My hooves clack on the cobbles of downtown Stormwind, echoing noisily in contrast to the fleshy, booted feet of the humans, dwarves, gnomes, and night elves around me. I draw some stares, but not many: my race must be becoming more common on this continent.
Hungry, my search for something to dine on leads me into Old Town. Old Town is well taken care of, and not run down, like the name might imply. I find a handy pub, go in and take a seat. After ordering some of the tastier-looking (but still entirely unfamiliar to me) morsels from their menu, I pull out a piece of parchment that was once possessed by an engineer in The Deadmines. A goblin, I think: a peculiar race, they appear to be some form of evolutionary predecessor to the Orcs from my race's home world. A curious coincidence, indeed. All my paper and writing implements had been destroyed in the ship's tumultuous entry into Azeroth's atmosphere and subsequent rough landing, so I ask the human man who delivers my food if...
