Dear mum and dad,
Well, I seem to have landed up in the less-entirely-hospitable-than-I-would-have-liked continent of Northrend. You see, I was approached by some representatives of our mighty Warchief Thrall, who asked me if I would be willing to participate in a little scouting "expedition."
The first warning sign should have been the way they said "expedition," complete with air-quotes. They do not appear terribly accustomed to subterfuge. In any event, they made their case and I agreed.
Also, they gave me sandwiches. Really nice ones with pork and just enough gravy so's you can taste it, but not so much that the bread goes all soggy.
The zeppelin ride over was largely uneventful, apart from when a gang of pirates attempted to board us. This did not go so well for them considering that we were in a zeppelin and they in a boat. But I must give the Bloodsail Buccaneers credit for enthusiasm, if not for deductive reasoning.
After several hours of flying north, we arrived at the Forsaken port of Vengeance Landing in the Howling Fjord. Various persons had informed me that this place represented the first look at the Forsaken's own style of architecture, and thus was an important milestone in their cultural development.
However, I cannot help but think that they did not design their buildings with conventional properties such as structural integrity or aesthetics in mind. It appears they designed each structure to provide the maximal electrical conductivity. One cannot walk from one end of the settlement to the other without having to comb one's hair.
Upon arriving, I noted that Tiddles' fur was standing on-end. At first, I surmised that he must have detected the odiferous scent of cheese nearby, for you surely remember Tiddles'... aversion to cheese.
I changed my theory when his tail spontaneously caught fire. He now refuses to go anywhere near the town lest he combust again.
Sadly, I am yet to go out into the wilds and assess the situation here. There appears to be a problem of some kind whereby any time I attempt to walk south of Vengeance Landing, I suddenly pass out and wake up later back at the town.
Last time it happened, I woke up with a damn pencil stuck up my nose! Personally, I suspect those bloody apothecaries; they're always up to no good.
In any event, I shall make sure to write to you both again when I have more to say. If the fainting issue cannot be adequately resolved, I shall likely go to Borean Tundra and try my luck there.
Your now and, for the foreseeable future, present son.
Paper texture courtesy of BittBox.