Bullets and a False Tooth

Despite their best efforts to avoid it, the Thorium Brotherhood and the fugitives still faced a critical food shortage. Nearly three hundred fugitives had consumed enough food to worsen Thorium Point's food crisis-that number was almost equal to the entire population of the Thorium Brotherhood. After several discussions, the fugitives decided to cross the snowy mountains and head north to Ironforge.

It was their only way out, because Kargath's Orcs had already sealed the only passage between Searing Gorge and the Badlands. Even otherwise, Diago did not think they could take a long detour through Searing Gorge, the Badlands, Loch Modan, and Dun Morogh in succession. That long, perilous journey would be nothing short of a disaster for the fugitives.

Finally, one morning, the freed slaves departed northward, led by Notak Frosthammer. The steep, snow-covered mountains were difficult to climb, but for the Bronzebeard Dwarves, this was no insurmountable obstacle. Like the mountain goats that lived among those peaks, they could always find a way forward along seemingly impassable cliffs.

Watching the column wind through the snowy mountains, Diago felt somewhat heavyhearted. Bitter weather, rugged mountain paths, and ferocious beasts would all be enemies barring these fugitives' way. He did not know how many would ultimately reach Ironforge, but fortunately, the weakest of the slaves had been taken in at Thorium Point, some twenty-odd people. Their frail bodies could no longer withstand a long, bitterly cold, arduous trek.

After seeing them off, Diago eagerly began trial production of cased ammunition. The grand smith had cleared out a workshop especially for him. It was small but fully equipped, and Diago even found a small furnace inside. Before starting on the ammunition, however, he did not forget to ask Grand Smith Burninate to make a metal tooth for Khanifa.

To Diago's surprise, the grand smith readily agreed. To Bornnait, a single tooth would hardly use much material, and if he could not do something fancy with it, he would hardly deserve his title. So, at Diago's request, Khanifa reluctantly followed the laughing Dark Iron Dwarf away. In truth, even the slow-witted Masley Bearhide noticed the resentment in the big cat's eyes.

Although Diago wanted to devote all his attention to making bullets, he first had to complete another task the Thorium Brotherhood had assigned him. A short, fat Dark Iron Dwarf had been appointed his cooking apprentice. Although all Dwarves were short and stout, this one far surpassed his fellows in girth. His apron could not even cover his belly, and Diago estimated that his waist definitely exceeded his height. Diago was very curious how this Dwarf maintained such an extraordinary figure under such difficult conditions-did cooks have to be built like this, no matter which plane they lived on?

To meet the Thorium Brotherhood's needs, Diago had to spend a week in the kitchen teaching his apprentice how to cook Lava Crabs and Lava Spiders, until the Dwarf could prepare those crustaceans so they were not quite so hard to swallow.

Thus, when Diago returned to the workshop to resume his ammunition trials, he felt quite relieved. The work that followed was not very difficult for him, however. In truth, the Dark Iron Dwarves' bullet-making techniques were already well developed; he was merely improving on that foundation. For Diago, who had once built an Adamantite bullet-making machine, it could hardly have been simpler. Although the people of Azeroth had yet to march through the reopened Dark Portal on an expedition to Outland-that would happen five years later, in year 26 of the Dark Portal-and he had no Adamantite ore, a material native to Outland, this did not stop him from finding substitutes.

Half a month later, an "ultracompact" bullet-making machine was freshly completed. What should we understand by "ultracompact"? Well, Diago could actually fit the entire thing into his Felcloth Bag.

Once the bullet-making machine was finished, Diago began using it to roll out bullets. He had no Adamantite on hand, which spared him any hesitation over his choice of material and saved him from suffering any more psychological trauma.

That was not without reason. To adventurers of other classes, making expendable ammunition out of Adamantite was utterly insane. This expensive rare metal cost several times as much as gold, and even then, supplies were so scarce that money could not necessarily buy it. Before Diago's transmigration, there had been a period when the mere sound of a gunshot made him tremble with heartache. Every shot was money fired away-a literal case of "one crack of a gun, ten thousand taels of gold"! Often, Diago kept only a few dozen rounds in his pack for life-or-death fights. At other times, he preferred cheaper ammunition.

He ultimately chose ordinary metals as substitutes for Adamantite, using regular steel for the bullets and brass for the cartridge cases. Both were common metals, and Azeroth's techniques for working them were already well developed. Making bullets and cases from them posed almost no difficulty.

For the gunpowder, he chose Blasting Powder as the primer and Dense Powder as the propellant filling. The former was volatile and easily ignited, practically a natural primer material, while the latter was powerful but relatively stable. A craftsman had once dropped a hammer onto an iron plate without setting off the Dense Powder piled beside it. Moreover, the powder residue left on the bullets could add poison damage to the ammunition.

Amid the clanging of forging and grinding, a week quickly passed. Diago discovered that a homebody's temperament was essential for a craftsman-someone too restless to stay in a workshop could never become a good craftsman.

Even so, when the world's first round of cased ammunition was completed, Diago still felt utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally. But after firing it with a secured iron pipe and a pointed hammer, he felt all his hard work had been rewarded. Without a matching rifle, he could not yet judge its power, but the fact that it worked was itself cause for celebration.

Diago decided to treat himself properly, but when he reached the tavern and saw his cooking apprentice, he immediately lost his appetite. Although the Dark Iron Dwarf's cooking was now barely edible and had received unanimous praise from the Thorium Brotherhood's members, by Diago's exacting standards, his apprentice truly had no talent for cooking. Sometimes, Diago wondered whether all Dark Iron Dwarves were poor cooks. He could hardly be blamed, since there really had been no cooks worth boasting of in their history.

After making do with something to fill his stomach, Diago dragged the half-drunk Night Elf out of the tavern. Honestly, if he had not come this time, Diago seriously wondered whether the fellow might drink himself to death over his wine jug.

Walking down the street, Diago suddenly remembered that he had commissioned Grand Smith Burninate to make Khanifa a false tooth. Not knowing how it was coming along, he decided to visit the grand smith.

Although Thorium Point had countless things awaiting attention, the Dwarf still habitually worked only until five in the afternoon, then went to the tavern for a good, hearty drinking session. There might be no fine food to accompany the drink, but to a Dwarf, as long as there was alcohol, nothing else was a problem. If Diago did not hurry, he would probably find only a drunken fool spouting nonsense and pouring liquor down his throat.

The grand smith's workshop was not far away, less than two hundred meters from Diago's own workroom. He found that he was in luck: the Dwarven master was finishing up for the day and had not yet left.

There were few people in the workshop, only several apprentices who had yet to complete their training, putting away freshly forged pickaxes, mining hoes, and other ordinary tools. Thorium Point needed these more urgently than weapons. Grand Smith Burninate was busy in a corner.

Seeing Diago arrive, Bornnait took a box from a shelf against the wall and handed it over.

Masley was quick with his hands and snatched it first, opening it. Inside lay a sharp fang, its surface faintly gleaming with an almost imperceptible emerald sheen. To keep Khanifa from feeling anything foreign in his mouth, the tooth perfectly reproduced the big cat's canine. Its rear half was hollow, allowing it to fit over the remaining stump, both protecting the broken tooth and helping him exert force when biting.

"This was forged from thorium. It may be a little heavy, so she'll need some time to get used to it, but it's sturdy enough. I don't think she'll ever need another replacement," the old Dwarf explained proudly. It seemed he had put considerable thought into it. Then he lifted the leather curtain leading to the inner room and went inside. This was where the old Dwarf rested. To Dwarves, the workshop was another home. Generally speaking, Dwarven craftsmen appeared in only three places-the workshop, the tavern, and home-but some rarely even went home. The tavern and workshop were the beginning and end of their lives.

Bornnait took a piece of parchment from an exquisite iron chest. Thin and soft, it gave off the strong, rank odor peculiar to mountain silversage juice.

Diago glanced at it curiously. It was covered in intricate patterns and arcane script. He concentrated, trying to make out what was drawn on it, but a few seconds later, a sudden wave of dizziness struck him. He retched several times and gave up.

"Enchant Weapon - Superior Striking. It can greatly increase this tooth's damage, letting it crush bone with ease and even pierce iron plate," Bornnait said proudly. "You're in luck. I just got this from a relative of mine, Lokhtos Darkbargainer. Do you know him? He lives in Shadowforge City. If you get the chance, give him my regards."

Diago wanted to say he did, but in this life, he had never visited Shadowforge City. The place was unfriendly to every race other than Dark Iron Dwarves. He knew very well that Lokhtos Darkbargainer was the Thorium Brotherhood's inside man in Shadowforge City. This Dark Iron Dwarf possessed hundreds of recipes, ranging from enchanting formulas and tailoring patterns to leatherworking patterns and blacksmithing plans. Before Diago's transmigration, more than one player had tried to rob the Dwarf, but none had ever succeeded.

"And where did he get it? I remember Dwarves weren't good at enchanting," Masley Bearhide asked, somewhat drunkenly.

Diago could actually have answered without asking Bornnait. The Dwarves the Night Elf had in mind were only one branch of the Dwarven race—the Bronzebeard Dwarves. They produced many hunters, Paladins, Priests, Rogues, and Warriors, but very few mages or Warlocks, as though naturally cut off from magical power. Their distant relatives, the Dark Iron Dwarves, were different. They possessed a natural affinity for magic, with no shortage of powerful Warlocks and mages. Thaurissan, the Dark Iron Dwarf leader who had once been one of the Three Hammers, was even called the Sorcerer-Thane.

"Who told you that, you skinny wretch!" Feeling insulted, the grand smith roared angrily, spraying spittle all over the Night Elf's face. He felt it necessary to correct the Night Elf's prejudice. "Dwarves have never lacked master enchanters! Like smithing, enchanting is one of our specialties. Even if some enchanting formulas weren't invented entirely by Dwarves, we can use them just as well."

"This was a trade secret, but I'm in a good mood today, so I can tell you. Lokhtos got this enchanting parchment from an Ogre in Blackrock Spire. You know, those Ogres aren't very bright. They don't understand the value of many things, so you can trick them out of them for next to nothing. All you need is a piece of meat, a bird's egg, or perhaps any other little thing..." Bornnait chattered on as though trying to prove the Dark Iron Dwarves' extensive knowledge. His hands did not stop working, however. He carefully spread the parchment flat on the table, then placed the metal tooth at the very center of the diagram.

"Adi-grav-mesta-ev!" The grand smith loudly recited the enchanting parchment's activation incantation. Light shot from the diagram and instantly pierced the entire room, brighter even than the welding arcs Diago had seen before his transmigration. Caught completely unprepared, the human and the Night Elf clapped their hands over their eyes, staggering around the room and screaming, occasionally bumping into objects beside them with a series of clatters and crashes.

Burninate laughed triumphantly, so loudly that he nearly lifted the roof.

Damn it, that old Dwarf did it on purpose! Diago thought. He had never known enchanting could produce such an intense reaction. The little effects of enchanting in the game were nothing compared with this. Reality really is very different from the game. Blindly trusting my experiences from before I transmigrated could actually get me killed! he lamented inwardly.

"You're dead, you old fraud!" The Night Elf cast Rejuvenation on himself, then unhesitatingly transformed into a huge bear, as though he would pounce on the old Dwarf and tear him apart at any moment. But he still could not see clearly or get his bearings, and merely swayed back and forth like someone utterly drunk.

"Serves you right, you ignorant skinny wretch! The mysteries of enchanting will never be as simple as a country bumpkin like you imagines!" the Dwarf mocked disdainfully. His old face blossomed like peacebloom, every wrinkle filled with smug satisfaction.

It took Diago a long while to stop his streaming tears. Through eyes still blurred with moisture, he saw that the enchanting parchment had turned grayish white, looking like ash left after burning and barely retaining its shape. At its center, the tooth had completely changed. Flowing magical patterns covered its surface, and a pale blue mist swirled around it, lending it a dreamlike appearance.

The old Dwarf blew the parchment ash off the table, then pinched the tooth between his fingers and gently pressed it against the tabletop. The sturdy oak was easily pierced, looking no harder to penetrate than fresh cheese.

"Wow... oh..." the human and the bear exclaimed in unison. With their mouths hanging wide open, they truly looked like a pair of rustic toads from the countryside.

"I really want to knock out my own canines and replace all four with teeth like this!" The Druid bear turned to Diago and said expectantly.

"If you're certain these magical teeth will transform along with you when you return to human form, I have no objection."

"All right, forget it, then." After considering it, the Druid gave up. He looked thoroughly dejected.

Late that night, Diago slept soundly in bed. Red light scattered by the distant lava shone against the window, casting a hazy, blood-red glow. In a corner of the room, Khanifa snored in his sleep, his pink tongue occasionally licking his newly fitted false tooth. He still seemed somewhat unaccustomed to it.

When fitting the false tooth, Grand Smith Burninate had specially used a magical adhesive that worked much like welding. No matter what Khanifa bit through, there was no need to worry about it coming loose. The join between the false tooth and the broken one was smooth, without any burrs or raised edges. If not for the difference in material, one could not even have distinguished their boundary. In truth, Diago had scarcely known how to express his gratitude at the time.

At one side of the room, the fireplace still burned slowly, its logs occasionally giving off a sharp crack. Although Searing Gorge's overall climate was unbearably hot and dry, nights on the high cliffs were still cold enough to make one shiver.

But the quiet night was abruptly roused by a sudden burst of gunfire. Diago woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed. He hastily threw on his soft armor, picked up his bow and arrows, and stepped outside.

The gunfire actually came from far away. Standing at the edge of the camp, he looked southwest, where muzzle flashes flickered from time to time and faint sounds of gunshots and fighting drifted over. Diago knew that was the direction of Firewatch Ridge. The Thorium Brotherhood's newly discovered-and only-mine was over there.

He was not the only one awakened in the camp. Some Dark Iron Dwarves had also thrown on clothes and were gazing that way, their faces full of worry.

About five minutes later, more than two dozen fully armed Dark Iron Dwarves hurried off in that direction.

"Those Twilight cultists have finally made their move." Diago knew what had happened-Twilight's Hammer, that doomsday cult, had finally lost patience and begun stirring up trouble in Azeroth!

Diago suddenly felt a sense of crisis welling up inside him. He knew he had to hurry his gun-making project along.