<The trinket's fine brass exterior is inlaid with intricate filigree, though much of the detail has been battered by rocks and waves. Clearing away the grime and salt encrusting the clasp, you manage to open it.
It is a compass--or was, at least. The glass face is shattered, the needle bent, unmoving.
Set into the lid is a portrait. The paint is faded and waterlogged, but the subject is unmistakable: the face of a young Anduin Wrynn.>