Master chef Diago

On the way to the outpost, Diago spoke cautiously with Jack Rockleg, trying to learn about the recent situation in Searing Gorge through indirect questions. Even so, his knowledge and familiarity with the Dark Iron Dwarves left Jack full of admiration. Few humans bothered to learn about the Dark Iron Dwarves' customs, history, culture, and society, especially while the race still bore such a terrible reputation. Before long, Jack regarded Diago as an old friend and told him practically everything he knew, holding nothing back.

From Jack Rockleg's account, Diago learned that today's great battle had not happened without reason, nor had it simply been fought to help the two of them. For the dwarves, whose grievances had been building for a long time, this battle with the Orcs of Kargath was no chance occurrence. It was merely one of many border clashes.

Originally, Jack Rockleg had felt no ill will toward the Orcs. In fact, most members of the Thorium Brotherhood shared that position. The Alliance and the Horde were other people's business, nothing to do with them. They cared more about freeing the Dark Iron Dwarves from Ragnaros's enslavement.

But these once-wealthy dwarven master craftsmen were now in rather straitened circumstances. Having fled Shadowforge City in haste, they had not brought enough supplies to make equipment and weapons. It was said that one member of the Thorium Brotherhood had even been authorized to sell those legendary dwarven recipes in exchange for essential rare materials. It was a sorry sight to see these dwarven masters, who had worked countless wonders, reduced to having nothing to work with.

So when the Orcs of Kargath blocked the only mountain trail leading to the Badlands, the beleaguered Dark Iron Dwarves were immediately furious. Their sole supply route to Thelsamar and Ironforge had been cut off as well, making things even worse for the already hard-pressed Thorium Brotherhood. Now it was no longer a question of needing rare materials. They were having trouble even getting enough to eat. After all, Searing Gorge was hardly rich in plant life. Almost nothing grew in that scorching land covered in lava.

The outpost was not far away, only about two hours from the ambush site. They called it an outpost, but it was really just a dozen or so low tents. Around the little camp, the dwarves had felled a ring of dead trees for cover. Searing Gorge had plenty of that material-Ragnaros the Firelord, summoned by Thaurissan, had utterly devastated the Badlands, Searing Gorge, and the Burning Steppes, burning those three once-lush regions into wastelands of ash. The remains of trees that had died of scorching thirst were still everywhere, but aside from firewood, these half-charred trunks were only good for things like the cover they now provided.

Diago knew that south of here, at the foot of the Blackrock Mountains, lay what had once been a thriving forest. After being burned down, it was now called the Sea of Ash. Diago had visited it once before his transmigration, and he still could not forget that knee-deep layer of wood ash.

About a dozen Dark Iron Dwarves had stayed behind in the camp. They brought out almost all their food to welcome the guests from afar and reward the dwarven warriors returning in triumph. The gesture also exposed the Thorium Brotherhood's hardship. Looking at the meager portions of dry lizard jerky and black bread on the table, Diago and Masley found them rather difficult to swallow. But when they saw the Fire Beetles and Lava Crabs on the Dark Iron Dwarves' plates, they were too embarrassed to complain.

After hastily making do with lunch, Diago let Jack Rockleg know he was heading out, then left with Masley. Before leaving, he also borrowed several dwarven firearms from Jack Rockleg. Overcome with shame, the Dark Iron Dwarves even forgot to ask what they were going to do.

Toward evening, however, Diago and Masley returned. Masley came back in bear form, carrying more than twenty washbasin-sized Lava Spiders on his broad back, while Diago carried twenty or thirty plump Lava Crabs on a shoulder pole.

As soon as he entered the camp, Diago chased the Dark Iron Dwarves' cook out of the kitchen-which was really just a crude shelter-then threw himself into the work, with Masley helping at his side. In truth, ever since tasting Diago's cooking in the Wetlands, the Night Elf had felt he could never leave this human man again.

Soon, the complaining dwarven cook dragged Jack Rockleg over. But when Jack saw the two of them clattering away in a bustle of activity, he could hardly bring himself to dampen their enthusiasm. It was only a meal, after all. Even if the two guests made something inedible, missing a meal together would be no great matter.

That evening, however, the Dark Iron Dwarves were deeply stunned by the dazzling array of food covering the tables. It seems that old dwarven saying, "Humans have it on the tip of their tongues," really is true! More than one Dark Iron Dwarf had that thought.

Diago chose his ingredients according to what was available locally. He used Lava Crabs to make Secret Crab Meat, Steamed Fat Crab, Chili Crab Meat, and Claw Crab Soup. Although certain specialty crabs from Outland or even Pandaria would have been best for giving these dishes their authentic flavor, Lava Crabs made a fairly tasty substitute. At least, the Dark Iron Dwarves ate them with endless praise-though perhaps they were simply too hungry. He also roasted Lava Spiders to make Crispy Spider and Kaldorei Spider Kabob, winning another chorus of acclaim. The Kaldorei Spider Kabob in particular, an elven dish from Ashenvale, brought tears streaming down the Night Elf's face. It tasted of home. Even a rebellious youth who had run away from home could hardly help feeling a pang of homesickness.

Finally, Diago made a Spider Cake from the remaining scraps of spider meat. Some unscrupulous merchants had once sold this cake under the name Black Crab Cake, though Stormwind City had reportedly cracked down hard on them afterward. Authentic Spider Cake required chilies, but Lava Spider meat already tasted quite fiery, saving him the trouble. Lava Crab meat was the same. Diago did not know what animal in Searing Gorge did not taste burning hot.

In fact, ever since Lava Crabs and Lava Spiders had followed Ragnaros the Firelord from the fire elemental plane to Azeroth three hundred years ago, they had never appeared on the Dark Iron Dwarves' menu. The dwarves greatly feared these ferocious, aggressive creatures with their waving claws. Even now, faced with a food crisis, they had only tried boiling Lava Crabs in plain water. To be honest, even the least demanding Dark Iron Dwarf found the taste hard to stomach.

Today, though, these delicacies clearly gave the Dark Iron Dwarves an excuse to drink heavily-even empty stomachs could not stop dwarves from using their last grain to brew alcohol. These gifted brewers could always devise all sorts of brewing methods, and they were equally unrestricted in their choice of ingredients. Oats, beans, fruit, wormwood, honey, and even voodoo potions might all go into their brews. The legendary Sulfuras Slammer was even said to be brewed from lava by the Dark Iron Dwarves and supplied to Fire Elementals by Ragnaros the Firelord. Drinking it would set one's whole body ablaze. Those Dark Iron Dwarves whose bodies the Firelord had transformed into elemental forms were reportedly extremely fond of it as well.

Diago and Masley eventually joined the revelry too, since dwarven hospitality was difficult to refuse. To the dwarves, fine alcohol was a miraculous elixir given to them by their father, Khaz'goroth the Shaper, to inspire them. A dwarf who could not drink could not craft good work. Indeed, every legendary dwarven master smith was a prodigious drunkard who loved alcohol as dearly as life itself. Many works worthy of the epics were said to have been forged by dwarven craftsmen while half-drunk.

It was therefore hardly surprising that Diago woke the next day to the ringing clang of forging. According to the Dark Iron Dwarf looking after him, a dwarven smith had found inspiration during yesterday's drunken revelry and was now crafting a work that would "bring him glory for a lifetime."

Diago still felt rather dizzy and heavy-headed. Turning his head, he saw Masley Bearhide in a corner of the tent, holding Khanifa tightly and snoring thunderously, while the big cat struggled helplessly in his arms.

"They say Mr. Bearhide was the second-to-last to pass out last night. Only old Lolor went down after him. What a capacity for drink," the dwarf looking after them said admiringly.

Diago smiled, climbed off his blanket, and tidied himself up a little. Then, ignoring Khanifa's reproachful gaze, he walked out of the tent.

The camp was deserted. Half its people were helping in the smithy, while the other half had presumably gone out on patrol. He wandered around the camp, then headed for the kitchen. To be honest, the dwarves had plied him with so much alcohol last night that he had barely eaten anything.

To his surprise, the dwarven cook was busy in the kitchen. Through a gap in the doorway of the ramshackle shelter, which let drafts in from every side, Diago saw that the dwarf was not preparing lunch but intently studying last night's leftovers. He examined the scraps from every angle, occasionally dipping up a little sauce to taste and carefully analyzing their ingredients.

What an eager cook! Here was a typical dwarf, perfectly embodying his race's dedication to studying craftsmanship. Diago silently admired him, then stepped forward.

"Would you like to learn? I can teach you," Diago said with a smile. The Dark Iron Dwarves were a proud race. They would never accept charity, not even from friends. So he decided to teach them some ways to prepare the local beasts for food, doing his part to help. After all, what Searing Gorge had in greatest abundance were the Lava Spiders and Lava Crabs covering its hills. These beasts from the fire elemental plane bred prolifically here and were everywhere.

The dwarven cook jumped in fright and turned around in a fluster. He saw the man whose culinary skills he had been trying to steal watching him warmly, his eyes full of understanding and encouragement. The would-be apprentice was overcome with shame. If not for his longing to learn cooking, he would already have covered his face and fled in tears.

"Yes, Master!" He solemnly bowed, as though facing a true dwarven master craftsman. In fact, master craftsmen held extremely high status in Bronzebeard, Wildhammer, and Dark Iron society alike. Whether in mining, smithing, engineering, Leatherworking, enchanting, or anything else, anyone who attained proficiency in a skill would be regarded as a master and held in great respect among these technology enthusiasts.

"All right, follow me. The first thing we need to do is..." With the air of a master, Diago walked into the tent, then surveyed the cups, plates, dishes, and bowls filling the basins and tables, all left over from last night's revelry. Dwarves could never be called a tidy race.

"Wash these dishes..." he said with a wry smile.

Over the next few days, Diago hunted with dwarven firearms while teaching cooking, leading a pleasantly carefree life. The Lava Spiders covering the hills were his for the taking. These beasts, which had never encountered a natural predator, did not even know to run away. Diago felt as though he were living in paradise. Before his transmigration, he would never even have dared imagine such a life in gun-banning China. To be honest, he was no worse with a bow than with a dwarven firearm, but hunting with a gun felt entirely different from hunting with a bow. Amid the deafening roar and drifting gunsmoke, the force of the stock striking his shoulder mingled with that surging sense of explosive power. It was what every man dreamed of!

He even shot a Searing Whelp in Dustfire Valley. Diago spotted the enormous double-sailed lizard while it was hunting Lava Spiders, bringing its long life to a tragic end. Jack Rockleg judged that the great lizard, over four meters long, had lived for at least three hundred years. It had probably hitched a ride from the fire elemental plane when Ragnaros the Firelord was summoned to Azeroth.

Later, he also discovered a colony of Silver-ring King Snakes at the northernmost end of Dustfire Valley. But there were too few of them, only a dozen or so, not enough to withstand the Dark Iron Dwarves feasting on them. In the end, he left them alone.

The Dark Iron Dwarves at the outpost were also blissfully happy during this time. Their favorite topic of conversation was no longer smithing or any other craft, but what they would eat next. Diago's endlessly varied dishes opened their eyes and won their boundless admiration.

Their own cook had now been completely cast aside. Although Diago thought the dwarven cook was improving quite quickly, the Dark Iron Dwarves could still pick out their own cook's work among the various dishes by taste. Even at the end of dinner, that dish was often entirely untouched, breaking the hopeful cook's heart. Clearly, his talent for cooking was not proportional to his thirst for knowledge. Although Diago was doing everything he could to teach him, the dwarven cook still could not produce the delicious food he hoped for. At best, his work could only be called passable. For Diago, however, that was enough. His intention had been to broaden the Dark Iron Dwarves' food sources and ease their food crisis, not to train a dwarven master chef.

Note: All the recipes and alcoholic drinks in this story actually exist in Azeroth.