The victory over the Defias
Brotherhood had brought the people of Stormwind a great sense of relief, with
the added effect of establishing a reputation for my deeds in the eyes of the
Alliance leadership. I had little time
to rest on my laurels, as merely a few days after the defeat of Bazil Thredd, I
received a letter from an Ironforge diplomat.
The letter had requested my aid in
a campaign to venture into the lost city of Gnomeregan, the subterranean
metropolis that had been home to the Gnomish race until its invasion by vicious
troggs, and subsequent irradiation that was ill-advised by a would-be
usurper. High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque,
the appointed leader of Gnomish politics, or what could be best called as such,
had placed a call for adventurers to enter the fallen city and eliminate the
despot.
My training as a paladin and my
history in the Alliance were in concert; justice must be done and freedom must
prevail over oppression. My response to
the summons was mustered in less than a heartbeat, and before I knew it, I was
approaching the Deeprun Tram.
The Deeprun Tram is a marvel of
Dwarven construction and Gnomish ingenuity.
A massive, self-propelled train that connects the cities of Ironforge
and Stormwind via a long underground tunnel, even passing beneath a lake at
some point. After finishing the ride, I
exited the tram and entered Tinker Town, the surrogate home of the Gnomes
hosted graciously by the Dwarves of the mountain city.
High Tinker Mekkatorque met me
immediately as I exited, and introduced me to the other adventurers who had
answered the call. I was pleased to see
the Night Elf, Tiyara, had also responded.
She met me with a warm smile and a nod.
Beside her was a Gnome, a roguish type, sporting a pair of daggers, each
nearly as large as the arm that held it.
Beside him was a Dwarf, clearly trained in the arts of war, full plate
armor and a massive double-bladed bearded axe hoisted on his shoulders. I turned to meet the fifth and final member
of the party, and my face betrayed both my surprise and my elation.
It was the warlock, Strycnosa.
I must admit I’d become accustomed
to her face, despite the darkness that seemed to linger around it; she was
quite beautiful. Though by no means does
being a paladin necessitate being chaste, I had to fight hard at times to keep
my thoughts from wandering when they lingered in her presence.
We were given our objectives by the
Gnomish leader: short, concise, simple.
Enter the city, battle through whatever defenses the usurper had
erected, find Mekgineer Thermaplugg, and eliminate him. I had come to learn that the simpler a task
sounded, the less it would be in practice.
I was not proved wrong.
As we entered the gates to the
city, we were met with a green miasma, like a haze of choking mist. The gnome assured us that limited exposure
would not harm us, so long as we were in and out quickly. Despite his familiarity, I was skeptical of
the words, but sufficiently faithful in the Light that we would come to no
long-term, serious harm.
A long elevator descended into the
heart of the mountain, taking us into the depths of Gnomeregan’s halls, where
we exited and searched the echoing corridors.
The mist seemed to thicken down here, taking on more of a malignant,
verdant hue. Then, we found our
destination.
A massive pit of refuse and
wash-off sprawled before us. Debris and
discarded inventions and parts scattered the ground, causing us to take caution
when advancing, slowing our pace.
Strycnosa made more than one snide comments about the housekeeping
habits of the Gnomes, which our rogue seemed to take no offense to, but rather
join in with a quip or two when he deemed his response appropriate to the
humor.
Our levity was short lived.
Tiyara gasped, as she was pulled
beneath a pile of garbage by an unseen assailant. We rushed to her location, in time to see a
massive, pulsing, formation of ooze emerge.
Within its depths we could see Tiyara’s frozen form, face locked in
shock as she floated in the viscous body of the creature.
Without hesitation, my sword
unsheathed. I sliced a deep cut into the
side of the creature, and used my shield to pry the opening further. In concert, the Dwarf reached in and grabbed
the druid’s arm, pulling hard to free her from the oozing prison. With a sickening pop, she was wrenched from
the vile hold, and gasped as air once again rushed into her lungs.
The rogue doubled back and began to
chip portions of slime away from the bulk of the beast, while the warlock
merely began to chant. We carried on for
several seconds, cutting away what little substance we could, dodging the
flailing tendrils and overwhelming bulk of the creature as it bounced between
us, trying to determine who was the larger threat. It seemed fruitless, as each wound we
produced was soon absorbed back into the hellish aberration.
Then the warlock ceased chanting.
Without warning, the beast emitted
a shriek, causing us all to pause and grab our ears. Even the druid, who had not fully regained
her senses, gripped her long ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Fortunately, it was only for a moment, as the
beast glowed from within as if its very core was set aflame. This proved to be a fitting analogy, as the
entire form of the creature erupted in the fiercest, hottest flames I’d ever
seen.
The thing could have been made
completely of lamp oil, as it burned bright and fast, until only a charred spot
on the floor remained. Helping Tiyara
recover with a prayer, we moved on.
The presence of guards was minimal,
so many of the inhabitants that remained were so addled by the radiation
sickness, that we passed by unnoticed and unmolested. Despite an encounter with a particularly
vicious trogg and its basilisk pet at the site of a cave-in, we managed to make
good time and progress.
That is, until we arrived at the
hangar. War machines lined the walls,
staged for some grand invasion.
Aircraft, tanks, vehicles, it was as if the war for Gnomeregan never
ended, and now threatened to spill out into Azeroth. Thermaplugg was clearly mad, and a force this
size could only indicate that he plotted to take Ironforge next.
Refusing to allow this, we moved to
a central platform in the circular chamber for a better survey of the forces,
when a large, mechanical, spider-like contraption ambushed us. The Dwarf was pinned under one of the metal
legs, and the rogue batted aside by another.
Strycnosa was stunned by a jolt of lightning and fell to her knees in a
daze.
I gritted my teeth and met the gaze
of the machine’s pilot, a cackling leper gnome.
His eyes were wild, insane, and flooded with murderous intent. I charged, putting the full force of my
strength and momentum behind my shield as I battered the leg that pinned the
Dwarf. It buckled under the blow, freeing
the warrior, but one of the others quickly compensated, keeping the device
upright. I was unable to react quickly
enough to prevent the rear leg from bashing me in the side, knocking me off my
offensive course, and sending a jolt of pain through my entire body.
The rogue was steadying from the
blow, and Strycnosa was catching her breath.
We were routed by the ambush, but were recovering. The leper gnome saw this and aimed to keep us
suppressed, moving forward again for a renewed assault. As lightning charged in the focus on the
front of the spider-tank, the warrior brought his axe down hard into the
center.
A blinding flash emitted and the
group was blown back. The force of the
shockwave disoriented us anew, but prevented a deadly release of electricity
from the contraption. The leper gnome
simply cackled, as we realized in horror that there was a second focus on the
tank, undamaged, and currently charging.
At that moment, vines sprung to
life from the cracks in the stone and steel floor, bursting like saplings weary
of a long winter, and coiling around the legs of the machine. The leper gnome’s laughter faltered. Thick, fast, and deadly, the vines grew and
coiled, pulling and squeezing, crumpling metal beneath them like paper, and
ripping legs from the sockets, sparks and oil showering from the stubs. Soon enough the entire mass of steel had been
smothered, when the vines constricted and compressed.
The leper gnome was now silenced.
Breathing heavily, we regained our
balance and stood, looking to the weary druid.
We each nodded, to which she responded with a weak smile. We rested a moment, and continued on. The halls stretched for what seemed an
eternity from there, with a few straggled patrols and wandering troggs in the
halls, until we made a startling discovery.
Dark Iron agents.
The rogue offshoots of a mistrusted
Dwarven clan, it would appear that the Dark Iron had been conspiring with, or
at least aiding the Mekgineer in his delusional conquest of the shattered
city. They were quickly dealt with, much
to the glee of our Dwarven companion, but the implication their presence
provided was far more threatening.
We placed those thoughts aside,
however, as we approached an enormous hangar door. The Mekgineer’s chambers.
As we entered, Thermaplugg noticed
us immediately and entered a frenzy.
Atop his own spider-like battle tank, albeit a significantly more
threatening and capable one, he howled madly and charged its weapon systems.
The battle was fast, but
manageable. Dodging blades and limbs,
deflecting or avoiding the arcing electricity, his movements seemed more fueled
by instinct and emotion over any real strategy or tactics. It seemed that would this keep up, we would
surely win. The Mekgineer, however, had
a trick up his proverbial sleeve.
With a maddened shout, he activated
some kind of defense mechanism that began to release bombs from giant valves in
the walls. Bombs that walked on
mechanical legs towards their target.
The fight descended into chaos.
It became much more challenging to dodge Thermaplugg’s attacks when we
also needed to remain aware of the explosives that now wandered maliciously
around the area.
The druid bound what few she could
with her nature magic, the vines holding strong until the bomb simply exploded
where it stood. The warlock seemed to
have a fair amount of luck as well, melting the steel floor where they walked,
slowing their steps, or detonating them outright when they were nowhere near a
viable target. Even the rogue managed to
disable a few, sneaking around their field of perception and skillfully
disarming them.
It was all the warrior and I could
do, however, to maintain the attention of Thermaplugg, to free our allies to
take care of the explosives. It was a
battle of attrition at this point, one we were doomed to lose if we couldn’t
put Thermaplugg down before the bombs became too numerous and overwhelmed us.
The warrior chopped away at the
tank’s armor as best he could, and I kept the Mekgineer’s attention focused
with a series of jabs and thrusts as his cockpit, but too little progress was
being made. Then, I had a plan. A stupid plan that would require a great deal
of luck, but fortune favors the bold.
I backpedaled from the reach of the
tank, his rage-filled eyes following my every step. Turning, I broke into a full run. As if reading my mind, the rogue and the
druid began moving their conquered bomb robots together, creating a pile of
sorts. I taunted the driver of the
battle tank, using words my trainers in the cathedral would scold me for, and
leapt over the pile of bombs. I smirked,
as if seeing my mind, I saw Strycnosa pouring a vial of a yellow-brown liquid
on the vials, that seemed to emit fumes that distorted vision as you gazed
through them. She grinned mischievously
and scampered off behind one of the bomb-dispensing pillars.
Thermaplugg roared, chasing after
me, intending to burst through the defacto barrier of explosives. The Dwarf smirked, seeing my plan, and raised
his axe high in the air, at least comparatively high to his stout stature. Bringing it down hard, the blade cut deep
into the steel plating on the floor.
Such was the force behind the blow, that the rock and flint beneath the
floor rose to the surface and traveled towards the tank, riding a shockwave of
concussive force. It rumbled the ground
beneath the tank, and caused the legs to stumble and waver, halting the
Mekgineer’s advance.
Seeing my opportunity, I dove back
and hurled my shield at the debris that flew up from the shockwave, now deep
within the cloud of fume and haze from Strycnosa’s concoction. The shield met the flint, and that momentary
clang was all it took for the steel to make a spark. A tiny spark.
Followed by a violent blast. A
deafening boom. A blinding flash.
And everything went black.
