Browsed by
Author: Ringo Flinthammer

Onwards to Northrend!

Onwards to Northrend!

“Bael gets fussy around mid-morning, so have some milk ready then, and try and put him down for a nap,” Beli said, licking her thumb and neatening her son’s eyebrows.

“I’ve raised three children, Beli,” her mother Dorae said, shouldering the backpack full of Bael’s things. “Stop yer worryin’.”

“Stormwind’s such a big city, though,” Beli said, stepping out of the way as a bouncer hustled an angry drunk out of the Deepwater Tavern.

“Life in the district’s not much diff’rent than Anvilmar. Certainly more properly dwarvish than Quel’Danas has been. Yer father is working on a big new construction project there, and there’s plenty of dwarves around, including plenty of little ones for Bael to play with. When ye’re back, he’ll be waiting for ye.”

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K’iru’s Song of Victory

K’iru’s Song of Victory

“Our victory in Sun’s Reach is absolute!” Captain Theris Dawnhearth yelled. “The naaru bless us with their presence!”

A blue light poured from the upper level of the conquered building overlooking Sun’s Reach Harbor and the distinctive hum of a naaru could be heard between the yells and cheers of the assembled Shattered Sun Offensive soldiers.

Beli Flinthammer looked up.

“Aren’t there still demons and Dawnstrider loyalists and such-like?”

“Aye,” Ringo said, tugging on his beard. “Let’s see what this runt’s on about.”

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Fathers Day

Fathers Day


Ringo Flinthammer and Widge Gearloose stepped out into the warm summer air, looking around with a bit of shock.

“This … is Mount Hyjal?” Ringo said, breathing in the smell of grass warmed by the sun, listening to the song of hundreds of grasshoppers.

“Yes,” Widge said, adjusting his goggles. “Hyjal Summit was warmed by the presence of the World Tree. The snows of Winterspring are far below us.”

Ringo glanced around at the newly built buildings around him. The Alliance worked fast when building forward bases during the war. Past the lumber mill he and Widge stood beside, he saw knights of Lordaeron checking their mounts’ armor and could hear the familiar sounds of dwarven riflemen preparing their weapons for battle.

“Not much time then, aye?”

“No,” Widge said, frowning. “Lady Jaina Proudmoore will call everyone to form up in a moment and then the word will come down that Rage Winterchill’s undead troops are on their way.”

“No time like the … well, whatever. Got to get to it, Ah reckon,” Ringo said, leading Widge around the corner.

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Rather Be Fishin’

Rather Be Fishin’

Ironforge, the Forlorn Cavern.

Leave from the front, and rest and relaxation.

Sort of.

“I had to move from the pool I was fishing in because you came over and threw up in it,” Robaz the Frail said, casting his fishing line into the cave pool. “Killed all the fish.”

“Fishing in an ornamental fountain was a typical elf trick anyway,” Ringo Flinthammer said mildly, reeling in his own line and preparing to cast it out again. “Remind me to go throw up in Teldrassil’s moon wells.”

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