I wandered amongst Feralas for some time. I was quite drunk on Cherry Grog so it’s difficult to say just how long. Days.. hours. Time itself blurred in front of me as though I were moving abnormally quickly through a painfully slowed world.
In that time I searched high and low. I’d given up my search, but not until after visiting the Ogre’s who call Dire Maul their home. Their leader, an understanding gentleman, suggested that he had seen no mention of a ‘small orc boy named Squire’. I made sure to describe his delicate hands and his immaculate appearance, the manner in which he bravely takes down my dictation.
“Nope. No see orc boy. Plenty orc. Kill few.”
I thanked the Ogre King, shared some of my Cherry Grog. We commented on it’s rich flavor for some time before I succumbed to the booze.
Hours or days.. I cannot tell. I awoke and resumed my search. It was apparent Squire wasn’t in Feralas. I know for a fact that Squire is terrified of Ogres and most things bigger than him and he has hay-fever. Feralas was teeming with plants and animals far bigger than even myself and not one of them being hypo-allergenic.
No, Feralas was a bust. I moved on.