A few days after learning where his stolen things might have travelled to, Darkhin was on his way. Gortha lent him some gold to buy another mount. Darkhin had felt so vulnerable having to take money from a friend. But Gortha wanted to help him and since he didn't want any company on his journey, he allowed her to at least buy him a speedier transport.

The skeletal horse he rode was unfamiliar, so he decided to call it 'Stranger'. Stranger was friendly enough. He would let out soft whinnies to Darkhin when awkward silences would fall between them. His boney nose would nuzzle the Forsaken while he rested, begging for a mushroom from Darkhin's sack. Stranger was very different from his old mount, Onyx. Onyx was silent, almost snobby; she had a stubborn streak that sometimes resulted in Darkhin's rear on the ground. Eventually, Onyx became more accustomed to her owner's reputation and loved the limelight. Stranger only seemed to love mushrooms. Darkhin had imagined Onyx on the night she was taken. Probably reared and hollered at the intruder, but Darkhin was too deep in sleep to notice.

Darkhin thought a lot about the night he was hacked. If only he had woken up somehow and caught the criminal, he could have beaten him to death. He was forced out of his thoughts when he heard Stranger whinny.

"What is it Stranger?" He murmured. He looked onward and saw a land thick with snow. He always noticed that it never snowed in Tirisfal, but it was so abundant in Dun Morogh, which was much further south. Darkhin patted Stranger's head reassuringly and the undead horse continued on.

Snow crunched beneath the horse's cautious steps. He seemed to know that this was Alliance territory. He kept off paths to avoid any unwanted attention from nearby Alliance. He wasn't here to fight them. Not only because he wasn't geared for battle, but because he didn't want any trouble at least until he got his armor back. The armor he wore now was of low quality. It was cheap and not very reliable, but it could help in a scrap. He also carried a dull two-handed axe over his back. Though he knew the weapon and armor had a purpose, he felt naked with the unfamiliar equipment.

Darkhin took a deep breath as he approached the gates of Ironforge. He dismounted and the guards spotted him. They both drew their weapons. Darkhin immediately knelt out of respect and called to them.

"I am not here for trouble, I am seeking Varne Ironlager."

"Fer what business?" The one guard spoke in his thick dwarven accent.

"I am wanting to reclaim some items that I believe might have circulated to this man. I only ask to speak with him, so that I might find these items."

The guards glanced at each other and the one spoke again. "I'll escort ya through to Varne. Any funny stuff and you'll be kicked outta here so fast yer head'll spin."

Darkhin stood, approached the stout man and followed him into the dwarven city. He had to admit that Ironforge was an impressive city. Everything was metallic, giving the city the feel of a fortress. Darkhin noticed the guard was leading him around an outer ring of the haven. He briefly wondered what was in the center, but then he felt eyes upon him. He realized he had captured the confused glares of the Alliance gathered in Ironforge. He saw a tiny creature, Darkhin remembered them being called 'gnomes'. He had battled some before. This specific gnome was female and watching the Forsaken intently. Her short arms were crossed, but Darkhin noticed her fingers were grazing over the hilts of her daggers sheathed on her hips. There was also a group of humans, who looked upon him with disgust. He also caught eyes with an angry looking elven man, and then his thoughts quickly shifted to Tyrena Moonleaf, the elf from Warsong. He wondered if he would see her here, but then he figured he'd be embarrassed to be seen here. He was lucky he didn't spot her.

The guard led him further and into a small building. Inside Darkhin saw random items, mostly junk, stacked up on either sides of the room. In the center there was a small table and a sleeping head was rested upon it.

"Varne!" The guard bellowed.

The sleeping dwarf shifted and murmured incoherently as he lifted his head to meet eyes with the guard and the undead. Varne was fat for a dwarf. While most dwarven males were stout and thick, Varne just seemed fat. He had an unkempt red beard weaving down, spilling onto the table. It would probably reach his knees if he were standing. His skin was dark and aged and his eyes were a dull yellow. The whiskers around his lips were wet and stained a dark brown. This led Darkhin to believe Varne was a standard drunken dwarf.

"What is all this here?" Varne grumbled.

"This Forsaken has ventured her ta inquire about some items that might have reached ya." The guard spoke for Darkhin.

"Well even if I did have them, they're mine now. I buy my stock fair and square."

That was when Darkhin noticed the familiar glowing green behind Varne.

"My glaives!" Darkhin cried out and went to jump towards the pile of armor.

He heard Varne squeal and yell, "Stop him!"

Then Darkhin felt an iron grip on his arm and a sharp point in his back. "An I told ya no funny business."

"You don't understand those are my things!" He pleaded.

"Well, knowin' what you are I have a hard time believin' ya."

In a sudden, desperate attempt to reach his armor and weapons, he shoved the guard and leapt over the table. He was a finger's reach away when he felt a hard blow to the neck, which knocked him on his back across the table. Varne had clothes lined him and now held a dagger to his throat.

Varne suddenly took on a different persona. His eyes were sharp and thirsty, his jaw was tight and he spoke in a hissing voice. Darkhin's eyes widened when he heard the dwarf speak Gutterspeak. "Don't even think you can steal from me, you worm. You think the guard is dangerous; you have no idea what I'm capable of. I would kill you now, but it would blow my cover. You can be assured that my gang and I will hunt you down, just to keep our circle safe. You already know too much."

The shock and tension was broken by the guard's voice. "Oi, what a catch!" He laughed. "What the hell were ya sayin' Varne? You're so drunk I can hardly understand ya."

Varne just laughed as he released Darkhin to the guard. "Just get him outta here."

Darkhin was still in shock as he was tossed from Ironforge. What did Varne mean? His thoughts were almost blocking his vision; so many questions ran through his mind. That's what made him trip. Of course the thing that made him topple was stealthed, but he probably could've noticed it if he was paying attention.

He caught himself with his arms as his palms sunk in the snow. He turned to see the creature just revealing itself. It was a sleek black panther. Darkhin turned over to strike the creature out of his frustration, but the panther did something peculiar.

With curious eyes, it spoke in a voice that Darkhin remembered distinctively from Warsong. "Darkhin Sinsword?"

To be continued…