The goblin I hired.. Some jack-fool named after a fine range of saltwater cuisine did me no good. I let him roam for two weeks before I found him drunk and passed out at the controls to a very expensive looking flying contraption I’d seen Gnomes piloting during my time with the Alliance. I was less than thrilled that my money had gotten him booze, a vehicle and not the common sense to solve a query granted by a Mage as powerful as I.
I should warn people about the smell of charred goblin and wrecked machinery near Camp Winterhoof. Should, but I won’t.
My ire spurned, I masked my form with a powerful illusion and traveled among the goblins of the South Seas in search of my diminutive green companion. This took a year, goblins are all short and green and from the air it’s hard to spot the difference. And then there’s the money.
Broke and tired of seeing things from the 3ft perspective of a greedy big-nosed flop-eared jack-fool I returned to Orgrimmar to coordinate a new search. At least I had tried to return.
A dangerously thick misty-fog crept up from the seas and I found myself utterly bewildered as I lost control of my carpet and spiraled towards what I’d hoped was the ground.