When Diego awoke in the morning, he went to the lobby of the inn for breakfast, and was surprised to see that Selsamar's griffon keeper, Sogram Burleyson, was also there, and the red-bearded dwarf was now pale and looked very haggard—the old drunkard must have drunk too much yesterday.

"Hey, Sogram, it was a lively night last night," he said, as he walked over and sat down across from the griffon's caretaker, "would you like a drink?" ”

Sogram's eyes widened and he was a little hungover, but he was a little ashamed that he clearly didn't recognize who the warm-looking human was, especially for the hospitable dwarves.

"Nadella, two dwarven dark beers!" Diego snapped his fingers and shouted at the proprietress .

"That's not good, it's morning." The griffon administrator was a little embarrassed, but his eyes were fixed on the proprietress who was picking up the wine from the barrel, in fact, time was never a problem for the dwarves who were addicted to alcohol, and there were many people who were unconscious after breakfast time.

"Vidra, remember to beat the bubble!" He shouted.

"Come on, Sogram." Diego said nonchalantly, deliberately teasing the dwarf, "You drank a whole barrel of Thunder Ale back then, and you could ride a griffin to Ironforge to and fro." ”

"Well," laughed Sogram, the most flattering thing he had ever done in his life, and he had bragged about it more than once at the wine table.

"Can we take your griffon? I want to go to Ironforge," asked Diego after clinking glasses with the dwarves, who have always liked to go straight and not go around the corner, and you have to talk to them the same way, "My friend and I came from Minahill Harbour, all the way with a pair of feet, and I bet my legs are shorter than yours now." ”

Ever since last night's incident, Diego had been a little nervous, and he had a premonition that something bad might be happening. So he hoped to get to Ironforge as soon as possible, and it might be a good choice to leave with a griffon.

"I'm afraid not, it's been very strict these days, and the dragon roar orcs in the north are a little abnormal." Sogram said with some guilt, he looked around, and then leaned in, the volume was low - that was what he thought he had, in fact everyone in the entire bar could hear, dwarves were almost inherently loud voices, "Mayor Eroon, you know, it's that blunt nose, and no one is allowed to use those big babes unless it's an emergency." ”

"Hey, those bureaucrats......" Diego snorted, giving Sogram a knowing look and not saying any more. Diego had a few encounters with Sersama's mayor, Eroon Bluntnose, before crossing over, and the old dwarf was always serious and liked to play official, but overall he was pretty good, a good guy of integrity.

Both men were silent, and Diego called out to the hostess to come and order his own breakfast. Sogram lowered his head, concentrating on the dwarven stout in his glass.

Diego ate a little bit of breakfast and didn't see Masrae Bearskin appear until he finished it, and it seemed that Thunder Ale was much more powerful to the Night Elves than he had thought.

He decided to go out for a walk, and to be honest, he hadn't been to a more prosperous place since he came to this world, and in this world, the house was not a good property.

He paced out of the hotel and into the street. The streets are bustling, and it looks like last night's alarm was more like a false alarm, and it didn't affect the lives of the people here.

Diego walked to the place he remembered—unlike the aimless wandering of women, men always go straight to the target. He wanted to see how Sersamar's dwarven musket was doing, after all, what he saw in the game before the time travel was always a bunch of numbers, how the damage was, what the additional attributes were, it would never be so intuitive.

Sersamar's musket shop was on the highest floor of the valley, and compared to the surrounding dwarven buildings, it had no features, and there was no sign at the door of the gun shop, and if it weren't for the memories before the crossing, Diego might even have gone too far.

However, when he walked into the gun shop, he recognized the dwarven boss Verok Random Gun at a glance. The latter was now tending to the muskets leaning on the shelves. He carefully wiped the muskets and applied them with protective oil, looking as if he were taking care of his own children.

And his real child, Duck Gunfire—a young (even though he had a brown beard) brass-bearded dwarf with a family name inherited from his mother—was forging musket parts in the room, with the occasional clanging of hammers and steel.

"Ha, Verok, good morning!" Diego greeted his boss and looked at the muskets on the shelves.

"Good morning, sir!" Verok Spear walked over and said that he looked a little scruffy - in fact, this is the characteristic of most dwarven males, and he still had some gun oil on his beard that hung down to his chest.

"How can I help you, sir?" He politely said that it was clear that he did not have the impression of Diego in his memory, but that did not prevent him from doing business with this strange human, although there were not many foreigners in Lockmordan, but there were still some human merchants who came here every year.

"I want to pick a musket." Diego picked up a musket, held it in his hand, he skillfully pulled the hammer, inspected the components of the bolt, he put the gun to his nose and sniffed, a characteristic smell of gun oil came to his nose. The old dwarf used the best gun oil, and every component was maintained bright and warm, neat and new.

"Look at it!" Verok Spear stood confidently and didn't bother about anything, to be honest, the dwarves were a bit like the tech nerds before the time-travel, and they were always very friendly to insiders. Moreover, they are also confident that these experts can see what is good about their work.

Truth be told, the dwarves are natural craftsmen, and each of the muskets on the shelves is exquisite, the components on them are polished and polished, and the construction is exquisite, either gilt or silver, and some parts are intricately engraved with patterns, which look more like works of art than murder weapons.

The hammers of these muskets are mostly designed in the shape of a dragon's head or a bird's head, the components are tightly articulated, the movement is smooth and smooth, the springs are strong and powerful, and the barrel is smooth and straight, without any rust and pitting, so to speak, even the most picky person can find fault. Some muskets also had empty compartments on their butts. Opening the flap, Diego saw stacks of deerskin pieces and silver cartridges neatly placed inside, which was really a very user-friendly design.

After confirming that there was no loading, he checked the rifling in the barrel, and he was surprised to find that most of the rifling was smooth and bright, clear and smooth, without the slightest ablation and wear, and it seemed that Verok had maintained these guns very well.

Diego was completely fascinated by these beautiful muskets, but he still forced himself to buy **, this breech-charged firing pistol has a fatal flaw, that is, the rate of fire is a big problem, theoretically it can fire four times per minute, but in a busy battle, it is already considered a good hand to be able to fire twice a minute.

If you are in an army, such as a dwarven ranger unit, these guns are still useful, but if you use them when you are adventurous, you are simply dead. Those melee classes don't even give you a chance to fire a second shot. But if you carry seven or eight guns on your shoulders every time you go on a trip to ensure the rate of fire, you will be tired to death.

Diego sighed regretfully, he almost drooled and left the gun shop - even if it wasn't used for war, it would be nice to buy such a beautiful musket and collect it. At the moment of leaving, he swore that when he had a fixed place to stay, he would set aside a room in his house as a collection of dwarven muskets.

"Maybe you should build your own musket." A thought suddenly popped into Diego's mind, after all, his goblin engineering was also a Draenor master, so it might not be too difficult.

Not far from Verok Gunfire's shop, Diego unexpectedly saw a familiar rainbow longbow logo on a signboard. It was the emblem of the archer Cliff Harding, a dwarf who liked to wander the mountains—he said he was looking for the best wood for bow-making—who had also opened a shop in Sersamar, not more than sixty metres from the gun shop in Verrok, just two shops apart.

What a surprise this one! Diego walked in without hesitation.

Apparently this is not the peak of business, and there is no one in the store – at least no one outside. Diego picked up the rattle on the table and shook it a few times.

A few seconds later, a dwarven head stained with sawdust appeared in the doorway to the inner room.

"Just look at it, sir." The dwarf said in a hurry, and before Diego could reply, the head shrank back again, and he looked busy.

Diego smiled disapprerovingly, he knew the dwarf's habits, and he couldn't care about anything when he was busy. He looked around the shop, and it was clear that the goods on display were not the best, otherwise the dwarven boss would not have been so reassured.

Most of the finished bows in the shop were unwound, and the bows were stored in wooden crates filled with dried sawdust. Diego noticed that there were several smokers in the room, all of which were on fire, which made the temperature inside the room noticeably warmer than outside, but not overheated, and it just felt warm and dry. This is due to the need for the maintenance of the bow.

On the surrounding walls hung a number of winding bows, mostly ordinary longbows - for a dwarf, but only of medium length for a human like Diego. However, these strong dwarven zuò bows are generally stiffer than human bows, and people with little strength really can't use them.

Cliff Harding's store is not large, and Diego quickly finished reading the goods on display, and he regrets that most of the bows here are of ordinary quality, and they are not as good as the one in his hand. Just then, a voice rang out behind him.

"Haven't you found the right bow yet, picky sir?"

Diego looked back and saw Cliff Harding standing behind him, the dwarf had apparently groomed himself, at least with much less wood chips on his hair and beard.

"Yes, it would be a shame to say that your work is at this level." Diego nodded, he deliberately looked at the surrounding walls with some contempt, and said disdainfully, "You know, these years are not peaceful, a good weapon can be a second life for a traveler." ”

Well, as he wished, the dwarf was stimulated. For a dwarven craftsman, you can despise his qiē, but you can't laugh at his craftsmanship, which is what a dwarf is most proud of.

"Wait a minute, look at this bow, you'll be satisfied." The dwarf grimaced and walked inside.

Soon, there was a clanging sound of rummaging boxes and cabinets inside. A few minutes later, he cautiously walked out with a black longbow.

"Zhemu bow, excellent quality, it took me two years to make it." The dwarf said proudly, he was a little reluctant to hand over his proud work, his eyes were full of reluctance, it was obvious that this was the treasure of his town.

What Cliff Harding brought out was a horned bow, a bow arm made of wood, with multiple layers of cow tendon silk on the outside, and thin slices on the inside lined with the horns of the dwarf goat peculiar to Lockmodan, and the two ends were bowbows made of the horns of the big goats, and the bowstring was made of raw sheepskin mixed with spider silk, which was strong and tough.

However, in fact, limited to the material, this hunting bow made of Zhemu can be said to be a fine longbow, but at best it is of excellent quality, not a little worse than those made of special materials, let alone those epic bows that use dragon tendons or World Tree twigs. However, it is much better than the purple shirt wooden bow in Diego's hand that came from the orc camp, of course, it is not that the purple shirt wood is better than the Zhemu - these two kinds of wood are good bow-making materials, but the orcs who made the purple shirt wooden bow are too poor in the selection of materials, not to mention the knots and knots on the bow arm, and there are even a few wormholes the size of a needle's eye at one end of the bow arm, maybe this is not the original intention of the orc bow maker, what he got may be the leftovers of the yew wood, after all, this kind of tree is a rare tree species in that world.

Diego tried, the bow pull is about eighty pounds, with his current arm strength is about the right amount, no matter how strong it is, although it can be pulled away, it will affect the rate of fire and the accuracy of hits. He gradually unloaded his strength and slowly released the bowstring.

"That's it, very good." He said with satisfaction.

Cliff asks for twenty-five gold coins, but Diego does not bargain, knowing the temper of the dwarves, who always regard their proud works as their own children and rarely sell them. He pulled out the last copper plate of his own to let the dwarf go, but his purple-shirted wooden bow was recovered by Cliff Harding for half a gold coin, which was also a part of the price.

"What a waste of wood." The dwarf held the purple-shirted wooden bow in his hand and said with a sad face.

Coming out of Cliff Harding's shop, Diego wandered around the street in a hurry, and surprisingly, Sersama didn't have a shop that sold chain mail, and the blacksmith Mohan Copperthroat was not very good at blacksmithing, and could only make some rough plate armor, which disappointed Diego somewhat.

At noon, he returned to the liquor inn, and he was a little tired. It seems that the fatigue of a long journey is not relieved by a short night's rest.

He noticed that the Night Elves hadn't gotten up yet, and the druid seemed to be deeply aware of the consequences of drunkenness.