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Dun Morogh, Eastern Kingdom
It was one of those great grandmothers of a blizzards hitting Dun Morogh, and Red Wing, the gryphon, flew on thought it. Dwarves were by nature, and nurture a hardy race, while a human might call anything over a foot of snow a blizzard, for them it took three to four feet with hurricane speed winds to prepare for it. A great grandmother of a blizzard meant 10 feet of snow in some places, and winds twice as fierce as usual.
The area was in lock down, Kharanos was closed up to all visitors. Adventures were encouraged to find an inn, and wait out the storm, and Red Wing flew on. Ironforge was officially in lockdown, the iron gate lowered, all traffic diverted to tram to Stormwind, and despite all this, one man was crazy enough to make a push for the city.
Red Wing remembered when the spirit of Packhunter had vanished from his body. That soul was less bold, less of a warrior. In this storm he would've done the sensible thing, and headed for Stormwind, or waited it out at an inn. Instead, Packhunter embraced the blizzard like any other challenge in his way. He has his goals, and damn time, or storms.
Barely seeing the gates of Ironforge, Packhunter used the golden helmets enhanced optics to scan it, and spotted a pair of clearly mad or determined Trolls on the path leading to city. The snow blew twice as fierce from the mountain top, and forced Red Wing down. Packhunter mounted his old Stormpike Battle Charger, another long time mount. In fact his first real one, and one who could battle snow like a trooper. Dismounting, trying to used his cloak to shield his face from the snow, he said, "In the name of the Armed Forces of the Alliance, I demand entry"
An eye slot opened to a pair of dwarf eyes, "I don't care if you are a lost King looking for help to reclaim his throne. In this storm this door stays closed!"
"How about an Ambassador? Or a Diplomat, or I could spend time out here giving titles until it passes. I have business in your city!"
"Listen warrior, mount up, and head for Kharanos, maybe someone in the inn will buy you a drink for your bravery warrior of the realm," the guard said with all the sarcasm he could muster.
Packhunter was ready to knock the door in, when he heard the troll approach, drawing his bow, in one fluid motion he pulled an arrow from his quivery, and shot it right in the throat at over fifty feet away. Choking on its own blood, it collapsed, the second one came in charging like a berserker. Snarling, foam flying from its mouth, and Packhunter did the one thing it didn't expect.
He dropped onto his back, letting the trolls momentum carry itself forward, he wrapped his legs around its neck and broke it and threw in into the door. Getting up the old warrior picked up an axe to sever the head from the body, "You were saying guardian?" addressing the guard who had seen the battle.
"Welcome to Ironforge! I am opening the door."
Entering the Ironforge, for a moment Packhunter was lost in memory, until he saw a dozen guards, who had weapons pointed at him and his mounts, with a shake down, the snow fell off to reveal the golden armor of an officer of the Armed Forces of the Alliance. "Treading carefully?"
"Sir, I need your name, rank, and purpose please if we are to truly welcome you to our city."
The voice and timber of were rich as he said, "I am Marshal Packhunter, of the Armed Forces of the Alliance, over 50,000 Horukie have fallen to me. I have come to Ironforge to re-establish Packhunter Enterprises Corporate Headquarters in this city."
Ironforge had fallen on hard times economically over the years, first to Shattrath, then to Dalaran, and now to Stormwind. No one wanted to invest in the city, everyone wanted to be where it was convent, the guards seemed to come to attention with a war hero/investor in their mists, and formed an honor guard, "Marshal Packhunter, allow me to introduce myself, Clovis, Captain of the second watch, welcomes you to Ironforge, and why does Packhunter Enterprises wish to establish your headquarters here?"
Pulling from beneath his cloak a large tomb, he showed it to the Captain, "Because my dear Captain, any good blacksmith knows Ironforge has the best anvils and only the purest ores can be made here! I know over 96% of the current pattern listings for blacksmiths, this is where I will craft, and this is where the gold will flow to. My smith is open to any and all who can afford my services"
The guards cheered with approval over the humans statements, it had been a long time since one as skilled as him had arrived. If dwarves loved good ale, and a solid fight, they also respected solid smiths. Packhunter gave the Captain a salute as he entered the city to set up shop.
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