asked. Morag huffed another sigh, rubbing at her swollen belly anxiously,

“The last we heard from Father Ragnarsson was that Merri was back in Toreguarde and about to face off against Darkhide with her friends. We did hear, through the vein, that Darkhide had been defeated and his army routed, but we’ve had no word otherwise.” Vera ignored the stunned look on Yoruk’s face to stare at Morag in confusion,

“Nothing at all?” she asked, voice strained. Morag shook her head again. It was at this point that Gruk spoke up,

“We figured she was just busy sorting things out in the aftermath, but that was more’n a month ago. We expected that we would have received a message of some sort about how she was. To be honest, it’s starting to make us wonder if… ye ken.” he said, voice cracking. Vera looked at the despondent father and sent him a tight smile,

“On a positive note, Meredith is currently alive and well.” she said, her own voice starting to quaver.

“Positive note? ‘Currently’ alive and well?” Yoruk growled dangerously, “I’ve no idea what in the bloody Pit is going on, but you better start talking.” Vera’s took in a deep breath and whooshed it out again,

“That was the good news. The bad news is that, apparently, the High Inquisitor has reason to believe that Meredith is guilty of treason against the crown and heresy against the church.” She said slowly, “Now, I know for a fact that whatever charges he’s put against her are complete codswallop, but he put out a warrant for her arrest about a week ago.” Vera paused a moment to allow the information to sink in. All three dwarves had gone very pale and Gruk currently looked like he wanted to break something. Yoruk simply looked confused,

“Why does Firetome even believe such nonsense?” he asked plaintively.Vera blinked, before recalling that Yoruk had only recently arrived back in Fangthane himself. She shook her head,

“Firetome got elected to the position of Archlector after Vanskleig passed a couple of months ago. He named Garl Grimbeard High Inquisitor not long after.” she explained. Morag huffed a stressed sigh,

“We knew about that appointment already. To be fair, we weren’t entirely happy with that announcement, but what reason has he to believe that Merri is a heretic of all things?” she asked. Vera shook her head,

“I don’t know. All I can say is that, apparently, Grimbeard has some sort of major Grudge against your daughter.”

“Grudge or no, he needs some bloody evidence and he better have it. Thank Throff Merri’s no’ come home in that case.” Gruk grumbled, “As scared as I am that she’s o’er in Toreguarde, given the rumours that have come back about the place recently, I shudder to think what Grimbeard would do to her if she showed up at the front door of the mount now.” Vera snapped her mouth shut at Gruk’s words. Yoruk – who had been staring at Vera in disbelief as he processed what he’d just been told – narrowed his eyes again,

“Inquisitor Darkbek,” he said, voice low in warning, “have you anything else you want to share?” Morag brought her hand to her mouth, eyes brimming,

“Oh, she hasn’t?” she whispered.  Vera closed her eyes briefly before turning to the older woman, her vision clouded by her own tears,

“We got word that she’d been spotted in the mount about three days ago.” she said, voice strained, “She must’ve found out about the arrest warrant because she managed to avoid capture for two days. She was eventually caught skulking around the Contemplation Chamber earlier this morning.” 

“And you’re the sorry sod they sent to tell us.” Gruk groaned, placing his head in one of his hands, rubbing at his temple. Yoruk growled again, gripping the arms of his chair and causing the wood to creak ominously,

“I’m not just gonna sit here while-” he was cut off by Vera rounding on him and Dispelling the divine magic he’d unconsciously started to gather around him. The Inquisitor glared at him for a moment before relaxing once more,

“I’m sorry Forhoksson, but I can’t let you.” she said, “Storming over there and making demands will only make matters worse. Besides, I’m not actually here on official business.” Gruk’s head snapped up and everyone else stared at the young Inquisitor,

“Then why..?” Gruk asked, trailing off. Vera picked up the journal Meredith had given her,

“When I went to give Meredith her meal, she told me to give this to you. Apparently there’s a reason Grimbeard has a Grudge against her, and her account as to why is in here.” she explained, handing a wide-eyed Morag the leather-bound book. Morag’s expression softened as she ran her fingers over the cover,

“If this has her account of any wrongdoing on Grimbeard’s part, then surely it can be used as evidence against her arrest?” she asked. Vera shook her head,

“I don’t know.” Vera admitted, “However, in order to even get an arrest warrant, Grimbeard needed to have had some other evidence. I doubt an account written by Meredith would be taken as sufficient proof since she hasn’t brought anything else with her aside from some personal belongings.” Yoruk drummed his fingers absentmindedly,

“I’ve no idea what else mo goal has been up to, but since she’s apparently made some friends over in Toreguarde, can’t we ask them to bring the evidence we need here?” he asked. Gruk was the first to answer,

“Not unless we want to get in a heap o’ trouble with the law ourselves.” he said wearily, “Toreguarde’s been placed on the Fangthane’s official Book O’ Grudges and the whole population has been expressly forbidden from going anywhere near the place or contacting anyone that might still be there.” he smiled mirthlessly at the paladin, “A lot went on while ye were away, lad. Not a lot of it good.” Vera sighed and nodded,

“Mr Ovaksson has the right of it, Yoruk. I’d be obligated to arrest you if you tried. Besides, Meredith herself said she didn’t want to get them involved. She said they had enough on their plates as it was.” she added. Morag rubbed at her belly again with a soft smile,

“Aye, that’s Merri all over. Utterly selfless to a fault” she sighed. The middle aged woman opened her eyes and looked up at Vera with a curious expression, “I have to wonder then, why you came to tell us all this?” she pondered. Yoruk raised an eyebrow at the statement, as did Gruk. Vera squirmed a bit at the expectant stares she was getting,

“Because it’s the right and just thing to do.” She replied, “Despite a lack of evidence on Meredith’s part, I know that she’s done nothing wrong and that her arrest is a result of some sort of corruption in the higher echelons of the church and/or council.” Yoruk crossed his arms over his chest and nodded,

“Glad to know we’re on the same team then.” he stated, “So, what’s the plan for taking down about half our church’s leadership then?” he asked. Vera stared at him for a moment, before feeling a gentle warmth near her heart,

It’s the best chance you have.

“Well, we’re going to need to get a few more people involved.” she said. Morag chuckled and gestured to Gruk to get himself into the kitchen while she hauled herself up and went off to grab a corkboard for the two younger dwarves to use. Gruk grumbled and stalked off where he was bid while Yoruk and Vera sat on the floor pulling out scrolls of blank parchment, quills and ink.

[bruiseweed-bouquet]

i feel like you could say something about the parallels between dagran ii and anduin, especially in how their parents have impacted them

like anduin is anduin. lost his mom young, basically lost his dad multiple times. he's always been The HeirTM. he's supposed to toughen up. varian is a warrior king. he is supposed to fight. he runs off to find knowledge and peace during MOP and feels guilty about it later. he wasn't really allowed to explore his interests, not as much as he might want to.

and then you see dagran ii. son of a warrior king. dad dead before he was born, its just been him and his mom. moira has been off waging political war for his birthright for forever. dagran is supposed to become king of the dark iron clan, maybe even all of ironforge. he's The HeirTM, the child of a strongwilled personality who he is supposed to follow.

but all of moira's dialogue in TWW is positive about dagran. she never speaks ill of his interests, or of his potential. the worst she says is that he gets too focused on things, and that's fair when dagran is wandering into trouble for knowledge. he's the opposite of dagran i. he's not the warrior prince people were expecting. and moira is chill with that. granted, this may be impacted by how moira's become more of a diplomat in recent years but even then dagran has different interests than moira. but she isn't hard on him.

and idk. i've seen some people talk about how dagran ii is very anduin before the horrors, and i feel like it is because he was allowed to be. he doesn't seem to have the inner turmoil about identity that anduin has because he was supported by moira.

idk. parallels between the princes.

[sirdolraan]

Old Ghosts

(( DWC August 2024 Day 2, Violence/Tenderness, CW: guns, death, murder, blood; @daily-writing-challenge ))

As he did every year around this time, Drogar sat in his study, examining his old, trusty revolver, surrounded by old ghosts.

"NO!" Moira screamed, as Drogar emptied his pistol into the Dark Iron Emperor, finally avenging his clan's suffering from Dagran's plotting. Far from breaking free of the control, Drogar watched, dumbfounded, as she fell to her knees, cradling the un-moving form of Dagran Thaurissan. "Thaurissan was a great and honorable dwarf," she sobbed, "You ruined my life and the life of my unborn child!"

With a sigh, he tenderly and methodically disassembled the pistol piece by piece, giving each component a proper cleaning and oiling. Lorellai had used it extensively in her adventures, and taken fine care of it, but it had been one of his first successes in gun-making, and had accompanied him throughout his adventuring career. He'd made other, more effective and ornate weapons, but this one bore the weight of history. It was important that he be the one to give it a proper deep clean.

"Drogar, reinforcements are coming in, and they've got more of those fire lizards at their back, we have to go!" the mage had yelled, beginning to cast his portal.

Moira had looked at him with hate in her eyes, Thaurissan's blood staining her dress as it pooled beneath him. "Return to Ironforge and tell my father that the heir to the Kingdom of Ironforge will be a Dark Iron dwarf. Whether he approves or not, it shall be."

Piece by piece, he restored the pistol to its functional state, clean and ready to be loaded and used again. It felt heavier in recent years, though he knew nothing had changed physically.

Some weights weren't physical.

The blue light of the teleportation spell surrounded Drogar and his allies as they made good their escape ahead of the howling cries of the dark iron soldiers and their fiery masters. Moira stared daggers at Drogar, helpless to do anything but cradle her beloved husband's corpse. Everyone else was looking elsewhere, but their gazes were fixed on each other as Drogar raised the pistol once more, pointing it at Moira.

Click.

And they were back in Ironforge, mission complete, if not successful. Thaurissan was dead, but Moira had not been rescued. "We're going to need to tell the King what happened, come on everyone," his friends had said, as Drogar lowered the pistol, staring at the empty space where moments ago and miles away he'd seen Moira Thaurissan.

Drogar set the pistol on the table, and sighed. In hindsight, it had been damn lucky the weapon had been empty. Despite his hatred for the dark irons, and the difficulties of the Cataclysm, Moira and her loyalists had not only saved Ironforge, but strengthened his home. The Council of Three Hammers had done well by his people, and their future was bright. He'd done what he was commanded to do. He'd assassinated the ruler of the enemy who warred against them. He'd avenged his uncles, aunts, cousins and more who had died to Dark Iron machinations. And only now, with success and family and everything he'd ever have wanted, was he able to appreciate the cost of what he'd done.

"Th' Butcher of Blackrock. Cannae believe I used t' take pride in it, eh boy?" he asked, gently scratching behind Balinore's ears. The great bear huffed at the disturbance, but leaned into the attention.

A noise from the stairs interrupted his reverie. He turned to see Lorellai coming down the stairs, holding her pack in one hand and looking worried. "Hey Da', do yeh have a minute t' talk?"

Hours later, the sun had risen over icy Dun Morogh, and Lorellai was saying her goodbyes. That minute had turned into hours as they'd learned that Lorellai wasn't the only meddler having the visions, and the decision had been made for those hearing the call to join Dolraan in Dalaran to lend their aid to Khadgar.

"Lass, one last thing," Drogar said, holding his daughter's hand as he drew forth the pistol. "Got it all cleaned up for yeh. May it continue t' keep yeh safe. I love yeh, lass."

Lorellai took the pistol and casually slid it into her her shoulder holster, under her coat. "Thanks Da', we'll both be back before you know it, I'm sure!" she declared, giving her dad a kiss on the nose before hoisting her pack and stepping towards the portal. Moments later, Drogar stood in a smaller crowd that began to break up and return to their work.

"Titans, if yer listenin', keep her safe. And let her give that tool a better destiny than I did."

[alchemyofazeroth]

Dwarven Zymology, Alchemy in Mining, & Industrial Alchemy

Zymology is a highly advanced discipline that the dwarves of Ironforge have mastered over many centuries. Their alchemical expertise enables them to concoct potent brews and ingenious fuels that power their mining operations and machines. For example, the dwarves have developed a high-proof distilled alcohol that serves as an efficient fuel source for their steam-powered excavators, allowing them to delve deep into the earth in search of precious ores and gems.

The dwarves developed blasting powders by carefully combining saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal in precise ratios. When ignited, these powders rapidly expand, fracturing even the hardest rock and greatly accelerating the mining process. Dwarven alchemists also concoct special metal-eating acids that can precisely etch intricate runes and channels into stone and metal components.

Other alchemical inventions help dwarven miners survive the dangers of their profession, such as glowstones that emit light without flame when exposed to air, healing salves that rapidly close wounds, and breathing tonics that let dwarves survive the noxious fumes sometimes released during mining operations.

The Cultural Composition of Ironforge

The cultural composition of Ironforge, the ancient underground city of the dwarves, is a fascinating tapestry woven from the distinct traditions of its inhabitants. The city's population primarily consists of three dwarven clans - the Bronzebeard clan, the Wildhammer clan, and the Dark Iron clan - who united in Ironforge after centuries of conflict, bringing their unique customs, crafting styles, and ways of life together under one great stone roof. This alliance of clans has created a rich and vibrant dwarven culture that permeates every corner of the city, from the ringing of hammers in the Great Forge to the sounds of laughter and clinking mugs in the bustling taverns.

In more recent times, the gnomes of Gnomeregan have also taken up residence in Ironforge after their own city fell to ruin. The gnomes carved out their own district known as Tinkertown, where their love for all things mechanical and technological has flourished, adding yet another layer to Ironforge's cultural milieu. The presence of gnomish inventors, tinkerers, and engineers has brought both innovation and a touch of whimsy to the city's atmosphere.

Beyond the dwarves and gnomes who call Ironforge home, the city also plays host to visitors from the other major Alliance nations, such as humans, night elves, and draenei. These visitors come to Ironforge for trade, diplomacy, and sometimes to study the unique crafting techniques of the dwarves. This influx of diverse peoples contributes to an air of cosmopolitanism in certain districts, particularly the Hall of Explorers, where scholars from across Azeroth come to share knowledge and plan expeditions.

Dwarven Zymology

Zymology, the study and practice of fermentation, holds a central role in the culture of the dwarves of Ironforge. For countless generations, dwarven brewmasters have honed and perfected the craft of brewing ales, lagers, stouts, and other alcoholic beverages. The proliferation of taverns, alehouses, and breweries throughout the subterranean city stands as a testament to the dwarves' strong drinking culture.

Alcohol is not merely a recreational indulgence for the denizens of Ironforge, but a cornerstone of their social fabric. Sharing a hearty pint is a ritual that strengthens bonds of friendship, seals business deals, and even plays a part in religious ceremonies honoring the dwarves' revered ancestors. The art of brewing is passed down from master to apprentice, with closely guarded family recipes treated as sacred heirlooms.

Dwarven zymologists are renowned for their innovation, forever seeking to craft novel and enticing concoctions to tantalize the taste buds of their kin. From the golden hues of honeyed mead to the rich, dark depths of roasted malts, the beers, ales and spirits of Ironforge are as diverse and complex as the dwarves themselves.

Alchemy in Mining

For mining operations, dwarven alchemists brew potent elixirs that, when imbibed, imbue the drinker with temporary night vision to illuminate dark mine shafts, as well as solutions that can be applied to pickaxes to increase the hardness and durability of the tools. Dwarven alchemists also concoct specialized blasting powders with highly controlled explosive yields for precise demolition work to access valuable ore veins.

In the realm of jewelcrafting, these skilled alchemists create abrasive pastes and polishing tinctures that allow jewelers to cut and shape even the hardest gemstones into brilliant facets and intricate designs. They also formulate etching acids that enable jewelers to engrave delicate, finely detailed patterns into precious metals and stones.

In metallurgy practices, dwarven alchemists brew quenching oils that rapidly cool forged metals to achieve optimal hardness and strength. Additionally, they produce flux powders that, when mixed into molten alloys, purify the metals and remove impurities and slag to yield higher quality materials.

Industrial Alchemy

After the gnomes of Gnomeregan began to trade knowledge with the dwarves of Ironforge, the dwarves harnessed the power of alchemy to fuel their industrial revolution.

One critical application is in the production of advanced hydraulic fluids. These specially engineered liquids, imbued with arcane properties, allow for the smooth operation of the massive hydraulic systems that power the city's gargantuan machinery, from the great forges to subterranean ore extractors.

Dwarven alchemists have also unlocked the secrets of combustible fuels, devising alchemical mixtures with unparalleled energy density. These fuels drive the pistons and turbines of Ironforge's industrial heart, providing an abundant source of power for manufacturing, transportation, and defense.

The integration of alchemy into dwarven engineering has birthed innovations such as self-lubricating gears, rust-resistant alloys, and even self-repairing mechanisms through the incorporation of living alchemical compounds. The marriage of alchemy and industry has propelled Ironforge to new heights of productivity and prosperity, solidifying Ironforge's status as a titan of innovation and progress in a world of magic and wonder.

[calebdumes]

“Zara’thea was keenly aware of just how precarious of an edge her people balanced on. If it weren’t for Lady Windrunner, the Church of Light would have unleashed their powers upon her people and erased them from existence in one sweeping smite. They had to fight tooth and nail simply to keep the ever present whispers of the Void at bay, let alone win the approval of their new, tentative allies. If one of the Ren’dorei were to fall in battle, well, the mighty golden heart of the Alliance would not break for a child of the Void.”

Fandom: World of Warcraft

Characters: OC, Magister Umbric, Alleria Windrunner, (more to be added as the fic progresses)

Rating: T+ 

Read on AO3 

CHAPTER ONE || CHAPTER TWO ||

Zandalar was hot, humid, and all around uncomfortable. Even shaded by the massive palms and towering kapok trees, Zara’thea found herself sweating through the thin clothing on her body. She picked absentmindedly at the bandage around her torso while gazing up into the thick canopy above. Her side burned with a dull, throbbing pain and her skin itched from countless bug bites. The Alliance outpost on Xibala was small, understaffed, and under supplied. With the war raging all across Azeroth, there weren’t enough healers to go around and those that were available were busy healing the wounded 7th Legion soldiers at Talanji’s Rebuke.

One injured Ren’dorei was hardly enough to consider pulling a priest away from the Alliance’s finest.

But the outpost on Xibala did have one thing that Zara’thea found interesting: Dwarfs. She had been on the battlefield at Hillsbrad during the second war where she had seen the mighty Wildhammer’s with their graceful gryphons swoop from the sky, lending their aid to the young Alliance. But her time in the thick of the fighting was short lived, not giving her the chance to meet any of the heroic dwarves in person. 

The dwarves at camp were a rambunctious bunch, with gruff but kind personalities.They seemed to be split into two separate clans, the Ironforge of Dun Morogh and the mysterious Dark Irons who seemed to be under the same watchful eye as her own people. They had both been kind to the Ren’dorei when they first arrived at the outpost and while none of them had any formal medical training, they had done their best to tend to her wounds after her mission had ended in disaster. 

You failed and let the goblin scurry away. You’ll never be good enough for them. The Alliance will never accept you.

“Ye doin’ alright there lass?” 

Zara’thea tore her gaze away from the swaying canopy to find a kindly dwarven face standing over her. He had a long tawny beard that trailed to his knees and big bushy eyebrows that probably did more to shade his eyes than the weathered hat on his head. 

“Quiet fine, thank you.” Zara’thea responded, attempting to push herself up into a sitting position and failing. She fell back on her makeshift cot with a wince, a hiss of pain pushing past her teeth. 

Callous, rough hands touched her shoulder, helping her ease into a comfortable position. “Easy there lass, don’t be injuring ye self any further.” the dwarf said, his thickly accented voice heavy with concern. 

Zara’thea nodded and let the dwarf fuss over her for a moment. He was surprisingly gentle despite his gruff exterior, taking great care not to prod too much to cause undue pain. Every once and a while he would tsk under his breath and mutter a curse but he always followed it up with a reassuring smile. 

“So what’s the prognosis doctor?” she asked with a slight smile as he sat back on his heels. “Will I live?”

“Aye.” he nodded, taking off his hat and wiping at his brow. “But ye need a healer. There nae be anymore I can do tae help ya.” 

“I appreciate the effort all the same.” 

The dwarf smiled. “Ye a good lass, it’s da least we could do fer ya.”

He’ll kill you in your sleep. He hates the very sight of you. Kill him.

“I’m Zara’thea Dawn - Duskthorn.” she said, stumbling over her freshly minted surname. It hadn’t felt right to keep her family name. She wasn’t that person anymore, not after everything that had happened. Zara’thea had to embrace who she was now, even if that meant leaving the last connection to her family behind.

She extended a hand to the dwarf, looking hopeful. Making friends with the other races wasn’t as easy as she had hoped. The Alliance had done their best to be welcoming but even she knew leaving the relative safety of the embassy meant exposing herself to less than hospitable conditions. If it wasn’t her appearance, then the shadows that clung to her form would find her in a less desirable position with the citizens of Stormwind. 

“I realized we’ve never been properly introduced.”

“Ye can call me Balen Hammercraig.” Balen shook her hand, sitting down next to her on the hard ground. “Please tae meet ya properly.”

She watched as he dug through the small satchel on his hip, pulling out a well loved leather book and a quill set that had seen better days. He flipped diligently through the dog eared sheets, the parchment yellowed with age, before he fell on a half filled out page and began scratching away. 

“What is it that you are working on?” Zara’thea asked curiously, squinting at the nearly illegible scribble. Balen wasn’t the first person she had noticed taking notes around the encampment. In fact, the longer she was stuck here waiting for a healer, the more she was starting to believe that this camp was more for research than for the war effort. It would certainly explain why there was more excavation gear as opposed to weapons and bandages or why the camps’ inhabitants were mostly civilians, rather than soldiers. 

“This?” Balen shrugged at his notebook. “Aye this not be much. Just some notes on the Island. Job requirement ye understand.”

“Job requirement?”

Balen tugged at his beard. “I keep forgettin’ ye new tae all of this.” he sighed before placing his book in her lap. “We’re part of the Explorer’s League.” he said. “The greatest expedition ye could find on Azeroth.”

He doesn’t care about you, not like us. Give into us, we will give you all your hopes and dreams.

Zara’thea’s eyes lit up with excitement.“An expedition league? Really? Like the Reliquary?”  

“The Reliquary?! Bah!” Balen huffed in disapproval. “A bunch of over stuffed elves lookin’ for fancy baubles. Nae, the Explorer’s League is more than a measly hunt for magical objects. We research the past tae help the future.”

She carefully turned the pages in Balen’s notebook, taking in his extensive notations from his many dig sites. He had been everywhere, from Northrend to Kalimdor, exploring ancient ruins and fabled sites of history. He dug in the dirt and researched artifacts. He traveled to new and distant places, working to discover the truth and uncover the past. It was all she had ever dreamed of as a child locked away behind Silvermoons’ walls. 

She had gotten a taste of that life on Telogrus for a few wonderful months, creating research sites all over the broken world. She had been able to discover some of the planet’s history that had not yet been lost to its slow decay into the Void but there was so little left, that her research never got very far and Magister Umbric’s obsession with the Void cube took precedence over all else in those early days.

Now, here, back on Azeroth Zara’thea had a glimmer of hope that she could make her dream a reality.

Balen watched her closely as she skimmed his notes. “Ye interested in that sort of work lass?”

“Very much so.” Zara’thea responded looking up from the book. “Can anyone join the Explorer’s League?” 

“Aye, though I didn’t take ye tae be interested in gettin’ ye hands dirty.” 

Zara’thea smiled. “There are many of my fellow Ren’dorei would would happily spend their days with their noses in a book. But what good is research if it’s not ever applied out in the field? Ever since I was little I wanted to travel the world and explore. This,” she tapped Balen’s notebook, “is all I have ever wanted.”

“Well then, how would ye feel about join’?” 

Just as she was about to express just how much she would love to join the Explorer’s League, a moth landed in front of the pair, hovering just inches away from the edge of her makeshift cot, startling her. Zara’thea gaped at the insect, taken aback by the sheer size of the flying creature. It was roughly the size of a small dog with beautiful, intricate purple and blue designs on its soft, fuzzy wings. But it wasn’t just  the creature’s size that rendered Zara’thea speechless, it was the eyes. There was intelligence behind its dark gaze, intelligence that was carefully assessing her and Balen with unabashed interest. 

Then in a blink, the moth vanished and in its place stood an elf. 

She was tall with pink skin, thick ears, and glowing silver eyes. She had long, lilac hair that was tightly braided against the left side of her head and fell in soft waves over her opposing shoulder. Two fang-like markings, a deep and rich mauve color, fell across her shimmering eyes, and across the bridge of her nose, there was a scar, faded and pale from age. She regarded the pair for a moment, the corner of her mouth lifting, like she was pleasantly amused by something only known to her. 

“Elune adore.” the elf finally said in a melodic voice, bowing her head in greeting.

Balen pushed himself to his feet, bushing his hands on pants. “Ye be the healer then?” he said, nodding to the elf.

“I am.” the elf said with a kind smile before turning her silvery gaze to Zara’thea. “You are the one who is injured?”

Zara’thea nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. She had heard stories of the night elves, passed along through the generations of her people. Once kin, now enemy; the distant cousins that shunned her people for their use of magic and exiled them from their ancient lands. 

It had been centuries since then but her people had always harbored a distaste for their distant relatives, often looking down on them with disdain. Zara’thea of course, had found them fascinating and had hoped to one day get a chance to meet one and learn about their once shared culture. But as much as she disagreed with the prejudice her people harbored towards the night elves,  Zara’thea now found herself wanting to keep her distance.

The distrust her people felt for the night elves went both ways after all.

She is a threat. Kill her. We will give her corpse a new purpose.

“Aye,” Balen said, casting a sidelong look at Zara’thea. “We’ve done what we could with what we had but the wound’s not healin’.”

A somber look crossed the night elves face as she gracefully dropped to her knees. “May I take a look?” she asked Zara’thea. 

“Uh…yeah. I mean, yes,” she managed to croak out, setting aside Balen’s notebook. “Alright.”

She let the elf help her lay down and held still as she pulled back the thin shirt and bandages that covered her torso. 

“Goblin machinery.” the elf said mostly under her breath. “Infected, no doubt.” her long, slender fingers probed at the edge of the wound, causing Zara’thea to flinch from the sudden pain. The elf smiled apologetically before continuing her examination.

“Well?” Balen asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can ye heal the lass?”

“I can.” the night elf said calmly. “It will hurt but it can be done.”

Zara’thea looked down at the dusky purple skin of her torso and held back a sardonic smile. She was no stranger to pain. “That’s fine. Whatever you can do to get me back in the fight, I can handle it.” she replied instead. 

The night elf looked stricken by her words but nodded solemnly. “Try to relax.” she responded as her hands began to glow with a soft golden-green light. Warmth flared out from her fingertips, racing to Zara’thea’s side like wildfire, burning away the damaged flesh. 

Zara’thea closed her eyes and waited for the pain to pass. 

She awoke sometime later to a sky full of stars. Silver moonbeams danced among the tree branches and insects conducted a symphony to the rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore. The last embers of the camp’s fire glowed faintly in the darkness as her companions slept out in the open, taking advantage of the cool night breeze. 

Carefully, she pulled back the thin blanket that someone placed over her and reached under her shirt to touch her side. To her surprise, she found nothing but smooth, soft skin. The wound that had torn at her flesh was gone and so was the constant throbbing pain. Relieved, she let her eyes slip close and inhaled the sweet smell of peacebloom and salt. 

“Thank you.” She said to the night elf that was sitting beside her. To the elf’s credit, she did not startle at being addressed but instead continued to sway slightly side to side, like a blade of grass in the wind. 

“You are most welcome.” the night elf said softly. “My only regret is that I was not able to make it to you sooner.”

Zara’thea opened her eyes and turned to look at the elf in surprise. “There’s a war on. I hardly expect the Alliance to make haste to send a healer just for me.”

The night elf frowned, “Do you not think yourself important?”

Give in to us and we will care for you, we will show you the true power of the Void.

“To the Alliance?” she laughed hollowly pushing herself up into a sitting position. “More likely a ticking time bomb if some are to be believed. I am - my people  - are a liability. An abomination. We are not the kind you spend precious resources on in the time of war.”

She clenched her fist, allowing a wave of shadow to coalesce around it, slithering whispers seeping into the cool night air. The Void was not a friend or an ally to take lightly. It was a constant threat, a weapon she had honed her body and mind to control lest it devour her. It was a risk far greater than any arcane addiction or fel dependence but it was powerful and it was that power that was needed to keep Azeroth safe - or at least that was what her people believed. Convincing others was not an easy task to undertake, especially during a war. 

The night elf watched her with thinly disguised horror but said nothing. Zara’thea dismissed the shadows with a flick of her wrist, the unsettling sensation of madness slipping as she released her hold. She closed her eyes, disappointment settinging in her mind. She had been hoping that maybe she could establish an accord with the night elf healer, pave the way for a learning opportunity but judging from the look on the night elves’ face, that wouldn’t be happening.

“You are not like the other Quel’dorei.” the night elf said slowly. 

Zara’thea opened her eyes, her brow arching with sarcasm. “Is that so?” she questioned. “And what gave you that impression?”

“You lack their arrogance.” the elf replied simply. 

Zara’thea blinked in surprise. She was half expecting the night elf to point out the obvious, her purple skin and Void touched hair; not the frank words she spoke nor the kind look she was giving her now. 

“Thank you? I think?”

“Indeed.” The night elf smiled. “You may call me Athenril.”

“Zara’thea.” she offered.

“I think I will stay here for a while.” Athenril said, her gaze falling over the sleeping dwarves in camp.

“You aren’t needed elsewhere?” Zara’thea asked. “Surely a healer of your talent would need to be with the front lines would they not?”

A spy, a thief, she will kill you and take all that is yours. She is the enemy - kill her and be rewarded.

Athenril shook her head. “Officially the Circle is neutral in this war so I choose to go where I please.” her fingers twitched against the lush fabric of her pants, as if irritated by something.

Zara’thea studied the night elf closely. She was striking in the moonlight, almost otherworldly with her clothes seeming crafted from nature itself and startling silver eyes but there was a sadness about her that spoke of a great loss. It would be easy to assume the Horde’s burning of the world tree that so many night elves had called home to be the cause but Zara’thea didn’t think that was the case. The sorrow that was etched into the gentle lines of her face was centuries old.

“I’ve mostly been helping my people relocate.” Athenril continued. “But I came to Zandalar at the request of a friend.” 

“And you just happened to stumble upon me?” Zara’thea questioned with an arch of her brow.

A flash of guilt crossed the night elf’s face, confirming Zara’thea’s growing suspicion. Athenril wasn’t sent by the Alliance, it was just by chance she came across the dwarven camp. She couldn’t say she was surprised but the disappointment was palpable.

Zara’thea was keenly aware of just how precarious of an edge her people balanced on. If it weren’t for the famed Alliance war hero Alleria Windrunner, the Church of Light would have unleashed their powers upon her people and erased them from existence in one sweeping smite. They had to fight tooth and nail simply to keep the ever present whispers of the Void at bay, let alone win the approval of their new, tentative allies. If one of the Ren’dorei were to fall in battle, well, the mighty golden heart of the Alliance would not break for a child of the Void. 

“I overheard two guards discussing the situation.” Athenril admitted. “There has been so much death already in this war. So much senseless, preventable death. I would not let that fate befall you if I could help it.”

“But you knew nothing about me. Why would you rush off to save a stranger if even the Alliance wasn’t going to send someone?”

“You don’t need to know a life to save it.” the night elf said with conviction. “Whether it be orc or human, killer or friend, life offers the possibility of renewal and second chances for change. What right do I have to deny anyone of that?”

In the end, all will succumb to us. Give in.

Zara’thea nodded, toeing at the crumpled sheet around her feet. “Well for what it’s worth, I’m thankful you came and if you wanted to stick around, I’m sure Balen and the others wouldn’t mind.”

Athenril smiled. “And you Zara’thea of the Void?”

Zara’thea blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Would you mind?” the night elf’s silver eyes bore into her violet ones, her question tinged with endless possibilities. She couldn’t say for certain what was the driving force behind the night elf’s desire to remain with the dwarven camp but whatever it was sparked a flicker of hope in Zara’thea’s chest. 

“Not at all.” 

.

“Have patience.” Athenril said, placing a placating hand on Zara’thea’s shoulder, keeping her from lifting herself up on her toes to see over the crowd of people. The night elf looked out of place, surrounded by the shorter stature of the humans and other races working the bustling Stormwind docks, but she carried it with ease, as she did all things. 

The war was over, the last of the Old Gods defeated and a tentative peace had blossomed between the Horde and Alliance. Zara’thea found herself, once again, at a turning point in her life. But this time, she wasn’t alone. She had friends, people beside her that would support her no matter what. It was a stark difference from the life she had lived thus far, one that she wasn’t sure she would ever get accustomed to.

“He’s late.” Zara’thea said, biting her lip with thinly veiled worry. Around her, the throng of people moved and flowed like a ceaseless river. Boats filled with passengers and goods, bound for Kalimdor and beyond. The air was thick with the scent of salt and fish and the shouts of the sailors as they readied themselves to embark on their next journey. It was a far cry from the peaceful port of Silvermoon and Zara’thea loved it. What she didn’t like was how close her missing companion was cutting it.

“He’ll be here.” Athenril replied in her soft, melodic voice. “Just as he always is.”

True to her word, a stout looking dwarf with tawny hair and a long braided beard marched towards them. Behind him there was a flurry of movement, as dwarves raced to a boat to store their supplies. The bearded dwarf continued marching towards Zara’thea and Athenril, a wide smile breaking across his face as he grew closer.

“There ya are!” he cried. “Well met lass!”

“It’s good to see you again, Balen.” Zara’thea smiled, leaning down to hug the dwarf. 

“Aye, glad to see ye lasted the war.” his eyes crinkled. “The both of ye.”

Anthenril nodded her head gracefully but couldn’t hide the sly smile touching her lips. “She didn’t make it easy on me. This one certainly likes to get herself into troubling situations.”

Zara’thea rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who wanted to hang around, I never said it would be easy.”

“Indeed I did.” she said humorously, her grin widening. 

Balen chuckled at their bickering, gently ushering the two elves towards the boat. “Good work gettin’ your people tae agree tae this lass. It cannae have been an easy feat.”

“Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are.” Zara’thea said, climbing the gangway onto the ship. Balen was right, it hadn’t been easy trying to get Master Umbric to agree with her plan. The Ren’dorei had suffered great losses during the war, he wasn’t too keen with letting his people out of his sight. She had spent hours explaining the the benefit of working with the Explorer's League, how they could expand their research into the Void by traveling beyond Telogrus and across Azeroth but finally he had conceded, allowing a small group of void elves to work amongst the dwarves.

“And ye? The Circle can spare ye for this?” He addressed Athenril. 

“For a time, yes.” the night elf responded, tucking a strand of lilac hair behind her long, pointed ear. “I cannot say that I will be present for the full duration of the expedition but I will remain as long as I can.”

“Well I’d never turn down an extra set of hands.” Balen smiled. 

The boat beneath their feet bobbed on the waves, the crew scurrying about their duties as they prepared to make way. Zara’thea stood at the railing, looking down at the port, her excitement growing with each heartbeat. 

“Where are we heading?” she asked Balen, who had come to stand beside her. 

“Uldum.” 

Zara’thea closed her eyes and let the cool sea air brush over her skin. 

Adventure was about to begin.

[druidx]

The Tragedy of Elo & Merri's Unrequited Love

Hello dear readers. People who've been perusing my blog for some time now should be familiar with my OC, Elowyn O'Toreguarde, and that of my freind @aquadestinyswriting, Meredith Gruksdottir, Clan Bloodvein (née Ironforge). These two characters were ones we roleplayed in a D&D campaign set in the Fighting Fantasy World of Titan. And as much as we've talked about them and shared their stories, neither of us have explicitly spelled out the Tragedy of their Unrequited Love.

So without further ado I would like share a condensed version of the Destiny's New Servants Campaign, focusing on their not-love story. (Note, this is from my POV and is not impartial)

Elo & Merri hit it off as friends right from the start. They meet because of a ghoul situation, take one look at each other and decide – yes, I need you on my side. These are two women who were often overlooked, not least because of their heights, both strong proponents of justice with a go-getter attitude and a penchant for running head-first into trouble.

So, of course, off they go adventuring. They pulled each other through many trials, though most often it's Elo supporting Merri – Merri was the holy one at that time, she was the one with the special powers that no one else had, she was devout and tough and steadfast. They drew close after an incident where three of their party drowned, and closer still when the last reminding character of the originals, a Monk, drops off the face of the planet¹. They get new party members, but it takes a while for them to warm up and mesh in etc, especially as the new characters are younger and more inexperienced compared to our girls. So for a long while they feel like they can only rely on each other. Then Elowyn died, was made a vassal of Kurtulmak, a whole lot of shit went down, and they're kicked off to the other side of the world for Plot reasons.

Two very important things happened not long after this.

The first was that an insane half demon robot from a different plane mistook Elo for her Aunt and tried to attack her…. And Merri was the first to step in front of the woodling to defend her. As an aside, dear reader, I need you to understand that, out of game, I was going through A Time, and my feelings of abandonment, isolation and depression were feeding through into my gameplay. So Elo was also having Some Problems. She'd been ripped out of her life, away from the city and everyone who knew her and everything she'd known. She was feeling lost, abandoned, and suddenly burdened with the knowledge she'd become de facto leader of their group. She was holding together spectacularly². Anyway. She's facing off with this demented thing and fully expecting the party to kinda fuck off and make her deal with it on her own. And she's gearing up to do just that, when this woman, filled with righteous wrath, steps in front of her and says, "You'll have t'go through me if you want her." And, fuck me, if that didn't hit me right in the godsdamned chest.

Bear in mind that this was such a slow burn that us Players, let alone our characters, did not figure out anything until way later in the campaign. That said, I think that might have been the start of Elo falling in love.

Anyway. Elo's made a Paladin, a gold dragon drops out of the sky to be her mount³, they're sent back to the other side of the world for more Plot reasons, dear pain-in-the-ass Felix starts the rumours Elo's some kind of messiah or prophet⁴.

And the second important thing happens.

So they're at this village in the mountains, Felix has convinced half the population Elo's some kind of Saviour, and these random bandits rock up. One of them was a horny bard, who took one look at the pair of us womenfolk and announced that he's gonna take one of us home. And Merri goes, "Well it ain't gonna be me sunshine, I'm taken." We're in the middle of combat when this happens, probably got some better things to be focusing on, but Elo looks at Merri with a face like a slapped puppy and says, "What? You never told me that?" Like, this woman is her best friend, maybe her only true friend at that point⁵, they were close as anything, and not once has Merri mentioned she was engaged. So Elo's hurt because Merri didn't share this. But she's got a deeper hurt and she doesn't know why⁶.

Fast forward, we were conscripted to resurrect a god, Deep Sashelas. Merri is grievously injured by the required ritual. The others in the party are concerned, of course they are, but Elo is next level. Full on fretting by the bedside etc. And as they move on, Elo finds herself shielding Merri more and more. Which is, in game mechanics, frankly unnecessary, because Clerics are as tanky as Pallies are. But if I'm honest, Elo might have done this even as a pure rogue because, of course she would. Elo thinks she's just being a Friend. Merri thinks Elo is being a Friend. The rest of the party are picking up on Something, but no one knows what so no one says anything. Only the on-and-off Monk⁷ thinks he understand what's going on, but he's not around enough to do anything about it.

So now we come to a switch point. Out of game, Urbanvoodoman was tired of GMing and wanted to play so Aqua was going to take over from him. But we had a BBEG to fight first.

Before the fight Elo was contacted by the BBEG, saying she could either hand over Merri or he was going to destroy Toreguard. So Elo now has this horrible predicament. Does she sacrifice the person she's slowly realising might be the love of her life and save her home, or does she allow millions to be slaughtered for the love of one woman?

Elo told the BBEG she'd sacrifice Merri. Only then she didn't. The BBEG fight was a mess, and frankly not important to this story.

What is important, is that to transition Aqua over to GM, Merri had to be retired as a Player Character. So the morning after the BBEG fight Elo and co wake up… and Merri is not there. In her place are letters, apologising for having to leave for her home, Fangthane, and explaining why. Elo's letter contained apology after apology, and Merri's holy symbol to remember her by. It broke Elo's heart. Because now, of all possible times, Elo realises she's in love. Merri is many hours down the road by this point, Elo has no hope of finding her. And even if she did, Elo can't confess her feelings because Merri is already happily engaged to someone else. And Elo is never going to see Merri again because of the ban in Fangthane preventing non-dwarves from entering the city. Then, the world came knocking at the door, and Elo had to suck it all up and get on with her job.

You'd be forgiven, dear reader, for thinking that was the end of the tale. But it's not.

Rumour has made its way to Toreguarde that a young dwarven woman has been imprisoned in Fangthane for the crime of blasphemy. It doesn't take a genius to guess that young woman is Merri. She's due to be executed, unless someone can provide compelling evidence to the contrary. The main issue is that Fangthane still holds a grudge against Toreguard and her citizens. As a representative of Toreguard, Elo (who is still very much In Love with her unattainable dwarf, but Repressing with great success) refuses to break the line, once again putting her duty before her love. This leads one of the other Party members to accuse Elo of not caring about Merri, and, my gods, did I pitch a fit. Elo would have decked him if she thought she wouldn't accidentally kill him.

So the Party receives special dispensation from the Crown to enter Fangthane with evidence showing Merri is, of course, innocent. Elo is Not Allowed to see Merri while she's incarcerated for obscure legal reasons which escape me now, which just kills Elo. But she does her job, Merri is exonerated, everyone is joyful. And then Merri wants everyone to meet her fiance. Elo wants to hate him, wants him to be a bastard of epic proportions. But he's not. He's lovely, a cinnamon roll too good for this world, too pure etc. Yoruk is also a paladin, a decent, principled, loyal and devoted up-standing young gentleman of fine birth. Elo is, in a word, gutted. But she puts her big-girl pants on, pulls Yoruk outside and threatens to end his life if he ever hurts Merri and swears this on her power. He goes back to the party, suitably fearing for his life and his manhood, and Elo thinks she's just going to walk away and go have a cry in her beer, but Merri stops her. They share some words, embrace, and Elo parts from her saying, "With all the love in my heart, I wish you and Yoruk the best luck in the world."

I suppose the girls get a bit of a happy ending, inasmuch that after the Final BBEG is defeated and a little time passes, they grow close again in other ways. For that, please see Aqua's explanation of a Cridhe-dàime.

––– ¹ His player stopped being able to make sessions. ² I was not. ³ Because though the GM, UrbanVoodooman, can be a spectacular bastard for angst, he does love the fluffy stuff too. ⁴ Bless Felix's player, but he'd gotten a completely incorrect read on the situation, vis a vis Kurtulmak, St Cuthbert and Paladinship, which mean he – and therefore his Character – was convinced I was some kind of, IDK, minor deity? This never went away despite how many times we explained it. IDK if it makes it more or less funny to reveal Felix's Player is a very devout Anglican. ⁵ I don't think we'd managed to make it back to Toreguard by this point, and if we had, things were still on rocky ground, so Elo really didn't have many people on her side. ⁶ She was an idiot in love. Relatedly, IIRC, Aqua had only decided Merri was engaged prior to the session where this happened, so it was a bit difficult to retcon that fact in. ⁷ The Player who had previously dipped (See point 1) could now make intermittent sessions.

[hoshi-neko-hikari]

In Ironstead, there is a huge Mario Kart esque racetrack in the Grand Prix category on the eastern side of the city, called the Speedwrench Velocity. The track was built by a team consisting of the Wildhammer dwarves of the Swiftplume clan, the humans in the Quickargent house, and the Speedwrench gnomes - each led by Ilthroth Swiftplume, Brennen Quickargent, and Alain Speedwrench, respectively - it is made of concrete by the masons of Stormwind and Ironforge, and is a whopping 15 miles long.. so big, it takes Ignatius a half hour to get one lap of the track done during his patrol atop his horse, Umberheart; if he did the lap on foot, he would be very tired and breathing heavily. Overall, the velocity track can hold at least one hundred to thre hundred fifty competitors of any universe across the globe. Wouldn't you agree?

Cool!

[garfunclegaming]

The typical Dwarven Throng as employed by the Bronzebeard Clan of Ironforge during and after the Second Great War against the Orcish Hordes. Consisting of five hundred to seven hundred fighting Dwarves, Throngs fought in units consisting of Dwarves called to arms from geographically distinct parts of Khaz Modan. For example, Dwarves living in the Wetlands would gather into Throngs of their kinsfolk from neighboring villages, towns, cities and fortresses. These Throngs would then form a Brigade and then march to join other Brigades on campaign.

The Bronzebeard Throng is a defensive formation consisting of Guard, equivalent to Human footmen but much better armored and shielded. Rifles, armed with the legendary single-shot black-powder Dwarven rifle. Mountaineers, who acted as the Throng’s scouts and skirmishers. Cavaliers charging into battle upon their Khaz Modan riding rams. Dwarven field artillery, more advanced and devestating than any siege weapon fielded by man or elf. Lead by a Thane who was both a military commander and prominent leader of his or her clan.

At the start of a battle, the Mountaineers in loose ranks would harass the enemy forces to goad them into making an attack. The Riflemen and Artillery would then engage in mass volley fire to weaken the advancing forces from a distance. The Rifles would fall back behind the Guardsmen before the enemy charge, where the Guard would absorb the shock of the assault. They would then hold the enemy in check buying time for the Cavaliers to move into flanking positions and make a devastating charge to the sides and rear of the enemy formations.

While capable of inflicting heavy losses on the Orcish Horde the Dwarven Throngs soon fell victim to several innate weaknesses. Primarily a defensive formation, the distinct lack of mobility could lead to Throngs becoming outflanked. The lack of spellcasters was also a severe problem, later rectified by the addition of Gnomish wizards volunteering their arcane services. Creatures in service to the Horde such Ogres, summoned Demons, and enslaved Dragons could also inflict mass casualties among tightly packed Dwarf lines.

There was also the simple factor of numbers. The Dwarves of Khaz Modan stood alone against the onslaught of the Orcish invasion of their homeland. The Blackrock Clan alone outnumbered the military might of the Bronzebeard Clan. But there was also the Dragonmaw and Bleeding Hollow Orcish clans to contend with as well. Despite the tactical and technological advantages of the Dwarves, in the end they were simply overrun. Leading the adoption of guerilla tactics and warfare until the forces of the Grand Alliance could liberate the Dwarven homeland of Khaz Modan.

[gatesofthetroupe]

Rey Candell, Third Born The Father’s Daughter

The Basics ––– –

Name: Reyomara Candell Nickname(s): Rey Age: 20 Birthday: Early Spring Race: Human Gender:  Female Marital Status: Single

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Dark Brown Eyes:  Brown near black Height: 5'5 Build: A warrior's build Distinguishing Marks:  Numerous scars, life with a blade Tattoos: Foxtail on her forearm Piercings: Nose Common Accessories: mithril chain whip, hand crossbow, a heavy reforged two handed sword with a bright emerald set in the pommel   Likeness: Alba Baptista

Personal Information––– –

Profession: Soldier of Fortune Hobbies: Cooking, kite flying, swordfighting, metalwork   Languages:  Common Residence:  Stormwind City Birthplace: Ironforge Religion: Holy Light Patron Deity:  Herself Fears: Xaya, rats

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: None Children:  None Parents:  Zexx Candell (MIA); Beatrix Gallina (MIA, presumed dead) Siblings:   Xaya Candell (sister), Gendry Candell (brother), Gwynn Candell (sister) Other Relatives: Eldridge Candell (grandfather, Erlain Candell (great grandfather), Arallan Daemir (uncle) Pets: Hershel (pet fox)

Sex & Romance ––– -

Sexual Orientation: Hetero Preferred Emotional Role: submissive | dominant | switch Preferred Sexual Role: submissive | dominant | switch Libido: Ew Turn ons: Yuck Turn offs: No thanks Love Language:  I'm good Relationship Tendencies: Oh look, they have chicken!

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted Disorganized / In Between / Organized Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded Calm / In Between / Anxious Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable Cautious / In Between / Reckless Patient / In Between /  Impatient Outspoken / In Between / Reserved Leader / In Between / Follower Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic Traditional / In Between / Modern Hard-working / In Between / Lazy Cultured / In Between / Uncultured Loyal / In Between / Disloyal Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Sometimes Drugs: Not Often Alcohol: Often

RP Hooks ––– –

Sisters Rivalry - Xaya and Rey have not always gotten along the best, more so as the promise Xaya made to watch her siblings meant lording over the younger.  Rey's spirit though would not be quelled as she fought tooth and nail to be free, to do as she willed.  Now free, the young fighter has opened her eyes and heart to adventure and the bigger world around her.

Brother's Hand - As the youngest sibling, Rey grew up mostly with her brother as her older sibling had been sent to school as per their parents request.  The two became inseparable as they would wander the valley and bask in the education of exploration rather than books.  Since the tragedy at home, Rey has kept her eyes open and ear to the ground to help her brother be free of his burden and learn the next move of the Zandalari cult after them.

Father's Memory - Rey was but a child when she lost her parents to the great battle of Maelstrom.  Taken with her older siblings by their Uncle Lan she was raised a babe in the tall grasses, winding mountains, and open sky of Pandaria.  Now as a young woman, questions rise from the stories her Uncle told of the heroes Zexx and Beatrix were.  To walk that same path and live up to her name is all she could ever hope for.

A Wayward Wolf - Recently she has begun to have strange dreams of a dark forest and mismatched eyes.  There is no fear or hatred in them, only curiosity and familiarity that only comes from two other people in her life.  Each time she gets close with open palm, the eyes shut and the dream ends but sometimes she gets close enough to sit with them.  They don't talk, they don't fight, they move, they just sit and find a quiet bond.

HOW TO CONTACT:

OoC -  tumblr: @gatesofthetroupe​  Discord ( Mogwai Kraken#7988), Ingame (Reyomara 25 Hunter Survival, Moon Guard)

IC - At last the youngest Candell was free of the burdens of home and let loose unto the world!  Fame, fortune, and glory; all like the stories of the Stonefist Clan and her parent's adventures that Uncle Lan would tell her.  The only thing was she wished it hadn't been the usual tale where the world had to turn upside down to get there.

Now Stormwind was the trio's new home and what little coin they had was being eaten faster than they imagined.  Real life was expensive, and that meant finding work.  A trip to the local barracks had come up fruitless due to her age and size, but a trip into the common room of the Pig had come up with a few chores for locals.  Punch a bandit, find a lost cow, clear out some spiders, or escort a cart to Redridge.  Dull work, but paying.

Money made the world go round, and that's what Rey figured they needed.  Revenge wasn't cheap and she planned to pay in full when it came to the Zaladari cult who had ripped their world asunder.

[the-royal-courier]

Ironforge Craft Fest

The seasonal Ironforge Craft Fest is back once again looking for vendors and entertainers! With the armistice still underway, we thought now is as good a time as any to embrace the spirit of forward thinking to advance our knowledge of the crafting arts! Members of the Alliance AND Horde are welcome to gather in the Winter wonderland of Dun Morogh, in the hills behind Gnomeregan!

What:  The hard-working Dwarven clans of Khaz Modan, as well as other denizens of Azeroth, wish to host an artisan’s festival to honor centuries of fine dedication to masterful craftsmanship! This will be the Winter installment in this seasonal event, so come and embrace the various cultures of our world!

Not a Dwarf or Alliance? No problem!  All are welcome to join! Bring plenty Elixirs of Tongues.

When:  Saturday January 9, 2021, 6-9 PST.  Opening ceremonies will take place at 6pm.

Where: Dun Morogh, in the hills behind Gnomeregan!

Contacts: You can message Lynae,   Bathildis, or Modarin in game at any point, or send your request via in-game mail. We can also invite you to our Discord channel or in-game community!

What you can do: As a visitor, you are welcome to roam around the festival grounds, enjoy the night atmosphere and some good casual RP! Come by and shop around, purchase fine goods from master craftsmen and women around the city or submit work orders. Enjoy great entertainment, fireworks, drink, and food! Even register to participate in any sub-events we may have (like a drinking contest or friendly duels).

As a vendor, you can register for a booth to show and sell your wares!  We like to spread everyone out along the inner ring of Blackrock Mountain, allowing tons of space for different players to form small gatherings. Blacksmiths, engineers, scribes, even chemists and cooks are welcome!

If you can craft something, wish to take on an apprentice, or teach your trade, you can register.  Don’t worry, there are no fees or anything!  We just want to keep track of how many people want to fill this position.  Please get your booth approved beforehand!

As an entertainer, you can claim a spot to put on your act.  Whether you are a bard, have an show, or wish to provide games for others to play, you’re welcome to fill this role! We usually have a bard wandering around the festival playing actual music using addons like TRP3 Extended and Musician, so this is really just limited to creativity.

We definitely plan to spread you guys out so that you’re not being overwhelmed by RP chatter, so it’s very important that we get you set-up in a spot early!

If you don’t want to do any of these things, but wish to be a part of the festival, you are welcome to volunteer to help out where/when it is needed. If you wish to get involved in organizing the event, please contact Lynae or Bathildis in game! I look forward hearing from you!

PS: If you use the addon TRP3 Extended, you’ll also be in good company at this event. We’ll have special wares available (I have a full bar, as well as a limited edition Festival Brew), as well as at least one bard playing live music throughout part of the event.

If you are interested in signing up as a vendor, entertainer, or volunteer, please fill out a registration form!  Though we don’t update the list daily, spot selection is handled in the order that forms are received.

Want to check on your spot?  Here’s the map!

We would love to have some Alliance and Horde side security, as well! Please inquire with Lynae or Bathildis!

[aquadestinyswriting]

🌈 RAINBOW SLOTH for the random WIP ask game!

Hi there, thank you so much for the ask :D. Putting my answer under a cut to save everyone's dashes because this is about to get long.

Wild card! Share one thing about your WIP that you have been waiting to be asked about!

The random generator chose The Trouble with Meredith for this question.

I have been waiting to be asked about the rest of the Ironforge children in more detail honestly, so I'll be happy to infodump here. To provide context for the age ranges here, Dwarves reach the age of majority at 65 in Fangthane and can live until they're around 650-700 years old on average.

As of the time of the above WIP, Meredith is the youngest of three children. However, she did have two older brothers that went off to fight with King Nargond in the Demon War, alongside their uncle Snorri. Neither brother made it back. Gruk and Morag were, understandably, quite upset that Snorri managed to come back without the boys in tow, but Snorri's obvious regret prompted Gruk to make amends with his older brother and the two of them are much closer as a result.

Alfolor (or Alfie for short) was mentioned briefly in the story Come Back Again, and was the eldest child of the family. At the time of his unfortunate death he was 153 years old. He'd been working as a smith, alongside his father at the time the Demon War kicked off and had been planning to ask his girlfriend of the time to marry him, but never got the chance to.

Magni was the second child and he was only 138 at the time of his death. Magni had been working as an Ironguard at the time of the Demon War and got himself swept up in the fervour of the moment alongside the vast majority of his unit. Magni did have a boyfriend at the time, who was quick to join him in the fight to save Allansia. It's unknown whether said boyfriend survived since no one in the family have seen him since, but he wasn't counted among the dead at the end of the war.

The third child of the family is Hilde, the only other girl in the family. As of the time of the majority of The Trouble with Meredith series, Hilde is 120 years old and is apprenticing under Auld Derek to become a Librarian Scholar. She's not quite to the level where the old librarian will allow her to take her final tests, but she is very close and is, rightfully, proud of the fact that she'll be one of the youngest Scholars the library has had for at least two generations if she can take the tests in the next couple of years. She's also the only family member who likes animals well enough to keep a Glowwyrm as a pet. Hilde has no plans to get romantically entangled with anyone at present and has basically told her parents to look to her younger siblings for grandbabies.

The last of the Ironforge children I'm going to mention here (since Merri herself is the main character for this series) is Dugald. At time of The Trouble with Meredith series, Dugald is 106 and is apprenticing under his uncle Ufgi as a Runesmith, one of the more prestigious professions found within Fangthane. Dugald showed an aptitude for messing around with metal and runic magic at a young age, much like his uncle, so he was fast-tracked into an apprenticeship to prevent any magical mishaps at home. Dugald does have a partner, though it's still so early into the relationship that he's not even brought said partner home to meet his parents yet. Magni is the most reserved of the surviving Ironforge children, preferring to stay in the background while his sisters take up the space he's left for them.

Thanks again for the question.

Edited because I messed up on the ages. It's been fixed now

[the-korkron-chronicles]

The Shadowforge Craft Festival

The seasonal Craft Fest is back once again looking for vendors and entertainers! With the ceasefire engaged, members of the Alliance AND Horde are welcome to gather in the commons of Blackrock Mountain, in the heart of Shadowforge City for the second ever Shadowforge Craft Fest!

What: The hard-working Dwarven clans of Khaz Modan, as well as other denizens of Azeroth, wish to host an artisan’s festival to honor centuries of fine dedication to masterful craftsmanship! This will be the Summer installment in this seasonal event, so come and embrace the various cultures of our world!

Not a Dwarf or Alliance? No problem! All are welcome to join! Bring plenty of Elixirs of Tongues!

When: Saturday July 18th, 2020, 6-9 PST. Opening ceremonies will take place outside the entrance to Upper Blackrock Spire at 6pm.

Where: The Inner Ring of Blackrock Mountain, aka. Shadowforge City!

Contacts: You can message Lynae, Bathildis, Lissianä or Modarin in game at any point, or send your request via in-game mail! We can also invite you to our Discord channel or in-game community!

What you can do: As a visitor, you are welcome to roam around the festival grounds, enjoy the night atmosphere and some good casual RP! Come by and shop around, purchase fine goods from master craftsmen and women around the city or submit work orders. Enjoy great entertainment, fireworks, drink, and food! Even register to participate in any sub-events we may have (like a drinking contest or friendly duels).

As a vendor, you can register for a booth to show and sell your wares! We like to spread everyone out along the inner ring of Blackrock Mountain, allowing tons of space for different players to form small gatherings. Blacksmiths, engineers, scribes, even chemists and cooks are welcome!

If you can craft something, wish to take on an apprentice, or teach your trade, you can register. Don’t worry, there are no fees or anything! We just want to keep track of how many people want to fill this position. Please get your booth approved beforehand!

As an entertainer, you can claim a spot to put on your act. Whether you are a bard, have a show, or wish to provide games for others to play, you’re welcome to fill this role! We usually have a bard wandering around the festival playing actual music using addons like TRP3 Extended and Musician, so this is really just limited to creativity.

We definitely plan to spread you guys out so that you’re not being overwhelmed by RP chatter, so it’s very important that we get you set-up in a spot early!

If you don’t want to do any of these things, but wish to be a part of the festival, you are welcome to volunteer to help out where/when it is needed. If you wish to get involved in organizing the event, please contact Lynae, Lissianä or Bathildis in game! I look forward to hearing from you!

PS: If you use the addon TRP3 Extended, you’ll also be in good company at this event. We’ll have special wares available (Bathildis has a full bar, as well as a limited edition Festival Brew), as well as at least one bard playing live music throughout part of the event.

If you are interested in signing up as a vendor, entertainer, or volunteer, please fill out a registration form! Though we don’t update the list daily, spot selection is handled in the order that forms are received.

Current and Tentative Vendors (Plus contacts):

A - The Cask ‘n’ Anvil tavern from Ironforge is bringing it’s famous clan platters! H - Fence Macrabe is bringing Undead Curios! A - Death’s Door is providing enchanted wares, and magic items of all shapes and sizes! A - Tinkerbangers is bringing Plushie, cookies and Pastries! H - Flame Walker Fel-Fire Barbecue is bringing Freshly grilled barbecued meats, sides, vegetarian options, and a few drinks to choose from. Hearty meals to keep you going! A - Ironhands Mechanics and Munitions is bringing Ammunition, explosives, robotics, guns, golems, tools, and commission work for larger projects! A - Battlestein Company Wares and Services is run by a guild group! Full of Wares, services, and beer from masterful artisans of Khaz Modan.

Security currently volunteer basis! Stormwind City Watch has volunteered for Alliance! Still seeking Horde!

[Form Sign Up]

@bath-ironstout​, @ironforgecraftfest​, @fence-macabre​, @dyllietinkerbang​, @the-royal-courier​

[sirdolraan]

Dehiscence

(( DWC August 2024 Day 5, Mistake/Wild, CW: None; @daily-writing-challenge ))

Lorellai leaned back over the back of her seat at the cafe, taking a moment to rest. The memories had been relentless, leaving the adventurers and mercenaries to work in shifts to keep them from spreading or threatening settlements. "I swear, if I have to hear that Fizzlebang speech one more time-"

"Come now, according to the records his summoning was a true triumph, save for the part where it killed him," a voice interrupted her, leading her to open one eye to take in the humble looking form of Dagran Thaurissan the second, and then causing her to start and nearly overbalance her chair.

"Oh, um, Dagran, I mean, your highness, I mean, mister Thaurissan-" she started, as he quickly started waving his hands at her.

"Oh please none of that, I get enough of it back home whenever we hire new staff. Just Dagran is fine between you and I. Might I join you? If you aren't too tired that is. I'd love to hear about your work in the dragon isles."

"Oh, um, sure?" Lorellai replied, feeling off balance but motioning to one of the other chairs at the table.

Time seemed to fly by afterwards, as Dagran hungrily soaked up her stories from the Dragonscale expedition, particularly the titan ruins she'd gotten to delve. It flew by so fast, in fact, that both young dwarves lost track of it, until a shadow fell across the table.

"Dagran." Moira's voice was cold steel. "Come away this instant."

They both turned to see the queen looming over them, her displeasure evident on her face, Brann behind her with an apologetic shrug. "I was just getting to know one of Ironforge's champions. There's no harm in that." Dagran replied, evenly, even as he rose. Lorellai noticed him fidgeting with his rings. Was he as nervous about this as she was?

"Not with a Truthhammer there isn't. Go with your granduncle and help him with your grand'da."

"Of course, mother. Lorellai, it was a pleasure," Dagran said, pushing in his chair and joining Brann, leaving Lorellai's gaze trapped by Moira's.

"I, uh, I meant nae offense, yer majes-" Lorellai began, before she was cut off.

"You will stay away from my son. I'm not blind, girl. I see that thing you're carrying," she said, gesturing at Lorellai's holster. "Whatever plan you and your father have cooked up, I won't have it. Abandon your schemes and we'll have no more to discuss. Have I made myself clear?"

"But I haven't do-" "Have. I made myself. Clear?" Moira continued, leaning in close, shadowy magic shining in her eyes.

".. clear, yer majesty."

"Good then. Best of luck in the field to you, Champion." Moira said, pulling back and straightening her dress, before turning on her heel and leaving Lorellai at her table, feeling like a rabbit in Dun Morogh that just encountered a bear.

----------------------

When Moira returned to Magni's side, Dagran was waiting for her with a thoughtful expression on his face. As she sat, he began to continue their signed conversation.

"That was rather uncalled for, Mother."

"Oh?" Moira replied, kneeling at Magni's side. "Was it? To pull you away from the daughter of your father's murderer, even as she flaunts the very weapon that took him from us?"

"She is not Drogar Truthhammer, mother. No more than I am you, or you are Grand'da. And more to the point, the Truthhammer clan's opposition to the Dark Irons faded to nothing years ago. I would see the rift allowed to heal."

"So you're doing this as a King." Moira said, causing Brann to start, wondering what she was talking about.

"I am. You trusted me with the shield. Trust me with this."

"I cannae forgive what he took from us. He would have seen us all dead." Moira replied, tears threatening to escape her eyes as she thought back to that day, her gaze locked with the madman who'd gunned down her husband, and who tried to shoot her as he fled.

"A sin that is his and his alone to bear. If she carries his, then so to do I carry Father's. Is that what you want for me?"

Brann gently laid his hand over Moira's. "You've raised a good son, lass. Wise and clever."

"... Fine," she said at last. "I'll not interfere. But I won't pretend to like it."

Dagran's fingers danced on the book of stories he was opening. "That's all I ask for," he told her, as he began to read the tale of Modimus Anvilmar's ascension to the throne of Ironforge to Magni's comatose form.

[officialtoa]

BOOTH 11: THE DWARVEN VANGUARD

The Dwarven Vanguard is once again excited to bring to you, the Flavors of Khaz Modan booth once again this year! Come eat and drink the finest the Dwarves have to offer and if you're feeling lucky, sign up for our drinking game!

FLAVORS OF KHAZ MODAN: FOOD AND DRINK

ODRON’S DRINKING GAME

FOOD AND DRINK

The Dwarven Vanguard is bringing a full arsenal of ales and brews to share with our friends at the Tournament of Ages! Below is a brief description of each. Dwarven drinks are not for the faint of heart, so mind your livers!

Weak:                                                                                                                      Thunder Ale 

Distilled at the famous Thunderbrew Distillery in Kharanos, this mild drink carries a warm tone. Smooth and easy to drink, this is sure to warm up any who travel in Dun Morogh - or Icecrown!

Rhapsody Malt

The secret to our delicious ribs, this single malt whisky is aged for three years. Tasting of caramels, cinnamon and lacking the bite of stronger drinks it is paired best with its counterpart: ribs!

Northrend Honey Mead 

The bees in Northrend make a delicious honey that has a complicated taste. Sweet, a touch sour and refreshing, this mead is sure to please.

Medium:                                                                                                                                                                  .

Dwarven Stout

Ironforge’s own, these stouts are what keep our soldiers alive on the frontline! Full-bodied, almost chocolatey and carrying a tinge of spice, who needs water with this around?

Dun Modr Peat Whisky

Peat from the swamps of Dun Modr, The Vanguard’s base of operations, is dried, crushed, then the malt is triple smoked, adding a hint of salted caramel flavor. Artificially aged in brew-making Golems, it also carries prominent notes of pine-nuts, toffee, cinnamon and apricot.

Strong:                                                                                                                                                                     .

Dwarven Mead

Fermented honey in Loch Modan is deceptive. Sweet, light and easy to drink, this mead will have you passed out in Thelsamar before you know it! Badlands Bourbon 

Smooth, enjoyed neat or on the rocks, this bourbon carries strong spices and isn’t for beginners. Sure to grow your beard and best enjoyed with some Chops, it’s a wonder they call it’s homeland the ‘Badlands’. Highlands Spirit

Pomegranates, tea, cinnamon and pears are distilled together to create this strong and vibrant spirit. Please do not fly your gryphon and drink. Stormhammer responsibly. Darkbrew Lager

Somewhere between the strong body of a stout and the gentle bite of bourbon, this once-secretive drink is a real novelty. The imperial excellence of Dark Iron craft meets the beauty of Loch Modan, making this drink the perfect toast to Dwarven unity. Sulfuron Slammer

A drink quite literally on fire. Often enjoyed at the Grim Guzzler, or thrown as a weapon, this is likely the strongest drink on offer at the Tournament of Ages and it always draws a crowd.

Old Ironforge

An old Dwarven blend, distilled from barley malted over blacksmith fires, this ale is nice and crisp. Dangerously refreshing, you’ll find yourself reminiscing of the glory days after a couple of these!

The Aerie 8 Year Malt

An untamed spirit with a grassy character owed to the use of wild grains which grow only near the peaks of the Hinterlands mountains. Often touted as the strongest legal drink the Wildhammer Clan offers! Haustvald 25 Year Cask

The magical properties of the Runewood provide a truly unique finish to this vrykul spirit. The Dwarven Vanguard is not responsible for combustion, implosion, liquidation, shrinking, growing, widening, farting and/or death. Plugger’s Blackrock Ale

Before young Dark Irons are ready for Sulfuron Slammers they grow up on this and often get used to it. Full of spice, with a dark fruity twist, this ale is a must-try.

Powder Proof Rum

Made from the sugar mash (or molasses) frequently produced in tropical climes, Powder Proof rum has become a staple within the Vanguard’s navy for its suitability on long sea voyages and its staggering potency. So strong it makes black powder sizzle! Overproof means perfect strength for our sailors.

The Dwarven Vanguard is also bringing a taste of Khaz Modan from the northern wetlands to the Tournament of Ages. Try some of our favorites, from our hearth to your stomach!

Steam-Baked Apples

A peeled tart apple, cored and stuffed with a cinnamon-brown sugar and oats mixture and wrapped in puff-pastry, then flash steamed in a portable pressurized oven. Served with a spoonful of local honey from the Bael Vorn Meadery hives.

"Warm Hammer" Pretzels

A thick braided pretzel in the shape of a dwarven hammer. Served with mustard and a spicy beer cheese sauce to dip in. Can be ordered with or without salt.

Beer Basted Crocolisk

Crocolisk tail tenderloin, braised over several hours in a mixture of spices and dwarven ale, then seared on the grill and topped with crispy onions. Served with a toasted sourdough roll with herb butter.

Kickin' Chimaerok Chops

Bone-on chimaerok tenderloin chop, marinated in a garlic-chili-ginger sauce and wrapped in a thin sheet of bear fat, then grilled over very high temperature to achieve a perfectly cooked chop with a crispy layer of fat. Served with deep-fried mushrooms.

Barbecue Boar Ribs

A half-slab of boar ribs, rubbed with a special blend of seasoning and slow-smoked over a mixture of applewood and whiskey-barrel wood chips. Served with a toasted sourdough roll with herb butter.

"Silverbelt Special"

Three-quarters of a pound of fatty ground bear meat shaped into a patty, cooked medium-medium well. Served on a toasted brioche bun with a spicy harissa spread and topped with arugula, gouda cheese, and smoked bacon. Served with thick-cut deep fried potato chips.

Pickled Pig Snout

Pig snout, pickled in an earthy, spicy brine. Only the brave order this.

[theoldlord]

   Carved into the stone heart of Khaz Modan, the mighty city of Ironforge stands a testament to the dwarves' strength and resilience. An expansive underground city that delves as deep into Azeroth as the mountain itself stands tall. Massive doors of solid rock protect the city in times of war and lava from the mountain itself is rediected and distributed for heat, energy, and smithing. It is considered by many to be the most well-protected city in all the Alliance, nor has any point in history told of it being owned by any other than the dwarves. For this reason alone the Bank of Ironforge, or the Vault, stands as the safest place for anyone seeking to secure their valuables away for safekeeping. Maintained by the Stonemantle family and a legion of administrators, the Vault's lockboxes numbered in the millions and came in almost as many sizes depending on how big your hoard of coin was..

   Araian had been a customer to the Vault for decades now and he could think of few that -didn't- use the Vault to safeguard their fortunes. He could have taken the tram that connected Stormwind to the mountain fortress but then for matters such as this he thought it important to come by gryphon. The view of the mountain from the sky alone was worth it, even if he did have to bundle up under a layer of leather and furs to keep the chill of the mountain air at bay.

   "Ye get much older an' we won't be havin' enough furs to warm yer bones on such flights ye daft fool!" A hardy mountaineer waved Araian down once the gryphon landed, sending dusting’s of snow flying with each beat of its wings. The horned helm jammed onto the dwarf's head held fast by a large hand lest the Gryphon's wingbeats send his helm flying.

   "The day I cannot travel by gryphon, Morthagrin.. Well, I don't want to think of such a day. Flying still stands as one of the most enjoyable adventures in the world. It is good to see you, my Friend. Did you get my letter?" Araian grinned as he extended a hand out to the Dwarf, grasping his forearm in a warm gesture.

   "Aye, we got it! Cleared out a whole section o' level forty seven for ye! Gotta say Dinita is right excited ya be trustin' the family an' Ironforge with this much responsibility, friend. An' it's good to see ya too, heard 'bout what's been happenin' to ya.." Morthagrin shook his head as a disgruntled expression dominated his features. "Ya be findin' somethin' o' them to hit, ye let me know. We'll give 'em a good hammerin' fer ya!"

   A dwarf of simple words but the meaning behind them was as heavy as the twin hammers slung at his hips. "Good, good.. I'm glad Lady Stonemantle had such space available, and on such short notice. There's no safer place than the Vault and no people more capable to safeguard my past. You've kept my fortune safe for as long as I've been alive, Morthagrin." As they passed under Ironforge's massive stone doors, doors that had never in their history been breached, Araian nodded solemnly. "I appreciate that, friend. Truly. The moment we get a leg up on this new enemy, you'll be among the first to know."

   Idle chit chat saw two old friends through the lengthy journey to the Vault's entrance at the heart of the Commons Ward. The main thoroughfare for trade in Ironforge, there was rarely a time of day or night that did not see it packed with people of all types. Legions of dwarven guard marched in formation through the crowds, keeping the peace. Wagons, even Steam tanks from time to time were known to travel the wide stone highways. Set before a large parade area  across from the auction houses, the Vault rose above all other buildings carved into the rock walls of the city. A multi-storied building of polished grey marble with a matching set of stairs that led to the one and only entrance. Above the doors the crests of both Ironforge and the Stonemantle family rested alongside the words 'The Vault of Ironforge'. The doors were flanked by a three pairs of the city's finest. Large shields and savage-looking halberds stood firm to prevent any unwanted entry.

   As Araian and Morthagrin made their way past these stoic vault guardians and up the steps the set of burnished bronze doors opened for them as they got near. Past another set of guards a vast marble hall stretched back for over five-hundred paces with long counters stretching along its length. Dozens of the Vault's clerks worked these counters day and night servicing the monetary needs of the Alliance.

   "Lord Sunshield! By all that is stone an' sturdy, s'good to be seein' you!" The voice of Dinita Stonemantle, Vault Administrator, carried out across that expansive hall from where she rose from a small desk behind rows of counters. A set of wooden doors opened to allow the pair entry as they made their way to her. She even came from around her desk to give the human male a generous hug. One that nearly stole the breath from him, too!

   "Lady Stonemantle, you honor me with a meeting!" Araian exclaimed, chuckling after he caught his breath and eased into a seat across from the woman's solid silver desk.

   "Hush, ye! What am I, one o' yer poncy knights?! Honor this an' honor that. We're speakin' gold not honor! Great ta see ya too, Greybeard." Dinita exclaimed, offering the human lord a wink before she drew her spectacles back down across the bridge of her nose and began sorting through a vast stack of parchment. No less than seven enchanted quills rose to attention to begin the task of assisting the Vaults head admisitrator with the current task of Araian's finances. "I'm told you've a sizeable hoard to be needin' safekeeping, aye? That's no trouble at all, my dear! The current rates are quite manageable these days, even after the last war. At least by now they're occurring quite consistently with our projections. Eliminates nasty fluctuations, aye?"

   "Given the volume it'll take Morthagrin an' his team a week to get all o' ye items from the castle in Duskwood. That includes transportation as well, my dear. I see you've selected the Magni package for this.. Safe as diamonds or yer money back!" Giggling at her own cheesy bankers lines Dinita's gaze rose to the elder lord.

   Araian could only nod where he thought it appropriate and chuckle when she did. "You've always known best, Lady Stonemantle. The last time I took your advice you made me a fortune in Northrend with the lumber rush. Suffice to say I've trusted you with my wealth this long, I don't think you'll do me wrong. What of my other requests? I believe I submitted the applications for land deeds in both the Highlands and Boralus City correctly."

   “Hmm.. let's see here if we can dig those up and go over them, yes?" Her gaze slanted to Morthagrin, the mountaineer instantly adopting an 'at attention' stance. "Morthagrin, be a dear would ye? Yer free to be goin' about Araian's requests. Take your team and get started right away." Without word, though a cheery grin was offered to Araian as he nodded, Morthagrin trudged off as armor jingled until he vanished from sight.

   "Unfortunately, Araian, it would seem your request for deeds in Kirthaven was denied. Quite unfortunate, I'm sorry. It says here that land grants are hereditary through the clans that live in the region. There's no exception clause given that a majority of these clans are no longer alive.. It would seem the existing village elders hold rights to them and save them for the next generations. Boralus City? Your grant was approved for that, but I would advise against it."

   Araian frowned briefly, he had quite enjoyed his tour of Kirthaven when visiting it these past few days. Though, he could understand the reasons given for his denial. The village elders were smart, he'd give them that. "Why do you advise against Boralus city, my Lady?"

   "Insurance, my dear Araian. Ye could afford the purchase price o' many a manor throughout the city's wards there is no doubt. The insurance rates'll bleed ye dry though. It's surrounded by water! Even built upon it! Another cataclysmic event an' yer whole home will be in Naga territory! Ye got rats an' corrosion from the salt water too. No, no, no that'll simply not do. Tell ye what, give me a few days to see what's available an' I can give ye some more options, aye? Yer a lord, Araian. Lords need castles. Solid foundations. Towers. Stonnnne." Dinita explained as she shuffled that stack of parchment into multiple smaller ones.

   "Alright, Lady Stonemantle.. I understand. Still, the castle must be smaller than what I currently have. Yet larger than the one in Stormwind. You've got that one noted down as listed for sale as well, yes?" Araian nodded his head slowly as he clasped his hands together in his lap.

   "Sell yer Stormwind house? Tch, Araian. This is why ye leave the money to me! That house is an investment! Time goes on it's value only increases. I'd consider subletting it like ya do that pretty lass in Dalaran. She's a right good tenant mind you, should find another for the Stormwind house an' ye be right as rain. I won't be hearin' no buts from you either, Lord Sunshield! Keep thinkin' the way ye are an' you'll be broke an' I'll be pissed at ye! Off with ya then, I've got a dozen other lords to see to this afternoon but I'll put you down for Thursday, aye? Show ya what I've got fer a new castle!" With that, she was gone. Vanishing from her seat as if she were a shadow walker. Only those enchanted quills remained to finish the paperwork and sort it afterwards, leaving Araian quite out of place.

   A trip down the halls of steel would do him good.. There was always room for one more sword or another suit of armor for his hall. Right?

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