Category: MMORPG

I hired help. I had grown weary of my search, the far corners of Creation held no clue as to his whereabouts. Only through a tenuous link to his being was I certain he remained living.

In Orgrimmar I crossed paths with a goblin keen to offer me any number of questionable services. I declined all of them save one. I parted ways with fifty gold and magically imparted a description of Squire to my hireling.

While the goblin, Soosh or Sush I cannot recall, left on my imparted Quest, I retired to one of the newer drinking establishments.

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Feralas, while pretty, was a bust. I moved onward. North into Desolace. I didn’t stop there, a cursory glance from the air told me everything I needed to know. Squire wouldn’t have come here, the grey sandy plain hid no secrets and certainly offered no adventure to a small orc boy such as Squire.

North of Desolace lay Night Elf territory. Alliance dogs prowled the forests and mountains ever vigilant. A territory I didn’t care to visit. I invoked the magicks necessary and removed myself to the Swamp of Sorrows. Days passed as I drank myself into a stupor while I considered the options.

A passing goblin merchant mentioned seeing an orc boy wandering north, beyond the Badlands. So I took to carpet and rode north. Over the swamp’s thick miasma and creeping foliage. On the coastline, at the edge of the swamp I passed Bogpaddle. A goblin ‘village’ teeming with business and activity. On the shoreline just outside town I spied a party. Mental note was made to visit this venue once i’d found Squire. He always was one for a good party.

North into Badlands, along the mountainous cliffs that faced the sea, I rode. Wind whipped my face and lashed my body, chastising me for my search. My thoughts darkened with the weather and I fought to remain focused before the oncoming melancholy I was feeling.

I rode north along the coastline. I didn’t need to venture inland to the Badlands. If I thought Squire wasn’t in Desolance for it’s barrenness, then I could be assured he wasn’t in the Badlands. A dry bowl-shaped valley teeming with hostile wildlife and ogres. Kargath was the only refuge to one such as myself and Squire was smart enough to know better than venturing someplace so dangerous.

So I rode North, into the Hinterlands..

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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.

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