So much has happened I don’t know where to begin. Should I tell you about joining forces with guild members and taking the fight to the orcs of Redridge in a way most terrifying to behold? Should I tell you about earning enough coin to don my new tabard? About making my 20th cycle of training? Should I tell you about my early excursions into Duskwood, or meeting (and dying at the hands of) the Abomination known as Stitches when it attacked the town of Darkshire. Or what about the bizarre spectacle of a two-headed ogre standing outside Stormwind turning passersby into chickens?

All that and much more has happened since last I wrote, but what I’d really like to tell you about is a battle I just fought. It was against a band of 3 Troggs, hidden in their caves in southern Loch Modan. I want to tell you this because I want you to know what the life of a rogue is like. Besides, frankly, I’m damned proud of my accomplishments.

The mountaineers had told me taking out this band would be easy, I suppose because the Troggs weren’t as well trained as I am (I was in my 19th cycle, they in their 16th). The fact that there were 3 of them and an army of Troggs to get past first didn’t seem to factor into consideration. Officers…bah!

Just getting to the cave was something of a chore. A long narrow valley heavily patrolled by Troggs led to the opening. Often there are other adventurers here to help keep the valley clear but this night, I was alone. Slowly I worked my way up the valley, sapping Troggs and dispatching them as swiftly and silently as I was able. A few times things got out of control and I had to flee once, but eventually I had the cave mouth in sight…and it was heavily guarded.

I slipped into the shadows and silently moved past the guards. One stared right at me, and I was sure he saw me, but then he went back to scratching himself and I entered the cave. I let me eyes get used to the dimness. Troggs were everywhere. Patrolling, standing about. Everywhere.

I got out of sight of the cave mouth and went to work. Using stealth to sneak up behind one Trogg after another. Ambushing this one and Sapping that one and throwing a knife at the next. Slowly, methodically, I killed the creatures for what seemed like hours. But I could not find this band of leaders, until finally I looked up. I could see a kind of balcony up above the cave floor, and though no being could be seen on it, it seemed a likely enough spot.

I pulled out the rough map of the cave I’d been given, and saw a branch that I’d completely overlooked. I had to return almost back to the mouth of the cave to reach it, and that meant killing the reinforcements that had arrived since I’d cleared the way in. So much blood…but a soldier does what he must do, and whether Stormwind says so or not, the Peoples of the Alliance are at war; make no mistake.

Finally I drew near. The path circled upward in a broad spiral. A few last sentries fell to my daggers, and there was my prey, guarding a treasure chest. Now came the ‘easy’ part. First I sharpened my daggers and made sure I head a healing potion handy. Then I slipped up behind one of the warband and Sapped him into a stupor. His two fellows immediately attacked. No one had told me that the leader was a shaman! Bolts of energy burned me, stunned me. My life force almost spent, I quaffed a healing potion and fought on. I used all my abilities and one of the Troggs fell, but just as he did so the Sapped one shook off his stupor and engaged me. I tired to flee but it was too late. The Troggs don’t fight well but their magic is quite effective and soon I was hearing the soothing voice of a Spirit Healer.

In hindsight my mistake was not going for the leader; the shaman. I didn’t realize he was a shaman until after the fight began, but rather than stubbornly sticking to one target, I should’ve gone after him. Too late now. My ethereal form ran back to my body. Luckily not many reinforcements had arrived. I rose from the dead and immediately started to eat; you know how ravenous a reincarnation leaves you. Before I’d gotten much strength back, a Trogg reinforcement arrived and attacked. I dispatched it and ate more, finally feeling my old self. But where there was one reinforcement, there’d be others. I had to work quickly.

Sneaking back up the spiral, I saw that only two of the warband still stood. The one I’d killed lay nearby. Good. Same tactic should work again. I snuck up, Sapped the same poor devil as the first time and this time, I engaged the shaman. We fought back like a devil, showering me with burning magics. The Sapped fellow came to and now I had them both to fight, but the shaman was about done for and he dropped. Now it was one on one, but I was hurt and tired. Still, I was more experienced and I was feeling confident.

Too confident, it would seem, as the wretch looked into my eyes and turned and fled. I chased but not quickly enough. The Trogg leader had found help. Now again it was two against one. The leader fell, mission accomplished! But it’d be nice to get out alive and I was very near to not being. But then the newcomer fled. I plucked a throwing dagger free and flung it, and it caught the villain between the shoulders and it dropped…right at the feet of yet another Trogg, who charged me.

Barely alive but with a bit of wind, I gouged the eyes of the newcomer, darted behind and sunk a dagger into his back. He spun just in time for me to Eviscerated him, a great gout of blood and guts staining the wall of the cavern as the wretch dropped at my fee.

It was over. I slumped to the ground for food to sustain me and help my wounds heal. Then I looted the chest and all 5 bodies. I’d had enough killing for one day. I snuck out past many Trogg reinforcements. I thought for sure I’d have to fight but luck was with me and not a one noticed me slither past.

Back at the South Tower, I picked up my reward and was taught enough to make my 20th cycle. Now I need to find a trainer…I’m ready to learn the art of poisoning…

Had a long day full of travel and adventure. Too long to recount it all here so I’ll just touch on the details.

First, I met up with Terran who gifted me with some leatherworking patterns, and used his skills of smithing to craft me a new knife, which he gave me for a song (he asked 15 silver when his material cost was 12 silver! I gave him 20). Later in the day, Milgara gave me a nice new pair of gloves.

I entered my 18th cycle of training finally, and our guild, The Morgantis, registered a tabard pattern. Several of the ladies immediately donned our new colors and didn’t they look fine!?

From an adventuring point of view, probably the highlight was heading out to Darkshire to buy some moonshine. What a creepy place that is, and way to dangerous for the likes of me. I did find a gryphon handler out there, though, so should I need to I can fly back.

Oh! And I spent some time fishing, and got a lot better at it. I didn’t catch much besides ‘junk’ fish which sold for almost nothing, but now I can try my hand at more interesting prey in other bodies of water.

Aside from that, a ton of fighting all over Westfall and Redridge. I won’t bore you with the details other than to say it was all quite satisfying and much good was done.

During my hunt for Harvest Golems (for their oil) I stopped off at Sentinel Hill to talk to Gryan Stoutmantle, and he urged me to once again take up arms in the People’s Militia’s war on the Defias Brotherhood. He pled his case well and I agreed. He also asked that I keep an eye out for a certain messenger.

Luck was with me in the case of the Golems. I rid the fields of the monstrosities while collecting the oil needed for the Lighthouse. Then I headed to a cave Aliera had showed me. The messenger was supposed to dwell inside, and outside of it was the particular branch of the Brotherhood that Stoutmantle had sent me after.

This branch is made up entirely of mages. Have I mentioned how much I hate fighting mages? One on one they’re fine…easy even, as a swift kick to their gut will disrupt any spell they’re trying to cast. But when I have one opponent in my face and a mage starts slamming me with spells from far away well…it hurts a lot.

It soon became clear that I wasn’t going to be strong enough to fight my way into this cave alone, and I resigned myself to telling Stoutmantle I was the wrong guy for this ‘kill the messenger’ job. But I had wiped out the casters, as requested, so I headed back to let him know I wasn’t totally useless.

And who should I meet coming down the road towards me but… that Defias Messenger! We fought, briefly, and he died. I took up his parcel and carried it back to Stoutmantle, who seemed pleased enough. Then I headed back to the Lighthouse to give the ghost captain his oil.

All in all, a good day full of accomplishments. The only thing that really went bad was my fight with old Murk-Eye, a powerful murloc that the ghost captain asked me to put down. He turned out to be too powerful for me, and I had to ask the Spirit Healers for aid in coming back from beyond several times before giving up on the villain…for now.

This feeling of malaise still clings to me.

I spent the day drifting around, doing nothing in particular, and failing at that. With no direction to go but up, I found myself prowling around Westfall again. The endless fields of grain mocked me. All of Westfall feels the same. Dull. Empty, save for the hordes of adventurers all fighting for the same jobs.

Amiranda, a warrior from my guild, offered to guide me to a fellow selling a particular brew; one that a tavernkeeper out in Lakeshire wanted me to pick up some time ago. So that, at least, I got done. Then she pointed me at a lighthouse where, she said, I’d find work, and with one last warning of a huge murloc that roams the area, she went about her business.

So I swim out to this lighthouse and, heaven forbid, the shades of Darkshore have followed me! Truth, the lighthouse keeper is a spirit. A ship’s captain who drowned in these parts some time ago. He assures me he means me no harm, and I find that I believe him. What a world this is…that I’m now having perfectly civil conversations with the dead.

Anyway, it turns out that, finally, there was solid work to be had. The now-dark lighthouse needs oil to rekindle its flame and the ghost captain sends me in search of. The goblins use oil in those harvest golems, so once again its time to dissassemble those contraptions. Easy enough if I can but find them…

Darkshore was starting to get to me. Too many bears, not enough taverns. So I boarded ship and headed back to Menethil Harbor, and from there a gryphon ride had me back in the Loch in time for lunch. Much faster than the trip out!

I spent most of my day idling. I cooked a bit, worked on my leathercraft and spoke to friends. When I ran out of leather I swam out to one of the islands in the Loch to hunt crocollisks. These are much smaller than the ones that live in the Wetlands and their skin makes good armor. While I was out there, I thinned out a tribe of Troggs for the Mountaineers, too.

I was swimming back to the mainland, thinking all was well, when a huge amphibious creature attacked me! I barely got a look at it since I was swimming to save my life. I don’t know what it is…but something besides fish and crocs is living in that Loch. Luckily, that something seems not inclined to come ashore.

While speaking to the dwarves who run things, I heard about a cave of Ogres that are causing trouble. I’ll have to find some friends to put that to rights, though. What I could help with was a dynamite shipment. A pair of stout fellows had headed to the quarry already, and I was urged to catch up to them.

Good that I did, too, since as I ran up I saw the two were under attack from a band of thugs. They hadn’t counted on reinforcements in the form of a rogue who’s getting tired of seeing people being bullied. Trapped between myself and the dwarves defending their cargo, we made short work of them. But the wagon was ruined. One of the dwarves set out carrying the barrels of gunpowder, and they asked if I might tag along to see that it got there.

It did, but the fellow was muttering something fierce, all in dwarvish so I have no idea what it was he said. All I know is, the gunpowder arrived safely and that was the end of my job there.

The rest of the day was fairly unfocused. There’re some Trogg leaders that need to be put down, but I couldn’t find them and the cave where they were supposed to dwell was already crowded with other adventurers searching for the pair. I decided I could do more good elsewhere, so headed back to Thelsamar for the evening.

I’m not sure where next to go. Dwarves haven’t much for me to do now; least of all, not things I can do on me own. I’ll head back to Stormwind, I expect. See what the state of affairs is there.

First time I’ve felt so…unfocused.

When I broke camp today I was still haunted by the events of yesterday. I decided to give myself a bit of a holiday and take it easy.

There was a fellow in Auberdine looking for mushrooms. Well that seemed like a pleasant way to idle away a day, picking mushrooms. When will I ever learn?

These mushrooms grow only in a single cave behind a towering waterfall. I found the path leading to the cave (and if you go, be wary…the banks of the river are steep indeed and if you jump in you’ll have to swim a good ways downstream before you can clamber out) and despaired. All along the path were corpses.

It turns out that these caves are inhabited by an amphibious race that are perhaps distant cousins of murlocs. These are bigger and more fierce, and have powerful magics, which I learned through direct experience. Well, travelling in ethereal form was relaxing, at the least. 🙂

When I got back into my skin, a stranger invited me to join forces with him. He was also a rogue of about the same level of training as I, and I discovered that a duo of rogues makes a mighty fighting unit. We Sliced and Diced, we Backstabbed, we Sapped and we Garotted and soon we’d made it to the back of the cave where a lone human dwelled, apparently unmolested by (and so no doubt in league with) the denizens of this foul place. I picked my last mushroom…one that only seems to grow way back in this deepest, dankest room. The fellow I was with seemed to need something off the corpse of the human; I did not ask why.

Now that it was time to leave, we were dismayed to find we’d been cut off by reinforcements. Too many, it turned out. We fled, but neither of us made it to the mouth of the cave. I was cut down with a glint of daylight in my eyes. So close…

After the spirit healer sent me out to recover the corporeal form, I decided spending an idle day in Darkshore means sitting in town wishing for a tavern so you have a mug or three. I’m about ready to return to the land of pretty serving wenches, warm fires, and foaming pints of ale.

<shudder>

I don’t expect you to believe what I am about to relate. I wouldn’t believe it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I left Thelsamar in Loch Modan, headed for Menethil Bay. Mountaineers Gravelgaw and Wallbang urged me to stay to hunt Troggs but wanderlust was getting the better of me and I could not be stayed.

Menethil Bay is in an area called The Wetlands. I’d heard little about it and wasn’t sure what to expect. I followed a winding road out of the Loch, through tunnels that seemed to turn back on themselves. This is where I got my first surprise.

Orcs! Orcs on the road, mere leagues from the Loch! Big, nasty brutes, and I am ashamed to say I was glad to see adventurers stronger than I battling them so I wouldn’t have to. I’d had no idea there were orcs on Azeroth, but as I was headed for Kalimdor I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that orcs have made the reverse trip.

When finally I left the last tunnel and set foot in The Wetlands it was with great relief. Relief that was short lived as I consulted my map. I still had far to go over uncertain terrain, with no aid to be hoped for. Steeling myself, I set off at an easy jogging pace.

The road was in decent repair and reasonably safe. Great lizards lounged in the sun not far off. Lizards with row upon row of sharp teeth. Crocolisks! I’d seen a trainer with one once but I’d never seen them in the wild. Some of them looked hungry. I gave them a wide berth…

Well, all but one. Suddenly a pain shot up my leg. A young croc I hadn’t noticed had taken a fancy to me. I say “young” but it was much bigger than I. Never mistake me for a warrior! I put on a burst of speed, using all my tricks of evasion and dodging and happily soon left the hungry reptile in the dust.

Not much later I encountered a croc hunter. A swarthy fellow who showed no fear among these beasts. He asked me to carry a bundle of hides into town since he wanted to avoid going home. Crocs he had no fear of, but his wife was another matter entirely! Ho! I gladly took the bundle and went on my way.

The rest of the trip was filled with much anxiety but was otherwise uneventful. One bridge, in particular, was littered with the corpses of those who’d come before me. I stopped and studied the nearby bushes, the surface of the water…seeking danger and finding none. Finally a ran across the bridge; the quiet was unbroken. Whatever had killed these poor souls had departed.

Menethil Bay, it turns out, is quite a bustling seaport and it was good to get a chance to catch my breath. I didn’t stay long, though. I’ll have to explore if further another time. I delivered the bundle of hides, got some coin for my trouble and headed to the docks to take ship across the sea to Darkshore in Kalimdore.

Of that journey, I recall nothing. [The boat ride across the sea isn’t in the game yet so you just teleport across. -dc]

I arrived in the town of Auberdine in Darkshore. Another bustling seaport, this one filled with Night Elves. They are a curious people when seen going about their normal business. I never saw a single child. I know they are long lived but surely they must have some children? There were fewer shops than I would’ve expected and I never did find an inn or tavern.

But work, that I found. I was sent to investigate some ruins. There was, I was told, a strange blue light that kept demons at bay. Not liking the sound of that much, I headed into the forest.

Bears! Ye gods, there are more bears in Darkshore than there are trees! Aggressive brutes, they are, and I had to kill more than a few as I made my way to the ruins.

As to the ruins and these ‘demons’ well, demons they may be, but the grells seem like flesh and blood to me. Shortish gangly creatures. Thinking on it, I suppose they do have some similarity to that Imp that Keenie summons. They are not strong, though, and my blades cut them down swiftly as I made my way to the blue light.

And that is how I met Asterion. The light was his prison. How long he’d been there I cannot say, but I got the feeling he’d been there for many lives of men. And he wanted me to free him. His words were fair but I still felt uneasy, yet still I did his bidding, killing an odd half-horse, half-man creature to get a Seal from it.

Asterion then sent me south to another ruins to annoint this seal is some supernatural flame I’d found there. At this point I was thinking how much I missed the Defias Brotherhood. Immortal elves emprisoned in magic cells are outside my normal scope of operations.

But things were about to get worse.

Because what wandered the other set of ruins but…ghosts. I kid you not. Ethereal beings floated about, wailing their torment and causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. How does one kill a ghost? I approached the first…the shade of a beautiful high elf maid. Taking a deep breath and expecting to be struck dead, I attacked her. And found that ghosts do bleed, after a fashion. At least, my daggers bit something and she vanished, but not before chilling my blood with her screams.

Feeling a bit more confident I moved forward, dispatching these beings to their final rest while collecting the corrupt trinkets they carried for later destruction. Eventually I got the seal to the flame and annointed it. My work here done, I slipped out of the ruins and returned to Asterion.

Hesitantly, I used the Seal to free him from his cell. I half expected him to reward me with a painful death, but he did not, though before going on his way he did mention getting revenge on his captor, who still lived (how long is the lifespan of these creatures)? I still do not know if I’ve unleashed an evil on the world or not.

At this point my nerves were frayed and my body fatigued. I headed back to Auberdine and found a quiet corner. Rolling up in my cloak I settled down to write this journal entry, and now I will sleep. There is more to be done here. I hope that it will not entail more encounters with the supernatural denizens of this world, but I suspect it will.

Tomorrow I shall discover what a “furbolg” is…

I always find flying over The Burning Steppes and The Cauldron unsettling. I can’t help but imagine what would become of me if the gryphon decided to land and dump me amid the horrors that call these areas home. When we cross the ridgeline and enter Dun Morogh I always let out a sigh of relief.

The dwarves care not for the Defias Brotherhood. They’ve got problems of their own: Troggs. These primitive beings breed like rabbits, and while the dwarf graybeards say that in days past they were a reclusive people that kept to themselves, that is certainly no longer the case. The Troggs today are aggressive to the point of madness, flinging themselves into battle at the mere sight of a traveller.

The second leg of my journey carried me over a quarry where I saw many dwarf adventurers fighting swarms of these creatures. I should’ve come to this place earlier as these noble dwarves are clearly in need of aid. Naught to be done now; I can’t change the past.

As soon as the gryphon alights in Loch Modan I set out to see what can be done to help, and soon enough I find the task is simple enough. Kill Troggs. Lots and lots of Troggs. The Captain of the South Tower assigns me the grisly task of returning with 20 of their teeth as proof that I’ve done the deed. I take a deep breath, calming the anger that rises in response to the implied insult; am I not to be trusted, then? Well, I suppose I am looking a bit rough around the edges these days, and the world is full of deceipt.

My mood is lightened when I encounter Milgara, a dwarf paladin of my aquaintence. She too is working for the Captain and, without really speaking of the matter, we join forces. She knows an out of the way camp of Troggs that has been overlooked by most adventurers, and the Troggs there are gathering strength unmolested. We mean to put a stop to that.

We swim across the Loch to a small island. On the way we are assailed by a small but rather fierce fish. The beast is quickly dispatched but fighting underwater was a new experience. Had it been a longer battle I’m not sure my breath would’ve held out.

Milgara is impressed by the speed of my daggers. I’m impressed by the might of her arm and her powers of healing. We seem to complement each other well and the first few Troggs we encounter fall swiftly. Then things get interesting.

I’m surprised to find that the Troggs, some of them at least, have some skill at magic. And magic, as it turns out, hurts. But the job must be done no matter the personal cost. The trick is isolating the Troggs and taking them out a few at a time. They’re not very smart, and a sting from my thrown daggers is enough to send one running enraged at us, away from the aid of his companions. These brutes are killed as swiftly and humanely as possible.

But the Troggs with magic (called Seers) aren’t so foolish. They stay back and fire bolts of energy at us. If we move close to engage, all their companions swarm over us. Learning this costs us a few trips back from beyond. I’ve never traveled in ethereal form with a companion before. Turns out Milgara’s shade leaves a very pretty trail. Heh.

Eventually we learn to trick the Troggs. One of us hides while the other stings a Trogg Seer then runs out of range of its bolts. It will then pursue, taking it far enough from its fellows that we can isolate it. Still its a dodgy business at best, and I must confess that I was happy when my sack held 20 of the teeth I was sent to fetch.

A few particular encounters are worth noting. Once, in a moment of out-of-place levity, I used an explosive rocket to rile up a pair of Seers, just to try and get a rise out of Milgara. Instead, it got a rise out of the Seers and the resulting battle was painful, but I still must confess that I’m glad I did it. Rockets are fun!

And once, I used my powers of stealth to hide myself competely. Milgara stirred up a tight pack of four of the Seers, then ran past where she knew I was hiding. As the Seers passed me by, I rapped them each on the back of the head, sending them to dreamland while we fought their companions. That worked rather well and I’d like to practice the technique more.

At any rate, the job done we swam back to town (fighting more of those nasty fish on the way) and turned in our teeth. But the work here isn’t done. There are bigger, strong Trogg that need to be run off the Loch. And I’ll come back to help with that someday, but first…

Milgara spoke to me of a land she’s heard of called Darkshore. Apparently its where the Night Elves come from. The trip there from Loch Modan is frought with danger for one as young as I, but still…my curiosity will be my undoing!

I camped for the night to rest up. In the morning I’ll be seeking this land of Darkshore. I do not know that I will survive the trip, but I cannot resist the lure of seeing new places and having new adventures. After all, isn’t that what life is all about?

I’ve decided to keep this journal in the hopes that it will help those who come after me. In these times of turbulence, we must all do what we can to help each other.

Doing just that was what found me in Westfall, helping the People’s Militia out there. I was in my 14th cycle of training in my craft (I am…an aquirer, shall we say. Night work, much of it) and found myself on an odd side of the conflict. The Defias gang seemed to be waging war against the honest folk all around Westfall and the Elwynn Forest. And though I had all the skills to help me fit in with Defias, here I was fighting against them. Who says there’s no honor among thieves?

I’d been working Westfall for several cycles, actually. Destroying these crazy harvester golems (which I later learned had been built by goblins but set in place by, you guessed it, the Defias again), fighting the Gnoll Infestation, and at the same time doing a good deal of hunting for my own purposes. Those Goretusk Boars have hides that are excellent for leatherworking, and their livers can be baked into a delicious pie.

Anyway, my current task was to hunt down a band of Defias Trappers. These were wily foes. Not particularly strong, but clever. They’ll toss nets over your head, and they’ve got a knack for disarming their opponents. Let me tell you, fighting under a net with no weapon is not fun. Thank goodness the Spirit Binders of the realm like me well enough to bring be back when evil tries to send me to the other side.

My best course of action was sneaking up behind them, using my powers of stealth, and using a garotte on them. Seeing someone choking to death while slicing them up with my twin daggers isn’t fun, but its effective, and these people were evil, after all. They made their bed….let ’em lie in it.

A few times I’d be tangled up in their net when one of them would run for help. That’s when I was thankful I’d put all that time into learning to throw daggers. More than once I prevented disaster with a dagger between their shoulder blades.

At any rate, after a good bit of fighting I’d taken out enough of these trappers to please the fellow commanding the People’s Militia, and he taught me enough that I entered into my 15th cycle of training. And I was sick to death of the prairie of Westfall.

The Commander knew a guy in some town called Lakeshire, and needed a message taken to him. I had no idea where Lakeshire was, but anything was better than more running around in rye grass, so I volunteered.

Turns out Lakeshire is in foothills of the Redridge Mountains. It was a long run out there, but meeting up with my good friend Keenie broke up the monotony. I’d picked up a nice pair of gloves for the lass. We met up at the bridge near the Logging Camp. She got gloves, I got an eyeful of Keenie, so we were both happy. With that demon of hers chaperoning I wasn’t about to try for anything more than a good ogle. *wink!*

Lakeshire turned out to be buzzing with activity. They’ve got a huge bridge thats in repair, so lots of workers and industry going on. I took on quite a few jobs out there and even completed a few, including diving to the bottom of the lake to recover a lost tool kit. No one told me there were vile murlocs in there. Luckily I’m a good swimmer…

The commander’s “friend” Wiley turned out to be yet another fellow rogue, and he was *not* pleased to see me, but he did give me the information the commander wanted. So after doing some favors for a saucy barmaid (who, sadly, already had a man in her life) it was time to head back to Westfall.

It was my good fortune that a Gryphon trainer had opened shop in Lakeshire, so I decided to splurge on a ride back to Stormwind, the capital city of we humans. There are times when I detest Stormwind, and times when I love it. This time, I loved it. The chaos of all the adventurers shouting out their auction terms was invigorating (when it normally just gives me a headache). Soon enough I was swept up in the energy of it. I sold several stacks of linen cloth and a stack of light leather armor, and bought myself some new armor from a fetching mage named Xiv.

But duty called, and it was back out to Westfall Hills for me. On the way I snuck into Hidden Valley, a retreat of some of the younger members of the Defias gang. Silly pups never saw me as I threaded my way through them to where two guarded a treasure chest. I sapped one and while he was napping I slew his sidekick. She fell just as the first woke up, and now they’re guarding a chest in Hell somewhere. On this side of The Great Divide, the chest they’d been guarding was full of junk. Ah well.

At any rate, I got back to the commander and give him Wiley’s note. And damned if he wouldn’t believe it. Officers are truly a plague on mankind. So now what did he want? For me to take this note to someone in the Assasin’s Guild in Stormwind! ARGH! So back I went, got confirmation from this fellow and took it back yet again to the commander. Well, I guess war isn’t all about battle and glory. At least I got plenty of hunting done amongst all this message delivering.

Footweary, I decided to camp for the night. Frankly I’m sick to death of the commander and the Defias gang. Commander wants me to nab a messenger that runs a route down along the road to the next town in Westfalls, and there’re some Defias Pillagers that need ousting, but me, I ‘m a free spirit. When I break camp I’m going to ride a Gryph to Loch Modan. I’ve got some contacts there and I know I can find plenty of work helping the dwarves in their struggle against Troggs. And me, I need green fields, streams and lakes. I have enough and more of Westfall’s golden waves of grain.