The Great Forge

On a clear morning, Diago and Masley Bearhide left the Outpost camp. Such weather was rare in Searing Gorge, where a thick layer of volcanic ash always filled the sky, and the glow of lava cast a red haze over it all.

Before leaving, Diago accepted the firearm Jack Rockleg gave him. Its rate of fire still fell short of his requirements, but that did not stop him from adding the exquisite dwarven gun to his collection. There was still plenty of room in his Felcloth Bag, after all, wasn't there?

"May your beard always flourish!" he offered as his parting blessing to Jack Rockleg, who had come to see them off. None of the other dwarves had come. Truth be told, these men, as hard as black iron, had never considered tearful farewells something a Dark Iron dwarf ought to do.

Diago carried a letter inside his coat from Kordaz Blackhammer to Grand Smith Burninate at Thorium Point. As the grand smith's apprentice, Blackhammer could now complete his apprenticeship on the strength of Asnar's Gourmet, and he thought he ought to let his teacher know.

Although Thorium Point was not on their route to Blackrock Mountain, Diago felt it was still worth a visit. Ever since seeing the Dark Iron dwarves' bullets during that ambush, he had been itching to try out a certain plan of his. He was certain that the master dwarven craftsmen at Thorium Point, the Thorium Brotherhood's headquarters in Searing Gorge, could help him bring it to fruition. These outstanding craftsmen had mastered practically the most advanced manufacturing techniques in all of Azeroth.

But before that, he decided to give the Thorium Brotherhood a very large gift.

They headed west, following the northern edge of the Great Divide, which stretched across almost the whole of Searing Gorge. This rift had appeared only three hundred years ago-the arrival of Ragnaros the Firelord had torn the land of Searing Gorge apart, forming the Great Divide that separated north from south. Seething lava surged like rivers through its gullies, large and small, creating a breeding ground for fire elementals.

In fact, there had always been conflicting accounts of where Ragnaros the Firelord came from. The authoritative account, however, held that at the dawn of creation, after defeating and sealing away the Old Gods, the titan gods had banished their minions-the four Elemental Lords-to the Elemental Plane. Beneath the earth and oceans, deep within the world's core, lay a hidden world of flame and ash-the Fire Elemental Plane, home to all fire elementals. Ragnaros the Firelord had come from there.

Under the Firelord's orders, the fallen Dark Iron dwarves and their slaves-Bronzebeard dwarves, gnolls, and some ogres-dug ceaselessly in the Great Divide, wielding shovels and picks. Diago did not know what exactly these Dark Iron dwarves were digging for. Before his transmigration, some people had speculated that it might be relics of the titans or the Old Gods, but no one could be certain. Looking down from the edge of the rift, he could see the scaffolding erected by the Dark Iron dwarves and the dense network of minecart tracks. The Dark Iron dwarves bustled over them like ants.

More than once, the night elf Masley Bearhide grieved for the shattered land. As a druid, he could keenly sense the pain of the torn earth; he felt the wounds inflicted on this tortured, dying land almost as though they were his own. This made him hate the fire elemental lord Ragnaros even more, and that hatred extended to the fallen Dark Iron dwarves who deserved blame for summoning the Firelord. Like a child, he turned into a great bear and rolled enormous rocks into the rift, smashing the dwarves' scaffolding and minecart tracks to pieces.

This childish venting left Diago unsure whether to laugh or cry, but since the Dark Iron dwarves had actually failed to post lookouts high on the cliffs of the rift, he let the bratty bear run wild. Had the Dark Iron dwarves' collective intelligence declined after their enslavement by the fire elemental lord? He could not make sense of it, however hard he tried.

The two trekked through red sandstone covered in volcanic ash. They saw no flowing water and, apart from one or two wandering lava spiders, no living creatures. There was no vegetation here, either. Everything looked lifeless, and even the occasional dead, charred tree only added to the desolation. It left them both deeply dispirited.

Days passed in this monotonous travel, and they reached a point near the western section of the Great Divide. From a distance, they could already see towering derricks scattered across the plain. Beneath them lay bottomless shafts that extended down to the Great Forge deep underground. Here, the Dark Iron dwarves had finally recognized the importance of keeping watch. Numerous Dark Iron patrols had been sent out to guard against enemy sabotage-if someone dropped something through these skylights into the Great Forge, the consequences would be serious, far beyond merely smashing a few scaffolds and minecart tracks. In fact, the Thorium Brotherhood had already done so several times, causing immense damage.

The Great Forge was an enormous underground mine that had existed here before Ragnaros the Firelord was summoned. Franclorn Forgewright, the masterful genius who created the Stonewrought Dam in Loch Modan, had designed this ancient structure in northern Searing Gorge. Thanks to his design, this vast, sturdy underground structure had survived the great catastrophe three hundred years earlier. Now, however, the fallen Dark Iron dwarves had put the immense cavern to use and continued digging within it. These greedy creatures, who had released Ragnaros the Firelord from deep underground, still refused to learn their lesson. Without the slightest reverence for the Earth Mother, they took endlessly from the land and gave nothing back.

Heavy War Golems forged from black iron roamed the plain. They stood roughly four meters tall, and their heavy footsteps could be heard from miles away. But they were not wandering aimlessly. Some Dark Iron dwarves followed them, and it seemed they must have a way to control these hulking things.

There was no vegetation on the barren land here, nowhere to conceal themselves. The adventurers had no choice but to wait until it was completely dark before moving. In truth, though, there was almost no distinction between day and night in Searing Gorge. Its sky remained hazy red even at night, with the glowing, scorching lava taking the place of the sun.

Still, the change in light sources worked to the two intruders' advantage. Lava clearly could not reach everywhere the way sunlight did. The rolling slopes cast stretches of shadow behind them, and under that cover, the pair moved with ease between light and darkness.

They finally stopped beneath a derrick at the far northwestern edge. Because it was closest to Thorium Point, the fallen Dark Iron dwarves had abandoned it after several attacks by the Thorium Brotherhood-the Brotherhood's craftsmen knew how to cripple these facilities most thoroughly. From his memories of before his transmigration, Diago knew there was an abandoned corner below where Dark Iron dwarves rarely passed. This was his secret alone; even the Thorium Brotherhood knew nothing of it. He had many such secrets, and Diago was confident that no one knew this world better than he did.

Standing beside the square shaft opening, Masley bent down and peered inside. It was pitch-black below, and he could see nothing except a faint fiery red far down in the depths-the color of magma. A blast of hot, sulfur-laden air rushed up from below, choking him into several involuntary coughs.

"Are you sure we're going down here? It looks just like an abyss down there." He raised his head, his skin crawling, and stared at Diago in alarm. "There aren't really demons down there, are there?"

"It's not as deep as it looks, Masley, and there won't be any demons below. At most, there'll be some fallen Dark Iron dwarves. If we're lucky enough, we might even run into a few fire elementals..." Diago coaxed him patiently. Although his familiarity with the place made him confident he could manage alone, having someone to help would make things much easier.

But Masley still looked rather apprehensive. In truth, what he had just seen really had frightened him.

"Hey, Diago, why are we going down there?" Only now did Masley think to ask. Before this, he had always done whatever Diago told him to do. He frowned at the shaft opening. That black hole looked like a dragon's gaping mouth, waiting to swallow their lives at any moment.

"To kill someone. Foreman Maltorius. He's a traitor to the Thorium Brotherhood," Diago explained casually. "Don't panic. It won't be as difficult as you imagine."

Their target was Foreman Maltorius of the Cauldron below. He had once been the Thorium Brotherhood's spy in the Great Forge, but the traitor had now betrayed his organization and become the fallen Dark Iron dwarves' commander there-or perhaps he had been the Firelord's spy within the Brotherhood all along. Either way, the fellow was as good as dead. Whatever the organization, it might forgive its enemies, but it would never forgive a traitor. Diago knew the Brotherhood members at Thorium Point would certainly be delighted to see the traitor's head.

"Why do we have to kill him?" the night elf pressed.

"To deepen our friendship with the Thorium Brotherhood."

"Aren't we already on very good terms with Jack Rockleg and the others?"

"No, it's not enough yet. We need their help," Diago said honestly. To carry out his plan, he needed the Thorium Brotherhood's wholehearted support. Mere friendliness would not do. In the terms used before his transmigration, he needed at least revered reputation.

"What do we get when it's enough?" Masley kept pestering him. In truth, his reluctance to descend the shaft was anything but slight.

"When it's enough, we get to drink lots of good booze!" Diago snapped impatiently, struggling to keep himself from kicking the chatterbox down the shaft.

"All right, you win, mate. You should've said that sooner," the night elf complained, wiping away his drool. Truth be told, rappelling was as simple as drinking water for a night elf. He took the metal ring Diago handed him, clipped it onto the rope, and leaped down.

"Khanifa, stay here and guard the rope. If anyone comes, kill them." Diago turned and gave the yellow leopard his orders.

He watched with satisfaction as the leopard obediently retreated a few steps and vanished into the shadows of several wooden crates, as though he had never been there.

Just then, he felt the taut rope suddenly slacken. Masley had apparently reached the ground. Immediately afterward, the rope jerked twice. It was a signal commonly used by adventurers, and meant the night elf should be reasonably safe below.

"All right, my turn," Diago told himself. He, too, clipped his ring onto the rope and jumped.

Leaping from the dim yellow night lit by lava into the pitch-black mine, he was briefly dazzled by the contrast and involuntarily narrowed his eyes. A few seconds later, when he opened them again, he saw that the mine below was not completely dark. The space was enormous, resembling a vast vault, and there was a faint glow of lava beneath the ground in the distance. Those were the lava flows of the Cauldron. Sometimes their red glow blazed brightly; sometimes it faded back into the darkness, like the tides.

Diago gripped the hanging rope tightly with both hands to slow his descent.

After roughly a dozen seconds, he felt his feet touch something. He unfastened the clip and felt around, discovering that he was standing in an abandoned minecart. His hand came away covered in flakes of rust.

He climbed out of the minecart as carefully as possible to avoid making a sound. The space here was relatively narrow, about two meters wide, and the rock wall at the corner reflected the distant, dim red light. He could just make out a blurry figure peering out a little over three meters ahead.

He took a few steps forward and saw that Masley Bearhide had remained in humanoid form. This was deliberate; if he had taken cheetah form, Diago would never have been able to find him.

He stopped beside Masley and leaned out to look.

The red glow from the lava flows bathed the area after several reflections. By that faint light, Diago saw that the space beyond their nook was vast, almost the size of a small square. Remarkably, rather than using countless logs and planks for support like other mines, the rock itself supported the entire vaulted ceiling. Not a single beam or pillar could be seen in the whole underground mine. It truly was a marvel of architectural history.

But the fallen Dark Iron dwarves did not seem to have maintained this marvel with any care. Broken ore and chunks of rock littered the mine, and several machines of various sizes and designs stood scattered throughout it. Numerous slave laborers toiled busily. They dug at the surrounding rock walls, then carried the excavated ore to the center of the mine to be crushed, before loading the broken ore into the machines' feed hoppers for grinding and screening.

Watching those antlike shadows, Diago suddenly realized there was a problem. In this lighting, the night elf could see clearly with his low-light vision, and the Dark Iron dwarves could see clearly with their darkvision, but Diago could not. He could not even aim his bow. A target twenty meters away was nothing more than a blurred shadow to him, and he was not sure he could hit a vital spot.

This was beyond his expectations. His experience from before his transmigration had deceived him once again. He fully realized that this was a real world, not a game. His past experience could give him foreknowledge, but it also kept bringing him unexpected trouble.

"Which way do we go?" the night elf asked with some impatience just then. This was no pleasant place, and he did not like it at all. The air reeked of sulfur, and the cavern was filled with the low roar of the Dark Iron dwarves' digging machines, making his ears ring. Nothing here suited a night elf's tastes.

"Left. That side is farther from the Cauldron, so it's better for stealth," Diago answered, pointing at the rock wall to their left. It did indeed look darker over there.

Note: Uh, well, about the Elemental Plane: I spent a long time researching it and finally found the most authoritative, most official explanation. I've put it in the supplementary material.

White Rabbit believes that the Elemental Plane is a plane parallel to, or even overlapping with, Azeroth. "The five evil Old Gods were imprisoned in underground prisons far beneath the surface. Deprived of the Old Gods' power, the elementals could no longer maintain their forms in the physical world. Before long, they vanished, dissolving into the land, the seas, and the skies."-"The Old Gods and the Ordering of Azeroth."

The Elemental Plane is closely connected to Azeroth. From certain perspectives, we can even understand it as part of Azeroth-the Air Elemental Plane overlaps with Azeroth's atmosphere, the Earth Elemental Plane with its land, the Water Elemental Plane with its oceans, and the Fire Elemental Plane with its core. Whenever the Elemental Lords become active, they can always affect Azeroth, causing disasters of incalculable magnitude.

But honestly, I'm not quite sure whether my understanding is correct-my knowledge of planar studies is terrible, so you can take a look for yourselves.