Saw a request on the WoW forum to make Vile Fumigator’s Mask transmoggable, which inspired me to look through my appearance tab and see if I could create something in a similar fashion. Was tickled to build a transmog around the Goblin Rocket Helm, which I had admittedly forgotten about. (I’m a goblin engineer.)
There were several belt choices for this ensemble, but I really liked the glow that radiated from the Firestrike Cord belt (along with the staff) when it got dark. (The helm is just super neon green, that’s all.)
Despite what some idiots were desperate to believe — that the Bronzebeard who called herself the “queen regent” had brought peace to the Dark Iron — most who lived in Shadowforge still conducted themselves like a people under siege.
And that meant, every time an adult Dark Iron left the relative safety of Blackrock Mountain, they dropped their child off at the dwarfanage and told them goodbye. If they survived the hostile world outside, they would reclaim them.
But if not, their child was already prepared for the worst and looked over by matrons who would raise them and train them so that they could avenge their parents.
His own parents had never returned from Grim Batol. During the Second War, they had been sent there to recover some artifacts believed lost during the War of the Three Hammers. But while they were there, the orcs of the Dragonmaw clan had descended on the city, claiming it for their own. Both his parents had been killed.
He had shed no tears. If he was the sort of child to show that kind of weakness, he would have cried when they dropped him off at the dwarfanage. But he had not. He had known that they were doing Ragnaros’ will and that the world outside of Blackrock Mountain’s fiery embrace would likely be the death of all of them.
Although she tried to be strong, his daughter always cried when he dropped her off at the dwarfanage.
“Nice of them to give Beli something to hit,” Kildris Blackfire said, surveying the valley from Dun Baldar’s South Bunker.
“When she’s away from the boy too long, she either hits the Horde or starts eyein’ me.”
“I can understand that.”
“Ah’m sorry; I dinnae think about yer wee one … is she stayin’ with yer ex-husband while ye were deployed?”
“No!” Kildris barked, halfway between a laugh and a snarl. “That idjit got some strange ideas after Ragnaros died. Joined the Twilight Hammer, went around tellin’ everyone there’s a ‘war on Winter Veil.’ There’s no war, it’s just not proper to assume! The draenei have one of their bloody depressing holidays this time of year, with lights and deprivation and all the rest! ‘Happy holidays’ is just good manners!”
“Right, aye,” Ringo said. “Well, your little girl should be happy to see ye; did ye pick her up a gift ta …”
“Lt. Commander Flinthammer, you’re here! And you’ve brought … your husband.”
“Always glad to get back to Dun Baldar. It’s been too long since we’ve been here.”
“Always a pleasure to have you back, Lt. Commander. We reached out because our forces in Alterac Valley have recently captured some adolescent frost wolves and were able to train them to take Alliance riders. Given your achievements here, we thought it only fitting you have the first pick.”
“Of these two?”
“Ah’ll take the frisky one!”
“Er, Knight-Commander Flinthammer, the frost wolves are a reward for the Lt. Commander. One of them, at any rate.”