Fog? Now where had that come from? Hadn’t it been clear, if not sunny and warm? Vala shook her head. Of course, not warm. It was Dun Morogh after all. It was supposed to be cold.
Vala shivered. Yeah, cold alright. She struggled to her feet and looked around. Yes, definitely fog. Thick.
She saw shapes moving through the fog. Figures in robes filed past. The last one carrying a book and singing some raunchy song about a sailor. The figure turned a hooded head toward her and beckoned with one hand.
She fell into line behind them. “Where are we going?”
The song continued. All the figures began to weave back and forth. Not in time to the song, but as if drunk. A pink elekk walked by, with a wolpertinger on its back.
Vala blinked, and sat up in the snow. Whew. What had that last brew been? Something from the ogres. Her mouth tasted awful. Never again! Stick t’ th’ good dwarven brews, m’ lass, she told herself.
She struggled to her feet and began the long walk to Ironforge. What was she doing way out here in the wilds of Dun Morogh, anyway? She’d been enjoying sampling the various food and brews at Brewfest and now here she was some distance from there plodding through the snow. She shrugged. Evil ogre brew.
Something raced past her, almost knocking her over. Silly ram racers.
Then she spun to look, nearly falling over again. No…not ram racing. Was that the Boss* on some kind of mechanostrider?!
She giggled. Definitely time to go sleep it off.
*(A title used for the leader of the guild that she belonged to in-game, when this was written.)