Tarren Mill Terror

24. Legion, Ringo's Tale | August 25th, 2016 | No Comments »

Legion ship fires upon Tarren Mill

Ringo Flinthammer reloaded, then sighted along the barrel of his gun, forged in the fires of Ulduar. The presence of the Titans, no matter how minor, was a comfort in this place.

He raised his gun and prepared to dispatch another Legion commander …

Helcular barks orders

The shot went wide.

“Ah’m not shirkin’ nothin’, ye bastard! Just shut yer pie hole and let me do what Ah do, before Ah remember Ah ken put a bullet through yer head instead!”

Ringo fires on the Legion

Ringo was uncomfortable here in Tarren Mill. Before the Cataclysm, Ringo and Beli had been only known it as the source of Forsaken assaults on Southshore. The time they’d spent in Tarren Mill had not been peaceful. The burning stench of fel only partially concealed the sweet smell of rot that followed the Forsaken everywhere.

Helcular runs his mouth some more

Frostmaw pulled a flying demon to the ground, and Ringo fired two rounds into its head.

“Seriously, does no one remember who Helcular was? The butcher of Southshore? He was a monster even when the bastard was human! We should be killin’ him, and his bloody abominations, along with the Legion!”

Helcular doesn't realize that no one wants to hear him yap

“Khaz’goroth on a cracker! Someone make that idjit shut him up, or Ah’ll do it fer him!”

Seriously, will Helcular shut up already?

“Beli! Back me up here! What are ye doin’, woman? And what are ye wearin‘?”

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Triumphant return

24. Legion, Ringo's Tale | August 16th, 2016 | 1 Comment »

Loch Modan

“There you are! Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?”

Ringo Flinthammer looked up from the axe he was sharpening with a whetstone, stretching an aching back as he did. The late summer humidity in Loch Modan made his hair and beard drip with sweat, even in the shade of tree with a trunk too thick for Ringo to encircle with both arms.

“Aye, if the boy wants to spend all his time learning to fight with a bloody great weapon, Ah reckon some of it ought tae be spent with his father, swingin’ an axe that cut down plenty of Kael’thas’ soldiers, back in the day.”

“He’s going to have other teachers,” Beli said. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t look up to you.”

Ringo just continued sharpening the black blade of his axe.

“Well,” Beli sighed after a moment. “Since you’re free — and I’m fine with you not going back to being a mountaineer …”

“Nae point,” Ringo muttered, “Not with Gul’dan still out there, ready tae start mischief any second now ..”

“Right, so you’ve got time to run a package over to Steelgrill’s Depot. You could take Frostmaw. He’s lookin’ shaggy and like he’s put on weight.”

Collapsed in the shade of a nearby bush, the bear let out an irritated grunt.

“And it’d be good for you to get Beer Run out as well. Rams his age need …”

“Aye, aye, we’re all old and fat and smelly and can use a spot o’ exercise. Ah’ll put away the axe and give the boy a kiss and be on me way.”

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Magni: Fault Lines

24. Legion | June 30th, 2016 | No Comments »

Magni: Fault Lines motion comic

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The home stretch

23. Fury of Hellfire, Ringo's Tale | November 3rd, 2015 | No Comments »


Ringo poses in front of a dead Archimonde

Ringo's postcard home

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Where in the World is Hemet Nesingwary?

23. Fury of Hellfire, Ringo's Tale | June 23rd, 2015 | No Comments »

Hemet ponders the garrison's herb garden

Ringo Flinthammer paused in his walk around the garrison, flexing and unflexing his fingers in an attempt to work the kinks out, staring absently at the garrison’s herb garden.

“Mining getting you down?” came a voice from the garden.

“Widge,” Ringo greeted the gnome with a nod. “Aye, Lantresor complained so much, th’ Commander took pity on him and rotated him out. Reckon Ah know why he whined so much.”

“I don’t even understand why the Commander wants a mine or an herb garden,” Widge continued. “I mean, we could gather all of the ore and herbs without the Commander’s help. Leaving a little bit for someone to come by and pick up as a hobby, when they’re supposed to be leading Alliance efforts against the Iron Horde — it’s weird.”

There was a grunt as Baelan Grimaxe dropped one of the crates he was bringing to the scrapyard. He sat on it and groaned, rubbing his feet through his boots.

“That’s not even the weirdest thing the Commander is doing: Look at this guy,” Baelan said, nodding at a still figure watching the herb garden and muttering quietly to himself. “The Alliance’s greatest hunter, reduced to … this.”

Ringo nodded.

“Ah heard the Commander found him drunk in Nagrand and brought him back here to dry out. Now all he does is stare at the herbs all day, muttering to himself, instead of being out there, on the front lines. Sad.”

The three stared at the figure.

“The front lines are about to extend to Tanaan Jungle, I hear,” Widge said at last. “They say we’ll have Kilrogg’s and Grommash’s forces on the run in no time and we’ll be home in time for the Feast of Winters Veil.”

Ringo snorted.

“Aye, just like the siege of Orgrimmar was supposed to be done in a matter o’ weeks, or the sacking o’ Icecrown Citadel. We’ll be fightin’ Grommash’s forces fer another damned year, Ah guarantee ye.”

Baelen grunted, getting back to his feet.

“Probably right,” he said, lifting up his crate of scrap. “The powers that be always think things will get done a lot faster than we know they will. Well, back to work.”

The two dwarves nodded to Widge, leaving the gnome to go back to composting in the garden.

It was quiet then in the garden. Hemet Nesingwary could think again.

“You wee bastards think that Hemet doesn’t know you’re still lurking in the garden, do you?” he murmured. “The Commander reckons you’re all run off, but I know better. No raccoon will make a fool of me, you little stripe-tailed bastards …”

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