The demand for body parts in Mulgore finally ran out. My need for money however, was growing at an alarming rate in direct contrast to my funds. A few of my former employers suggested I head to an Orc outpost in The Barrens with the imaginative name of The Crossroads. Orcs! They can be accused of many things but possessing an imagination obviously isn’t one of them.

One long, boring walk later (trust the orcs to find the ugliest landscape for an outpost!) and I was in The Crossroads. I was a little surprised to find some of my own people there including one of the tough-looking guards…

It’s a pity guards don’t get paid much - he was kind of cute.

I regretfully gave the cute guard the brush off and went to check myself in at the local inn. Inside I saw one of the strangest sights yet: A Tauren standing underneath some mistletoe was attempting to talk an Orc woman into giving him a kiss.

While I was putting the big dope in his place I overhead people chattering about a city called Ogrimmar and showing off new armour and weapons they’d picked up in the Auction House there. I quickly counted my coins. With the money I’d made delivering messages from Mulgore to The Crossroads for lazy Taurens, I figured I had enough cash for at least a little shopping spree before I needed to start up my body part collection business again.

Apparently it wasn’t that far away but I decided it wouldn’t hurt to stop for some dinner at a restaurant I spotted on the way to the city.

A short stroll after dinner and I arrived in Orgimmar. I wasn’t really sure what all the fuss was about though…

There must have been some mistake with the directions I’d been given. Turns out that I’d only found another outpost that demonstrated the Orcs lack of imagination: Far Watch Post. I chatted for a while with one of the Orcs there and got new directions from him.

Orcs can be really touchy about architecture. I guess if you’re not very good at something you’re bound to be a little prickly about it.

Next stop: Ogrimmar and the fabulous Auction House!

Not only do Orcs lack building skills they also seem to be useless in providing directions. I was assured that Ogrimmar was only a few more minutes away from the town I was in, Razor Hill, and that if I just followed a canyon to it’s end I’d be able to see the city.

Halfway through the canyon I spotted not the city, but a very strange troll who seemed intent on running up and down a small section of the cliffs.

The troll didn’t answer but just kept running up and down…. up and down… up and down… I was starting to feel a bit queasy watching him so I resolved never to smoke anything a troll might offer me and continued on towards Ogrimmar. Before long I saw a big, spiky wall that held some promise.

I walked through a seemingly useless tunnel and emerged into a large valley filled with plenty of Horde and buildings that had that typical about-to-fall-down look that signified Orc construction at it’s worst.

Considering that this obviously was the Orcs’ only city I decided to cut them a little slack regarding the buildings.

In fact, there appeared to be another battle on the way. I spotted at least two Alliance spies shortly after I arrived!

Nobody seemed particularly worried so I didn’t bother mentioning the spies to anyone. After all, it’s not my capital city!

Gnomes and Night Elves weren’t the only things odd about Ogrimmar.

An old orc dressed up in a strange red costume told me a little about the Winter Veil holiday and rambled on a bit about what a wonderful company Smokywood Pastures was. There was really only one thing I wanted to know.

Not much, or so he claimed, but he did say that if I brought him some gingerbread cookies and a glass of milk he’d make it worth my while. With the promise of treasure floating before my eyes I ran off to see about getting the items he wanted for trade. I should have known better than to trust an orc in such a ridiculous outfit!

Trusting an orc in a Greatfather Winter costume wasn’t my last mistake for the day though. When I went outside to watch the Zeppelins that I’d heard so much about, I came across a goblin with a contraption that he promised had to be tried to be believed. “Join the fun!”, he said.

Momentarily forgetting my last troubles with shapeshifting, I stepped on to the somewhat chilly platform. A few seconds later I stepped off and looked myself over. Yet again, something had gone badly wrong with shapeshifting.

Moral of the story: Never trust Orcs in stupid costumes or Goblins with funny little gadgets.

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