The World as it Should Be

“Aye, now this be an interestin piece lass.”



She was sitting in a bar in the Dwarven district of Stormwind, talking to a grizzled old craftsman about the piece she had found in Deydis's room at the inn. Everyone else in town was unable to really say where it came from or what it may have meant. It was plain bronze and a pretty simple design, not much to go on. The last one had suggested the Dwarves, and since she had no real wish to go to Ironforge, she thought she would check here first.



“I'd say this was custom made too,” he said, rubbing his bearded chin in deep thought.



“Any idea by who?”



“Hmmmm....I have a few thoughts, but it be hard to tell, not really distictive.”



She sighed and took a swig of her drink, getting ready for another disappointment.



“Still the embossment wasn't done in Ironforge, it be too smooth for that. Ironforge dwarf would have had sharper, more distinct edges. But I do think...”



He pressed the medallion in his hand, rolling it around, squeezing it in different angles, with his eyes closed. After a few minutes, a smile crept on his face.



“Ah-hah! There it be.”



“What?”



“There be a little indentation on the side here. Too small for humans to feel, but like a signature to us dwarves,” he held up the coin to the light, “I don't know the specific craftsman, but I can say it was the work of one of the Dark Iron Dwarves.”



“Where would I find them?” she asked as he handed it back to her.



He took a heavy swig from his ale and put it down on the bar, looking at it thoughtfully before answering, “They're a bad bunch lass, ye don wanna be messin with them. But if ye go to Searing Gorge, you'll find the Thorium Brotherhood, they're Dark Irons, but they'll do business with ye, they can tell you more.”



She thanked him and stepped back out into the busy streets of Stormwind. Since her arrival a couple of weeks ago, she had come to dislike the city strongly. It was loud, smelly and crowded. It was to be expected from the city that represented the center of the Alliance, but it made her homesick for Darnassus, a major city itself, but quiet and peaceful. Thus with her mind wandering, she impatiently made her way to the trade center of the city, and the front gate, hoping to give Ripper some time running.



The Trade District was typically the most crowded part of the city, but it was also the best way out, and she desperately needed to get out into the open, especially after the smoky closeness of the Dwarven District. So intent was she on getting out quickly that she failed to notice that people had suddenly cleared to one side, or that there was a sudden chill to the air.



She walked right into the cause of the sudden clearing. Stepping back to mumble and apology or to defend herself if the other person proved irritable, she looked straight into the eyes of a Death Knight.



Treris stood there frozen. She had heard of them, had seen them at a distance, but now she was standing right in front of one. It was a woman, probably human, but she couldn't see her face because it was underneath a heavy helmet of black metal. She could see the cold, dead eyes boring straight into her.



She quickly mumbled an apology and got out of the way. The Death Knight followed her with her eyes, then scanned the rest of the crowd coldly, before moving on.



Several people were staring at Treris as if she had just contracted the plague, and the sudden scrutiny was unbearable. Quickly she made her way out of the city, hoping to find peace in solitude.







A few days later, she was in the Searing Gorge, a vast wasteland that made the Barrens look plentiful. Ash and smoke hung in the air, covered the ground and got into everything, while fire elementals, Dark Iron dwarves and cultists roamed the area, killing all who got near. Ripper in particular hated it, she could only sympathize with him as he tried to get the clumping ash out of his fur.



The Thorium Brotherhood was it seemed, willing to talk to her, but only if she did them favors.



“Its ok,” the dwarf said, “cause the person ye be looking for is where we need ya to do some work anyways.”



At her raised eyebrow he pointed out the gaping chasm to the south, where slaves, contructs and their masters worked constantly.



“Aye, ye be looking for Theron lass, he still be with them over there. You'll find him in the main building, probably in his workshop, but while yer in there, do us a favor and kill a bunch of those Dark Irons and steal their tools will ya?”



Treris looked down into the Cauldron and did a quick mental scan of the area, figuring out her best approach to the main building, before heading resolutely down.





The fighting was not as bad as she had thought. During her time in Stranglethorn she had worked on her melee skills, in case she lost or couldn't use her gun. Now it was her biggest advantage as she silently picked off small groups of guards and made her way towards the center of the pit. A few of the slaves took the opportunity to run, others attacked her to her surprise, but she was able to beat them off with a minimum of difficulty.



Sneaking wasn't her best skill, but as an elf and not a loud fighter, she had an easier time of it than others. Once she was in the building, she stuck to shadows and avoided making contact with anyone. Painstakingly, she made her way to what she supposed were the workshops peeked her head in each one.



The first one was empty, nothing in there but a dusty workbench and some old armor.



The next one was occupied, and a quick scuffle later revealed it was not whom she was looking for.

Finally she found one that had the name Theron embossed on the door and she carefully snuck in.



He was already dead. Stabbed to death. His body laid hunched over the work bench, blood still oozing from his wounds.



A noise behind her caused her to swing around, grabbing her gun, while Ripper snarled.



Deydis was there, his hands in the air in front of him, looking just as surprised as she was.