"Dunnae worry lass, It'll only be fer a few days. I'll be back before yeh know it."

"I know, I just worry, love. I'd rather be with you."

"Aye, but we both know that one of us needs t' care fer Lauralei, and she's far safer here. I'll 'ave Hlin with meh, and yeh'll 'ave meh father t' watch o'er yeh. Th' attacks are startin' t' weaken, and Moira and her Dark Iron cronies are consolidatin' their power. Someone's got t' stand up to 'em."

"Be careful love."

"I will, I promise."

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Darlain had finally coaxed herself to sleep, her daughter's presence in her arms helping to calm her anxieties about the troubles that had befallen Azeroth of late. Truth be told, she needed it, the talk of the end of the world, and the deaths she had seen and caused had left her frightened, seeking comfort in those around her. Her family, her little girl, were the beacon of Light in the dark, the one thing she could grasp on to that was real and comforting. Even the ever dutiful Drogan was a blessing, for even though he had lost the warmth of life, she felt safe with him watching over the family while Drogar was away, in the Light-awful situation in Ironforge.

The Quake started like any other, and her body slept soundly through it at first. The roar, however, pierced the air, and Lauralei's cries were soon to follow. She had never heard such a thing, so full of rage and thunder. The quaking had escalated to a point where the bed violently shook, Darlain unable to do anything but cry and hold her child. These surely were her final moments, nothing would save them from the end. With a great crackling boom, the ceiling gave way across the room, and there was nothing but pitch blackness.

Drogan Truthammer hefted his axe and brought it down on the Landside itself, calm desperation calling on his strength to get to his grandchild and daughter in law. Each downward swing cleft stone in half, yet at this rate, he knew he would be too late. Even so, he diligently kept working.

Silda Thunderheart had been making the rounds north of the highlands when she saw the great cloud of thunder and fire, the massive leathery wings cresting just through the top on each upstroak. She had seen and slain her fair share of Dragons, yet this... she had never seen anything so destructive, and for one of the few times in her life, a cool head prevailed and stopped her from making chase. Her mind, instead turned to Aerie Peak, and with a swift kick, she spurred her Gryphon on to see what damage the beast had wrought upon her Northern kin. Thankfully when she got there, she was greeted with many confused and excitable Gryphon riders, and what looked to be minimal... no, there was the western clifface... seemed like a landsl... her heart skipped a beat as she looked over the ruins of a home she had stayed in, and a rather stubborn looking dwarf digging a hole in the earth where it had been. With a grim look, she drove Stormbeak into a dive, hopping off next to the unusually pale dwarf.

Lauralei had stopped crying, and Darlain could sense the reason why, feeling the shortness of her own breath, and the headache. She shed a few tears as she accepted her fate. The Light had not only abandoned her to this grim death, but her dear child as well. She held her daughter in her arms as tears ran down her face, singing an old lullaby, her voice cracking with grief. All was lost, and she had never felt this... numbing coldness before. Her eyes grew heavy, and they closed.

Silda had been wrestling with the elements for quite some time, their beligerance annoying and frustrating her. But as she rested the earth totem in the dirt, where Drogan indicated the entrance was, she had never asked for more in her life. She prostrated herself before the earth spirits, begging for their aid, and she could feel their sorrow and empathy, where only fear and destruction had been before. And so, the land wept for her, and parted, revealing the collapsed stone entrance to the dwarven hovel. Drogan struck at the stone again and again, entering the broken home, soon producing the lifeless forms of the mother and her child.

Silda frowned and looked between the two, moving to the child, opening her airways and giving short breaths into her lungs. It wasn't long before she was graced with cough from the child, which then began to cry out. Silda then moved on to her old friend, lifting her head back and giving her the breath of life.