Conquest of the Horde

The following are a series of letters written by Kerana Axestorm. The name of the recipient has been withheld by the request of Miss Axestorm, and the letters have been provided for study to the Explorer's League.

Letter 1

Work always seemin' ta expand ta fit th'time ye got ta finish it. An' this soldier's plate seems ta be takin' ferever. Th'others be lookin' at me strange fer crankin' up th'heat, tellin' me "Ye tryin' cook yeself alive?". Ta be honest, me been feelin' th'heat less an less. Prolly just me bein' a hard arse about it. Then again, me haven't been havin' ta wipe down th'sweat from me village feeders as often. Which be a good thing, damned pervies all around tryin' ta sneak a peak. Ain't as bad as it used ta be though, like when me first picked up me hammer. Me used ta get th'tauntin' an foolin', tellin' me a lass's place be in th'kitchen. Seems ta me then that a lass can stand th'heat, which makes bein' at th'forge all th'more right.

Me kept workin' deep inta th'night on this lad's chestplate. Always found it ta be th' most interestin' piece o armor, since it protects th'heart, an me always wonder what kinda heart me be protectin'. Is it one that be fightin' fer honor? Fer power? Fer coin? Me daddy used ta say, "Ain't no room fer beginner armor on a warrior!", so me likes ta think that all me pieces gonna save some brave soul in th'middle o great battle! Me tries ta keep tellin' meself that. Lets me keep me faith in th'people around me, an keeps me inspired ta work.

When th'piece be as far along as me can take it, me finally rests. It be damn near mornin, but me feels that second wind finally comin' down from a gale ta a breeze. Me takes off me gloves ta get a glimpse o me callouses. Me wears 'em like honor badges. They be getting tougher of late, an this day they be feelin' even tougher, like stone, even chippin' a bit. Me heard stories o where we came from, an heard about th'brothers in th'north made o earth. Perhaps this be me reachin' ta th'ancestors? Ain't sure, but me will leave me gloves on till it passes. Don't want anymore attention than me already gets.Me been in Menethil Bay a couple months now. Me be lovin' th'fresh sea air when me actually takes a break long enough ta enjoy it, or when me breaks at all. It makes me relax a lil' easier, but me callouses ain't gettin' no better. Maybe th'salt o th'sea be doin' it. Me shouldn't worry. Me can't worry. Thar be too much ta get done fer me ta slow down fer a couple bumps on me hands. There be a group o soldiers waitin' on these repairs, an' me gotta live up ta th'family name.

Speakin' o family, got a letter from me cousin Remyl. Never remember which side o th'family that crazy bastard be on, though me be pretty sure it be me mum's. He tells me all is well, an' that he hopes me be hammering at th'anvil faster than he be hammering wenches. Such a nut that one is, but he does manage ta put a smile on me face. He also sends me some salve fer me hands, sayin' they be hard as tree barks an' if me wants a good man, me needin' soft hands. If only he knew what these hands be now, he'd lay wit every herbalist an' alchemist lady he could find ta get me a cure! Gotta love family. They always seem ta find a way ta lift yer spirits when they be at their worst.

Me finishes at th'forge, a lil' early fer once. Think me may be able ta sit down fer a proper dinner an' celebrate. That is, til me takes me gloves off, an' there be pieces o stone on top o me hands, too! Maybe they chipped from th'bottom and slid inside me gloves? Me hope so, though th'toughness o me skin on top says different. Guess me will be stayin' in tonight. A shame too, cause me had a perty dress in mind, an' an eye fer th'barkeep. Me will try this salve an' see about it tamorrow.

Letter 2

It's been three days wit no sleep. But me feels as fresh as th'start o' a new day. Ain't makin' heads er tails o it. Th'scare ain't that me feels bad but me be feelin' way too good. Methinks there be a crash loomin', hopefully when me be in me bed already. One can only hope, me guess.

Tried th'salve Remyl sent me. Th'lad knows what makes a lass feel like a lass, but even though it was nice ta th'touch, it ain't done a damned thing ta keep me from chippin'. Meh don't think me can take this ta a normal doctor. Don't know who ta take it ta, ta be honest. At least it don't seem ta be gettin' worse, fer now. Waiting ta see how long that lasts, an' ta see if this means soon me skin will return ta normal. If it returns ta normal. Me seen other Dwarves use somethin' called a “stone form”, but me ain't done it meself. Prolly cause me ain't really fightin' all that often. An' me ain't never seen one o them stuck in that form. Not in Ironforge. Me has heard that maybe some other Dwarves be like that, but there will have ta be some investigatin' fer me ta find some answers.

There be one plus ta all this not sleepin'. Me been doin a lil more business since me been gettin' jobs done quicker. A couple wealthy folk saw me werk on Thane Gwydd's armor, an' they be askin fer somethin' ta th'like. Don't think they have th'shoulders fer it, but me will do me best. After all, they got th'gold ta back it, an' they don't seem like shady types, just like they be tryin' ta buy respect in plate. So methinks, let 'em. They'll learn that no weight means a thing unless ye got th'muscle ta back it up. Cause if yer mouth writes a note that yer arse can't carry through on, ye'll end up with a twig ta mark yer grave.

Speakin' o warriors, me been thinkin' bout th'lad Fimgaar a lot lately. He be a good lad, tryin' ta get himself tagether, an' me ain't seen him fer ages. Me supposes he had somethings ta handle that needed ta be done alone, but me wishes he told me. He was a tough one too. Liked ta pummel his opponents. Ye would think he'd be th'one growin' a stone hide instead o me. Sometimes methinks if there be some greater power, that they have a wicked sense o humour. But, me be thinkin' too much inta this. Me will prolly be back ta just havin' me rough callouses in a matter o days. In th'meanwhile, th'forge stays hot, th'anvil ready, an me hums a tune ta drown out all th'negativity me be bringin' on meself. “A steady hand makes a steady blade,” me daddy always said. Guess th'same be true of armor, though like me said, th'thing that be usually more important be a steady lad wearin' th'damned thing. Still, sound advice fer th'smithy end of it. Me can't run off an' do th'soldier's job, so th'best me can do is make sure he be protected.

This be normally th'part o th'letter where me says me be tired an' gonna get some rest, but this time it ain't th'case. Hopefully me will get ta sleep before it be time ta write th'next letter. Hopefully me also won't sleep fer a year ta make up fer it. Me needs gold ta keep payin' me werkers. An' me ain't got no managers yet. Ural looks promisin'. Maybe sometime me should talk ta th'lad an see if he be interested, though he seems more interested in bashin' heads as a guard, or prospectin'. We'll see, me guess. May need someone ta watch business sooner rather than later.

Letter 3

A night's sleep! Me thought it never was gonna come, but it did! Must've been stress causin' all me problems, though ta be safe me should still find out what be goin' on. Th'rest ain't cause th'rocks ta recede, an in fact methinks it may've grown a small bit. No matter, me be on th'first available trip ta Ironforge tamorrow. Me havin' too many questions not ta get answers now. An' th'lads at th'Explorer's League seem like th'ones most likely ta provide them, at least me hopes. If not, me ain't sure where else ta turn, unless this all be some act o magic, in which case me wouldn't know if someone was out ta do me a favor or out ta get me.

Talked ta th'lad Ural, which prolly be why me so relaxed. He agreed ta take on management duties an' help a lass out. He also talked about th'ancestors an' all. Suspectin' th'same things me was thinkin'. Good ta know me ain't crazy fer assumin' such. An' me always finds it odd that fer a lass that spends almost all her wakin' hours at th'forge an' anvil that me ends up makin' such wonderful friends. Then again, th'same could be said about Ural. A miner himself an' th'son of a miner, he be one o th'most upbeat lads me ever met. Me only question be when this journey becomes one fer me ta go alone. But that's fer another time.

Takin' advantage of th'last day before me leaves ta close up any overdue werk me has. Ain't never blasted away so quickly an' easily, like puttin' this tagether be almost an afterthought. Chalk it up ta almost a lifetime doin' it, an' ain't breakin' a sweat either. A few new helms fer th'guards when me gets back ta th'Forge, some repairs on th'chestplates of some local militia, a brand new iron cane fer a sweet old lad, an' a plate o haggis an' an ale when me hits th'inn tonight. Nothin' like a full belly ta cap off a long day! Also makes me feel like a person an' not a machine...

Maybe that's what me biggest fear be. Me remembers th'first time me laid eyes on some Gnomish machinery. Was doin' a hammerin' task puttin' bits an' nails inta a wall. Me was so excited cause me never seen somethin' automate so tirelessly. Me ran ta tell me daddy, an' when me found him at th'forge, there he was, hammerin' away just as relentless, calculated an' precise. Jus' like th'machine. Methinks it was then me really started ta appreciate a smithy's werk. Because they weren't machines. They were people, Dwarves, that ate, slept, an' laughed, yet we all expected them ta get th'job done on time anyway, as if they were a machine. At times, me saw th'machine long after th'hammer dropped from daddy's hands, an' moreso when me picked it up meself. Me ain't as afraid ta turn inta me daddy as me be afraid ta be colder, completely unfeelin'. If me stones over, will me still be able ta touch an' feel th'intricate patterns me makes. Or even more frightenin', th'touch o skin on me own? A scary thought if there ever was one.

Jus' like that, a letter that was supposed ta be joyous turns sour. But ye can't make lemonade without lemons. An' ye can't make armor without a few lumps. So me will confront what be botherin' me now, so that me can better deal with it when me gets ta Ironforge. Fear be a good fuel ta get werk done, so me gonna use it now. As scared as me be, could even outfit every soldier in th'Eastern Kingdoms by mornin'.

Letter 4

Finally back at Ironforge an' gettin' ready ta go ta th'Library tamorrow. Hopin' fer th'best but bracin fer th'worst. Th'stone skin be halfway up me arms now, not chippin' like before, but rougher than th'skin that's supposed ta be there. Managed ta get all me werk done before me left, after which me discovered that me be startin' ta be more statue than me be comfy with. Maybe me should be visitin' a sculptor instead of th'Explorers so he can chisel me some nicer lookin' muscles, an' a trimmer body! Me gotta remember that one.

Me ain't told me daddy that me be in town. Don't need him ta be worryin' more than he probably already is. Not that he ain't able ta handle it, it's just....me ain't sure how he will see me. Will he think me be some kinda freak o nature? Will he still see me as his daughter? Or will he be afraid o th'monster he spawned? It took me so long ta finally feel like he appreciated me, to know that even through his own 'stone skin' he loved me. Even if it sounds silly, me be afraid ta lose that now. An' th'more me thinks about it, it is silly. Me knows this can't break th'bond we got, but me still don't know how he'll take it. How do ye tell someone that their daughter be turnin' ta a walkin' mountain? "Excuse me sir, but do ye know how whenever y e smith, ye normally have at visit a mine ta get yerself some ore? Well, ye will never have ta worry bout that again now that ye have yer very own walkin' mine! She cooks! She cleans! An' ye can dig th'best steel in all Dun Morogh off o her! What a steal, right? Get it? Steel...steal..."

Methinks me be sneakin' off ta th'Great Forge ta do some smithin'. No werk, just me, me hammer, an' some pent up anxiety that needs ta get pounded out. Some may think it weird ta do th'thing ye do fer trade ta relax, but smithin' ain't just a job fer me. It be a part o who me be, an' th'thing me loves th'most. Me likens it ta how a soldier sometimes will get inta bar fights because he be conditioned ta battle, so he seeks out battle in any form, no matter what th'odds. Fer me, th'same thing as that lad pickin' on another that gave him a wrong stare be when me just pounds at some metal ta see how me can make interestin' shapes fer later projects. Ye'd be surprised how often things like that come back ta ye when ye need it. Like a couple times me made chest plates fer lasses with...we'll call 'em "misshapen bosoms". They required a different angle than me be used ta fer better comfort. An' in th'end, th'customers were happy. That's an important part o doin' any craft. People be unique, with unique bodies, tastes, an' strengths. Ye can mass build lots o things, but if ye want yer customer really happy, ye go th'extra mile an' make them feel like th'thing ye made was fer them, an' not fer anyone else.

Yar, me definitely thinks some smithin' will do th'trick. Me feels a bit heavier lately, so maybe it's been too much ale drinkin' fer me as well. Th'extra werk will help trim me down an keep me focused. Not ta say me won't be visitin' Bruuk's at all while me be here. Still th'best damn tavern in all o Azeroth, an me favorite place ta draw up new armor plans. Speakin' of, if me village feeders start hardenin' up like me arms, me gonna need a new place ta keep me plans, lest they be ripped ta shreds! Must invest in a good bag.