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Category: Ringo’s Tale

Shadows awaken

Shadows awaken

Ringo, Beli and Kildris arrive in Shadowforge City.

“Flinthammer, Flinthammer …”

“Is this really necessary?” Kildris Blackfire sighed.

“Aye, afraid so,” the Shadowforge sentry said, without looking up from his clipboard. “Been a spike in cult activity in the last few weeks.”

“Screamin’ out prophecies on street corners, handin’ out pamphlets?” Ringo asked.

“For once, no,” the Dark Iron guard said, glancing up, cocking an eyebrow. “Did they do that in Ironforge, too?”

“Stormwind,” Ringo said. “Several times.”

“Aye, well, these seem like former Twilight Hammer folks who never got the hint. No offense, Kildris.”

Kildris held up her hands.

“Hey, that was my ex-husband. We never did agree on politics.”

The guard nodded, going back to the clipboard.

“Aye, well, I reckon a lot of folks don’t want to revisit everything they did in their past.”

Ringo barked a laugh.

“Aye, last time Beli and I were here, we shot our way in. Ow!”

He clutched his side where his wife had elbowed him.

The guard snorted and flipped to the front of the pages clipped to his clipboard.

That’s why I couldn’t find the pair of ye in the list. Lieutenant-Commander Beli Flinthammer and Grand Marshal Durkon Flinthammer!”

Beli winced.

“Ah, no, that’s me, aye, but this is Knight-Captain Ringo Flinthammer.”

The guard looked at the clipboard and shrugged.

“Oh, he’s not on our watch list. I mean, back before the Council of Three Hammers was formed, you and your … brother?”

“Brother-in-law,” Beli muttered, reddening.

“Right, you and your brother-in-law were on our most wanted list. Ooh, there was a 1,000 gold piece bounty on you. Five thousand for your brother-in-law.”

“How much fer me, then?” Ringo said, clearing his throat. “Knight-Captain. Veteran of Quel’Danas and Icecrown Citadel.”

The guard flipped through his paperwork again.

“Did you say ‘Bingo Flinthammer?'”

“Nay, Ringo.”

“Hmm, no, no bounty for any Flinthammers other than your brother and your wife.”

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Sleigh and snowfighters

Sleigh and snowfighters

The sound of outraged troll cries echoed through the valley.

Ringo Flinthammer chuckled.

“Bloody Winterax are the stupidest o’ the trolls; they wait fer the Alliance and Horde tae a truce tae invade Alterac Valley again.”

“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.”

Kildris grunted.

“I can understand that.”

Ringo winced.

“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 …”

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Wolves of the Legion

Wolves of the Legion

Introducing Coldbrew and Avalanche.

“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.”

“Look, he likes me beef jerky!”

“You have a beef jerky pocket?”

“The question Ah have, stable master, is why ye donnae have one.”

“Thank you, stable master, these wolves will be put to good use in the battles in Kul Tiras and Zandalar.”

“But …”

“Ah’m gonna name mine Coldbrew! That’s yer name now, boy, isn’t it? Aye, it is!”

Supporting the troops

Supporting the troops

“Flinthammer! Flinthammer! Field medic Flinthammer! Over here!”

Beli Flinthammer hauled the Alliance soldier to his feet, satisfied herself that his bandages would survive boarding the waiting ship and propelled him on his way with a hand between shoulder blades.

“Stormwind’s that way,” she said, before turning to the sound of the voice. “What can I do ye fer?”

“Three more coming in,” Master Sergeant Zaren roared over the sound of flying machines ferrying in casualties from higher up the burning city of Dazar’alor.

Beli looked around the Mobile Alliance Surgical Hospital and nodded, pointing.

“We’ve got four cots open.”

The man’s eyes fluttered open after a nearby explosion left everyone’s ears ringing.

“Lieutenant Commander Flinthammer?”

Private,” she said, wrapping a bandage around a now-clean wound. “You’ve done enough for now. We’re sending you home.”

He started to object, but Beli was already turning away, eyes on the pyramid rising up above the jungle canopy.

“Your husband up there?” Kildris Blackfire said, appearing at her side. The Dark Iron was on guard duty, keeping both Zandalari and Horde away from the hospital.

“I reckon,” Beli sighed, blowing her hair out of her eyes. “Or somewhere. All they told us of the plan was ‘stay here and have everyone ready to leave in a hurry.'”

Both dwarves winced as there was another explosion and what sounded like the cry of a great jungle beast.

“Yer husband fighting for the Alliance, too?” Beli asked.

Kildris barked with bitter laughter.

“That would be something to see,” she said sourly. “Not everyone gave up the old religion once Ragnaros was defeated back in Molten Core. My useless husband’s in the Twilight Hammer.”

Beli blinked, unsure of what to say.

“Aye,” Kildris said. “At least when you don’t know what your husband is up to, you know he’s not trying to destroy the world.”

“I reckon not. He’s an idiot, but at least he’s not an idiot.”

The portable buzzboxes all burst to life, with half-screamed Gnomish coming out. All of the gnomes around the mobile hospital leapt to their feet, with a few even climbing off the stretchers in their panic.

“What’s going on?” Kildris said, hoisting her mace.

A gnome soldier pointed at the sky, where a badly damaged mech suit flew into view.

The High Tinker! Error! Malfunction! He’s … dying!”

A mother’s worries

A mother’s worries

Beli meets Kildris

Beli Flinthammer slapped at her neck.

The enormous Zuldazar mosquito burst with a sickening plop and she shuddered. The mosquitos of the Wetlands had nothing on these beasts.

She wiped the blood and insect guts off her neck and yelped in alarm.

“Not the letter, you little bastard!” Beli frantically tried to clean the spattered blood and goo off the letter, then scraped at it with her fingernail.

“Letter from home, eh?” came a woman’s voice nearby.

Beli looked over. A Dark Iron woman nodded ruefully at her, lifting a letter of her own.

“Letter from my daughter,” she said. “Meant to be here for the Feast of Winter Veil, but I guess it got delayed.”

“Same here,” Beli replied. ” Letter from my son.”

The Alliance outpost in Xibala was dominated by the Dark Irons, which meant Dwarvish food almost as good as home, even if they favored a smokier, spicier flavor than Beli was used to back home.

“At least they’re not censored like during Operation Legionfall. My brother-in-law was a postmaster and thought it was cute to censor every other blessed word.”

The Dark Iron woman snorted.

“Thanks; first good laugh I’ve had for weeks.”

“Miss the wee one?” Beli said.

“Aye,” the other woman said. “Her father and I … well, it’s my first campaign without having a parent there to watch over Marisi.”

Beli nodded.

“I understand. My husband, he’s called up or volunteered for every campaign since Ahn’Qiraj. I always reckoned he had it easier, bein’ busy at the front, with no time to miss Bael and me. But …”

“They’re both hard.”

“Aye,” Beli said.

The Dark Iron woman carefully refolded her letter and tucked it away inside her mail armor, then extended a hand.

“Kildris Blackfire.”

“Beli Flinthammer,” Beli said, shaking Kildris’ hand.

“Happy Feast of Winter Veil.”

“Happy Feast of Winter Veil. May we be back home for the next one.”

Beli and Kildris shake hands