Millhouse Manastorm

"Thermaplugg, go calm everyone down again. There are too many Stonewrought. If we go outside, we'll just be sending everyone to their deaths!"

The gnome High Tinker, with snow-white hair and a bald patch on top, usually had a kindly face. At this moment, though, his brow was furrowed so deeply it looked ready to tie itself in knots.

After all, gnomes weren't dwarves. Give dwarves ale, stories, a good brawl, and friends, and they could stay cooped up in Ironforge all winter—or even all year—without a problem. Gnomes were different. Though they were small and cute, and not as rugged as dwarves, each of those little darlings had a restless soul inside. They yearned to keep busy and to travel. Making them stay in one place was sheer torture.

But for gnomes right now, going outside meant certain death. The Stonewrought might have technology that hadn't progressed beyond the primitive age, but they were strong and sturdy. Without their advanced weapons, a hundred gnomes might not even be a match for one Stonewrought.

Fortified behind Gnomeregan's sturdy walls, the gnomes didn't have to fight the Stonewrought at close quarters, and their advanced weapons could be put to best use. That was the only reason they could coexist peacefully with the Stonewrought. But the moment the gnomes left Gnomeregan, they'd be little more than sitting ducks. That was why the High Tinker was so worried by Thermaplugg's words. Once people lost heart, they'd be impossible to keep in line.

"Don't worry, High Tinker. I'll do my best to talk to everyone and put their minds at ease."

"Thank you, Thermaplugg. If it weren't for you, I don't know how much longer I could keep everyone in Gnomeregan.

"Right, Thermaplugg, I need to go work on a new weapon to use