Dun Morogh is frozen in time.
S1. E1. (World of Warcraft)
When you step into Dun Morogh it’s striking how cold and white it all is.
The air is so thin that if you couldn’t see it coming out of your mouth you’d doubt there was even an atmosphere. The snow doesn’t just sit on the hills, it seems to have engulfed them entirely.
Snow covers the roofs, the branches, and the tops of the stones set into the walls along the paths. It's so thick it forces you to double take on which direction to go in. You decide only because of faint footsteps which run like a backstitch across the shifting white dunes.
The sheer scale of it is oppressive, but as an introduction to this world, it is perfect.
On the walk from Coldridge Valley in the south east to the mountain gates in the north west, the skyline signals inaccessible outlines of trees. These hints on the horizon give the feeling that something strange is happening just off the piste.
The snowpack flattens everything around you, and like a settled snowglobe, invites you to take action. What would happen if you meandered your way off the cobblestones past the pines and into the woods? If you gave the glass a good shake and took a risk?
Then, as you’re about to give into that urge, the town of Kharanos reveals itself flat in the mist. The half-a-dozen houses here are heavy hewn stone built deep into the ground. Unlike the fires outside, on the brink of extinguishing, inside they fill the room like tea poured into a cup. The music warms you with each toe tap as you sit in long chairs, drink from deep mugs of ale and pick at various cheeses, breads and meats.
But there is a ticking timer to this hospitality. Every dwarf you speak to urges you back outside to help secure animal skins, food, and supplies. This place is perpetually restocking, and every conversation is a reminder of the danger outside.
They’ve found a way to live among the snow, which, despite its depth, rarely falls anymore. They explain that you can’t let permanence paralyse you. It will be here when you leave and there when you return. So, as soon as you’re warm again, it’s time to head back out.
Take the path out of town along the frozen river. On the short journey you’ll discover the hidden horrors under the soft blanket of Dun Morogh.
You avoid panthers, wolves, and bears. You sprint past caves that echo skin-crawling screeches. You see mines overrun with grotesque beasts, find mangled corpses, and meet fringe settlements desperate for help. You see rope bridges with icy beards, the hint of troll tents hidden from view round a contoured corner. Nowhere is safe, but the combined hostility of the environment and enemies makes this place much, much more dangerous than it looks.
But keep safe and keep walking and the silence will soon bring serenity. In the west is Iceflow Lake, where, in the rockpools of the meltwater, you can find perspective. A floating tree log and an abandoned boat cast shadows onto a marooned shoal of fish. But watch the water for too long and the winds change, carrying the smell of oil and death from the collapsed city of the gnomes.
Further east you run past frozen farms, take in flats with long views, and see smoke billow from distant houses. There are docks built on icy tides preserved in time and abandoned airfields with ramshackle runways long out of use.
At the end of the road are the great doorways of the mountain passes. These long tunnels, carved by ancient freshet, are now lined with metal and secured with stone, and lead to more temperate climates.
Despite this, the dwarves and gnomes never leave. You might think they’re trapped. By the weather, by challenged borders, and by their own stubbornness. But this is their home, and Dun Morogh is a testament to survival. Build deep into the earth and bury yourself against the relentless cold. Live on a frozen lake at the end of a frozen river in a place of permanent snow.
Every inch of this space feels hard won. A victory against the everlasting enemy of the elements.
And nothing exemplifies this victory more than Ironforge itself. A fortress carved out of the side of a mountain, heated by an active volcano. Looking up at it you can’t help but feel the presence of the city, watching over you with great orange eyes as gryphons fly in and out of its yawning mouth.
But despite its size it is not reassuring. Because although unaffected by the wind and snow and rain, it can also do nothing to stop it, and can never step in to help you. It's just another impressive reminder that you are ultimately on your own.
Dun Morogh is a place so dominated by one colour, by one sensation, by one season, that it could easily become dull. But its magic is precisely in its overwhelming ubiquity. Because although it makes you feel small, it also makes you aware of your weight. Each audible crunch reminds you that you are a person.
A person who, just like footprints in the snow, can make an impression on the world.
This is essay one in a set of six travel essays about World of Warcraft and Azeroth. To read the rest click here. For information on future seasons and games click here.