> Recall that your mother was essentially right about your never amounting to anything, and hurl yourself into the abyss.
This world is just too fucked up for you to go on, it's nothing but grind grind, grind, shoot, shoot, shoot, and then at the end of the day, what do you have? A repair bill, an empty ammo pouch and a cat who won't stop nagging you to stuff more goddamned meat down his throat.> Wonder aloud how come the narrator doesn't know that hunter pets don't have loyalty levels anymore, but then realize the narrator has only ever played two classes.
You're getting off this merry-go-round!
You get a good running start and hurl yourself with your eyes tightly closed into the abyss.
You sail through space and smack face first into the ground.
You open your eyes and look around. You don't appear to have gone anywhere.
Scratchfever is staring at you with some measure of awe. He did not know you had the ability to throw yourself off of cliffs and then land exactly where you leaped from.
Scratchfever is dutifully impressed, as that is a far more useful talent than merely Landing On Your Feet.
(Scratchfever has gained 1 level of loyalty! Scratchfever is now your: Bosom Companion)
You waste some time talking to yourself, because nobody else is around to listen to you.>Congratulate the narrator on ironic humor using clearly-recognizable out-of-date hunter pet mechanics.
Scratchfever gazes adoringly at you, pleased that you recently allowed him to un-learn Cower (rank 4) and finally got around to upgrading his Bite, which had been (rank 3) for far too long.
I don't know how to congratulate the narrator on ironic humor using clearly-recognizable out-of-date hunter pet mechanics.> Play an amusing game of naughts and crosses with Scratchfever while you wait for dark.
Sadly, Scratchfever's new-found adoration for you does not override his competitive, feline instincts and he crushes you swiftly in each match.> Examine the unsettling shapes with a finger on the Feign Death but -- er, mentally preparing to mimic death if anything suspicious arises.
The score stands at 23-2 in his favor. He let you win once because he felt bad for you, your other win you blatantly cheated to get but he was too polite to call you on it.
You have successfully wasted enough time for darkness to fall.
The sun sets over Durotar, or at least the part of Durotar that still actually exists. Shadows lengthen in the canyon behind you, painting stark, unsettling images all along the walls.
You are so ready to flop like a champion flopper whose sole purpose in this or any life is to flop like he means it, hard and fast, all day and all night.> ?
You will even void your bowels if necessary. You are so ready to void your bowels.
The menacing shadows, however, remain securely on the canyon walls precisely where they are cast, and do not attempt to molest your person.
Scratchfever is eying you with no small measure of disgust. Afraid of the dark? Oh come on now.
(Scratchfever has lost 1 level of loyalty! Scratchfever is now your: Steadfast Chum)
It's just shadows. Shadows. That's all they are. You're looking at the rocks casting them, they're just shadows.
There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of here, it's just Illidan screwing around again, or it's those Dalaran maniacs playing merry hell with the laws of time and space yet again, or else it's something, anything, any number of things that could possibly happen in this ridiculous world you live in.
Thrall will make a speech and Garrosh will act like a surly little child and Jaina will say something vaguely naive and then poof, everything will be just like how it was.
It's just shadows. There's nothing to be afraid of here.
Your hands tremble only slightly as you unhook your rifle from its sheath on your back. The sound of the bullet ratcheting into its chamber gives you some measure of comfort.
HELP FILE - Warning! File corrupted! Errors found!> /target Gamon
Thank you for playing 'You awaken in Razor Hill', an exciting new adventure from the makers of 'You read a book in the Silvermoon City public library' and the bestselling 'You had way too much to drink last night in Ironforge.'
1) SO YOU'VE JUST WOKEN UP
You've likely discovered that you're low on ammo, you have no food and only enough water to wash the Shoveltusk Musk off your leg, and there's nothing and no-one either in sight or on your Tracking.
DON'T PANIC! First and foremost, before you do anything else, it is enormously important that you (@#^SASD!@??]}!@#]KDSK871 atchfever may protest, but it is imperative that you cont *$@#7&$@KM000000044Epl/?#@?kk a#$ n though you may not have one on you, you should do your best to fi (*@$IJJ$@!N_)KD.............. .............. .............. .............. .............. ..............
Gamon! That backstabbing son of a Furbolg, he's got to be behind this, somehow!> L (Check Quest Log)
You resolve to shoot him several times more than is absolutely necessary the next time you murder him for no reason whatsoever.
QUEST LOG (2/25)> Camp until daybreak.
*The Warchief must be informed of this at once!
Razor Hill is a ghost town and Durotar appears to be devoid of all life. You need to get to Orgrimmar and inform the Warchief. At once.
The only problem is that Orgrimmar doesn't appear to currently exist.
You're not sure what reward this quest will net you, but it is sure to be a doozy.
*Mister Monster Likes to Dance
This is an old quest you've had sitting in your logs since at least the last expansion and probably longer. You're not sure why you've never abandoned it.
It appears to be the midway point of a very long chain. You can't precisely recall where it began and have never really been sure how to proceed. The Quest Text is a bizarre jumble of Role-Played flavor text that doesn't seem to make much sense at all.
It probably made sense in the context of the quest chain, but you can't actually remember doing any part of it.
Yes sir, when the world goes crazy on you, the best thing to do is just sit there, out in the open, until there is just absolutely no light anywhere.> Nervously loop through to Track Everything, including Things that Aren't Usually on Azeroth.
No, seriously, finding shelter in a suddenly alien landscape is for little girls. Real men sit with their backs to bottomless cliffs and wait until it is so pitch black, they cannot see more than a few feet in front of their face.
It is dark out.
The canyon before you yawns open, filled with abyssal darkness, the kind that shifts around deep in caves and at the bottom of the ocean, where light has never touched. Thick, inky darkness that will swallow up a torch like a little kid faced with a bucket of candy.
Scratchfever looks upon you with joy in his heart. Like a true cat, you have waited for the oily blackness to shroud your every movement. You two together shall be like wrathful ghosts stalking the shadows. He is proud to have your name next to his in his nameplate.
(Scratchfever has gained 2 levels of loyalty! Scratchfever is now your: Best Friend Forever!)
You are positive you are hearing noises. There are noises coming from that canyon right in front of you. The one that is full of nothing but darkness, that one. Noises are coming from it. You are sure of it.
You strain to hear, but you can't really make it out, it is just beyond or just beneath your Keen Eyes and Heightened Senses.
Track Beasts is still coming up blank.
You swap to Track Humanoids, which is still empty.> Feign Death
You hesitate for a good long time before you swap to Track Hidden, but it is thankfully completely empty.
So is Demons, which was also a source of great consternation.
You swap to Track Giants and Elementals, because why not, and Dragonkin because you're pretty sure this is exactly what Malygos was trying to do. Still nothing.
Then you swap to Track Undead and your senses light up like a Christmas tree. If your minimap was a physical object and not just a gaming abstraction, you could use the light of all those blips like a flashlight. You do not have an accurate number for the amount of undead you are apparently standing in, right now, but there are easily hundreds in your immediate vicinity.
It sure is a good thing you sat out here until it got so dark.
THE TIME HAS COME.> Cast Eyes of the Beast and send Scratchfever to investigate the source of the noise.
Your gargle on your own larynx, clutch your throat like your entire esophagus has spontaneously transmuted into cyanide and pitch yourself face-first into the dirt.
There is silence for a very long time, following which nothing happens.
The six minutes Feign Death allots you begin to pass swiftly and uneventfully.
You're absolutely positive you are hearing some kind of noise, but it's impossible to make out. It could very likely just be the wind roaring peacefully through the canyon trail to Razor Hill.
Not entirely sure if anything was especially convinced of your masterful Feigning of Death, you elect to ruin the illusion by sitting up, staring at Scratchfever and concentrating hard.> cancel Eyes of the Beast
Scratchfever whimpers. He hates this part.
You force your consciousness into his mind, sending his own into some kind of limbo, rendering him fully conscious but powerless to act. You flex out his claws. Alright then, time to see in some abyssal darkness.
You turn Scratchfever's head towards the canyon leading back towards Razor Hill and are immediately dismayed to learn that cats can't actually see in the dark, their eyes can simply pick up much fainter light than a human's. There is absolutely no light, faint or otherwise, in the canyon beyond.
You pilot your cat like an old pro, keeping him low to the ground and pressed against the canyon wall and send him to investigate noises you are absolutely positive you are hearing right now.
Shuffling. Like cloth brushing against stone. You are definitely hearing cloth on stone, you are not imagining it, of this, you are absolutely positive.
Leaving your comatose body behind, you pilot Scratchfever into the canyon.
You get about three feet down the path before you find yourself wholly engulfed in the sort of ink-black darkness that only exists in comic books. Looking up, you cannot even see the stars in the sky.
That shuffling noise is coming from all directions now, literally everywhere at once. You turn your cat wildly in all directions.
Echoes. That's what's happening. You're in a narrow stone canyon and the sounds are echoing. That's why you can't get a good bead on where it's coming from. That's why it feels like it is coming from all around you at once. That has to be it.
You try to press on, but in turning about you are no longer certain which direction onward is.
You, piggybacking in Scratchfever's mind, are hopelessly lost in the darkness.
You cancel the channel, abandoning your Best Friend Forever in the Abyssal Darkness.--
As Scratchfever is an indeterminate distance from you and doesn't actually know which direction leads back towards you, he quietly despawns, engulfed in the shadows.
(Scratchfever has lost 25% Happiness!
Scratchfever's Happiness is now 50%.
Scratchfever is Definitely Hungry.
Scratchfever has despawned.)
Lore Nerd. Role Player. Raid Leader. Discipline Priest. Slightly Annoying. Also Likes Kittens.