Dark Iron Dwarf Culture

As much as I hate admitting it, Dark Irons are still dwarves. They get their kicks out of mining and forging, just as we do. The difference is in the motivation. We forge because we love to. The Dark Irons forge mostly because they're forced to. Exceptions exist, such as the Thorium Brotherhood.

We long thought that the Dark Irons were destroyed when the spell that summoned Ragnaros destroyed much of the range. However, it wasn't to be. To this day they pay for Thaurissan's colossal mistake by serving Ragnaros in his armies. Their lives revolve around Ragnaros's will. Currently, their goal is to remove the black dragon Nefarian from the upper peaks of Blackrock Spire. From there, the world.

Oh — and they still hate us. With Ironforge weakened from the Third War, the Dark Iron dwarves see us as a prime target. Dark Iron dwarves still want Khaz Modan, and they think that they can take it from us now. Especially with Ragnaros's power behind them, and the Wildhammer dwarves far away in Lordaeron.

They'll have to pry it from our cold, dead hands. And we Bronzebeard dwarves have strong grips.

> "Arg, where's mah bloody hammer! I canna find mah hammer!" Darren's incessant whining filled the air, grating on his allies' nerves. The old dwarf probably shouldn't have come, but he was one of the best prospectors the J Explorers' League had to offer, and has seen more battles than all the journeymen assigned to him combined. 4 "It's in yer kilt belt, Darren..." Maddox turned bitterly away from the old man. At forty-six years, Maddox was the youngest journeyman in the group. "Old enough to fight but too young to have any common sense," Darren always said. Maddox chafed at the slow progress the group was making. Uldaman was abandoned by now. And why were they even venturing here? Didn't Brann clean out the mines long ago?

Besides, didn't the Dark Irons hold this territory? Just thinking of the sleazy, sneaky bastards turned the young dwarf's stomach. He was too young to know much about the War of the Three Hammers. Grumbling, Maddox moved away from the group, and stuck his pipe between his fingers. He fumbled for a match, growling to himself, when a pair of flaming red eyes opened in front of him. Maddox felt a sharp pain in his side, as a cruel voice spoke from the darkness. "Need a light?"

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