Haven’t the people of this land learned from the lessons of the past? Ancient evils are best left buried and undisturbed. On my travels southward from Darkshore to Astranaar, I was asked to investigate a dig site where the Twilight Hammer faction is trying to unearth and summon one of the Old Gods, Soggoth the Slitherer. What madness is this! Fortunately, with the aid of the druids from the Grove of Ancients, I was able to greatly impede the progress made to bring such an abomination to life.
As I recovered from my wounds after battling the Twilight Hammer, I was presented with more chances to help the surrounding land continue its recovery. With some effort, many of the nearby Blackwood Furbolg tribe were cleansed of their affliction brought to them by the fel satyrs. I must send word back to the chieftain of the Stillpine tribe as he had warned me of other furbolg tribes that may not be as welcoming as his.
While exploring the eastern hills, I met Sentinel Aynasha, a night elf ambushed and injured by wayward furbolgs on her way to Lor’danel to deliver an important message. Barely able to stand from the poisoned wound she suffered, I defended her while she applied an antidote as wave after wave of furbolgs tried to reach us through a narrow defile. Making good use of the fire trap trick I recently learned from Hunter Shaniri, I was able to channel their attacks so their great numbers did not matter. Although injured, Aynasha aided our defense with her bow, expertly wielded, as she let loose shaft after unerring shaft into the charging furbolgs. Through the sounds of battle, I could hear her shouts. “One shot. One kill!” And she was seldom wrong. As we parted ways after the battle, she implored I speak with those at Maestra’s Post, just inside Ashenvale to tell them of her survival and her continued task to Lor’danel further north. Before I could say much more, she had disappeared into the thicket displaying an uncanny skill of movement and stealth.
As I prepared to take my leave of the druids I had to repeatedly refuse their gifts of weapons and armor in order to stay true to my vow. However, their gift of gratitude and friendship is something I willingly take with me. I journeyed towards the shore after leaving the druids.
That evening, I approached an encampment that serves as the base for three dwarven archeologists from the Explorer League that Prospector Nachlan, the dwarf I met while at Bloodwatch, mentioned I might meet during my travels in Darkshore. After our introductions, it was obvious that the younger two archeologists have a definite respect and admiration for the elder leader, Prospector Remtravel. What fine company these dwarves are. They shared their simple meal, with each bite punctuated with a strong pull from a skin of strong ale. Very soon we were sharing stories of adventures on the road, laughing uproariously into the night. They made me promise that if my travels ever take me to their beloved city, Ironforge in the Eastern Kingdoms, that I would visit their faction within the city.
In the morning, as I promised the evening before, I proceeded to clear out the flooded dig of murlocs that have taken over the area after being displaced from their homes. This particular task proved a challenge as the murlocs were quite reluctant to leave. Many swarmed against me and insisted on trying to drown and eat me while I battled in the flooded dig site. Fortunately, I prevailed again but only after suffering deep wounds that needed several bandages to staunch the blood. Back at the camp, the dwarves looked on with interest noting how Draenai blood seems to glow blue in the daylight.
We realized that the problem of murlocs occupying the dig site will continue despite any effort to evict them. Prospector Remtravel mentioned that he had written down an idea for a solution to this problem in his journal, but he seems to have forgotten where he had placed it. Sure that the journal was mistakenly left somewhere during his many exploratory walks, Prospector Remtravel asked me repeatedly, each time calling me by a different name, to accompany him in his search. I must say that our saying of “All who wander is not lost…,” may not apply to Remtravel. After half a day’s walk, we found ourselves back at our starting point, with the supposedly lost journal clearly visible on a nearby barrelhead. Junior Acheologist Ferd begged for my indulgence as he related his mentor’s past achievements and ongoing forgetfulness.
The solution for the murloc problem involved one of substitution. Since the murlocs no longer have a home, why don’t we help them find another far from where we do not want them to be? With that in mind, I helped scour the shore for any salvageable debris that could be used to build a murloc shelter. Archeologist Groff had a site already defined on firm sand on a beach from the dig site as I gather the last bits of materials. The work felt good, different from my recent actions of violence and destruction. The day cleared to reveal a cerulean sky dotted with bits of white. As there was no immediate danger, I took this as a chance to shed my armor and work unimpeded. Prizrak sat far from the water’s edge, barely visible under the shade, with a puzzled look questioning why all this effort to build murloc hovels.
Finally, the buildings were complete. I gathered my things to join Archeologist Groff under the shade. He and I wait in anticipation as the first murloc, and then another, and yet even more, approached the buildings. What curious creatures, these murlocs. I’ve since learned to ignore their comical gurgling, their way of communicating with each other. Singly, they pose very little threat, but in droves can certainly do great harm. I must always remember that despite their appearance, they are dangerous.
Groff and I look back at the beach. Even more murlocs have gathered, seemingly admiring the buildings, hovels, really. To call them buildings gives more credit to the barely upright structures than they are worth. A worried look crossed Groff’s brow as we looked on at the ever expanding collection of murlocs. Seemingly adopting the idea, some have even begun to gather more materials to build more huts. The building activity grows amid a loud chorus of gurgling. Is that the sound of a happy murloc? Noting the ever increasing number of murlocs on the beach, I heard Groff mutter worriedly under his breath. “What have I done…” I clap him soundly on the shoulders. “Groff,” I stated heartily, “I think you just found your diggers for your next site!” He did not look amused as we headed back to camp.
Astranaar calls, uncle, and I am answering her call. I will spend one more night with my newfound friends, the dwarves of the Explorer’s League, to then again to resume my travels.
I end this post to you with the warmest thoughts and regards.
I remain, your nephew.
TLDR. The quests with a built in story are the most satisfying. Take the time to read the text and enjoy the scenery. Go too fast and you’ll sure to miss some good stuff. Don’t agro too many murlocs, or bears, or furbolgs.