Garret slowly moved away from the banner, clearly displaying no real interest in the glorified piece of cloth. The immediate environment might’ve looked abandoned, but a niggling suspicion in the back of his mind kept him from believing that. If he had just landed in the Arathi Basin, a guess which was beginning to seem more likely, then why would the Horde have left this place unguarded? The whole point of the conflicts here had been to secure resources or deny them to the enemy, it just didn’t seem logical to leave it unattended.<span style="color: blue">“This could be an ambush waiting for what many might consider a member of the Alliance,”</span>Garret thought bitterly cursing his lack of fortune.<br/><br/>Cautiously he began to inch towards the Smithy’s entrance, drawing the sabre on his left hip… Only it wasn’t a sabre. From a distance it looked a bit like an awkwardly angled dagger, only one didn’t hold daggers out at arms length, nor did daggers go click. It was an marvel of engineering known simply as a revolver, not that anyone in this time period other than Garret would have known that.<span style="color: blue">“Hello, anyone there? If so reveal yourself, I am not a member of the alliance and not interested in this place,”</span>Garret called, speaking in perfectly fluent and accentless orcish… Although he didn’t expect the words to save him from a fight.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>